“Jue•Ning Qiu.” Ying Bu drew another cross with his blade and swung the Qishuo sword toward Ye Xiu with a reverse grip. Ye Xiu forced himself to endure his previous wounds, parrying Ying Bu’s relentless attacks one by one. However, he was completely unaccustomed to defending against Ying Bu's reverse-grip swordsmanship. At first glance, Ying Bu’s thrusts and slashes from a reverse angle seemed more strenuous than usual, but after dozens of exchanges on the ground, Ye Xiu suddenly realized his mobility and the responsiveness of his arm muscles were diminishing.

“Hahaha, my Shan Jue Sword is not so easily seen through. Do you understand the meaning behind the Ning Qiu sword techniques?” Ying Bu spoke as he swept his blade, scoring several more cuts on Ye Xiu’s arm. “These moves are intentionally designed to make you strain to block them. Don’t your arms feel like they’ve lost control!”

Ye Xiu cursed internally. So, Ying Bu’s seemingly aggressive sequence of attacks was deliberately paced to allow him time to defend. His arm muscles, having undergone such frequent stretching and relaxation, had reached their absolute limit.

Ying Bu didn't let up. Suddenly, he flung the Qishuo sword into the air, leaping up himself, spreading his arms wide like wings. Just as the timing synced and man and sword converged, he frowned and roared, “Jue•Yi Zi (Absolute•One Character).” A crimson sword light, stark against the desolate night, shot directly toward Ye Xiu.

This was the first time Ye Xiu had witnessed sword light materialize into a tangible form. He knew he had to evade the swift power of this strike, but its speed seemed insurmountable—he simply couldn’t react in time. With no other recourse, he raised the Tianyi sword vertically before his chest, bracing to meet the blow head-on.

“Rumble!” The sword light descended fiercely. Dust on the ground scattered upward, swirling around Ye Xiu. Countless withered branches, fallen leaves, and water splashed from the pond were all agitated. The scene was spectacularly dramatic, yet saturated with sky-piercing killing intent.

“Still not dead?” Ying Bu closed his left eye, revealing a sinister malice. He knew Ye Xiu was not so easily dispatched. After a scattering of rocks crashed against the bank, he swung the Qishuo, carving an arc before himself. The residual crimson light from the treasure sword was not yet fully dissipated, and this arc traced a gentle line of light—except the other end of that light was a bloody glare.

“Jue•Shan Zhong Jue (Absolute•Fading End).” Ying Bu muttered something with his eyes closed. When he reopened them, the arc of blood-light had enveloped the space before him. He instantly drove the Qishuo forward, piercing through the bloody arc and vanishing into the darkness.

Dust and debris billowed throughout the small courtyard structure. That previous attack, Jue•Yi Zi, had struck Ye Xiu squarely. However, as the smoke cleared, Ye Xiu still stood perfectly intact in his original spot.

Yu Ji knew she was powerless to interfere in their deadly conflict and could only watch from afar, her heart tightly clenched.

Ye Xiu stood motionless, his entire body drenched in blood. Notably, the Tianyi in his hand was also stained crimson. With his head bowed, Ye Xiu’s consciousness was growing hazy. A technique from the Mozi Sword style, one of its final moves, suddenly surfaced in his mind: “Feng Hong Qiu Li (Maple Red Autumn Fall),” the arrogant killing move he had used to slay dozens of Mohist disciples on the beach that day. He recognized this sensation arriving—the awareness that the beast within him was stirring, gradually seizing control of his being. The Tianyi in his hand was the perfect catalyst, for from the tip of the jet-black hilt, a thick, purplish smoke began to slowly envelop his entire body, tracing from the blade all the way to the tip. Simultaneously, the Zifeng Chain on his left hand seemed to sense the presence of something else and fully activated.

“Aah!” At that moment, Ying Bu’s ultimate technique struck. A crimson streak hurtled down toward Ye Xiu from the sky.

“Pfft…” The red blade grazed Ye Xiu’s shoulder, drawing fresh blood. Yet, it clearly wasn't finished. The instant the light pierced his body, it inexplicably vanished.

“Hiss…” When the red sword light reappeared, it stabbed into Ye Xiu’s leg before vanishing again into the night sky.

By this time, the purplish-black mist surrounding Ye Xiu had completely encased him. The dust and leaves on the ground were mysteriously repelled outward by this smoky aura.

“Clang…” When that bizarre red sword light struck Ye Xiu again, it was effortlessly blocked by the Tianyi.

Ye Xiu slowly raised his head. He seemed no longer to feel the pain of his wounds or the flow of his blood. He knew Ying Bu’s sword was fast; even with the Zifeng Chain, he could barely track the blade as it approached.

Ying Bu seemed to sense the eerie shift in Ye Xiu’s posture. Both he and the red light paused mid-air. With a slight upward adjustment of the blade angle, they merged once more with the preceding crimson glow and disappeared. Immediately following this, the entire black night sky transformed into a sea of red.

Ye Xiu gazed upward, stunned by what he saw above him. How could there be so many sword tips? Heaven and earth were filled with blade edges—endless sword tips—and behind those tips seemed to stand thousands of Ying Bus, all rushing toward him in unison.

“Die! Hahaha.” Ying Bu’s triumphant shout echoed, the sky filled with his delighted laughter.

Ye Xiu retreated a few steps. The overwhelming malevolence instantly ignited the demon within him. The Tianyi sword flashed with cold light, pulling Ye Xiu soaring into the air. At this moment, Ye Xiu’s mouth stretched into a monstrous grin: “Hahahaha, ah hahahaha!”

The atmosphere of spiritual slaughter reached its apex. Onlooker Yu Ji could no longer stand and pressed herself tightly into a corner, watching as the vast expanse of crimson light was being dispelled by the purplish-black smoke.

“Tianyi•Bie Ye Qiu Li (Heaven’s Will•Farewell Autumn Fall).” Ye Xiu achieved sudden enlightenment during the fierce battle, realizing a move that fundamentally did not exist within the Mozi Sword style. If this technique were unleashed using the Mozi Sword, it might carry no killing intent, but now, holding the Tianyi—the sword bearing the variability of this era—transformed into ten thousand blade tips, why should he fear the enemy?

“Whoosh…” Two figures, two swords, two kinds of luminous radiance became entangled in the air. At this instant, everything within sight was in motion. All things above and below were swept into the vortex formed by the clashing intersection of the two blades. Wherever the black hole extended, only human ruin remained.

“Boom…”

A deafening sound echoed throughout Wuzhong. That crimson light shot straight out of the sky, disappearing into the heavens. Ying Bu’s subsequent disappearance startled the crescent moon overhead, causing it to hide behind the clouds. Beneath the cloud cover, Ye Xiu knelt beside Wan’er, supported by his sword, gripping it with both hands. He ignored his wounds, smiling at Wan’er, a peaceful, contented smile.

“Brother Ye!” Fortunately, Wan’er had been unharmed by the violent exchange. She was finally herself again. She hadn't seen her beloved Brother Ye in a long time.

Ye Xiu reached up to stroke Wan’er’s face. The innocence of the past was gone, replaced by the devastation etched by hardship and endless tears.

“Brother Ye, are you all right? Is Hong’er, or my father, all right?” Wan’er lay on the ground, her eyes already blurred with tears. “Is everyone alright?”

Ye Xiu drew a ragged breath, momentarily unsure how to answer.

“They…” Seeing Ye Xiu’s expression, Wan’er choked back a sob again.

“Hong’er is fine, but Master he…” Ye Xiu decided against hiding anything. He pulled Wan’er into his embrace. “Wan’er, come back to the Ghost Valley with me. Hong’er is waiting for you at home.”

“Waaah…” Wan’er clung tightly to Ye Xiu’s shoulder. How could this once innocent girl bear the weight of so much turmoil endured in the world?

“Don’t be afraid, Brother Ye is still here.” In this moment, Ye Xiu could do nothing; no words of comfort mattered. He could only hold Wan’er tightly and wipe away all the tears on her cheeks.

Wan’er was no longer the young lady she used to be. No one could fully comprehend the bitterness and sweetness she had experienced as a lone woman venturing into the jianghu. Leaving the Ghost Valley, leaving Wang Long, leaving Hong’er, and leaving the Brother Ye she deeply loved—she had managed to live until now. She felt she was destined to have nothing, so why bother clinging to anything? She pulled away from Ye Xiu’s embrace and touched his face: “Brother Ye, the Wan’er of today is not the Wan’er of the past. I know you mean well, but I will not go back with you. That is no longer my home.”

Ye Xiu recognized the resolve in Wan’er’s eyes, and he understood her feelings for him. He owed her too much. If he hadn't appeared, perhaps Wan’er would still be living happily in the Ghost Valley, and none of the agonizing things she suffered would have occurred. His presence had shattered many sweet dreams.

“Brother Ye, are your injuries not serious?” Wan’er had buried the pain of her own wounds deep inside, her concern focused on him.

Ye Xiu was consumed by self-reproach, wishing he could simply die. But if he died, who would protect Wan’er? “Wan’er, come with me. Let’s leave this place, let’s be together properly, we…” Ye Xiu intended to say they would just be together, the two of them, but the image of Xu’er, waiting for him faithfully, suddenly surfaced, filling him with internal conflict.

“Since you’re fine, Brother Ye, you should go. I can take care of myself. The Wan’er you knew is dead; the one remaining is Yu Ji.” Wan’er smiled faintly as she looked at the sky. “General Xiang said he would return to marry me. Don’t worry, Brother Ye, he will take good care of me.”

“This…” Ye Xiu remembered Xiang Yu’s promise to Wan’er that day. He wanted to persuade her further, but he felt it would be futile. As Wan’er said, the old Wan’er was gone; the person before him was Yu Ji, and Yu Ji was destined to become Xiang Yu’s beloved concubine—a fact Ye Xiu understood better than anyone.

Ye Xiu painfully used his sword to support himself, limping away from Yu Ji. He didn't know if his decision was right or wrong, nor did he know if Ying Bu was alive or dead. He only silently resolved to remain within the Western Chu army. Even if he wasn't worthy of telling Yu Ji he loved her, he could at least watch her from a distance and guard her.

The autumn rain began to fall softly, as clear as the tears on Yu Ji’s cheeks. She stared blankly at Ye Xiu’s receding figure and cried out, “I am sorry, Brother Ye! Whether it is Wan’er or Yu Ji, we will always love you, but neither of us is worthy of receiving your love.”