Chapter Thirty-Two: Blood

The two stood in silence, the gentle evening breeze rustling Su Mingyu’s short black hair. He looked at the tall, lean man before him and said, "You are Ziye’s friend. Give up on Su Yuxian, or die here."

Pang Wei did not speak. He reached out his right hand to grasp the hilt of the black scythe on his shoulder. This was an unavoidable battle. In truth, ever since he learned that Su Mingyu was Su Yuxian’s brother, Pang Wei had anticipated this hurdle. But how could he ever give up on her?

Before he could even grip the weapon, Pang Wei felt his arm seized, unable to move a fraction. Before he could react, Su Mingyu had already shifted behind him, pinning him in place.

If one does not even have the chance to draw their weapon, how can they hope to defeat their opponent?

Pang Wei was struck with alarm. His opponent’s speed was unfathomable, moving like the wind, elusive and far beyond the limits of an ordinary human.

At that moment, Pang Wei kicked backward with his left foot, attempting to break the hold.

"Bang!"

With a collision, Pang Wei’s kick was blocked by Su Mingyu’s knee. Simultaneously, Su Mingyu pressed down on Pang Wei’s right arm, forcing it forward.

Pang Wei lost his balance and tipped forward, but he did not lose his composure. He leaned into the momentum, accelerating his fall to pull Su Mingyu forward with him.

Letting go, Su Mingyu released his grip; he had no desire to be dragged into a stalemate.

Pang Wei tumbled forward, planted his left hand on the ground, and pivoted in mid-air, lashing out with a kick aimed at Su Mingyu’s waist from the side. It was a maneuver he had learned from Li Ziye, an effective way to escape a grapple.

However, the expected block never came. In the world of the "Falling Feather White Blade" Su Mingyu, his opponent’s speed was nowhere near enough to touch him.

With a single step forward, Su Mingyu evaded the side-kick. Just as Pang Wei turned to stand, Su Mingyu stepped firmly onto his chest.

"You are still too weak."

Su Mingyu’s voice was cold. Despite Pang Wei’s flurry of movements, he could not stir even a ripple before him. Looking down at the man beneath his foot, the gap in their strength seemed insurmountable.

Yet, no other expression appeared on Pang Wei’s face. He remained calm. What did it matter if he was trampled? He had not lost his direction!

In that instant, Pang Wei grabbed the black scythe on his back—the "Sin Breaker."

He vanished. Even under his opponent’s control, Pang Wei disappeared from the spot, and a black blade appeared before Su Mingyu’s neck, ready to strike.

Pang Wei had teleported. He was now behind Su Mingyu, the Sin Breaker poised to reap its harvest. This was an opponent who could not be ignored, one whose power seemed beyond measure. All he could do was give everything he had.

***

Pang Wei pulled hard, the blade sliding toward Su Mingyu’s neck. Had he been an ordinary man, he would have been decapitated!

"Clang!"

A crisp metallic ring echoed, followed by the sharp screech of friction.

Su Mingyu now held a silver dagger, blocking the path between his neck and the lethal scythe. He had finally been forced to use a weapon.

As sparks showered down, Pang Wei knew his attack had failed. As soon as Su Mingyu parried the blade, Pang Wei’s figure vanished once more.

This time, through teleportation, he reappeared above and to the side of Su Mingyu, swinging the scythe downward toward his opponent on the rooftop.

Su Mingyu’s senses were heightened. He stepped back, watching the black blade flash past his face. He looked up to see Pang Wei launch another strike before vanishing again.

Upon reappearing, the scythe swung once more. Thus it went: Pang Wei teleported again and again, his figure appearing around Su Mingyu like flickering stars, the black blade streaks of flowing light, each aimed at Su Mingyu’s body.

Su Mingyu’s footwork followed a unique logic—simple steps forward, backward, left, and right. His silver dagger sparked against the onslaught. He remained calm and composed under the barrage, his formidable strength chilling to behold.

After the seventh flicker, Pang Wei’s breathing grew ragged. He stopped teleporting and stood behind Su Mingyu. Su Mingyu remained indifferent; the previous attacks had caused him no harm.

Such strength created an astonishing reality: even against seven consecutive teleportation strikes, the "Falling Feather White Blade" remained unscathed.

Pang Wei showed no shock. He respected everyone; it was his principle. Yet, facing such a powerful opponent, he would not utter the word surrender.

The two stood about five or six meters apart. One, in black, held a massive scythe beneath the night sky. The other, in white, stood still as the gentle evening breeze brushed his cheeks.

With a strange glint in his eyes, Su Mingyu stepped forward, appearing instantly before Pang Wei, and thrust his dagger straight out.

Aiming for the heart, it was a near-certain kill. Such a simple strike had already claimed the lives of many masters.

Yet, the moment the dagger thrust forward, Pang Wei snapped his fingers: "Small Black Room."

Su Mingyu vanished from the rooftop, and the Sin Breaker in Pang Wei’s hand disappeared as well. Pang Wei sat cross-legged on the floor as ominous wisps of energy began to gather from all sides.

The scene shifted. Su Mingyu found himself within a circular, restricted space, roughly five or six meters in diameter.

When a red line appeared at his feet, Su Mingyu took a step forward, instantly realizing that his sense of direction—front, back, left, and right—had been inverted.

Blood-red blades slashed through the air, as if stained by the blood of countless souls, as if they could sever anything. Now, Su Mingyu was the target.

Red line after red line crisscrossed, the blades dancing through the confined space. Soon, they were no longer appearing one by one, but in chaotic, irregular, rhythmic intersections. Countless blades sang the symphony of the Grim Reaper.

***

After the final silence, Su Mingyu reappeared on the rooftop, and the Sin Breaker rested peacefully across Pang Wei’s lap.

Blood dripped down, striking against the night. It was Su Mingyu’s blood. He had been wounded; a deep gash marred his left shoulder, staining his white robes.

Pang Wei sighed. His opponent’s strength was immense; he had only landed one strike, and it was merely a grazing blow. The "Small Black Room" was his strongest technique, yet it had failed to achieve a decisive result.

Su Mingyu brushed his shoulder, looked at the blood on his hand, and a slight curve formed on his lips. "To be able to wound me—not bad. But if this is your strongest trump card, this is where your journey ends."

With another step, Su Mingyu appeared at Pang Wei’s left, his silver dagger flashing as it plunged into Pang Wei’s chest. Simultaneously, Pang Wei swung the Sin Breaker.

Risking the dagger in his chest, Pang Wei drove his black scythe toward Su Mingyu’s arm.

The situation caught Su Mingyu off guard. His opponent had launched an attack while sacrificing his own body. The black scythe finally tasted blood.

Su Mingyu pressed his palm against the blade of the scythe, but his hand was cut open nonetheless.

He retreated, releasing the dagger and putting distance between himself and Pang Wei. He was wounded again, but an strange brilliance shone in his eyes.

His opponent’s strength had exceeded his expectations. But now, if he wasn't mistaken, that silver dagger had pierced the other man’s heart—a fatal wound for anyone.

Yet, no blood flowed from Pang Wei’s chest. The dagger remained embedded there, surrounded by a faint, ominous black aura.

Pang Wei reached out with his left hand to pull the dagger out, but the weapon seemed to obey a summons, flying back into Su Mingyu’s hand.

The dagger was still wreathed in black mist. Su Mingyu mused, "Quite a style you have."

As the black mist dissipated, Pang Wei’s body appeared completely intact, as if the strike to his heart had never occurred.

At this moment, a sense of ethereal lightness felt more real than ever. This aura tugged at everything; birds passing overhead suddenly accelerated, letting out startled cries before adjusting their flight paths to speed away.

But within this sensation lay a killing intent that pierced to the bone. An ordinary person would have been trembling; it was the suppression of the weak by the strong.

Su Mingyu looked at the tall, lean figure before him, his expression unchanged, save for a newfound gravity. He had begun to view Pang Wei as a genuine opponent. To him, if someone seeking his sister lacked the qualifications to be his equal, there was no reason to accept them.

Even if they were chosen by Su Hai, Su Mingyu would test them—test their strength in every aspect. And if they died? That only meant they weren't good enough.

Pang Wei’s expression was solemn. He looked at the black scythe in his hand, where beads of fresh, bright red blood slid down the razor-sharp edge.