Chapter 72: Vanquishing the Enemy with Ice Needles!

Yet Shen Yan paid him no heed, only regarding him coldly.
“Do you wish to try again?”
“Fine, very well, very well!” Gritting his teeth, Zhao Ruoqin sprang into the air, landing directly upon the Zhao family's artifact tower ship.
“We leave!”
At his command, the tower ship flashed with light and tore through the sky.

A gasp escaped the crowd as Shen Yan’s body trembled—he spat out a mouthful of fresh blood before their very eyes.
Everyone looked at each other in confusion, at a loss for what to do.
Shen Yan ignored them, wiped the blood from his lips, and turned to Xuanjizi.
“Steward, what now?”
Xuanjizi, too, fell into silence at the sight of his condition. Only after a long pause did he say,
“Fellow Daoist Yan, you are indeed a man of fierce resolve—truly worthy of the name sword cultivator!”
With that, he turned to the assembly and solemnly proclaimed,
“Third bout: victory to Fellow Daoist Yan. Three duels, three defenses—henceforth, the Azure Lotus Spiritual Land shall belong to him!”
The crowd received this announcement with silence. One by one, they mounted their magical artifacts, transforming into streaks of light that sped away.

Shen Yan still appeared on the verge of collapse.
Xuanjizi, steward of Vast Sea Sect stationed here, perhaps possessed methods for perceiving truth beyond ordinary senses. Thus, to be safe, Shen Yan had never allowed him to observe too closely.
After his performance today and the awe he’d inspired by surviving three consecutive challenges, he reckoned it would buy him another decade or two of undisturbed development.
Once Xuanjizi had departed, Shen Yan used the Serpent’s Breath Concealment Technique to alter his appearance, then swallowed a bottle of healing elixirs to restore his strength.
Within moments, his wounds were healed, his spirit radiant—there remained no sign of the exhaustion or loss of vital essence he had displayed earlier.
Employing the earth-burrowing art, he followed after the Zhao family’s flying ship.
Though the Zhao family’s vessel was a top-grade artifact of considerable size, it could not have traveled more than a few hundred miles in such a brief time.
Shen Yan locked onto its aura and gave pursuit.

...
High in the heavens, above the sea of clouds, a streak of light hurtled at great speed—it was the Zhao family’s tower ship, a top-grade magical artifact now driving its spiritual power to the limit.
The ship gleamed with dazzling light; all its arrays were fully activated, its speed astonishing, heedless of the spiritual stones consumed.
Within the ship’s core chamber, Zhao Ruoqin sat upon a platform of white jade, drawing in vital energy to heal his wounds.
He had not changed out of his bloodstained garments—the gash across his chest, carved by a sword, had nearly pierced through to his back. Even now, blood seeped from the wound, soaking the fabric around it crimson.
A middle-aged cultivator at early Foundation Establishment stood by, anxiously watching his clan patriarch’s dire state. He was restless, fretful as an ant on a hot pan.
Never had he imagined things would come to this—that Yan Sheng could injure their patriarch so grievously.
If anything befell the patriarch, what could a mere early Foundation Establishment cultivator like himself do to uphold the Zhao family’s legacy, to shoulder the burden of Little Lan Mountain?
It was clearly impossible!
No wonder the patriarch had chosen to withdraw rather than risk a desperate struggle with Yan Sheng. They simply could not afford the cost.
Yan Sheng had mastered a Golden Core sword art; even if he could only unleash a fraction of it at great cost to his own life-force and longevity, its power was beyond question.
To fight such a man to the death—even in victory—would only come at a terrible price, perhaps even perish together.
Whether Yan Sheng lived or died mattered little, but Zhao Ruoqin, as the Zhao family patriarch, could not fall!
The foundation of Little Lan Mountain required a late-stage Foundation Establishment cultivator to remain unshaken.
Otherwise, they would have to cower within their great array, beset and suppressed by all sides, the market’s business withering, decline setting in step by step.
If the next generation could not swiftly produce another late Foundation Establishment cultivator, then once their reserves were exhausted, not only would they lose their painstakingly built home, but their enemies would wipe out the family entirely.
So Zhao Ruoqin dared not gamble, nor tarry outside. He had commanded everyone to drive the ship at full speed, racing back to Little Lan Mountain, lest their enemies hear of this and lie in wait to ambush them.

While the middle-aged cultivator fretted, light faded from the jade platform.
Having regulated his breath for a long while, Zhao Ruoqin finally exhaled a turbid breath and opened his eyes.
“Patriarch!”
The middle-aged cultivator rushed forward.
“How do you fare?”
“I’ve barely managed to stabilize myself,” Zhao Ruoqin replied, shaking his head and lowering his gaze to the sword wound in his chest.
Though the bleeding had stopped and the wound had begun to knit, he could still sense a razor-sharp energy within it.
“The Golden Core sword art is truly formidable,” Zhao Ruoqin sighed quietly. “I underestimated Yan Sheng.”
At this, the middle-aged cultivator grew even more anxious.

“Do not worry,” Zhao Ruoqin reassured him, shaking his head. “The Golden Core sword art is indeed powerful, but only a cultivator of Golden Core stage can wield its true might. Yan Sheng is only mid-Foundation Establishment—forcing out even half a strike at the cost of his own life-force has nowhere near the power of an actual Golden Core. Against a lesser foe, he might kill, but against me—hmph, he still falls short!”
“Your might is unparalleled, Patriarch!”
At this, the cultivator breathed a sigh of relief and could not help but flatter him.
“What might? It was only enough to save my life,” Zhao Ruoqin responded with a shake of his head and a sigh. “Sword cultivators—truly worthy of the name. My own Astral Qi Art is perfected, my body tempered to the utmost—even those at peak Foundation Establishment would struggle to wound me. Yet Yan Sheng’s sword left me in such a sorry state, forcing me to flee in disgrace!”
“Patriarch, you mustn’t take it to heart,” the middle-aged cultivator hurried to comfort him. “Yan Sheng risked his life for that strike, sacrificing his own life-force. He surely will not live long. After his death, we will return to Azure Lotus Lake and make him pay for every drop of blood!”
In his words, there was no thought of seeking Yan Sheng out for direct vengeance now.
Zhao Ruoqin nodded in agreement.
“That man’s nature is resolute, beyond the ordinary. Now that his life-force is depleted, he has nothing left to fear. There’s no need for us to concern ourselves with such a mad dog—let him have his fleeting moment of arrogance.”
Perhaps to justify his own cautious conduct, he began to lecture earnestly,
“Our path as cultivators is to seek longevity and endurance. Though his actions appear impressive, in truth, he’s sacrificing the essential for the trivial. Such reckless behavior—you must never imitate him!”
“Rest assured, Patriarch, I understand.”
Seeing that the patriarch shared his own view, the middle-aged cultivator smiled and asked,
“As for the Xu family…”
At this, Zhao Ruoqin’s expression turned sorrowful.
“The death of Xu Mao is a bitter blow. When we return to Little Lan Mountain, take a few men and pay your respects. Remember, do not allow Xu’s widow and orphans to be bullied!”
The cultivator’s eyes lit up at this and he nodded eagerly.
“I understand, Patriarch. You can rest easy!”
“Good.” Zhao Ruoqin nodded. “You may go—I must meditate a while longer. The ship is not to slow; we must reach home as swiftly as possible. Word of this will soon spread, and our rivals will surely act.”
“Yes!”
The middle-aged cultivator bowed and withdrew from the chamber.