The night wind slipped through the window crack, making the Jade Slip at the corner of the table tremble faintly. I leaned against the chair back, warmth from inscribing the defensive layout still lingering on my fingertips. Three strands of Heaven-Slaying Origin circulated slowly within me. The ninth Remnant Dao Crystal had sunk deep into my marrow, faintly resonating with the other eight. The system ran soundlessly; because "a dire situation was approaching," the rate at which I absorbed Origin quietly accelerated.
Just then, the courtyard gate was slammed open.
Afu staggered inside, his ash-gray short robe stained with mud and torn across the lapel. He panted heavily, keeping his voice low. "Young Master... something happened!"
I did not move, merely raising my eyes to look at him.
"Ji Hantian publicly issued a challenge!" He dropped onto the floor and wiped away his sweat. "At noon three days from now, a sword duel at the martial arena, life and death left to fate! He also had the steward pass on word that if you refuse, it counts as cowardice and forfeiture. By the Clan Rules—you'll be expelled from the Direct Lineage!"
I lightly tapped the tabletop, my knuckles producing a crisp sound.
"Did he say which sword would be used?"
Afu froze for a moment, then hurriedly nodded. "The Frost-Breaking Sword. That family heirloom, the one they say once slew a Demon King."
I lowered my gaze.
The Frost-Breaking Sword was a ceremonial weapon established by the Ji Clan elders. It was ordinarily sealed within the ancestral hall and only brought out for significant contests. On the surface, it was a fair duel, but beneath it lurked murderous intent—if the weapon was designated, it meant both sides had to use it. And a sword that could be tampered with at will was never called a weapon. It was called a trap.
I knew what Ji Hantian intended to do. After repeatedly losing face, being publicly humiliated by Yan Jiuxiao, and then confined for three months, he had finally managed to get out. The first thing he did was seek me out to establish his authority. He did not care whether he won or lost. What he cared about was making me embarrass myself before everyone, preferably driving me into a mad frenzy until I became a laughingstock.
This setup was vicious.
But I could not retreat.
If I retreated, my three years of endurance would become a joke. Those eyes hidden in the shadows would immediately turn toward me, questioning whether my Wasted Meridian was truly irreversible. Even a moment of suspicion could bring needless investigation. The Pseudo-Primordial Body could deceive ordinary perception, but it could not withstand a high-level cultivator personally examining my body.
Therefore, I had to accept the challenge.
But I could not play by his rules.
Candlelight flickered within the secret chamber, casting warped shadows across the walls. Ji Hantian stood before a bronze cauldron, slicing open his left palm. Blood dripped into a black jade bottle. The liquid inside was crimson like a living thing, glowing faintly, as though something were writhing within it.
Mo Xuan stepped out of the shadows. Twelve fine needles dangled from his sleeve, and his voice was hoarse. "That Blood Gu is extremely unstable. If it backfires, even the swordsman will be injured."
"It does not matter if it injures me." Ji Hantian sneered, overturning the bottle. Several drops of thick blood slid down the sword groove and seeped into the patterns of the Frost-Breaking Sword. "What I want is not a sure victory. I want him to go mad in front of everyone, bite people, mutilate himself, kneel and beg for mercy... Let everyone see what kind of bullshit Direct Lineage Young Master he is. Nothing but a crazy piece of trash!"
He raised his right hand. Spiritual mist coiled upward, wrapping around the blade and concealing that faint, barely detectable stench of blood. When he opened his eyes again, not a shred of reason remained within them—only brutality.
Footsteps sounded outside. He immediately withdrew his aura, putting on a refined and elegant expression as he turned to greet the arrival.
"Rest assured, Great Elder. Three days from now, I will make that useless cripple lose all face."
At midnight, rustling sounds came from outside the window.
I was still seated where I had been, a wooden sword laid across my knees, my eyes unclosed. The door was gently pushed open a crack. Afu poked his head inside, looked around in every direction, then crept closer on tiptoe.
"Young Master..." He pulled out a wooden sword from his robe and handed it to me. "I took this from the offering table in the ancestral hall. It has never been sharpened and carries no killing intent. If they tamper with the sword, using this is better than touching the real one."
I took the wooden sword. It was light in my hand, its grain clear and distinct. It was a ritual implement carved from old locust wood, utterly useless in ordinary people's eyes. But in certain rituals, such untempered wooden implements were instead the cleanest—they were untouched by karma, drew no resentment, and could not be tainted by demonic qi.
I stroked the blade and suddenly smiled. "Afu, you are greedier for money than I thought."
He blinked. "Huh?"
"Otherwise, how would you dare take such a great risk for me?"
He scratched his head and chuckled foolishly, though weariness showed on his face. Before leaving, he hesitated. "Young Master... if you can't win, could you... surrender first? While green hills remain..."
I did not answer.
He did not wait for one either, quietly backing out.
After the door closed, I lowered my head to look at the wooden sword in my hand, my fingertips slowly tracing along its edge. The Heaven-Slaying Origin within me quietly accelerated. Stimulated by both "an enemy's coercion" and "a dangerous situation," every breath drew in another wisp of Calamity Qi and Battle Intent Fragments.
This Pseudo-Primordial Body had long ceased to be the useless shell that others could slaughter at will.
At dawn, the residence grew lively.
The steward personally delivered an invitation, saying that Ji Hantian had already set up a platform at the martial arena and invited the entire clan to witness the ceremony. Even several elders in seclusion had been disturbed, each sending people to verify the news.
I had Afu accept the invitation. I ate breakfast as usual, then returned to my room and sat cross-legged. The wooden sword rested on my lap like an ordinary ornament.
Outside, the drums and gongs gradually rose, while voices surged like a boiling cauldron.
I knew they were waiting for me to show fear, waiting for me to panic, waiting for me to lower my head and walk through the crowd as I had for the past three years, enduring their pointing fingers and mockery. But today was different.
Today, I had come to break the deadlock.
Afu secretly slipped me a pill, saying it was Spirit-Calming Powder pilfered from the Medicine Hut, capable of preventing evil qi from entering the body. I did not take it, merely tucked it into my sleeve. What truly needed guarding against was not Demonic Blood invading my meridians, but the schemes within human hearts.
By evening, he slipped in again, his face pale. "Young Master, I heard the guards say... someone saw Mo Xuan enter Hantian's secret chamber last night. When he came out, he was carrying a black jade bottle..."
I nodded without speaking.
Afu gritted his teeth. "They really dare use Heart-Devouring Gu Blood? Even the slightest touch of that stuff can drive someone insane. They could even hack apart their own mother..."
"That is why he is not afraid of me winning." I finally spoke, my voice soft. "He is afraid I will not touch that sword."
Afu was stunned.
I looked up toward the window. The setting sun slanted in, falling upon the tip of the wooden sword and reflecting a pale golden streak of light. This sword looked ordinary, yet it was the only medium that would not be corroded by demonic qi—because it had never belonged to any system of combat, nor had it ever borne killing intent.
Precisely because of that, it could evade every inspection and become the true instrument for breaking the deadlock.
"Go back," I said. "Do not go to the martial arena tomorrow."
"Why?" He panicked. "I have to watch over you! What if..."
"You will die." I cut him off. "If I lose, there is no use in you staying. If I win, you should be even less present."
His lips moved, but in the end he lowered his head and silently withdrew.
The moment the door shut, I tightened my grip around the wooden sword.
The hilt was warm and smooth, fitting against my palm as though it were alive.
A bell rang in the distance, once, then again. It was the mind-cleansing order before the sword duel. Every toll meant noon tomorrow was one step closer.
I closed my eyes. The Heaven-Slaying Origin within me surged like a river. Because of "long-suppressed resentment" and "an approaching enemy," its accumulation rate had reached its peak in recent days. I only needed to endure one more night. When the sunlight was at its strongest, that Frost-Breaking Sword smeared with Demonic Blood would become a joke in my hands.
And Ji Hantian would never imagine that the killing trap he had so painstakingly arranged had targeted the wrong person from the very beginning.
I was not that useless Young Master he could trample at will.
I was the person waiting for him to strike, so I could turn the tide and kill him instead.
The wind outside gradually turned cold, making the window paper rustle loudly.
I opened my eyes and stared at the Jade Slip on the table—the blind spot at the seventh sentry post still bore the mark I had carved into it last night.
My finger slowly moved over and lightly traced that line.
Then I gripped its edge.
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