Sword Arrives

The middle-aged scholar smiled. "Of course, if it's just a secret infatuation, even the Dao Ancestor or Buddha cannot stop it. Even among us scholars, who are bound by the most rules, our greatest sage, only advised 'do not speak, look, listen, or act improperly,' but never forbade 'thinking improperly.'"

The young man suddenly seemed to be possessed, blurting out loud, "She smells so good!"

As soon as the words left his mouth, he was struck dumb with regret.

The scholar wasn't angry, but he was somewhat frustrated by the situation. He spoke in a low voice: "Zhao Yao, turn around!"

Without thinking, the young man turned, facing away from his master.

Beneath the archway, the girl turned her head, her killing intent radiating.

She first let her arms drop, with her thumbs pressing against the hilts of her sword and dagger.

Then, she took a few small steps, and after about four or five paces, her hands and feet exploded with power. The snow-white scabbard of her sword and the slender green scabbard of her dagger both slid out simultaneously, thrusting forward. In the same instant, her body propelled upward, and she swiftly grasped both blade and dagger. Without hesitation, she brought them crashing down toward the scholar's head!

Between the girl in black and the pair of teacher and student, two radiant arcs of light blossomed from her slender arms.

It wasn't a divine technique or a spell.

It was pure speed!

The scholar appeared unfazed, with no intention of avoiding her strike. He simply gave a light stomp.

A ripple spread outward.

The next moment, the girl's body tensed, her murderous aura intensifying.

What should have been a crushing blow with the sword and dagger fell completely short. Instead, she found herself standing right where she had unleashed her attack.

The scholar smiled and said, "Not bad. Even when fighting a rabbit, a lion uses all its strength. But, in any case, my disciple did indeed offend you. Still, is it a crime punishable by death?"

The girl deliberately lowered her voice, making it sound deeper and more mature. She slowly sheathed her sword, shifting to a one-handed grip on the dagger, the blade pointed directly at the scholar. "How you 'feel' about it is your business, not mine."

She stepped forward, "What I do is my business. Of course, you could... try to do something about it!"

And then, with lightning speed, she charged forward.

The ground where she had stepped with her front and back feet immediately collapsed into two small craters.

The scholar stood with one hand behind his back, the other loosely holding a fist in front of his abdomen. He smiled and said, "In the art of war, speed is the key to victory. It's a pity that this world, even though it may be on the brink of collapsing, as long as it hasn't yet, even ten Earthly Immortals working together couldn't break the formation. They'd be like ants shaking a giant tree. Let alone you."

The next moment, the girl appeared once again, for no reason at all, ten or so steps to the scholar's left.

She paused for a moment, then closed her eyes.

The scholar shook his head and chuckled, "It's not the illusion you think it is. This world, similar to the Buddhist concept of a small thousand-world, here I am…"

"Eh?"

He was suddenly startled, stopping mid-sentence. In an instant, he was by the girl's side, reaching out to investigate. His two fingers lightly gripped the tip of her sword.

He asked, "Who taught you this swordplay and knife technique?"

The girl didn't open her eyes. With her left hand, she gripped the sword hilt she had just sheathed. A flash of cold light swept toward the scholar's waist, attempting to slice him in half.

The scholar, still holding the tip of the sword, called out, "Step back!"

A loud crashing noise echoed from the ground, followed by dust and debris flying. Moments later, the figure of the girl wearing a veiled hat appeared. Her feet were planted firmly, one in front of the other. A trench appeared beneath her feet, stretching from the scholar's position as if plowed by a plow.

The girl's hands were covered in blood and flesh.

The sword was drawn, the dagger had been unsheathed, yet she had been reduced to the humiliating position of having her weapon taken away by bare hands.

What's worse, she knew very well that, apart from the structure of this world, the enemy had kept his cultivation level suppressed to match her own.

This was a matter of skill, not lack of cultivation.

She felt as if she were on the edge of losing control.

Perhaps the girl didn't even realize that, centered on her, the light around her had started to distort.

This scholar, who was by far the most reasonable person, kindly advised, "It's best not to compare yourself to me for now. It could interfere with your martial arts mindset. Martial arts must progress step by step to reach the peak, and that's absolutely crucial."

At that moment, his demeanor was a bit odd, holding the sword by its tip with one hand and the body with the other.

He suddenly laughed and mimicked the girl's tone, saying in an exaggeratedly old-fashioned way, "Whether you listen is your freedom; whether I speak is mine."

The girl was silent for a moment before responding in a low voice, "I stand corrected."

The scholar nodded with a smile. She wasn't a haughty, overbearing woman—this was a good thing. He gently tossed the sword back to the girl and said, "I'll return the sword to you first."

He looked down at the tip of the sword, which was slightly vibrating.

The chick is clearer than the old phoenix's cry.

The scholar sighed and said, "The quality of this sword is quite good, but it's still a bit lacking compared to the best. It can barely carry two characters' weight. If it weren't for that, with your talent and foundation, not to mention all four characters, even three would definitely be within your grasp…"