Chapter 136: He’s Not as Good as You
This novel is translated and hosted only on BCatranslation
“Sister Yu Zhao,” Mo Ci’s voice was low, yet filled with an urgency that cut through the heavy atmosphere. Her eyes darted around the group of cultivators gathered in the clearing. “Be on your guard.”
Yu Zhao exchanged a brief glance with Ji Han Zhou, a silent understanding passing between them. The tension was palpable, a collective unease settling over the crowd. Each cultivator was poised, wary of becoming the next sacrifice. The only sound breaking the oppressive silence was the slow, steady burning of incense, marking time as it passed.
“Better you die than me. Brother Wang, rest in peace now,” a cold voice shattered the quiet, dripping with malicious intent. The man who spoke launched a sudden attack, his fist aimed with deadly precision at his companion’s back.
But his target was no greenhorn. With a swift movement, the intended victim sidestepped the attack and countered with a well-aimed kick to his assailant’s waist.
“Ah!” The man cried out in fear as his body was sent flying toward the edge of the swamp, his eyes wide with terror.
His companion, now safe from the edge, allowed himself a cruel laugh. “Brother Zhang, it looks like you—”
His words were cut short as several beams of spiritual energy struck him from behind, lifting him into the air. His body hung there for a moment, suspended before it plunged into the swamp’s murky depths, following his companion to a watery grave.
Their deaths sparked a frenzy among the remaining cultivators, unleashing something primal within them. In an instant, the air was filled with the clash of weapons and the vibrant explosions of spiritual energy.
Yu Zhao moved swiftly, her blade cutting down a cultivator who had dared to attack her. She turned to Mo Ci, urgency in her voice. “We need to get out of here. Don’t get caught up in this madness.”
Mo Ci nodded, determination hardening her expression. Along with their three junior sisters, they fought their way to a safer position, distancing themselves from the chaos.
“This is madness. Are they fighting for the Purifying Lotus, or just killing for the sake of it?” Jing Nan’s voice trembled, her wide eyes taking in the grisly scene of bodies falling around the swamp.
“They want both the lotus and the kills,” Yu Zhao replied coldly. “The more they kill, the higher their chances of securing the Purifying Lotus. Mercy has no place here.”
Ji Han Zhou, Yang Xi, and Wang Sheng Xue—disciples who had spent their lives training within the safety of the sect—had never witnessed such raw, brutal violence. Their faces were pale, but they understood this was a trial they had to endure. Forcing themselves to adapt, they steeled their nerves against the horrors around them.
Meanwhile, Fang Cheng Lang and Cui Jue found themselves under attack. Fang Cheng Lang, barely holding on, and Cui Jue, weakened and near collapse, appeared to be easy prey.
Three sinister cultivators closed in on them, their expressions twisted with malicious delight.
Despite his weakened state, Fang Cheng Lang’s instincts remained sharp. As the three approached, he sensed the danger immediately. Gripping his sword tightly, he held it before him, his gaze cold and unyielding.
But the three men were undeterred, their lips curling into sneers as they mocked his attempt at defense.
Sword cultivators were usually feared; their blades could cut down enemies with lethal precision. A skilled sword cultivator could kill with the sheer force of their sword energy alone. But to these men, Fang Cheng Lang—disheveled and weary, with a sickly companion on his back—looked nothing like the fearsome warrior they expected.
“Does he really think waving a sword around will scare us? Pathetic!” one of the men scoffed.
“Enough with the games. Let’s grab them and toss them into the swamp,” another commanded, advancing with a cruel smile.
Nearby, Yao Wuji watched the scene unfold with mild interest, her arms crossed. She had no intention of intervening.
“You think you can kill us with just one sword?” Fang Cheng Lang’s voice was low but steady, a hint of defiance in his tone.
The three men hesitated, then burst into mocking laughter, as if they had just heard the most ridiculous joke.
One of them mimicked Fang Cheng Lang’s tone, sneering, “Kill us with just one sword? What a joke!”
“Does this guy think he’s the Nine Blossoms Sword Master? What a joke!” another man scoffed. “Let me send you off, boy.”
A small black-and-gold hammer shot through the air like a meteor, aiming directly for Fang Cheng Lang’s head.
But Fang Cheng Lang didn’t flinch. He held his sword steady and, in one fluid motion, brought it down in a swift slash.
Though his movements appeared deliberate, they were so fast that the naked eye could barely track them.
The three men saw only a flash of white light before a massive wave of sword energy surged toward them.
In that brief moment, memories of near-death experiences flashed through their minds. Once again, they felt the cold grip of mortality.
Their bodies reacted faster than their minds, and they hastily pulled out defensive artifacts from their storage bags, retreating as quickly as they could.
The sword energy collided with the black-and-gold hammer, sending it flying. But the energy didn’t stop there. It continued its deadly path toward the three men, whose faces were now contorted with terror.
With a sickening noise, the three men froze. A thin red line slowly appeared across their necks.
Moments later, their heads rolled to the ground, their eyes wide open, reflecting the fear they felt in their final moments.
“Not bad. I made the right call using the poison bugs,” Wuji remarked, genuinely impressed.
Taking down Cui Jue and Fang Cheng Lang had been so easy that she hadn’t expected Fang Cheng Lang to still possess such formidable strength. But no matter how strong he was, he had still fallen to her poison. That meant she was the stronger one.
Fang Cheng Lang ignored her, his gaze sweeping over the nearby cultivators. The moment their eyes met his, they quickly looked away, clearly shaken by what they had just witnessed.
Fang Cheng Lang silently withdrew his gaze, feeling a small sense of relief. That single strike had drained almost all the spiritual energy he could muster. And from the way his body was reacting, it seemed the poison within him was close to breaking free.
This novel is translated and hosted only on BCatranslation
He was at his limit.
“Senior Sister Yu Zhao, did you see that? That sword cultivator was amazing!” Ji Han Zhou’s voice was filled with admiration, his eyes bright with excitement.
As a fellow sword cultivator, he could feel the powerful sword aura in that man’s strike—resilient and unwavering like bamboo.
This was the mark of a man with a heart of steel, a person of honor and integrity. Ji Han Zhou couldn’t help but hold him in high regard.
“Really? I think you’re better than him,” Yu Zhao said casually.
Ji Han Zhou, who had been ready to argue in the man’s defense, suddenly brightened. His eyes sparkled with excitement as he asked, “Really? Senior Sister, do you really think I’m stronger than him?”
“Yes, you’ll definitely become a better sword cultivator than him,” Yu Zhao replied with certainty.
A wide grin spread across Ji Han Zhou’s face, his almond-shaped eyes twinkling like stars. If Senior Sister believed in him so much, he would never let her down!
As the two conversed, the pillar of light in the swamp suddenly vanished, replaced by a delicate floral fragrance that filled the air.