Chapter 80 The Hunt for Luo Ruoqin!

At this moment upon the dueling platform, Shen Yan and Luo Ruoqin stood facing each other. Luo Ruoqin, with white beard and hair bristling in fury, pressed his hands tightly to his chest, his eyes filled with shock, anger, and utter disbelief.

Shen Yan, on the other hand, appeared with torn garments and what had once been jet-black hair now streaked with white, looking as though he had been drained of vital essence.

Who had won, and who had lost? All eyes turned to Xuanji Zi, the only Foundation Establishment cultivator present.

Yet before Xuanji Zi could speak, Luo Ruoqin, his gaze fixed unwaveringly upon Shen Yan, rasped out, “Foundation Establishment Sword Technique?”

“Only a single strike,” Shen Yan replied, his voice hoarse, as if he might collapse at any moment, like a guttering candle in the wind.

Yet, even so, he still gripped his battered Flowing Cloud Sword tightly, his tone indifferent.

Luo Ruoqin stared at him for a long time before finally speaking, “With only a single spiritual spring, you were able to achieve this?”

Shen Yan’s expression did not change. He replied calmly, “I am not like you, sacrificing a lifetime’s advancement for the sake of a so-called family headship, growing old and feeble, never able to step into Foundation Establishment. I have sought only the path of the Dao all my life—though I die a hundred deaths, I shall never regret. This is something you cannot comprehend.”

“You—” Luo Ruoqin tried to retort, but the effort aggravated his wounds; his body trembled, and a taste of blood rose in his throat.

Shen Yan ignored him, looking back coldly and saying, “Things have come to this; if you still wish to contest the spiritual spring, we can continue this fight.”

“Fine! Very well! Very well!” With gritted teeth, Luo Ruoqin leaped away, landing amidst his family’s group.

“Forefather…” Some of the Luo clan cultivators were unwilling, but Luo Ruoqin silenced them with a furious shout, “We are leaving!”

At his command, the great Luo clan spirit ship started up, breaking through the waves in moments and speeding away.

With the Luo clan gone, Shen Yan suddenly shuddered and spat a mouthful of fresh blood onto the platform.

“Ah… Was it worth it?” The onlookers exchanged glances, unable to fathom why Shen Yan would pay such a price for a single spiritual spring.

Yet Shen Yan cared nothing for their reactions. He wiped the blood from his lips, turned to Xuanji Zi, and asked, “Honored Deacon, what of the contest for the spiritual land?”

Seeing him in such a state, Xuanji Zi was silent for a long while before finally saying, “Fellow Daoist Zhou, you truly live up to the name of sword cultivator!”

With those words, he turned to the crowd and solemnly declared, “The third match goes to Fellow Daoist Zhou. Henceforth, the spiritual spring of Qinglian Island shall belong to him!”

None of those present voiced any protest; each turned and left in silence.

After the crowd had dispersed, Shen Yan still maintained the appearance of one on the brink of death. He feigned such weakness deliberately, for Xuanji Zi, as the stationed deacon of Vast Sea Sect and a Foundation Establishment cultivator, might well possess spiritual-sight arts. To prevent his disguise from being seen through, Shen Yan had to act thoroughly frail, hoping to hasten Xuanji Zi’s departure.

Once Xuanji Zi had gone, Shen Yan changed his appearance and shed the guise of Zhou Shun. Then he connected with the Heavenly Emperor’s Divine Seal within him, drawing a wisp of innate purple energy into his dantian, swiftly restoring his depleted spiritual power.

In the blink of an eye, his aura was completely restored, showing no trace of any loss of essence or blood.

He waited another half hour, then released his spiritual sense. Sensing no one secretly observing him, he dove into the sea, used his water-escape technique, and pursued the Luo clan’s spirit ship.

Though the Luo clan’s flying vessel was a supreme-grade large artifact, it could have traveled at most a few hundred miles in such a short time.

Shen Yan caught up in less than the time it takes to burn an incense stick.

Inside a room aboard the spirit ship, Luo Ruoqin sat upright on a white jade dais, gripping a spirit stone as he healed his wounds.

His body was still stained with blood, especially at his chest, where a sword wound nearly pierced through.

A middle-aged cultivator at mid-stage Qi Refinement stood by, deeply worried at the sight of his forebear’s misery. He had never imagined things would come to this—that Zhou Shun could injure their forebear, and so grievously at that.

Should anything befall the forebear, could he, with only his mid-stage Qi Refinement, bear the burden of the clan?

No wonder, then, that the forebear had chosen to retreat decisively, unwilling to gamble his life against Zhou Shun.

As the glow faded from the jade stone, and after a long period of meditation, Luo Ruoqin finally exhaled a heavy breath and opened his eyes.

“Forebear!” The middle-aged cultivator hurried forward. “How are you?”

“I’ve barely managed to stabilize myself,” Luo Ruoqin replied, shaking his head and lowering his gaze to the sword wound in his chest. Though the cut had congealed and bled no more, he could still sense a sharp, chilling force lingering within.

“The Foundation Establishment Sword Technique is truly formidable,” Luo Ruoqin sighed. “I underestimated Zhou Shun.”

Hearing this, the middle-aged cultivator grew even more anxious.

“Do not worry,” Luo Ruoqin reassured with a shake of his head. “The sword art is powerful, but it requires the matching cultivation to fully unleash its might. Zhou Shun is but late-stage Qi Refinement; even if he burned his vital essence to force out a strike or two, it falls short of true Foundation Establishment power. Against others it might kill, but not me.”

“Your might is unparalleled, forebear!” The middle-aged cultivator breathed a sigh of relief, not forgetting to flatter.

“What might is there in this? It was only enough to save my life,” Luo Ruoqin shook his head and sighed again. “Sword cultivators are worthy of their reputation. My own Grand Astral Qi Technique has reached perfection, my body tempered as steel—even at peak Qi Refinement, none should easily break through. Yet Zhou Shun wounded me with a single sword—clearly, I was careless.”

“Forebear, you need not dwell on it. Zhou Shun risked his life for that strike; he likely won’t live much longer. Once he perishes, we can return to Qinglian Island and demand our blood debt be repaid!” the middle-aged cultivator urged.

“Indeed,” Luo Ruoqin nodded approvingly, then advised earnestly, “That man has a resolute heart, unlike most. But now, with his lifespan greatly shortened, he will act even more recklessly. Your patience today is commendable. We cultivators seek longevity above all; his actions may seem bold, but in truth, he sacrifices the roots for the branches—you must never emulate him.”

“Rest assured, forebear, I understand well,” the middle-aged cultivator replied with a smile, heartened to find their thoughts aligned. “As for the Xu clan…”

At this, Luo Ruoqin’s expression turned somber. “The death of Xu Mao was not my intention. Once we return to East Sea, take some men to offer condolences. Be sure the widows and orphans of the Xu clan suffer no mistreatment.”

The middle-aged cultivator’s eyes brightened at this and he nodded at once. “I understand, forebear. Rest assured!”

“Good,” Luo Ruoqin nodded, then instructed, “Go now. I will meditate a while longer. The spirit ship must not slow—make haste home. Once word spreads, our rivals will surely make their move.”

“Yes!” The middle-aged cultivator bowed and withdrew.

Luo Ruoqin closed his eyes again, preparing to resume his meditation and heal his grave injuries.