Chapter 128: Aren't you looking for the Third Young Master's sword? Here, take it.

Chapter 128: You Wanted the Third Young Master's Sword? Here You Go

Inside the tavern, Crow suddenly found himself caught in a dilemma.

In the past, he was certain someone would die because when two martial masters duel, the fight never stops until one falls.

But now, Crow wasn’t so sure. The reason was simple: last time, when Zheng Jian and Xie Xiaofeng fought atop the desolate mountain, neither of them died...

Thinking of this, Crow silently cursed Zheng Jian for his “womanly mercy”!

Suddenly, an idea struck Crow, and a cunning smile spread across his face. “Don’t forget, you once said you’d repay the debt of one tael and eight qian of silver with the swords of Yan Shisan and Xie Xiaofeng! Where’s Xie Xiaofeng’s sword?”

Zheng Jian scratched his head, realizing he had indeed forgotten that part. He was new to this world back then and had spoken without thinking...

But now that the words were out, he couldn’t just deny them.

Seeing Zheng Jian’s troubled expression, Crow was inwardly triumphant. This guy came at him with all sorts of jabs, but now, let’s see what he has to say!

Zheng Jian pondered for a moment, then suddenly had an idea. Looking at Crow, whose grin was nearly splitting his face, he thought, “Got you now! There’s no way you can outsmart me!”

“I’ll go get the swords! Stay right here and don’t move,” Zheng Jian said with a slight smile, then turned and went to the back courtyard.

...

A moment later, Zheng Jian reappeared, holding two swords in his hands.

He placed them on the table. “Here, these are the swords you wanted. Take them.”

Crow stared at Zheng Jian in shock, then looked at the two swords and instantly grew furious. “Are you kidding me? I know the famous sword of the Xie family and Yan Shisan’s sword. What are these two supposed to be?”

Zheng Jian chuckled, “Pick them up and take a closer look!”

Crow, puzzled, lifted one of the swords and examined it carefully, only to have his nose wrinkle in fury.

Written crookedly on the scabbard were the words: “Third Young Master’s Sword!”

Without even looking, Crow knew the other must say: “Yan Shisan’s Sword!”

Crow’s resentment meter shot up by 999 points.

“Hey! You’re a world-renowned swordmaster. You can’t mess with me like this!” Crow yelled, utterly exasperated.

Zheng Jian laughed, “I did say Yan Shisan’s sword and Third Young Master’s sword, but I never said anything about the Deadly Thirteen Swords or the Xie family’s Divine Sword. These two? No problem!”

Crow was so furious he wanted to strike someone. He realized Zheng Jian’s name perfectly matched his nature—truly shameless!

“You... you’re cheating!” he shouted, flipping the table in frustration.

---

Crow’s resentment meter +999.

Zheng Jian crossed his legs. “Flattered, flattered!”

Crow was helpless. What use did he have for these two lousy swords?

“Hmph, just you wait! Yan Shisan isn’t Xie Xiaofeng. If you don’t kill him, he’ll kill you! I don’t believe otherwise!” Crow cursed as he stomped out, unwilling to stay another moment.

Watching Crow’s retreating figure disappear outside, Zheng Jian’s playful smile faded. Crow was right: Yan Shisan was different from Xie Xiaofeng. Yan Shisan’s battles couldn’t simply be halted at will.

Especially that earth-shattering Fifteenth Sword—Yan Shisan himself couldn’t control it. How could Zheng Jian possibly defend against it?

That sword forced Xie Xiaofeng to close his eyes and await death! The sword demon Yan Shisan had truly reached his pinnacle with that strike!

But Zheng Jian refused to believe that sword was truly unbeatable. Just because Xie Xiaofeng couldn’t counter it didn’t mean he couldn’t. After all, the Fifteenth Sword was not the Twenty-third Earth-Shattering Sword of the Sword Saint...

...

Night was pitch black, so dark one couldn’t see five fingers in front of their face.

Yan Shisan, dressed in black, seemed to merge with the darkness itself.

In his hand was his Deadly Thirteen Swords. He stood silently atop the desolate mountain, sensing the aura there, as if recalling the recent peerless duel that had taken place.

Suddenly, Yan Shisan drew a sword and lightly thrust it forward. A sword aura shot out, and the sword in his hand seemed to come alive, becoming agile and spirited.

As the sword technique neared completion, it naturally evolved. Yan Shisan silently danced with his sword, elegant and free, and in an instant, thirteen swords were struck out.

When the thirteenth sword pierced forward, the surrounding void changed. It was killing intent, filling the air as if saturating this space.

A flying bird crashed into this void and was instantly torn to pieces by the pervasive sword aura.

After this strike, all changes seemed to cease, like a river finally reaching the sea.

Yan Shisan did not stop. He continued spinning the sword in his hand, and suddenly, as if enlightened, he thrust out the fourteenth sword!

This sword was completely different. The killing intent that had filled the void vanished without a trace, replaced by an indescribable oppression. There was no killing aura, but the air was thick with death—like his surroundings had become a no-escape abyss, and he had turned into the embodiment of death itself.

At this point, Yan Shisan felt he had exerted his utmost, and all transformations had been exhausted. But then, the tip of the Deadly Thirteen Swords began to tremble.

In an instant, everything around him froze. The wind, which should have been flowing, stopped. Leaves and grass that had fluttered in the sword aura came to a halt.

No words could describe this sword—only deathly silence.

This sword brought nothing but endless death. The death intent was completely distilled. Although there was no death aura, it was the true end of all things.

This was, unmistakably, the fifteenth sword of the Deadly Thirteen Swords!

Yan Shisan held the pose of this sword, his expression strange—part joy, part surprise, part fear, and mostly terror. This sword even frightened him. He could hardly control it.

---

After a long while, Yan Shisan finally moved again and sheathed his long sword. The surroundings slowly came back to life.

He gasped, and suddenly the whole mountaintop seemed warmer...

...

The next day, in the small town, outside the tavern, Yan Shisan, still dressed in black, silently entered.

The moment he stepped in, the once boisterous tavern fell silent. Every patron sensed the overwhelming killing intent radiating from him and hastily threw down their silver and left.

Even Xue Keren trembled in fear from the oppressive aura.

Zheng Jian sensed something in the back courtyard and walked over, sword stained with tears in hand. He saw Yan Shisan, who also noticed him.

“You came,” Zheng Jian said.

“I came,” Yan Shisan replied.

Zheng Jian: “I knew you would come.”

Yan Shisan: “Indeed, I would.”

Zheng Jian: “Time and place?”

Yan Shisan: “Tonight at midnight, atop the desolate mountain.”

Zheng Jian: “Good! I will be there.”

Yan Shisan looked deeply at Zheng Jian, then turned to leave.

Zheng Jian casually tossed him a flask. “Catch!”

Yan Shisan caught it. “I have no money.”

Zheng Jian smiled. “It’s on me. Don’t worry, no poison.”

Yan Shisan paused, then broke the seal and drank as he walked away—gulp gulp gulp gulp...

...

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(End of chapter)