Chapter 7

Chapter 7: Duel with Gu Qing Yuan

The sword light was icy and fierce as it tore through the sky—like a meteor cutting the night.

Song Wan Ning remained calm. She stepped lightly and shifted several yards in an instant, as if lightning had carried her. Her own flying sword shot upward, its edge flashing as it carved a clean arc toward him.

Steel met steel.

Sparks burst. The clang rang across the Heaven-Questioning Sect.

A surge of spiritual energy roared outward. Space warped where it passed, and the air filled with sizzling, tearing sounds.

A massive vortex shoved everyone back. Disciples stumbled and shielded their faces, staring up in fear at the two figures trading blows at blistering speed.

In only a few breaths, they had already exchanged more than 10 moves—too fast for the eye to follow.

“Hiss—no wonder they’re Nascent Soul Stage grandmasters. If the field weren’t restricted, more than half of us would’ve been blasted away just now!”

“Good thing neither of them has completely lost their mind… otherwise we’d be dead today!”

“Is this the combat power of a Nascent Soul Stage cultivator? It’s terrifying!”

“They say Grandmaster Gu sweeps the Cultivation World with a single sword and no one can match him, but the way I see it… Grandmaster Song seems to have the upper hand?”

“How could that be? Grandmaster Gu is famous throughout the Cultivation World for overwhelming strength. But have you ever heard Grandmaster Song’s reputation being that loud?”

“But—”

“That’s only because Grandmaster Gu is giving Grandmaster Song face and holding back. If he got serious, Grandmaster Song wouldn’t last three moves!”

The disciples craned their necks, gazes filled with worship as they watched the white-robed figure. Gu Qing Yuan’s fame reached far and wide; his name was thunderous throughout the Cultivation World, and so everyone believed he was taking it easy on her.

But Gu Qing Yuan himself was shaken to the core.

Only now did he realize his junior sister’s battle strength was so fierce—she didn’t lose to him at all.

His eyes hardened. His hands moved quickly. A shield of spiritual energy flared into place, catching several sword shadows at once.

Song Wan Ning’s seals changed again.

Her sword shattered in midair—splintering into countless thin threads that writhed like nimble snakes, coiling toward Gu Qing Yuan.

They traded attack after attack, neither able to gain ground, the battle scorching into a blazing deadlock.

Below, the Sect Master watched with mounting terror.

“Did Junior Sister Song take the wrong medicine today?” he muttered, nearly choking on it. “How can she go at Gu Qing Yuan like this?”

He couldn’t understand. If he hadn’t personally seen it, he would’ve suspected someone had possessed her.

Beside him, the Second Elder snorted. “After being bullied to this point, if Junior Sister Song can still swallow it, she’s a thousand-year-old turtle.”

She didn’t bother to lower her voice. “Junior Brother Gu is fickle and two-timing. He should’ve been taught a lesson long ago.”

The Sect Master shot her a glare. “Is this the time for that? The important thing is to make them stop!”

“Then you go,” the Second Elder said coolly, dripping sarcasm.

Gu Qing Yuan and Song Wan Ning were both terrifyingly strong, and both furious. Anyone who stepped in would get dragged into it and beaten senseless.

She wasn’t going.

The Sect Master: “…”

Elders wore grim expressions. Bai Yang lay on the ground with his face dark, waiting for his injuries to slowly knit under the pill’s effects, hatred simmering.

Martial Uncle Gu had to win.

If he lost, Junior Sister Ye would be in danger.

But fate didn’t oblige.

In less than 15 minutes, Gu Qing Yuan’s momentum began to falter—and Song Wan Ning’s sword left his arm bleeding.

The disciples erupted. The elders stared, stunned.

Gu Qing Yuan’s face darkened. Stifled humiliation pressed at his chest so hard it made his breath unsteady.

From childhood until now, he had always been better than his junior sister.

No matter what they did, she was always the one half a step behind. Even when their master praised her comprehension, he had never agreed.

Reality slapped him across the face.

Now he was struggling—and still couldn’t turn it around.

In that flash of shock and distraction, Song Wan Ning struck again.

Her sword danced.

The sky seemed to split.

An enormous sword shadow tore through the void and chopped straight down—carrying hatred and killing intent so vast it made the scalp go numb.

Song Wan Ning’s sword art had always centered on slaughter. But year after year, because Gu Qing Yuan kept praising Ye Chu Xue’s innocent goodness, Song Wan Ning had forced herself to restrain it. Her blade dulled. Her path stalled.

Now the malice buried deep in her heart surged up, fully awakened, pouring into this strike with no restraint at all.

Everything before was like yesterday’s dead.

Everything from now on was today’s new life.

One sword split the heavens.

Wind and pressure whipped at robes, forcing disciples to stagger. The sheer impact pressed down on everyone’s skulls until they instinctively bowed their heads, as if something invisible were crushing them.

Space twisted and tore again and again, the crackling noise making hearts tremble.

A blinding flash cut off sight.

When the light cleared, Gu Qing Yuan was already falling from the sky.

Thud.

He slammed into the ground. White robes flared, smeared with glaring red.

“Pu—!”

His chest had been pierced at the side. Blood poured out, the wound deep enough to see bone.

A little more—and it would’ve hit his heart.

Song Wan Ning drifted down lightly.

Her boot came down on Gu Qing Yuan’s face.

In that moment, she crushed all his dignity—ground it into mud.

Silence fell so abruptly that even the wind seemed to sense it and stop.

Gu Qing Yuan vomited blood again. Even half-dead, his gaze was still filled with hatred.

He refused to accept it.

And he couldn’t accept being trampled beneath Song Wan Ning’s foot.

But he was badly wounded. Under her pressure, he couldn’t move at all.

Rage surged up and struck his heart. He coughed violently, blood bubbling at his lips.

He could lose to anyone—

But not to Song Wan Ning.

“What,” Song Wan Ning asked softly, “still not convinced?”

She knew him too well. Proud. Aloof. Gifted from childhood. His path had dangers, but it had always been smooth.

Now that he had been ground underfoot, of course he couldn’t swallow it.

“Song Wan Ning—” Gu Qing Yuan ground out, teeth clenched, dragging his hateful eyes upward.

The woman who used to chase him and flatter him was gone.

The Song Wan Ning of today was unfamiliar to him—and even more hateful.

“Heh.”

Song Wan Ning pressed down harder. Gu Qing Yuan’s face twisted, ugly beyond words.

“Not convinced? Then swallow it.” Her voice was flat, merciless. “If not for the fact we’re fellow disciples, you wouldn’t even have the right to speak right now.”

Then she kicked him in the face and sent him flying several meters.

A terrible stillness.

And then—

The uproar exploded.

“Hiss—am I blind, or did my brain break? Did I just see Grandmaster Song kick Grandmaster Gu away?”

“Oh my god—Grandmaster Song was insanely cool!”