Li Muzhan was settled by Deng Jiuru in the small courtyard right next door, separated only by a wall.

Every morning, Deng Jiuru would come to spar with Li Muzhan, and Li Muzhan didn't refuse. The sword techniques of the Qinghe Sword Sect indeed had merit; it was no wonder—they were created by taking the essence of both the Mingjing Sect and the Dajiang Sect.

Li Muzhan held deep admiration for the founding ancestor of the Qinghe Sword Sect. The martial arts of the Mingjing Sect were exquisitely refined, almost reaching perfection—add one iota and it became bloated, subtract one and it grew thin; there was hardly room for improvement.

Furthermore, the eighteen meridians of Mingjing Sect martial arts each formed an independent system, incompatible with other disciplines, and even within the sect, they could not be practiced concurrently, let alone by other schools.

That the Dajiang Sect achieved such glory back then was no accident; their martial arts were also formidable. To combine the martial arts of these two sects was truly a rare feat.

On the evening of the third day, the setting sun dyed the Qinghe Sword Sect in crimson. Li Muzhan was in his small courtyard, quietly regulating his breath, pondering the Big Dipper Divine Sword.

The Eye of the Void had been observing the entire Qinghe Sword Sect. He had spent three nights, turning through every secret manual of the Qinghe Sword Sect, entirely undetected.

He considered this a small repayment for the assistance he had received, and his conscience was clear. Under the Eye of the Void, the Sutra Repository of the Qinghe Sword Sect held no more secrets. The Qinghe Sword Sect also possessed top-tier masters; those elders were no pushovers. In the past, obtaining this information would not have been so easy.

Now, he practiced Star Power, excelling in concealment. Infiltrating the Repository, the elders of the Qinghe Sword Sect had failed to detect him. He had perused all the manuals and reaped a rich harvest.

Among them were vague descriptions of the Dajiang Sect’s core martial arts principles. Li Muzhan speculated that the true foundational techniques might not have been left behind, or perhaps Deng Jiuru kept them safeguarded.

Suddenly, a clear, crisp voice rang out: "Deng Jiuru, why do you not hasten to welcome the Sect Master!"

The voice was measured, spreading out evenly like ocean waves, echoing faintly throughout the entire Qinghe Sword Sect. While people were startled, their hearts chilled; this person possessed profound cultivation.

Li Muzhan felt nothing from the sound, but everyone else suffered from aching eardrums, surging blood energy, and a pervasive discomfort.

Deng Jiuru replied in a deep voice, "Is that the Dajiang Sect Master honoring us with his presence?"

"Indeed." The clear voice returned, "Deng Jiuru, you put on quite the airs!"

Li Muzhan flickered instantly to Deng Jiuru’s side. Seeing him, Deng Jiuru let out a breath and said gravely, "The Dajiang Sect has been destroyed. How can there still be a Sect Master?"

"Good! Good!" The clear voice followed, faint and betraying no hint of joy or anger.

Deng Jiuru turned to Li Muzhan: "Brother Li, shall we go down?"

Li Muzhan smiled and nodded: "It would be good to witness the demeanor of the Dajiang Sect Master!"

He could tell that Deng Jiuru was apprehensive. However, since the visitor was here to take his life, Deng Jiuru shouldn't be acting this way; Deng Jiuru was certainly not a timid person. This suggested that the Dajiang Sect possessed some extraordinary aspect that made Deng Jiuru extremely wary.

Deng Jiuru strode out of the main hall. Midway down the mountain slope, more than twenty elders in green robes appeared silently, surrounding the pair.

Li Muzhan glanced at these twenty-five green-robed elders. Their presence revealed the foundation of the Qinghe Sword Sect; each one possessed deep cultivation, their eyes sharp as cold lightning.

Deng Jiuru’s expression grew increasingly grim, his demeanor heavy, and his steps became burdened. After a long pause, they finally reached the foot of the mountain.

A small sedan chair, carried by nuns, rested on an open clearing. There were four middle-aged sedan bearers, two delicate young maidens, and one young man standing ahead of the chair, handsome and upright, hands clasped behind his back, his azure long robe flowing gently.

Seeing Deng Jiuru and the others appear, the blue-robed young man tilted his chin up, sneered, and said, "Deng Jiuru, you have a great deal of nerve!"

Deng Jiuru stopped ten feet away, cupped his fists, and said solemnly, "May I ask who you are...?"

"Jing Zhongtang, the Left Summoning Envoy under the Dajiang Sect!" the blue-robed youth proclaimed loudly. "The Sect Master deigns to arrive, and you treat him with such disrespect!"

Deng Jiuru looked toward the nun-carried sedan chair and said faintly, "The Dajiang Sect is gone. Why would the Sect Master come?"

"Hmph, the Dajiang Sect is merely dormant. The current Sect Master is peerless in talent and has decided to restore the prestige of the Dajiang Sect!" Jing Zhongtang snorted grimly.

Deng Jiuru cupped his fists again: "Congratulations! But what does the revival of the Dajiang Sect have to do with this humble one?"

Jing Zhongtang frowned: "Deng Jiuru, you are determined to resist to the end?"

A faint, raspy voice emanated from within the nun-carried sedan chair: "Why waste words? Make your move!"

"Yes, Sect Master!" Jing Zhongtang bowed respectfully, his eyes suddenly blazing as he glared at Deng Jiuru, stating in a deep voice, "Deng Jiuru, prepare to die!"

Li Muzhan listened to the voice in the sedan chair—it was a young woman, slightly raspy, carrying a coolness and a hint of seductiveness. Li Muzhan’s heart stirred upon hearing the voice, and he mused that she must be a beautiful woman, growing increasingly curious, impatient to see her true appearance.

Deng Jiuru and Jing Zhongtang clashed, their swords exploding in silver light. Deng Jiuru's sword light was continuous like water, allowing no gaps, while Jing Zhongtang’s sword light descended like a torrential river, the two locked in an intense struggle.

Li Muzhan nodded. Deng Jiuru, not retreating despite being injured, had elevated his sword technique and deepened his comprehension of the Qinghe Sword Style. It seemed the previous injury had benefited him greatly.

Li Muzhan stood watching with his hands behind his back, a gentle smile on his face. The twenty-five green-robed elders also remained motionless, their eyes fixed intently on the two figures in the field. This was an excellent opportunity to understand the Dajiang Sect’s martial arts. They had long heard the name of the Dajiang Sect but had never witnessed it firsthand and felt uncertain. Now that they had the chance to observe their foundation, they certainly would not pass it up.

In the time it took to drink a cup of tea, Deng Jiuru fell into the defensive, suppressed by Jing Zhongtang, but his sword momentum was relentless and exceedingly pliant; he could not be defeated in a short while.

An impatient voice drifted from inside the nun-carried sedan chair: "Zhongtang, stop playing around!"

"Haha, yes, Sect Master!" Jing Zhongtang laughed loudly.

The sword light flashed brilliantly, descending like a flood breaking through a dam, overwhelming and engulfing Deng Jiuru. Deng Jiuru resembled a small skiff on the vast sea enduring a violent storm, swaying precariously, on the verge of being swallowed by the ocean.

"Sect Leader!" a green-robed elder shouted deeply.

Deng Jiuru roared, "Elder Ding, come!"

"Old Feng, Old Xin, come up with me!" The green-robed elder drew his sword and charged forward, followed closely by two other green-robed elders. The three surrounded Deng Jiuru.

Deng Jiuru stood at the center of a triangle, his four swords blocking the flood-like sword light, resulting in a stalemate. Jing Zhongtang could not overwhelm the four, and the four could not defeat Jing Zhongtang either.

"Wang Da, the four of you step up!" A faint command came from the sedan chair.

"Yes, Sect Master!" The four middle-aged sedan bearers responded and rushed into the fray. Deng Jiuru shouted, "Everyone attack together!"

The twenty-two green-robed elders instantly closed in, surrounding the four middle-aged bearers. Among the bearers were Deng Jiuru and Jing Zhongtang—five people in total.

A raspy command came from the nun-carried sedan chair: "Xiao Ya, Xiao Xiu, you two come too!"

"Miss..." The two delicate young maidens hesitated.

"Go quickly!"

"...Yes!"

The two maidens pounced forward. With movements as graceful as startled swans, they flashed close and immediately struck with their swords. Their swords, one rigid and one soft, combined their light into a fearsome power. Two green-robed elders, caught off guard, did not react in time and were wounded in the right shoulder, forced to withdraw to the side as they could no longer use their swords effectively. Everyone else dared not underestimate them again, approaching the fight with caution.

The four middle-aged sedan bearers possessed rigid and fierce palm energy, imbued with the momentum of never turning back. The green-robed elders dared not clash head-on and were constantly put on the defensive.

Looking at the two maidens, their movements were light and graceful, their sword strikes soft, their posture a beautiful, flowing dance that was pleasing to the eye, making one unconsciously drift into a trance.

The green-robed elders remained more wary of the middle-aged bearers and did not pay enough attention to the two maidens. As a result, two more elders were injured, and only then did they realize that the two delicate, seemingly fragile maidens posed a greater threat.

Li Muzhan stood aside with his hands behind his back, observing. The situation seemed to favor the Qinghe Sword Sect with their greater numbers and high-level masters; their human-wave tactics were proving effective, and they were not yet at a disadvantage.

Li Muzhan shook his head. The greatest threat had not yet acted. Deng Jiuru and his group were already struggling severely. The longer this went on, the more difficult it would become; defeat was certain.

"Truly useless!" The raspy voice drawled lazily. The curtain of the sedan chair suddenly moved, and a graceful woman in white robes stood before it.

Li Muzhan’s eyes lit up, and a smile touched his lips. This woman’s appearance and temperament were truly unparalleled in beauty. Just as he had expected. Phoenix eyes, sword-like brows, a high nose, and red lips like plump cherries. As her phoenix eyes swept around, ripples of light flowed, yet they carried an intense murderous air that made onlookers instinctively feel unworthy, as if no man in the world could match her, and she should not be stained by the affairs of romance—she should be a celestial maiden untouched by worldly dust.

Li Muzhan praised her inwardly. Such a woman was indeed rare to behold. Her looks alone were enough, but the key was that cold, arrogant, yet inherently sexy aura—it was utterly unique.

She stood before the chair and scanned the field, her gaze finally settling on Li Muzhan. Her finely arched brows furrowed slightly, and she asked faintly, "Who are you?"

Li Muzhan smiled, cupped his fists, and replied, "May I inquire of the Sect Master's esteemed name? I am Li Wuji of the Mingjing Sect!"

"Li Wuji..." The woman narrowed her phoenix eyes slightly and said faintly, "I have heard of you!" Are you the helper Deng Jiuru invited?"

Li Muzhan nodded: "Precisely."

The woman glanced at him sideways and said coolly, "Are you obstructing me?"

Li Muzhan smiled: "Does the Sect Master insist on killing Headmaster Deng? Can't we all discuss things calmly? Why must it come to fighting?"

The woman shook her head with a cold smile: "Are you truly foolish, or merely pretending?"

Li Muzhan smiled pleasantly: "Fighting is too boring; perhaps we should talk things over properly!"

"He courts death himself!" The woman glared coldly at the disheveled Deng Jiuru.

Li Muzhan chuckled: "The Dajiang Sect comes seeking secret manuals; surely some price must be paid? If you just take what you want, where is the dignity of the Qinghe Sword Sect?"

The woman snorted coldly: "I came here today to kill. If you want to fight, waste no more words!"

Li Muzhan sighed and shook his head: "Alas... always resorting to killing. No wonder the Dajiang Sect perished so quickly!"

"You—!" The woman's face seemed overlaid with frost, her eyes blazing fiercely. Her voice was slowly squeezed out between her teeth: "Li Wuji, you are asking for death—!"

Li Muzhan smiled: "Can one not even speak anymore?" What great arrogance the Dajiang Sect displays!"

The woman turned her head: "Water takes no fixed form; mountains flow like streams!"

As she uttered these two phrases, the sword techniques of the two delicate maidens shifted, and two green-robed elders were immediately wounded.

The woman snorted again: "Spring breeze flows eastward; fallen blossoms drift with the stream!"

The sword techniques of the two maidens changed again, and two more green-robed elders were injured.

Deng Jiuru saw the situation deteriorating and, taking a blow to his left shoulder from Jing Zhongtang’s palm, roared deeply: "Qinghe Sword Formation!"

The green-robed elders moved swiftly, fluttering like butterflies. The Dajiang Sect members were momentarily dazzled. By the time they reacted, the Qinghe Sword Sect members were already in formation.

"Rise—!"

Deng Jiuru shouted loudly, and a gentle sword light enveloped the Dajiang Sect members, submerging them like a clear spring. The sword light was everywhere, impossible to defend against.

Li Muzhan observed the operation of the sword formation through the Eye of the Void. This was the foundational formation of the Qinghe Sword Sect, exquisitely condensing the strength of over twenty people into a single point, resulting in astonishing power.

The Dajiang Sect members were all top experts, but when each had to face the combined force of more than twenty experts, they found themselves struggling.

Two muffled groans sounded. Two middle-aged sedan bearers were struck in the lower abdomen. Li Muzhan's brow twitched slightly. If these injuries healed, their cultivation would likely be ruined; those two strikes carried his distinctive style.

"Hmph, trash!" The woman snorted coldly, stepped out, and flashed instantly to the side of the two middle-aged bearers. Grabbing the belt of one in each hand, she stepped out of the sword formation in a single stride.

The two middle-aged bearers, blood dripping from their lips, managed a bitter smile toward her.

She said coldly, "You think highly of yourselves, yet you are mere fools!"

"Miss, we are incompetent." One burly bearer gave a wry smile, "We disgraced you!"

"Get out of here and stay put!" With a wave of her hand, she tossed them ten feet away. Turning back, she saw another bearer injured. Her face darkened to the point of freezing. She stepped in front of that bearer, and the bearer fell next to the previous two. The three looked at each other with bitter smiles.

Li Muzhan observed her movement technique: ethereal and unpredictable, leaving no trace. Entering and exiting the Qinghe Sword Formation as if walking through an empty space, completely unobstructed—truly exquisite.

The woman’s jade palms moved lightly, as if playing a game, but every palm strike landed true. In a blink, ten green-robed elders spat blood and flew backward.

"Brother Li!" Deng Jiuru's eyes were bloodshot as he shouted hoarsely.

"I'm coming!" Li Muzhan stepped in front of the woman and also sent out a light, graceful palm strike.

"Bang!" The two palms met. A thunderous boom echoed in everyone’s ears. Their internal blood energy surged like runaway horses, and their hearts hammered violently, threatening to burst from their chests.

Li Muzhan and the woman each retreated a step.

"Good!" Li Muzhan praised, and immediately struck out with another palm. The woman met it without yielding, pushing her jade palm forward. The two palms intersected again.

"Crack!" Like stone striking stone, they each retreated another step.

Li Muzhan’s right palm was covered in a layer of white frost, becoming stiff. He glanced down, then looked up at the woman, whose cold smile was fixed on his right arm.

Li Muzhan smiled: "A truly potent Frost Palm force!" No wonder her temperament was so cold; a cultivation method of extreme yin and cold could subtly alter personality, temperament, and even mannerisms.

The white frost quickly dissipated into wisps of white vapor, and his palm regained its normal blood color. The woman remained outwardly composed, but inwardly, she was disappointed. Her Ice Soul Divine Art could not suppress this Li Wuji!

She stepped close to Li Muzhan and struck again with a palm. Li Muzhan met it. "Bang!" They each retreated a step, perfectly matched.

Li Muzhan smiled and shook his head: "Do I finally qualify to hear your esteemed name?"

"Jiang Ruyue!" the woman said coldly.

Li Muzhan felt a sudden familiarity and nodded with a smile: "Your name suits you! Sect Master Jiang, shall we continue?"

Jiang Ruyue said coldly: "Again!"

She stepped forward again and pushed out her palm. Li Muzhan met it helplessly. "Bang!" They each retreated a step. Li Muzhan mused internally that if he hadn't mastered Star Power, he would have lost already. Her extreme yin and cold internal energy, refined to such purity, possessed astonishing power. If not for his concentrated and formidable Star Power, he absolutely could not have withstood this palm force.

"Bang, bang, bang, bang..." They exchanged eighteen consecutive strikes. On the nineteenth strike, Li Muzhan deftly evaded, shaking his head helplessly. Jiang Ruyue was acting like a madwoman, ignoring her injuries. Li Muzhan did not wish to indulge her madness.

Only a dozen or so green-robed elders in the Qinghe Sword Sect remained capable of fighting. The sword formation's power was limited. The two delicate maidens were relentlessly attacking Deng Jiuru, while the green-robed elders were tied up by Jing Zhongtang.

Deng Jiuru had a sword wound on his shoulder, bleeding profusely without the ability to staunch the flow; he was utterly wretched. Li Muzhan flickered, seized him, and immediately flickered again. The two darted into the woods.

His blood energy surging, Li Muzhan suppressed the discomfort and fled with Deng Jiuru like the wind. The Eye of the Void saw Jiang Ruyue and her group pursuing relentlessly.

Jing Zhongtang frowned and stopped fighting, ignoring the green-robed elders, and quickly said, "Sect Master, I will pursue them!"

"I will go!" Jiang Ruyue said coldly.

"Miss, you are injured!" one of the delicate maidens complained tenderly.

Jiang Ruyue glared at them and snorted: "Stop making a fuss! I will personally slay those two!"

With one step, she shot forward and vanished into the woods. Before anyone could react, Jiang Ruyue was gone. Jing Zhongtang frowned and leaped into the woods after her.

The two delicate maidens shook their heads, glanced back at the scattered figures on the ground, and then at the ten remaining green-robed elders. Having lost the will to fight, they sheathed their swords to attend to the wounded. (To be continued)

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