Chapter 29: A Clever Plan Backfires

Lei Ya paid no heed to whether his opponent knew how to wield a sword. Dropping his shoulder and raising his arm, he thrust his sword straight toward the man’s face, the sword’s flickering tip resembling the forked tongue of a shadowy serpent. Observing his steady bearing and composed footwork, it was clear he was a tough adversary, earning him a round of cheers from the crowd seated on the surrounding steps.

Though Lei Ya’s boxing skills were unremarkable, his swordsmanship was truly something to behold—he was clearly striving to become a sword cultivator, which explained his dogged determination to occupy the Sword Lodge. In this wild province, strength was the measure of all things, and the assembly’s attention was soon wholly captured by the confrontation between the two men.

Not until the Viper Sword was half a yard from his body did Qin Chuan’s eyes reveal a hint of hesitation—he simply could not recall. Very well, he thought, let me break this predicament first. In the Eternal Battlefield, reality and illusion were intertwined; how was one to tell truth from falsehood? Like a dream, only a tenth remained clear.

What the crowd did not know was that beneath Qin Chuan’s bed in the Hall of Divination, two rusted wooden swords were faintly emanating blue and crimson light.

“Oh no, it seems Brother Qin doesn’t know sword techniques!” Wang Hao’s knuckles whitened as he clenched his fists, his eyes fixed on the unfolding match, but he could only feel disappointment.

Within, Qin Chuan had already activated the Profound Breath Dust Technique, continuously replenishing his spiritual energy. As the Viper Sword approached, his heart remained unmoved, as if his body had been possessed by a god. The chilling sword energy flickering from the Viper Sword pierced his robe, but at the critical moment, a slight movement kept him unharmed, eliciting gasps from the onlookers.

Still, something was missing. What was it? The sight of Lei Ya’s sword piercing his sleeve was uncannily familiar, as if he’d seen it before. Suddenly, he recalled when he had first applied the breathing technique in battle, and a light dawned in his eyes. The shrouded dream finally revealed a corner, but the details remained elusive, that vague sensation scratching at his heart like a cat’s paw.

Back and forth it went, and the crowd began to lose interest—this was less a contest than a cat toying with a mouse. Though Qin Chuan appeared somewhat disheveled, he remained unscathed.

Now Lei Ya was growing anxious. The scene of his defeat at Zhao Yu’s hands a few days prior haunted him, and now, was it happening again? Why couldn’t he master the art of blending breathing techniques with combat?

He noticed Qin Chuan’s endless, unbroken breaths, and saw that the slender willow branch he wielded had been soaked in the venom from the Viper Sword, turning a bluish purple. Yet with Qin Chuan continually reinforcing it with spiritual energy, the branch remained whole.

He cursed inwardly—Qin Chuan meant to wear him down! He needed to find a solution.

As the match dragged on, some among the audience began to notice the pattern and whispered that Qin Chuan was using a breathing technique in battle, intending to exhaust Lei Ya into submission.

If Qin Chuan had known what they were thinking, he would have cried injustice—he was only using this duel to help himself recall the swordsmanship he’d executed in the Eternal Battlefield.

Sure enough, the situation began to change. From merely dodging, to clumsily trading sword blows, Qin Chuan’s technique gradually began to take shape. No longer did he swing his sword at random.

Sword and branch clashed rapidly, neither gaining the upper hand. The willow leaves, stained a dark purple-black, withered and fell onto the stone tiles.

Eventually, sweat broke out on both men’s foreheads. Each exerted himself and then broke apart after a light exchange.

“Alas...” Lei Ya sighed suddenly, drawing Qin Chuan’s attention, who had not been wholly focused on him.

“What a pity. We are both nominated disciples of the same sequence of Azure Sun Mountain, yet instead of sharing a drink in camaraderie, we are here fighting to the death for a mere Sword Lodge.” Lei Ya’s sigh was tinged with sorrow, as if he genuinely regretted the situation, though inside, he was seething with resentment.

The onlookers found it strange—why had the battle turned into a conversation? Qin Chuan gripped the willow branch before him, sorting out his sword moves in his mind, an inkling of realization dawning.

Beneath the bed, the two rusted wooden swords, glowing blue and crimson, shone a little brighter.

“Yesterday, Zhang Huai, competing with me for the first nomination, was accidentally wounded by my Viper Sword. I fear his century of cultivation has been destroyed, his meridians irreparably damaged!”

Qin Chuan’s pupils contracted sharply—he knew well the power of the Viper Sword. A touch of its venom would corrode a hole through cloth, and the fallen willow leaves had already withered.

If not for his continual reinforcement of the willow branch with spiritual energy, it would have been severed or corroded long ago.

Rage surged within him, and under the Profound Breath Dust Technique, his mindscape flushed crimson.

“Ah!”

“You deserve death!” In a fury, his hair fell loose, waving in a windless frenzy.

Lei Ya had touched the one line he should never have crossed.

Zhang Huai had been his childhood companion and closest friend, almost like family. Now, with his fate uncertain, how could Qin Chuan spare any thought for polishing sword moves?

This was why the Profound Breath Dust Technique brought the heart to a state of neither joy nor sorrow, but not to the emotionless heights of detachment—conscious will could still govern the heart, and now he forcibly broke free of the technique’s restraints.

Who is to blame when the tiger escapes its cage?

He truly deserved death! All prior carelessness vanished—now he wanted nothing more than to cut down the man before him.

Qin Chuan thrust his sword; all his previous moves melted into a single flow. Thrust, slash, lift, hang, cloud, point, crash, intercept—eight techniques fused into two forms: the vertical thrust and the horizontal cut.

Within this technique were eight swords. The first sword was not swift; the seven starlike flashes separated and then rejoined, all merging into the eighth sword—the vertical thrust.

This thrust seemed to tilt the heavens, pouring the Milky Way down, rending light and sound as it became a streak of black, aimed straight at Lei Ya’s brow.

For a moment, Lei Ya felt as if he had been plunged into an ice cellar, cold rising from his tailbone to his heart. All he could think was, “This is the end.”

This sword was inescapable, unstoppable. Terror-stricken, he could only stare at the approaching darkness and those blood-red, predatory eyes, waiting quietly for death—he even forgot to raise his sword in defense.

Beneath the bed, Blue Edge and Crimson Flame suddenly shuddered, emitting dazzling blue and crimson light as rust flaked off, revealing the wood beneath.

Suddenly, Lei Ya felt a faint breeze brush past, his vision darkened, and a Daoist appeared before him. There was no time to draw a weapon or cast a spell; the Daoist simply dug up a large slab of sea-patterned stone from the ground and held it in front of him, reinforcing it with spiritual energy.

Clang—

At their clash, the slender willow branch rang with a metallic note, as if it were a true sword.

The sword’s momentum was complete, but after all, it was wielded by a first-level Qi Refining disciple—how powerful could it be?

As the thought passed, Supervisor Wang glanced at the collision point—there were few cracks or chips, but the willow branch was already broken in several places and fell to the ground with two soft thuds. The difference was clear, and he felt a hint of satisfaction.

Qin Chuan stared in a daze at the half willow branch in his hand, his eyes brimming with tears. The salty bitterness that ran down his cheeks was a taste known only to himself.

The disciples on the surrounding seats had all unconsciously risen, staring dumbfounded at the scene before them.

“Awaken!” Supervisor Wang frowned, noticing the demon’s hold on Qin Chuan’s heart. He tossed aside the stone, channeling a spark of spiritual light at his fingertip, intending to touch Qin Chuan’s brow and clear his mind.

Unexpectedly, Qin Chuan still had strength left. Dodging aside in a flash, he leapt backwards, reaching out as if to seize a wisp of black-violet energy.

His movements were smooth and concealed, even escaping Supervisor Wang’s notice.

“Hm!” Supervisor Wang exclaimed. The stone slab fell to the ground without a sound, crumbling instantly into fine sand, which the breeze swept away, as if his own pride had been shattered by what he had just witnessed.

In that moment of distraction, Qin Chuan flung three withered, purple-black willow leaves from his hand, black lightning bolts streaking toward Lei Ya behind Supervisor Wang.

Lei Ya had never seen such a spectacle—he was petrified, shaking like a leaf. As the three black flashes shot toward him, he could only raise his sword to block, acting on instinct.

Crack—

Crack—

Two soft sounds—one leaf got through!

A faint tearing sound—at first, the shriveled leaf carried great force, but after flying more than two yards, it had lost much of its power. Still, it pierced Lei Ya’s clothes and lodged in his flesh.

Through the torn cloth, one could see a trace of black-violet spreading along his veins, especially as the recent battle had his blood surging.

“Not good!” Supervisor Wang snapped back to his senses, rapidly forming seals and striking Lei Ya. Most of the poisoned blood, along with fragments of the willow leaf, was forced out.

He patted his storage pouch, produced a pill, and stuffed it into Lei Ya’s mouth. “Swallow this at once, circulate your energy, and seal off the poison with your spiritual power!”

Turning back to Qin Chuan, he saw the youth had already overexerted himself and fainted.

“Ah, I thought being a supervisor on the dueling platform would be an easy job. Who knew I’d end up with such a mess? In a month or two, I’ll resign and leave all these worldly troubles behind.”

Muttering softly, he took out another pill, carefully feeding it to Qin Chuan. Seeing the black-violet poison begin to spread in his palm, he quickly worked to expel it completely.

Qin Chuan’s murderous intent had been aroused, but his spiritual energy was nearly depleted. He had no mind to worry whether the poison would spread to himself—he simply hurled out the three willow leaves, emptying his reserves. Since the poison had not broken his skin, the effect was not severe.

While healing Qin Chuan, Supervisor Wang accidentally came into contact with some of the venom. Instantly, he felt a strange sensation—neither itching, pain, nor numbness, but rather like a faint current running through his body, leaving him uncomfortable.

He glanced at Lei Ya, who sat cross-legged in meditation, and could not suppress a flicker of disgust. In the end, he merely clicked his tongue and took no further action.

“Come now, you must be Wang Hao, yes? Step forward.” Supervisor Wang, surprised by the ferocity of Qin Chuan’s last attack, had developed an admiration for his talent. Out of fondness, seeing Wang Hao limp forward, he handed him a pill and gave some instructions.

“When he wakes, explain to him that the Viper Sword has always been kept in the sect’s armory and is not something a registered disciple can access.”

“That disciple Zhang Huai should be safe, tell him not to worry. Also, if there is anything else, he can come to find me here at the dueling platform. If not, he can look for me at Azurefall Peak, not far from here.”

Hearing these words, Wang Hao was surprised. “Azurefall Peak? Senior, could it be that you are...”