Chapter 45: A Sword Calls Her Sister
This novel is translated and hosted on Bcatranslation
In the northern wild woods of Screen Mountain in Qing Prefecture, as night unfurled its veil, mist began to rise from the dense forest, drifting like gossamer between the mountain peaks. By a wild lake, the croaking of frogs filled the air, their cries tinged with unease.
At this moment, a convoy of four carriages wove through the forest under the cloak of darkness. The passengers were shrouded in black cloaks, exuding an aura of mystery. Nearby, twenty-seven disciples of Spirit Sword Mountain lay in ambush on a mountain cliff, their exhaustion evaporating as they noticed the convoy.
A few days earlier, a group of external disciples had mysteriously disappeared in Qing Prefecture. Upon receiving urgent orders from the sect, Zhuo Wan Qiu, a senior disciple, had rushed to investigate, tracing clues to this very forest. Three days ago, Song Zi Heng, an outer-court junior brother, joined her team. They had remained in hiding ever since, awaiting their moment.
Just as the convoy neared their position, Zhuo Wan Qiu saw Song Zi Heng silently unsheathing his long sword.
“Junior Brother, what are you doing?”
“The time is ripe! We must stop them and demand to know where the missing disciples have been taken.”
Song Zi Heng’s sword began to shimmer with concentrated sword qi, his gaze icy.
Zhuo Wan Qiu frowned. “For someone to abduct thirteen external disciples, they must have an upper fifth-realm expert. The sect’s orders are clear: we are to observe without alarming the enemy!”
“If we capture even one of them, we might extract valuable information.”
“This mission falls under my command. Are you disobeying orders, Junior Brother?”
Her words gave him pause. After a moment, Song Zi Heng reluctantly released his sword hilt. But as the convoy drew closer, their aura becoming perceptible, he began to gather his sword qi again.
He had discovered that the convoy’s five guards were only in the upper Essence Refinement Stage, one stage above his peak Lower Three Realms cultivation. Surely, with his talent as the most gifted outer-court disciple of Spirit Sword Mountain, he could handle this.
Since joining the sect, Song Zi Heng had overcome countless trials, including mastering the ancient Sword Intent Forest. He had already formed three profound lights, placing him on the verge of the fifth realm. Inner-court admission was within his grasp, but his true ambition was to become a personal disciple of the three peak masters. This mission, rumored to be overseen by one of the sect’s most influential figures, was his chance to impress.
Just five Essence Refinement cultivators…
Clutching his sword, Song Zi Heng suddenly lunged from the cliff, his sword qi slicing through the night like a flash of lightning. The brilliant strike severed a head clean from its body.
Success!
Song Zi Heng leapt back with his sword, but four gleaming blades immediately converged upon him with blinding speed. He barely evaded, summoning his spiritual energy to his feet, and laughed as he charged forward.
Amidst the clash of blades and the hum of sword qi, the air was thick with killing intent. The four guards fought with extraordinary coordination, their sword nets weaving a deadly web. Each slash exuded a force akin to splitting mountains, their blade qi tearing through the surroundings.
Song Zi Heng’s eyes burned with rage as his sword met theirs. Sparks flew, and the cacophony of metal echoed through the forest. But his smirk soon faltered. As their clash continued, he realized their strength far exceeded the Essence Refinement Stage. Each blade carried overwhelming force, the winds of their strikes sharp as blades.
Drawing on every ounce of spiritual energy, his sword radiated with fierce light as he struck again. Yet, with each collision, the immense killing aura emanating from his foes grew denser. Their strikes grew heavier, each one a mountain pressing down on him, threatening to shatter his bones.
[If this continues, I’ll die.]
Fear gripped Song Zi Heng’s heart as his strikes grew weaker. Eight exchanges later, as the final strike bore down like a collapsing peak, he knew he couldn’t withstand another blow.
In desperation, he unleashed a fierce wave of sword qi, forcing his opponents to retreat. Then, without hesitation, he fled toward the mountain cliff where his comrades were concealed.
Zhuo Wan Qiu watched in fury as the scene unfolded. Suppressing her anger, she drew her sword and shouted, “Damn it! All disciples, follow me to rescue him!”
The twenty-seven disciples of Spirit Sword Mountain sprang into action, their swords gleaming as they descended like streaks of cold light.
Though the four guards displayed monstrous strength, their physical resilience seemingly exceeding their cultivation level, they were outnumbered. Under the relentless assault of the disciples, they could barely find time to counterattack and were soon forced into a defensive position. The sound of blades clashing reverberated as they were pushed back step by step.
Relieved, Zhuo Wan Qiu allowed herself a brief moment of calm. Despite their deviation from the sect’s orders, the situation appeared manageable.
However, her reprieve was short-lived. Suddenly, a dazzling golden light tore through the darkness, its brilliance rivaling a sun. The light seemed to dissolve the surrounding night, revealing a figure.
A man, the driver of the lead carriage, rose into the air, his body encased in radiant spiritual light.
“Is there… someone else?!”
“Senior Sister, it’s a Dao Fusion cultivator…”
In the dark mountain forest, all eyes turned toward the voice, their expressions pale with despair.
They could hardly believe it—this seemingly ordinary convoy had a Dao Fusion expert acting as the carriage driver.
A trap?
No, impossible.
Their ambush had been meticulously planned, and if not for Song Zi Heng’s impatience to prove himself, they would have remained undetected.
Besides, if a Dao Fusion expert wanted them dead, why would traps even be necessary?
The only plausible explanation was that this expert truly was a mere driver. What kind of convoy were they dealing with?
As their thoughts raced, Zhuo Wan Qiu’s face turned even paler under the golden radiance emanating from the opposing force. A fierce wind struck head-on, suffused with a murderous aura that danced wildly in the night.
With a thunderous crash, an explosive Fist Intent came roaring down like a tempest. Five disciples at the forefront had their swords shattered and were hurled away.
The cloaked Dao Fusion cultivator gathered his strength again, his fist imbued with crackling lightning and fire, like a deity descending.
“Run! Quickly, run!”
“Senior Sister…”
“Retreat immediately and report to the sect!”
Gritting her teeth, Zhuo Wan Qiu raised her sword, struggling to resist the immense pressure. She charged forward, sword slashing in defiance.
It was suicide. She knew it, and so did her junior disciples. Yet there was no other choice.
Just then, a powerful presence surged from the distant forest. The cloaked figure froze mid-movement.
A whirlwind roared through the mountains, snapping ancient trees. Under the moonlight, an enormous Sword Intent materialized and soared into the sky.
With a clear, resonant sword chant, the flying Sword Intent struck the Dao Fusion cultivator, sending him crashing into the mountainside and carving a deep scar into the cliff. Waves of earth and stone surged.
When the dust settled, the cloaked cultivator was revealed—one arm severed, gasping raggedly.
The disciples of Spirit Sword Mountain turned in shock, only to see a woman descending gracefully, her presence radiant like a celestial fairy.
She had entered the Fifth Realm at the age of ten and mastered the Dao shortly thereafter. None dared to call her adorable, for her sword was the sharpest weapon Spirit Sword Mountain had to offer.
Among the direct disciples of the Seven Great Immortal Sects, she was the only one to wield her sect’s Sacred Artifact without yet becoming sect master.
Everyone knew she bore the rise and fall of Spirit Sword Mountain’s next century.
Tonight, she had journeyed swiftly from the capital. With her first strike, she felled a Dao Fusion cultivator.
The twenty-two disciples stared, stunned, before dropping to one knee, their faces still filled with fear.
Everyone knew a major figure from the inner sect was coming. No one had expected the reclusive Mirror Master Yan Shu Yi to appear personally.
“Stop kneeling. Save the injured first,” Yan Shu Yi ordered. “Check if those four are truly dead. If they are, stab them a few more times. If not, bind them.”
She glanced at the embedded cultivator, then yanked him free with a wave of her hand.
His cloak had been destroyed, revealing a youthful face.
Zhuo Wan Qiu turned deathly pale. “It’s Chen Qing He…”
Yan Shu Yi turned her sharp gaze to Zhuo Wan Qiu. “You know him?”
“Mirror Master, he’s an outer disciple of the Chen Clan of Immortals. Two years ago, during Spirit Sword Mountain’s Dao Inquiry Assembly, I saw him, but he was merely at the peak of the Lower Three Stages.”
“Two years to break into Profound Comprehension, then Dao Fusion?” Yan Shu Yi frowned, incredulous.
After all, she was acknowledged as the fastest among her peers, yet it had taken her five years to transition from Profound Comprehension to Dao Fusion.
Looking at Chen Qing He’s frenzied struggles, his lack of fear, Zhuo Wan Qiu added, “Mirror Master, he… seems abnormal.”
“Bind him. Notify the Chen Clan—I’ll visit their mountain tomorrow,” Yan Shu Yi commanded.
“Visit… their mountain?” Zhuo Wan Qiu held her breath, immediately bowing in affirmation. She organized the injured disciples’ return and had Chen Qing He—now resembling a beast—locked up and transported to the Chen Clan overnight. The carriage was also inspected.
Inside were obscure herbs, ones unsuitable for cultivation or the sects’ records. Some were even highly toxic, such as Flowing Spring Grass and Sacred Shade Flower.
The clues failed to reveal the missing disciples’ whereabouts. The only lead was the Chen Clan.
Yan Shu Yi ordered the herbs cataloged just as Song Zi Heng returned in a hurry.
“Outer disciple Song Zi Heng greets Mirror Master. I just slew an enemy.”
“Oh? I saw you retreat,” she remarked coldly.
“I was following Senior Sister Zhuo’s orders to return quickly and inform the sect!”
Yan Shu Yi, who had surpassed the Lower Three Stages at ten, found the weakness of that realm laughable. How dare this fool pinch her cheek once and call her adorable?
She thought, [If only he’d seen that sword strike. He’d be trembling, calling me Elder Sister.]
“Seize Song Zi Heng’s jade token,” she ordered.
“Wait! Mirror Master, I’m the most talented disciple in the outer court!”
“You?” Yan Shu Yi raised an eyebrow. “Then Spirit Sword Mountain must be far weaker than Heavenly Script Academy.”