Chapter 39

Chapter 39: Sword Slays Three Thousand vs. the Hong Hu sword art

Lin Yuan’s smile shone with victory.

Lin Zhao smiled back.

Only she knew how much cold hid behind it.

“You really think you’re invincible?” Lin Zhao asked softly.

Lin Yuan tilted his head, half-smiling. “At least I’m stronger than you—who’s about to run out of spiritual energy.”

He could sense it clearly. Lin Zhao’s cultivation method was only Fourth Grade. Compared to his Sixth Grade method, the gap was enormous.

Her Spirit Qi Manifestations and Thousand Spirit Slash had burned through a great deal.

Lin Zhao flicked her fingers.

Under Lin Yuan’s shocked stare, she swallowed three green pills in a row.

A faint milky-white aura wrapped them.

Perfect Grade.

As the three Qi Restoring Pills dissolved in her body, Lin Zhao’s spiritual energy surged full again, like a tide roaring back in.

She looked at Lin Yuan with the same half-smile. “Pills aren’t something only you have.”

Jealousy flashed across Lin Yuan’s face.

“So you’ve got a Fifth Grade pill refiner mother,” he sneered. “What’s there to be smug about?”

He assumed the pills came from Yao Yun.

Even Yao Yun was startled.

Lin Mang seized the moment to flatter, voice quick. “Madam really was farsighted, stuffing Zhao Zhao with pills early!”

Yao Yun shot him a look sharp enough to cut. Then she stared at Lin Zhao, brows drawn. “You’re overestimating me. I can refine Second Grade Qi Restoring Pills. I can’t produce that quality.”

Perfect Grade pills were rare even for a Fifth Grade pill refiner.

Lin Mang blinked, confused. “Then Zhao Zhao’s pills… don’t tell me they’re from Yun Ding Peak?”

Yao Yun sighed. “And those spirit techniques. They’re extraordinary. Except for Thousand Spirit Slash, they don’t seem connected to Yun Ding Peak—and they aren’t from our Lin Family either. How much is this girl hiding?”

“Zhao Zhao has grown up,” Lin Mang said, softening his tone as he saw his wife’s worry rise. “She has her own plans. We just support her.”

Then something crossed his mind, and his expression tightened as he looked toward Lin Yuan on the platform. “It’s also time to tell Zhao Zhao about her two brothers.”

Pain flickered in Yao Yun’s eyes, deep and raw.

Lin Mang patted her shoulder gently, gaze fixed on their daughter. “Maybe Zhao Zhao can help us bring them back.”

Yao Yun pressed her lips together. “I only want my children safe.”

On the platform, Lin Zhao gripped Bone Sword.

Hong Hu sword light rose within her like a living current. She fixed Bone Sword in midair with spiritual energy, then spread her green flame wings wide. Streams of flame poured from them. The wings folded inward, shaping into a natural green shield that wrapped her completely.

Inside the shield, Lin Zhao’s hands moved without pause, forming seals.

In her sea of consciousness, countless versions of Lin Zhao repeated the Hong Hu sword art—again and again—until every movement was carved into instinct.

A figure in the void executed the first layer. Sword qi bloomed with crushing pressure. Movements blurred into afterimages. Each strike was clean, decisive, lethal.

First layer: Wandering Light—speed and distance.

Then the second layer unfolded.

A hundred Bone Sword phantoms condensed. One chased the shadow of the last, forming a formation. Emerald flames roared alongside, becoming a massive Hong Hu phantom that screamed toward the blazing sun—devouring, unstoppable.

Second layer: Chasing Shadows—formation and momentum.

As the final seal of the second layer fell, Lin Zhao reached out.

“Sword, come!”

Bone Sword hummed and dropped into her palm.

Light erupted.

“Let’s see you take the third layer of the Hong Hu sword formation,” Lin Zhao said, voice steady as steel.

She pointed with Bone Sword.

The second layer’s phantom swords—sword chasing sword—suddenly turned and rushed toward her instead, collapsing inward like a tide drawn to a whirlpool.

At the same time, the shield opened.

Lin Zhao beat her wings and flew straight into the center of Sword Slays Three Thousand.

Lin Yuan threw his head back and laughed. “Coming out of your turtle shell on your own? So you’ve decided to lose with dignity?”

His seals changed.

The countless swords stabbed at her at once.

Sword intent carved gouges into the ground. Killing intent crushed down like a mountain. Swords rang together—united, relentless, hungry.

The formation shifted step after step, each movement aimed to kill.

Inside the sword array, Lin Zhao raised Bone Sword and executed an entirely different sword art.

Lin Yuan’s laughter turned wild. “Still struggling? Fine. I’ll show you the true power of Sword Slays Three Thousand!”

His hands moved faster, seal after seal snapping into place.

This time his laughter wasn’t just arrogance.

It was exhilaration.

As the final seals completed, Sword Slays Three Thousand transformed again. Each sword moved like a living wielder, trading blows with Lin Zhao.

The motions were wide, sweeping, unrestrained—like someone fighting freely, laughing on the edge of death.

Three thousand swords from beyond the heavens, traded for a life on this path.

Endless killing intent—only for today.

“Sword Slays Three Thousand…” Yao Yun’s voice went small, trembling.

Her eyes turned wet as if she saw another youth—handsome brows, careless swagger, a blade of grass between his teeth—grinning as he tried to sneak peeks at his little sister.

That technique had been left behind by her child.

“Swords from beyond the heavens, immortals from beyond the heavens. Laugh at the sky, leave no three thousand swords behind. Mom—when Little Sister grows up, let her learn from me.”

Lin Zhao pointed Bone Sword into the sea of swords.

From afar, it looked like an ant reaching for a tree.

Some timid young girls closed their eyes, unable to bear the thought of Lin Zhao being shredded.

Lin Zhao’s lips parted.

“Merge with me.”

Bone Sword compressed something to the limit.

Then sword shadows burst out—copies of the forms she had just performed—and slammed head-on into Sword Slays Three Thousand.

Hong Hu sword art, third move: Body and Self as One!

Mighty righteous aura collided with endless killing intent.

The platform roared.

Explosions swallowed the air.

Lin Zhao and Lin Yuan were both flung backward dozens of meters by the shockwaves.

The platform—reinforced again and again with special materials—shuddered, then finally collapsed in a thunderous blast.

Dust swallowed everything.

Even the Spirit Crystal projection blurred, unable to show the center clearly.

“Who won?” someone whispered.

No one could see.

Eyes locked onto the Spirit Crystal, waiting for the dust to settle.

Slowly, the image cleared.

One figure stood atop a surviving slab of rubble.

Lin Zhao.

In her hand, she held Lin Yuan by the collar like a broken puppet.

Seventh Elder’s breath caught. He shot a voice transmission in panic. “Young Lord, please—don’t take my grandson’s life!”

Lin Zhao glanced back at him, expression unreadable.

And in that same instant, Lin Yuan’s eyes snapped open.

The Spirit Gathering Pill’s backlash had left him withered, trembling, nearly dead—but hatred and madness burned through what remained.

“Lin Zhao,” he rasped. “I am the Lin Family Young Lord. Die!”

He called inward, voice cracking with frenzy. “Didn’t you always want to devour me? Fine—I’ll let you devour me! Go! Beat her for me!”

His eyes turned into snake eyes.

But Lin Zhao had been waiting.

The moment “Lin Yuan” lunged, trying to bite her throat, Lin Zhao drove a punch into his face.

She slammed him to the ground.

Then she kicked—once, twice, again—until bones snapped with sickening clarity and he couldn’t even crawl.

Lin Zhao looked down at the snake-eyed youth, rolling her wrist as her gaze sharpened into something bloodthirsty.

“You’ve been poisoning his mind all these years, haven’t you?”

Her voice was low, cold, and absolute.

“That guy isn’t anything good,” Lin Zhao said, stepping closer, “but no filthy thing gets to touch anyone from the Lin Family.”