Seizing this moment of respite, Zhao Zhibing assessed Mi Xue while simultaneously weighing his own situation internally. He knew that continuing the fight would only lead to his defeat, a loss that would severely tarnish the reputation of the Yitian Sect and strip him of the prestige he had painstakingly built over the years. Failure was simply not an option!
Taking a shallow breath, Zhao Zhibing angled the Emei Sword slightly, instantly channeling all his remaining internal energy into the blade, readying himself for a desperate, all-or-nothing exchange.
Clang!
His sword struck the ground, then slashed upwards, creating a semi-circular arc of light as Zhao Zhibing surged toward Mi Xue once more. Sensing the shift in his intent, Mi Xue remained unruffled, pouring her own inner force into her whip, transforming the normally supple weapon into something incredibly rigid.
Bang!
Zhao Zhibing’s Emei Sword narrowly avoided the lash of Mi Xue’s tightened whip. He rode the momentum of his own attack, taking several rapid steps forward, brushing past her as they momentarily crossed paths.
“Our skills are evenly matched. How about we call it a draw here?”
It was precisely in that fleeting instant of passing that Zhao Zhibing whispered this proposition, his voice low enough that only Mi Xue could possibly hear it.
Mi Xue, having passed him, should have spun around to deliver a decisive whip to Zhao Zhibing’s exposed back, which was now vulnerable. But upon hearing his words, she paused involuntarily, the intended strike lingering in her hand.
Snapping out of her momentary distraction, Mi Xue turned to face Zhao Zhibing, confusion clouding her features. His statement sounded suspiciously like a concession or surrender. Though Mi Xue herself hadn't quite felt satisfied with the match, if her opponent yielded, she wouldn't press the issue.
Zhao Zhibing exploited Mi Xue's hesitation, quickly adjusting his breathing. The suffocating pressure he had been under from Mi Xue’s earlier dominance evaporated instantly with this unexpected halt in the fighting. The two were once again on equal footing, just as they had been when the contest first began.
It was a clear lack of combat experience that allowed Mi Xue to trust Zhao Zhibing’s words so easily, sacrificing the advantage she had painstakingly earned over dozens of exchanges.
A faint, almost unnerving smile touched Zhao Zhibing’s lips. He had been certain of his impending defeat, so his plan was to call a truce before being officially beaten, settling for a draw—which was infinitely better than outright loss. He hadn't anticipated Mi Xue being so easily deceived; a single sentence had made her halt her attack, throwing away the lead she had built up over the last few rounds.
With that pause, Zhao Zhibing had completely negated his previous disadvantage. Now, the idea of simply settling for a draw felt suddenly unsatisfying to him.
Raising the Emei Sword, he advanced again, silent and resolute.
Mi Xue was stunned by Zhao Zhibing’s utter lack of honor; he had just proposed stopping, yet here he was, charging back into the fray.
Caught off guard, Mi Xue was forced onto the defensive, immediately flipping the tables from her earlier superiority into a disadvantage.
Furthermore, even as he pressed his assault aggressively, Zhao Zhibing continued to murmur to Mi Xue in the quietest possible tones, aiming to disrupt her concentration.
“Heh, for someone so young, your mastery of internal energy is truly remarkable. If we continue, we likely won’t determine a victor anyway, so there’s no need to waste any more time fighting.”
Hearing this, Mi Xue was about to agree, but what met her ears instead was Zhao Zhibing’s sword descending directly overhead!
Clang!!!
She blocked the incoming sword strike with her whip, stumbling back several paces, her footing unsteady. Only then did she truly understand: Zhao Zhibing had never intended to stop; everything he had said was merely a trick to throw her off balance.
A layer of frost settled over Mi Xue’s face, her gaze fixed on Zhao Zhibing filled only with revulsion.
As Zhao Zhibing suddenly seized the upper hand, pressing Mi Xue into a steady retreat, several disciples from the Yitian Sect began shouting encouragement.
“I knew it! Our Senior Brother was holding back before out of respect for her being a woman!”
“Exactly! Senior Brother only exerted himself now; that is true gentlemanly conduct!”
“Worthy of being the Senior Brother of the Yitian Sect!”
Zhao Zhibing inwardly rejoiced, the lingering resentment of being dominated by a woman finally dispelled. He glanced sideways at the disciples who had spoken first, already plotting to reward their timely perception later.
Basking in the wave of flattery, Zhao Zhibing felt no shame; in fact, he felt rather buoyant. He then looked at Mi Xue, threw back his head in booming laughter, and adopting a façade of righteousness, declared, “It is rare for someone so young to possess such skill. I truly cannot bear to bully a mere weak woman like yourself. Let us consider this bout a draw. As for the insults you hurled at our Yitian Sect disciples earlier, if you offer an apology, the Yitian Sect can let the matter drop, as if it never happened.”
“Shameless!”
Mi Xue was so enraged her whip trembled in her hand. Those two words were her only response to Zhao Zhibing.
Clang, clang, clang!
Her long whip suddenly whipped up a layer of grit and sand from the ground, lashing out at Zhao Zhibing like a roaring, horizontal tornado. Zhao Zhibing started violently and leaped aside just in time to dodge the strike.
But in the very next instant, Mi Xue’s wrist rotated with sudden, surprising flexibility. The whip she had already unleashed snapped back, changing its trajectory to strike exactly where Zhao Zhibing had fled!
Smack!
Seeing the whip—moving like a striking venomous snake—hurtling towards him, he only managed to raise his Emei Sword for a slight block before the residual force slammed into his face. He cried out in agony and tumbled several yards across the ground before finally stilling.
Clatter!
The Emei Sword flew out of his grasp and clattered onto the earth. Zhao Zhibing struggled to rise, touching his face; his hand came away stained with blood.
That single lash had left a mark upon his face that would be indelible for the rest of his life.
“What are you doing!”
A roar of fury suddenly echoed as the Yitian Sect Leader, Zhao Zhicheng, finally arrived, accompanied by several elders and the leaders of the other martial sects.
Seeing Zhao Zhibing’s wretched state, Zhao Zhicheng paid no heed to the others, immediately quickening his pace to reach his disciple’s side.
“Zhibing, are you alright?”
Zhao Zhicheng had completely forgotten his original intentions upon approaching; he helped Zhao Zhibing up, his first words filled with concern. Zhao Zhibing was his most promising student, having joined the Yitian Sect in childhood and becoming his direct disciple—the core strength of the sect. Seeing him injured naturally caused Zhao Zhicheng great distress.
“Master, I… I was careless and lost to them. I’ve disgraced our Yitian Sect…” Zhao Zhibing managed, clutching the red mark on his face.
“It’s nothing, nothing…”
After offering a quick comfort, Zhao Zhicheng stood up, his eyes fixed on Zhang Yang and Mi Xue, his jaw clenched tight.
“M-Master…”
On the other side, Zhao Hailiang, who had hoped for revenge after seeing Senior Brother Zhao Zhibing struck down, suddenly felt his spirits sink. However, upon seeing the arrival of Sect Leader Zhao Zhicheng, a flicker of hope ignited, and he called out weakly.
“Be quiet! You couldn’t best your opponent and now you bring shame to the sect, yet you dare cry here? Go back and focus on your cultivation! You will skip both lunch and dinner!”
Zhao Hailiang’s standing in the Yitian Sect was nowhere near Zhao Zhibing’s. Zhao Zhicheng was too preoccupied with pitying his favored disciple to pay him any mind, and hearing Zhao Hailiang speak only fueled his anger, resulting in a sharp reprimand.
“Senior Brother…”
Struck by his Master’s severe words, Zhao Hailiang, regaining some composure, let out a mournful cry from behind. He couldn't understand why the Sect Leader would treat him this way—did that mean the two slaps he received were entirely pointless?
At this moment, an elderly man with a roguish demeanor slowly walked out from the initial group and stood beside Zhao Zhicheng. This was the Fourth Layer expert Zhao Zhicheng had recently managed to recruit from the Kunlun Mountains. Seeing him step forward brought Zhao Zhicheng some measure of relief; he had been treating this Fourth Layer expert almost like a deity lately, and now that the Yitian Sect was being bullied, the expert finally showed some initiative.
However, once the Fourth Layer Elder stood forward, his gaze fixated on the whip in Mi Xue’s hand, showing no attempt to conceal his avarice as he murmured, “That looks like the Thunder Whip; a truly fine treasure as well!”
Though the Thunder Whip did not command the same prestige as the Cold Spring Sword on the Divine Weapon Ranking, it was hardly an unknown artifact. It was not surprising that this Fourth Layer expert recognized it immediately.
Zhao Zhicheng stood straighter, his expression growing grave. He realized he had seriously misjudged these people who called themselves the Medical Sage Martial Sect. An ordinary girl on their side possessed the cultivation of the Second Layer of Internal Energy, and they wielded treasures like the Thunder Whip. Add to that Qiao Yihong, a cultivator at least at the late Third Layer of Internal Energy, and it suggested they were likely from one of the great, reclusive sects or powerful families, not some insignificant small fry.
These considerations made Zhao Zhicheng hesitant to directly accuse Zhang Yang and the others; he felt restricted by indecision. During this lapse, another elder from the Yitian Sect, also elderly, began loudly denouncing Zhang Yang and his group.
This elder seemed completely oblivious to the true power dynamics at play; he only felt emboldened by the presence of the Sect Leader and the newly allied Fourth Layer expert, allowing him to step forward and arrogantly condemn Zhang Yang.
But…
Before the elder could utter many more words, a dirty, ragged rag was suddenly stuffed into his mouth. The action was so fast that even Zhao Zhicheng failed to see who had done it!
“Fourth Layer Internal Energy! So your strength has also reached the Fourth Layer!”
It was the Fourth Layer expert who recognized the perpetrator, exclaiming in shock while pointing at Qiao Yihong.
A wave of astonishment swept through the crowd!
All eyes fixed on Qiao Yihong!
After swiftly stuffing the rag into the elder’s mouth, Qiao Yihong walked slowly toward Zhang Yang, then positioned himself respectfully behind him, displaying none of the haughty posture expected of a Fourth Layer master.