Li Muzhan frowned. This was the first time he had encountered a master with such profound cultivation. It seemed the pinnacle experts in this world were far beyond his previous estimation.
“Senior Sister, you leave first when the time comes!” Li Muzhan murmured softly.
Qin Yeqiu shook her head. “Neither of us is leaving!”
Li Muzhan gave a slight smile, halting his movement. They had arrived at a mountain summit. A fierce wind whipped across his face, howling as it scraped against the surrounding stones.
The area was barren, nothing but rock, devoid of trees. Li Muzhan and Qin Yeqiu stood shoulder to shoulder. He glanced at Qin Yeqiu—her purple robes fluttered, her face was like flawless white jade, and her eyes were tranquil, showing not a trace of panic.
This composure earned his silent admiration. As expected of a Palace Mistress, she might have truly seen through the mystery of life and death, showing not a flicker of fear.
He himself did not fear death, having grasped the secret of reincarnation. But avoiding death was preferable; starting over was never a good idea when there was still so much in this life he could not let go of.
He turned to look back. A gaunt, black-clad elder stood silently atop a large boulder, observing the two of them with a placid gaze.
The stone was thirty feet away, perhaps ten paces—a trivial distance for masters like them, easily covered in a single stride and well within striking range.
Li Muzhan smiled faintly, studying the elder in black. He was thin as a pine tree, his face etched with deep, abundant wrinkles—so pronounced a slight frown could trap a fly.
He looked like a flickering lamp whose flame might extinguish at any moment, appearing fragile to the touch, yet touching him might instantly end one's own life.
Li Muzhan sighed. The lifespan of people in this world was long. Though their physical strength waned in old age, their internal power often deepened. This elder likely possessed over a century of cultivation, perhaps even two.
“What business does the elder have with us?” Li Muzhan clasped his hands in a bow, sparing a glance for the group of square-faced men slowly advancing up the mountain, their expressions gloomy rather than joyful at having finally caught up.
These men knelt instantly, their faces respectful, bowing low to the elder in black.
The elder stood firm, as if having merged with the surrounding rocks, becoming one himself. He did not look at them, his attention fixed solely on Li Muzhan.
Li Muzhan chuckled. “It seems the elder has come forward on their behalf. Dragon Mountain Sect truly lives up to its name. Impressive! Truly impressive!”
The Purple Robe Palace was considered a first-rate sect, but compared to superpowers like the Dragon Mountain Sect, the difference was akin to an adult versus a child. To deal with the Purple Robe Palace, they deployed someone resembling an ancestor—first sending agents in secret, and now sending a master of this caliber. They were certainly cautious.
The elder in black studied Li Muzhan for a long moment, then slowly spoke, “Purple Robe Palace?”
Qin Yeqiu replied coolly, “Qin Yeqiu of the Purple Robe Palace. May I ask the senior’s esteemed identity?”
“My name…” The elder’s dark eyes rotated slowly twice before he spoke deliberately, “This old man is Gu Dongting!”
“Gu Dongting…” Qin Yeqiu pondered for a moment, her expression subtly shifting. “Demon Blade Gu Dongting?!”
“It has been a long time since I heard that moniker,” Gu Dongting nodded. “I am surprised the young lady has such a good memory of me.”
Li Muzhan turned to Qin Yeqiu, who stated calmly, “The Great Saber Master of a century ago, whose fame was thunderous. I never expected to meet him today!”
Li Muzhan scanned Gu Dongting up and down, finally noticing the long saber hanging at his waist. It seemed to blend into his black attire; the scabbard was dark, utterly unremarkable, easily overlooked.
Li Muzhan frowned. Such a situation should not have occurred with him; the saber was a weapon of malice, and he should have sensed any dangerous weapon with sharp vigilance.
An icy chill instantly flooded his heart as he stared at the scabbard. It seemed as if a fierce tiger lay dozing there, ready to wake and devour.
Li Muzhan nodded. “Demon Blade…”
Qin Yeqiu whispered a warning, “Wuji. Stick close to me later. Do not engage him.”
Li Muzhan’s brow twitched in surprise as he looked at her. Qin Yeqiu lowered her voice, “We cannot win. He was invincible a hundred years ago!”
Li Muzhan smiled. “This is a rare opportunity. I would very much like to spar with a top master. Senior Sister, you should leave first. I have my own way of escaping.”
“Nonsense!” Qin Yeqiu frowned.
Li Muzhan smiled reassuringly. “Senior Sister, rest assured, I am not throwing my life away, am I?”
Qin Yeqiu regarded him with a furrowed brow. Li Muzhan’s standing in her heart grew daily; he possessed surpassing wisdom, martial arts, and talent, representing the future hope of the Purple Robe Palace.
“Then be careful. Leave immediately if anything feels wrong!” Qin Yeqiu warned softly. “Don’t worry about me; I have my own secret method for escape.”
Li Muzhan nodded. “Senior Sister, rest assured. I may not necessarily be defeated.”
Qin Yeqiu shook her head. She had never witnessed the Demon Blade’s prowess, which was why he was so confident. Once they truly clashed, he would regret his bravado, but by then it might be too late.
Li Muzhan clasped his hands and smiled. “Senior Gu, shall we exchange a few moves?”
“It is not an exchange,” Gu Dongting stated slowly. “This old man only kills; I do not spar. … Little fellow, stop prattling. Draw your sword!”
Li Muzhan laughed heartily. “Straight to the point!”
He slowly drew his Dawn Sun Sword. The blade reflected a dazzling light. By now, the square-faced men had drawn near, stopping thirty feet away, watching with hostile vigilance.
However, despite their cold severity and threatening stance, in Li Muzhan’s eyes, they were far less menacing than Gu Dongting’s quiet observation; the elder was the true tiger, poised to pounce at any second.
Li Muzhan pointed his long sword at Gu Dongting and stated sternly, “Senior Gu, be careful!”
He leaped upward. Mid-air, he swept his sword, and the sword light seemed to detach itself from the blade, flowing toward Gu Dongting like liquid quicksilver made solid.
Gu Dongting remained motionless on the rock, like a steadfast pine. As the sword light approached, a flash occurred at his waist—ding… Li Muzhan was sent flying backward, landing back beside Qin Yeqiu.
Qin Yeqiu had not clearly seen the exchange. She hurriedly turned to Li Muzhan. “Junior Brother?”
Li Muzhan shook his head, his expression solemn. “I truly underestimated the heroes of this world. Excellent saber technique, profound cultivation!”
Gu Dongting frowned, staring at Li Muzhan. All the wrinkles on his face seemed to bunch together, creating a look of distress mixed with incomprehension.
Li Muzhan smiled. “Senior Gu, magnificent saber work! I am impressed!”
The square-faced men looked on in stunned disbelief, as if the sun had just risen in the west, before glancing at the frowning Gu Dongting.
Gu Dongting, known as the Demon Blade, had rarely met an equal, even in his heyday. After returning to the sect, his saber skills had become even more exquisite. He almost never drew his blade anymore; when he did, no one could withstand a single strike. He had served as the hidden, final reserve force protecting the sect’s operations.
They had witnessed him draw his blade a few times: one cut, two pieces, no survivors. They never expected this young man to withstand Gu Lao’s strike.
Gu Dongting said faintly, “You are far superior to the disciples of the same generation at Dragon Mountain Sect. It is a pity you are not one of ours. This time, I must act!”
Li Muzhan smiled. “Senior Gu, please proceed—!”
Gu Dongting’s body slowly straightened. The wrinkles on his face gradually smoothed out and vanished. His previously withered cheeks began to fill, as if time were reversing, restoring him to his prime.
In moments, he transformed from a frail old man into a magnificent middle-aged figure, exuding an imposing aura. His entire presence was like a drawn saber, radiating palpable killing intent. This aura seemed substantial, causing the ambient temperature to drop sharply, shifting from spring to early winter.
The square-faced men were even more astonished, never having seen Gu Dongting look this way. Was he channeling his internal energy?
Li Muzhan, however, could see that he was not channeling energy; rather, he was releasing internal power that had been previously constrained, much like his own Wither-Flourish Technique.
Qin Yeqiu’s expression changed slightly. She whispered, “Let’s go!”
Li Muzhan shook his head. “I want to witness his strongest strike, Senior Sister. You leave first!”
“I’m not leaving!” Qin Yeqiu huffed.
She felt both helpless and exasperated. This Junior Brother was usually so steady, yet at this moment he was stubbornly seeking a contest, disregarding the danger.
Li Muzhan murmured, “Senior Sister, I wish to experience the power of the Demon Blade. You leave now. I will take his blow and follow immediately!”
“You might not withstand one blow from him!” Qin Yeqiu shook her head.
Li Muzhan smiled. “Senior Sister underestimates me too much. While I engage him, leave immediately, or I won’t be able to draw my sword with peace of mind!”
“…Fine.” Qin Yeqiu slowly nodded.
Li Muzhan smiled, sheathing his sword but keeping his right hand resting on the hilt. He stood rooted, feet set in a slightly awkward stance, quietly observing the Demon Blade Gu Dongting, whose appearance had radically changed.
Gu Dongting stopped transforming, settled as a middle-aged man, and surveyed Li Muzhan with a steady gaze. He nodded. “It has been a long time since someone forced this old man this far!”
Li Muzhan laughed. “Senior Gu, what technique are you employing?”
Gu Dongting replied, “This is the Dragon Mountain Sect’s ultimate heritage technique—the Hidden Dragon Art. Little fellow, dying after witnessing this skill is no great injustice!”
Li Muzhan shook his head and chuckled. “Senior Gu boasts too much. Do you truly believe you can kill me?”
Gu Dongting smiled, possessing a rare air of composed confidence, and nodded gently. “Your swordsmanship and cultivation are indeed supreme. I never expected the Purple Robe Palace to produce such a master. Unfortunately, you ran into this old man; your fortune is poor. Take the blow!”
Before his words ended, a flash of saber light appeared. Ding… Li Muzhan slid straight back nearly twenty feet, his boots sinking two inches deep into the solid rock.
Gu Dongting frowned, looking at Li Muzhan, then down at the long saber in his hand. This time, the observers finally saw the saber clearly: glistening white like silver, radiating chilling frost, otherwise it looked like any ordinary long saber.
Li Muzhan laughed. “Magnificent saber technique! Again!”
Gu Dongting roared with laughter. “Good, good! I underestimated you, little fellow! Again!”
He lunged forward. A flash of saber light erupted, causing the onlookers to wince as if their eyes had been struck by the glare—the light was too brilliant, momentarily blinding them.
They closed their eyes, hearing only a continuous, sharp ding-ding-ding-ding sound, denser and more relentless than a sudden storm, leaving them breathless.
When the clangor of clashing steel abruptly ceased, their vision slowly recovered. They looked around to find that both Li Muzhan and Qin Yeqiu were gone; only Gu Dongting remained standing quietly on the rock.
“Ancestor…” The square-faced middle-aged man cautiously stepped forward and asked, “They…?”
“Enough. Let’s return,” Gu Dongting said, slowly sheathing his saber, his face grave.
The square-faced man, emboldened by a surge of courage, asked quietly, “Did they escape?”
Gu Dongting paused, then slowly turned to give him a look. The square-faced man continued, “Ancestor, we came to wipe out the Purple Robe Palace. If we cannot see them, killing the Palace Mistress would account for half the mission. If we fail to even kill the Mistress, it would be a huge failure!”
“Little Li, this trip was wasted,” Gu Dongting shook his head. “The Purple Robe Palace is not worth worrying about.”
“What about that young man?” the square-faced man pressed.
Gu Dongting shook his head. “He is certainly dead; there is no need to think of him again.”
“Did the Ancestor kill him?” The square-faced man instantly broke into a grin.
Gu Dongting stated, “He took one blow from me; he is undoubtedly dead. …Without him, the Purple Robe Palace is insignificant; no need to concern ourselves further!”
“Yes!” The square-faced man trusted Gu Dongting’s words implicitly, his face beaming. In his eyes, Li Muzhan was far more important than Qin Yeqiu. If not for the Ancestor protecting them this time, their own lives would have been forfeit.
Gu Dongting suddenly stopped. Pfft! A stream of blood shot from his mouth.
“Ancestor!” The square-faced man was shocked and hurried to support him, but Gu Dongting pushed him away. Gu Dongting bent over and spat another gout of blood, then wiped his lips, acting as if nothing had happened.
“Ancestor, you are injured!?” the square-faced man asked in disbelief.
Gu Dongting nodded. “This little fellow is formidable. His cultivation is deep, and his swordsmanship is exquisite—it has a certain flavor of the Linhai Pavilion.”
“Is he a disciple of the Linhai Pavilion?!” the square-faced man asked.
Gu Dongting shook his head. “The Linhai Pavilion sword style is notoriously difficult to master; the younger generations are disappointing, none have grasped the true essence. He is not a Linhai Pavilion disciple!”
“It is a blessing that the fellow escaped!” the square-faced man sighed, still shaken.
Gu Dongting’s expression flickered. He frowned slightly but said nothing more. A sliver of doubt entered his mind—perhaps this young man might actually survive. If he truly managed to escape, he would become a considerable problem; ordinary masters would be unable to handle him!
Li Muzhan and Qin Yeqiu transformed into two streaks of light, covering over ten miles in an instant. Li Muzhan suddenly stopped, releasing Qin Yeqiu.
Qin Yeqiu’s face was ashen. She had never experienced such incredible speed; the wind rushing toward them felt like blades, carrying massive pressure that nearly crushed her.
They landed softly on the mossy ground of the forest; the fallen leaves and branches formed a thick cushion. Li Muzhan, however, lay flat on his back, a massive gash across his chest, his face bloodless.
“Junior Brother!” Qin Yeqiu cried out.
The exchange between their saber and sword had been too fast; she couldn't see anything clearly—only a blur before her eyes, and then Li Muzhan was dragging her at breakneck speed. By the time she reacted, they were here.
Li Muzhan smiled faintly, shaking his head. “Senior Sister, let me rest for a moment.”
“Your injury…” Qin Yeqiu stared at the wound. From his left shoulder down to his right hip, this single strike had nearly bisected his internal organs; the sight of the bloody depth was terrifying.
Li Muzhan smiled. “It’s just a flesh wound, nothing serious.”
“A flesh wound?!” Qin Yeqiu reached out tentatively, wanting to gauge the severity, already pulling a porcelain vial from her robes.
Li Muzhan smiled. “Senior Sister, I am not trying to comfort you; it truly is just a flesh wound.” His protective arts were peerless. If not for Gu Dongting’s profound cultivation and strange internal force, this strike would not have harmed him at all.
“It’s really fine?” Qin Yeqiu touched the area and discovered the wound was shallow. (To be continued.)