Ch. 1279 - Miss Jing Returns

“Brother-in-law, Zhaodi, with the bond we share, I know you’d never betray me,” Shu Long said with a sly grin.

“Didn’t you see your brother storm off in a rage just now?” Wu Zhaodi shot back impatiently. “Your Shu Heavenly Clan really doesn’t have a single peaceful day, does it?”

“Don’t be mad,” Shu Long laughed. “You’ll see a good show soon.”

“What kind of show?” Xu Zimo asked.

“The disciples of the Three Luan Holy Lands are going to spar with our Shu Heavenly Clan,” Shu Long said with an eager smile.

“Oh? Then you should go up. We’ll cheer for you,” Wu Zhaodi said.

“Me? Go up there? I’d only embarrass myself,” Shu Long said quickly, waving his hands. “Even though it’s supposed to be a friendly match, neither side wants to lose. Our family will definitely send my brother, and that’s when you’ll get to see him get beaten.”

“And what if your brother wins?” Xu Zimo asked.

“Then he wins. I don’t lose anything,” Shu Long shrugged.

The three of them turned their attention toward the courtyard, where it seemed the Shu Heavenly Clan and the Three Luan Holy Lands had already agreed to begin.

As expected, the Shu Heavenly Clan’s representative was Shu Hu.

From the Three Luan Holy Lands came a spear-wielding man.

“Lin Dong,” the man announced himself curtly.

“I ask Brother Lin to show mercy,” Shu Hu said politely.

“In battle, one should fight with full strength,” Lin Dong replied coolly. “Mercy has no place here.”

“Then don’t blame me for showing none either,” Shu Hu smiled in response.

He held a blue-bladed sword three feet long, its aura rippling like the deep ocean, vast, boundless, and alive.

“Deep Sea Three Forms!” Shu Hu called out, taking his stance. With the first form, Flood Dragon Emerges, his sword surged upward like a dragon soaring toward the heavens, striking fiercely at Lin Dong.

But Lin Dong remained unflinching. The tip of his spear rippled like water, emitting waves of killing intent sharp enough to pierce the void.

When spear and sword collided, the dragon of sword-light was completely shattered, its body torn through by Lin Dong’s strike.

In that moment, blade met spear, and their eyes met, both sharp as the weapons they wielded.

“Stab him! Stab him!” Shu Long shouted gleefully from the sidelines.

“Who do you think will win?” Wu Zhaodi asked Xu Zimo.

“Whoever fears death less will win,” Xu Zimo replied.

Their strengths were almost evenly matched; fighting head-on would lead nowhere. Only someone ruthless enough to risk their own life could seize victory.

Wu Zhaodi nodded slightly, agreeing with his assessment.

As the battle heated up, it became clear that Lin Dong possessed a brutal edge, he fought without hesitation. Shu Hu, on the other hand, valued his life too much. Whenever faced with a move that might cause mutual injury, he would retreat rather than trade blows.

By the end, Shu Hu was clearly being overpowered.

“Your brother’s about to lose,” Wu Zhaodi said dryly, glancing at the gleeful Shu Long.

She had barely finished speaking when the fight reached its climax. The two figures crossed paths in a blur, and Lin Dong suddenly reached out, gripping Shu Hu’s blue sword with his bare hand.

Ignoring the pain and blood, he thrust the spear toward Shu Hu’s forehead.

“Dong’er, stop,” Qi Kuangyin said calmly, sipping his tea at just the right moment.

The spear halted less than an inch from Shu Hu’s brow.

Lin Dong withdrew the weapon, his hand dripping blood from where he’d grasped the sword.

“It’s only a friendly match,” Qi Kuangyin said with a light smile. “Though blades have no eyes, we shouldn’t take lives here.”

“Indeed,” Shu Hai replied, his expression stiff.

Shu Hu, having just brushed against death, was still visibly shaken.

“The people of Sun-Sword County aren’t much to look at,” Lin Dong said coldly. “They’d do better joining the Three Luan Holy Lands, that’s where true strength lies.”

“There are many talented young people in Sun-Sword County,” Shu Hai said with a forced laugh. “You might be offending quite a few with those words.”

“If they exist, I’d welcome the challenge,” Lin Dong replied indifferently.

“Since the mistress of Drunken Red Dust Garden is present,” Shu Hai said, smoothly turning the attention toward Gongsun Muyu, “I imagine her sword dancers must include some remarkable talents.”

Gongsun Muyu, who had remained silent until then, gave a faint smile. “We’re merely entertainers, victory and defeat mean little to us. But if the Three Luan Holy Lands wishes to exchange pointers, we won’t refuse.”

“Then please, grant me the honor,” Lin Dong said, bowing slightly.

He was eager to prove himself, knowing full well the true reason their sect had come here.

“Hong,” Gongsun Muyu said calmly, “go and spar with him.”

One of the young women who had performed earlier stepped forward.

She wore embroidered shoes and a bright red hanfu, her hair tied into two small braids.

Most notably, she held a wooden practice sword, not even a real blade.

“I can give you time to fetch a proper sword,” Lin Dong said, his tone dismissive. “Wouldn’t want to be accused of bullying you.”

“If your speed is fast enough, even a blade of grass can kill,” the maid said coolly. “The weapon doesn’t matter.”

“Confident, are you? Then let’s begin,” Lin Dong said.

But the moment the words left his mouth, he felt a sudden chill on his neck.

He froze.

Slowly, he reached up and touched the side of his throat. Blood trickled down his fingers, only a shallow cut, but deep enough to make his point clear.

She could have taken his head if she’d wanted to.

And he hadn’t even seen when she moved.

After the strike, the red-clad maid showed no pride, no emotion at all. She simply turned and walked back to her place, as if she had done something utterly ordinary.

“Elder Qi, forgive the disturbance,” Gongsun Muyu said lightly.

“No, no, quite the opposite. I’m enlightened,” Qi Kuangyin laughed, shaking his head. “Truly, there’s always someone stronger, a sky beyond every sky. Dong’er, you can’t complain about losing.”

Lin Dong took a deep breath. Though unwilling, he had no argument.

The night deepened.

In a void so dark that nothing could be seen, Miss Jing sat cross-legged upon a lotus seat.

She was like the first crescent moon, her form bathed in a silvery glow that pierced the surrounding darkness.

“Abyssal Tyrant is dead,” came a voice from the shadows.

Miss Jing slowly opened her eyes, a surge of immense power radiating from her.

“And him?” she asked softly.

“He died as well,” the voice replied.

“Just like that?” she said, her tone full of disbelief.

“I’ll investigate further,” the voice continued. “I don’t quite believe it myself.”

Miss Jing was silent for a long time before asking, “What of the Heavenly Court?”

“The message was sent,” the voice answered, “but word has come that the Mirage Tides Heaven rejected our proposal.”

“They refused?” Miss Jing said in surprise. “How dare they?”

“With the Lord of Death on their side,” the voice said grimly, “what do they have to fear?”

Comments