Spring warmth filled the air.
Luo Luo stood clad in a white sword robe, her crimson hair ribbon fluttering fiercely behind her.
The Autumn Water Sword hummed in her grasp.
Every time she crossed blades with the man before her, the sword reached its peak potential, thrumming with exhilaration.
Yet Li Zhaoye carried no intent to fight.
"The Sword of Taiyi does not leave its sheath without drawing blood," he said. "I have no wish to harm you."
Luo Luo fixed her gaze on him. "Draw your sword!"
Her sword intent was overwhelming—the very wind brushing past her transformed into razor-sharp currents, swirling slowly around her. Every wisp of sword energy was lethally honed.
She leveled her blade at him.
Li Zhaoye had reached the Nascent Soul stage, and the oppressive aura of a high-level cultivator made her body tremble instinctively.
Yet her hand remained steady, the tip of her sword rising without a single waver as she pointed it at him.
"Three."
"Two."
"—Clang!"
She struck.
The wind stirred from the gentlest touch of grass, but in an instant, Li Zhaoye sensed the shift in the spring breeze. His pupils contracted—every blade of grass, every leaf around him now brimmed with killing intent.
His instincts flared. He pivoted, twisting the sheathed Sword of Taiyi behind him to block the blade hidden within the wind.
"Clang—hummm!"
Her sword intent burned so fiercely it sent a shock through his blood, igniting battle lust in his eyes.
His dark gaze turned icy when focused.
Luo Luo laughed in exhilaration. "Come, fight!"
She spun and slashed again, her long hair whipping behind her.
The afterimage of her blade’s cold light lingered in his vision, but her piercing black eyes shone even brighter amidst the flurry of strikes.
He countered with his scabbard, deflecting her blade stroke by stroke.
"Clang, clang, clang, clang!"
Li Zhaoye had only recently ascended to the Nascent Soul stage, his foundation still unsteady. Unwilling to clash head-on, he relied on technique to dismantle her assaults.
Having trained under the same master, their movements were familiar—a hundred exchanges passed in the blink of an eye.
Their duel flowed with a mesmerizing rhythm.
But Luo Luo clearly wasn’t here for mere sparring.
After warming up, she formed a sword seal, forcing her Golden Core to spin wildly as she unleashed her full spiritual power. Where her blade passed, the air itself seemed to tear and ignite.
In an instant, the mood shifted.
A cold smirk curled her lips as she unleashed a mountain-splitting, sea-rending strike—aimed directly at his vital points, intent on crippling his cultivation. Her killing intent was absolute.
"Serious now?" Li Zhaoye’s brows lowered.
His lifebound sword, Taiyi, trembled fiercely, howling for release.
With a flick of his wrist, the divine blade left its sheath with a resonant ring, intercepting Luo Luo’s Autumn Water Sword mid-strike.
The Sword of Taiyi was terrifying. Upon contact, Luo Luo felt an overwhelming pressure—like a collapsing mountain—bearing down through her blade.
Li Zhaoye held back.
Suppressing Taiyi’s force, he twisted his wrist, using internal energy to deflect her sword without harming her or her weapon.
Luo Luo, however, refused his mercy. Instead, she borrowed his momentum, spinning gracefully before channeling every ounce of her power into another slash—this time targeting his exposed flank!
Li Zhaoye almost laughed in frustration.
Even with an unstable foundation, he was still a Nascent Soul cultivator.
Luo Luo sensed the shift in the air—Li Zhaoye vanished from his position.
Teleportation!
A crushing force bore down from behind. She flipped backward mid-air, meeting his descending blade.
"Clang!"
Her palms stung from the impact, her blood surging violently.
Before she could land, he struck again.
This time, he held nothing back—his slash aimed to sever her lifebound sword. To keep it, she’d have to surrender.
Their eyes met.
One cold, one ruthless.
Without hesitation, Luo Luo raised her sword to meet his.
In the split second Li Zhaoye’s eyes widened, their blades collided.
"Boom!"
Spiritual energy and sword light erupted in a blinding explosion.
A split second later, the scene became clear—Luo Luo redirected the full force of the sword strike onto herself, using her own flesh and blood to shield the Autumn Water Sword from the blow.
"Pfft."
She desperately tried to swallow the blood back, but a small trickle still escaped the corner of her lips. A vivid streak of crimson traced her mouth, startlingly striking.
Autumn Water trembled faintly in her grip.
Luo Luo grinned through the blood in her mouth. "Drawing blood? The Taiyi Sword—nothing special!"
Before the words fully left her lips, she raised her sword and slashed again.
"Enough," Li Zhaoye frowned.
Knowing his cultivation was still unstable, Luo Luo targeted his weaknesses relentlessly, forcing him to engage her head-on.
Yet, under the overwhelming might of the Taiyi Sword, her actions were like a moth diving into flames.
"Boom!"
Another collision sent Luo Luo flying backward. She barely managed to steady herself by plunging her sword into the ground before crashing onto the steps.
Her chest heaved with surging blood and energy.
Her knees felt as if they were filled with molten lead, and it took immense effort to stagger back to her feet.
She laughed. "See? The Taiyi Sword—nothing special!"
Li Zhaoye narrowed his eyes. "What did you say?"
Luo Luo didn’t answer, swinging her sword in another fierce strike.
A few exchanges later, he struck her back with the flat of his blade, sending her sprawling face-first into the dirt.
He had held back—this time, she didn’t even cough up blood.
Luo Luo pushed herself up from the mud with her palms.
He didn’t point his sword at her, merely looking down coldly. "You can’t win. Hand over Gu Meng, and today ends here."
Luo Luo’s response was to grip her sword and slash backward at his ankles—she wouldn’t let him see Gu Meng. That was her promise.
Dust and dirt sprayed as Li Zhaoye leaped aside, cursing under his breath.
Luo Luo was already charging again, both hands lifting her sword overhead before bringing it down in a strike brimming with spiritual energy.
His expression darkened completely. "You brought this on yourself."
Their blades clashed—this time, he unleashed the full power of Taiyi.
The divine Taiyi Sword was incomparably mighty!
A deafening explosion of force sent Luo Luo’s blood surging backward. Her vision blackened as she staggered and collapsed.
The world spun violently.
Shaking her head, she gripped her sword, forcing herself up on unsteady legs before lunging forward again.
He watched her coldly, raising his blade and sending her crashing down once more.
"Screech—"
Like a zombie clawing its way from the grave, Luo Luo struggled to stand, her sword scraping against the ground with a grating metallic shriek.
Between coughs, she spat out her defiance: "The mighty Taiyi? Nothing... special!"
Swallowing another mouthful of blood, she locked onto Li Zhaoye’s figure through her wavering, darkened vision.
A sharp pain flared in her dantian, as if a faint, intangible force held her back—like a child tugging weakly at her sleeve.
Luo Luo let out a wild laugh and leaped, swinging her sword again. Her entire body trembled, but her grip on the blade remained unshaken.
"Clang—thud!"
"Boom—thud!"
"Thud! Thud! Thud!"
The seventeenth impact was so heavy it made Li Zhaoye’s eyelid twitch.
"Pointless," he said icily. "I feel no pity, nor does this stir any memories. We are strangers now. Stop forcing what’s gone."
He looked down at her.
She lay sprawled like a discarded ragdoll, her spiritual energy completely drained, body spasming involuntarily, her gaze already unfocused.
Even now, her fingers refused to release the hilt of her sword.
"See?" she murmured deliriously. "The Taiyi Sword... nothing special... just... mediocre..."
Li Zhaoye’s lips pressed into a thin line.
Her face was deathly pale, her lips nearly colorless, the blood staining her features lending her a piercing, tragic beauty.
After losing her ability to attack, she lay like a flower blooming harmlessly in the mud—fragile yet beautiful.
He crouched down to look at his former fiancée, his voice softening slightly despite himself. "Who were you talking to?"
Luo Luo slowly turned her vacant eyes, taking a long moment before her gaze settled on him. Yet her sight held no focus—she looked at him, yet through him.
A faint glimmer of amusement surfaced in her dazed eyes.
She smiled. "Changtian."
The wind stilled for an instant.
Li Zhaoye let out a humorless chuckle. "That broken sword of mine."
The Taiyi Sword trembled in his palm, radiating a terrifying aura, as if sneering in disdain.
What was Changtian, compared to it? The difference between them was like heaven and earth.
It wasn’t just Changtian it looked down upon—every sword in this world was worthless in its presence.
Was she really defending that piece of scrap?
Li Zhaoye sheathed the Taiyi Sword and stood, his expression turning lazy. "Now, tell me where Gu Meng is. Not that it matters—I’ll find her myself if I have to."
Luo Luo shifted her gaze slightly and murmured, "The attic."
"Fine." Li Zhaoye nodded. "Once I find her, I’ll send you to the Heart-Questioning Hall to recover."
Luo Luo pressed her lips together and gave a quiet hum.
He stepped past her.
Though spring was in full bloom, seeing her lying on the cold ground still struck him as pitiful.
His fingers hovered over his outer robe—but in the end, he didn’t take it off to drape over her.
Just as he lowered his hand and turned to leave with a sigh—
A near-silent, lethally precise thread of sword energy, its killing intent perfectly concealed, coiled around him.
"...How?"
His body stiffened as an icy blade tip pierced his side at an oblique angle.
Agony erupted.
He staggered back, clutching his waist as he whirled around—
Only to see Luo Luo, who had been limp as mud moments ago, now raising a steady hand, gripping a sword.
His blood stained the tip of the Qiu Shui Sword, trickling down the blade.
Li Zhaoye’s pupils constricted.
The Taiyi Sword, sensing its master’s peril, erupted with murderous energy, vibrating violently in its sheath.
Luo Luo truly had no strength left now.
Her arm dropped limply to her side, the sword slipping from her grasp with a metallic clatter.
She smiled. "I win."
"Stop—stop it! Enough!"
Master Qingxu’s temples throbbed with pain.
Faced with these two disciples who loved and loathed each other in equal measure, the old man felt so exhausted he could die. He nearly threw himself down beside Luo Luo in defeat.
But of course, he couldn’t.
With the weariness of an old ox, Master Qingxu dragged the two injured troublemakers back to the Heart-Questioning Hall—locking one in the east wing and the other in the west.
Family shame couldn’t be aired in public. The old man slumped onto the main hall’s threshold, glowering as wooden puppets brewed medicinal concoctions.
"Bitter herbs—bitter Qianzi, and huanglian! Dump them in! More! Keep stuffing them in! As long as it doesn’t kill these two debt-collecting brats!"
The first batch of medicine was thick and black as tar.
After a moment’s hesitation, Master Qingxu chose to serve it to his more severely injured senior disciple.
"What were you thinking? Getting stabbed in the kidney by Luo Luo!" Master Qingxu jabbed a finger at him. "Did all your skills go to the dogs? People would laugh themselves to death if this got out!"
Li Zhaoye’s face darkened.
He had only just reached the Nascent Soul stage, his foundation still unstable. Between the injury and the shock, he’d nearly plummeted an entire realm.
"Such malice at such a young age!" Li Zhaoye gritted his teeth, taking the medicinal brew from Master Qingxu's hands and downing it in one gulp—"...Pfft, cough, cough!"
He tried to spit it out, but Master Qingxu sealed his mouth shut with a surge of spiritual energy.
Li Zhaoye: "..."
A quarter of an hour later, he finally regained his senses with a dazed expression.
Turning his head to glance at the tightly sealed doors and windows, he scoffed, "After what she did, you’re still favoring her, covering for her?"
Master Qingxu looked up at the sky, his forehead creasing into three deep lines.
"Tch, such a trivial matter!" The old master sighed. "Have you forgotten how fiercely you used to shield your own back in the day?"
Eastern Hall.
Luo Luo couldn’t get up, forcibly held down as Master Qingxu poured a large bowl of bitter medicine into her mouth.
"Blergh—cough, cough... It’s bitter!"
"Good! Let it teach you a lesson!" Master Qingxu was exhausted. "Since when do decent people stab their own senior brother in the kidney? Who taught you that, huh? Did I ever teach you such a thing?"
Luo Luo’s face scrunched up from the bitterness. "Master, what’s in this medicine?"
Master Qingxu raised two fingers. "This is the second brew. Your senior brother drank the first one. However bitter you feel, his was worse—so, feeling better now?"
Luo Luo: "...Master, you really know how to comfort people."
Master Qingxu snorted.
"Master," Luo Luo said, "look at me today—the weak defeating the strong."
Master Qingxu nearly choked on his own breath. "And you’re proud of that?"
Luo Luo replied earnestly, "Not pride—strategy. First, I attacked him fiercely, letting him grow accustomed to my rhythm. Then, I deliberately infused each strike with anger and killing intent, leading him to believe I was just venting rage. Once he completely underestimated me, thinking I had no fight left, I switched tactics and caught him off guard with that stab."
Master Qingxu: "..."
So his disciple wasn’t reckless—just devious in all the wrong places... No, wait, fighting was the right place.
"You..."
"Master," Luo Luo widened her innocent eyes, "if you can’t win, resort to sneak attacks—Li Zhaoye taught me that."
Master Qingxu let out a dry laugh, his eyelid twitching. "Wonderful. Teach your disciple well, only for her to turn on you."
Luo Luo’s eyes sparkled. "Master, do you know why Li Zhaoye always points his sword at my nose whenever I’m knocked down? He’s guarding against my sneak attacks!"
Master Qingxu was speechless for a long moment. "Seems the boy’s truly lost his mind these days."
"Master!" Luo Luo called again.
Master Qingxu shuddered. "Go on, speak."
Luo Luo lightly shook her left wrist.
On the Soulmark of Fate, an extra streak of dried blood had appeared at some point.
"That’s his soul-blood, from the kidney stab," Luo Luo said, her eyes blazing. "I felt nothing from it."
"He’s not Li Zhaoye, Master!"
