A Startling Glimpse Casts Shadows, White Bones Bear Scars

The wind had not stirred.

The candle flame had not stirred.

Yet the man had moved.

At last, Qin Wuji's hand left the white jade belt and settled on the hilt of Chixiao.

In that instant, every guest in the hall felt their vision blur.

It was as though a red sun had suddenly risen in this late autumn night.

Chixiao left its sheath.

There was no roaring sword energy, no violent thunderclap.

There was only light.

A splendid, upright crimson radiance that no one dared meet swept like a startled swan skimming a cold pool, instantly flooding the entire arena.

The Qin family's ultimate art, Crimson Sun Swordplay.

In the hands of the mediocre, it was fire, it was heat waves.

But in Qin Wuji's hands, it was light, it was praise, it was unquestionable authority.

This sword strike was called "Startling Glimpse."

Graceful as a startled swan, supple as a swimming dragon.

It was so fast that it left no path to survival.

Ji Ye stood at the center of that radiance.

The Unlife Sword in his hand was dull, battered, and covered in cracks.

Beneath this resplendent heavenly might, any attempt to block would have been a desecration of this vicious sword.

The Unlife Sword did not defend.

It only attacked.

Facing the sword light that filled the sky, he delivered a strike.

This strike was very slow, as slow as an old man threading a needle.

Yet it was also exceedingly fast, as though it had severed the connection between light and shadow.

Within the vision of Martial Arts Through Divinity, that brilliant crimson light was not flawless.

The very point where Qin Wuji's sword momentum was at its fiercest was precisely the sole crack amid that sky-full of red radiance.

It was the instantary stagnation when the tide had risen to its highest point and was about to recede.

It was the deepest shadow that must fall when the blazing sun hung overhead.

Ji Ye's sword stabbed toward that point.

Needlepoint against wheat awn.

"Too slow."

Qin Wuji's voice rang out amid the sword light, gentle as jade, yet carrying a trace of the loneliness of one standing too high in the cold. The sword light followed like a shadow.

"Strike!"

With a flick of his wrist, his sword momentum abruptly changed.

The originally bold and expansive "Startling Glimpse" instantly transformed into the vicious, sinister "Heart Piercer."

The sword tip trembled, becoming three cold stars.

The brow.

The throat.

The heart.

Reality and illusion were impossible to distinguish, while killing intent bared its fangs.

He watched those three cold stars.

In his previous life, Qin Wuji had used a variation of this move to pierce his heart.

The same move.

The same man.

But this time, the one watching the sword had changed.

Ji Ye still did not retreat.

Rather than retreating, he advanced, crashing into those three cold stars.

"Courting death!"

Someone beneath the stage cried out in alarm.

This was simply a moth flying into the fire.

Xiao Hongxiu's hand tightened sharply around her wine cup.

Within the ultimate vision of Martial Arts Through Divinity, time seemed to stretch infinitely.

Those three cold stars were no longer fatal rays of death, but three clearly visible trajectories.

At the end of those trajectories, Qin Wuji's flawless flow of energy showed an infinitesimal pause in the instant he drew breath.

That was the gate of life.

Just as the cold stars were about to pierce the blue robe.

The Unlife Sword in Ji Ye's hand moved.

This upward flick was light and graceful, yet it carried the resolve of a thousand pounds.

"Clink."

A faint, crisp sound rang out.

Like a dragonfly touching water, the Unlife Sword's tip precisely pecked the energy point where Chixiao's sword energy erupted.

Four Ounces Deflects a Thousand Pounds.

That deadly cold star was actually knocked three inches aside by that single peck.

The blade grazed Ji Ye's temple and stabbed into empty air, severing several strands of black hair.

The two figures crossed.

This was the crevice between life and death.

A dance upon a needlepoint.

Within that crevice, Ji Ye turned.

Like wind passing through a corridor, like a swallow skimming the water's surface.

He did not take the chance to stab at Qin Wuji's vital points.

Because Qin Wuji's protective astral energy had already erupted, and the Unlife Sword could not pierce it.

He merely turned his wrist and held the blade in reverse.

That cracked sword blade slid soundlessly along Qin Wuji's arm as he drew it back to defend.

Qin Wuji's pupils contracted sharply.

He had never seen such swordsmanship.

It did not contend for victory or seek perfection, only searched for that fleeting gap within desperate straits.

"Open!"

Qin Wuji changed moves with astonishing speed, sweeping his left sleeve.

Flowing Cloud Flying Sleeve, carrying Internal Strength capable of toppling mountains and overturning seas, slammed toward Ji Ye's chest.

Ji Ye did not take it head-on.

Borrowing the force of that sleeve wind, his body drifted backward like a paper kite with its string cut.

But in the instant he flew away.

His sword tip lightly hooked through the air.

Like the final streak of flying white when a calligrapher lifted his brush.

Swish—

The two met and separated in an instant.

Ji Ye landed three zhang away.

He still held that broken sword, his blue robe slightly disheveled, but his expression was as calm as a stagnant pool.

Qin Wuji stood where he was, dressed in white whiter than snow, Chixiao slanted downward.

His bearing remained peerless.

"Fine footwork."

Qin Wuji spoke lightly, his voice still elegant. "Unfortunately, merely dodging will not win."

Ji Ye said nothing.

He merely raised a hand and pointed at Qin Wuji's face.

Qin Wuji's brows furrowed slightly.

Suddenly, he felt a chill on his left cheek.

Then, a crimson drop of blood slowly slid down that jade-like face.

Drip.

The blood drop fell upon his snow-white lapel like a red plum blossom blooming.

The entire venue fell deathly silent.

He still wore white whiter than snow, still looked every bit the refined gentleman.

Only now, there was a wound on his left cheek.

It stretched from his cheekbone all the way to his jaw.

The flesh had curled back, the wound so deep that bone could be seen.

Blood gushed out in an instant, staining half his jade-like face red before dripping down his chin onto his snow-white lapel.

A horrifying sight.

Looking at the scarlet smear on his fingertip, a crack appeared in those perfect eyes for the first time.

Yet he did not roar, nor did he lose his composure.

"Good."

Qin Wuji softly uttered a single word.

He merely lowered his hand slowly, and Chixiao let out a low hum.

Crack.

Crack.

Centered beneath his feet, the white marble tiles began to fracture inch by inch.

Fine cracks spread outward like a spiderweb.

That was Internal Strength compressed to its utmost limit, with nowhere to vent.

"Clang—clang—clang—"

Almost at the same time.

Countless blades being drawn rang out from the shadows around the arena.

The Qin family's Attendants, who had originally concealed themselves in the darkness, no longer hid their presence.

Several fierce killing intents, like fully drawn powerful bows, instantly locked onto Ji Ye at the center of the arena.

That was the pressure of Organ Tempering experts.

Like an invisible iron cage, it trapped Ji Ye tightly within.

The moment Qin Wuji's sword descended, those blades would chop Ji Ye into minced flesh.

This was a fight to the death.

The guests beneath the stage were silent as cicadas in winter, not even daring to breathe loudly.

"Clang—"

A crisp sound of porcelain striking porcelain abruptly tore through this frozen killing trap.

Xiao Hongxiu's finger lightly flicked the rim of her white jade wine cup.

The sound was not loud, yet it resounded like thunder.

She did not rise, nor did she even turn to glance at the black-clad people behind her.

She merely leaned lazily against the back of her chair, her beautiful eyes sweeping carelessly around before finally settling upon Old Madam Qin's face.

In that instant, her aura changed.

She was no longer the Grand Princess who played through the mortal world, but a tigress crouched atop imperial power, baring her fangs.

A black-clad man stepped forward.

The aura of a Half-step Grandmaster surged into the sky, forcibly tearing open a gap in that iron-net-like killing intent.

Ji Ye stood at the center of the storm.

He looked at Qin Wuji, whose face was covered in blood and whose killing intent blazed.

He also felt the impenetrable forest of blades and swords surrounding him.

He did not move.

His fingers lightly rested on the sword hilt that had already been wrapped halfway, while his gaze passed over Qin Wuji, passed over those concealed assassins, and fell directly upon Old Madam seated on the high platform.

That gaze was very faint.

So faint that it was like he was looking at a chess game already concluded.

He was waiting.

Waiting for the Qin family to swallow this mouthful of blood-stained saliva.

"Enough."

An aged voice pierced through the sky-full of killing intent and fell upon the arena.

The voice was not loud, yet it carried unquestionable authority.

Old Madam Qin still fingered her prayer beads, her eyelids lifting slightly, her gaze murky yet profound.

"Today is this old woman's birthday banquet."

She spoke slowly. "Seeing red is an auspicious sign. Since victory and defeat have already been decided, why decide life and death as well?"

With a single word.

The verdict was set.

The veins on the back of Qin Wuji's sword-gripping hand bulged.

The wound on his face was still bleeding, its burning pain constantly reminding him of the humiliation he had just suffered.

He was unwilling.

But he could not move.

In the Qin family, Old Madam's words were heavenly law.

Besides, the Grand Princess was watching.

The Qin family did not have the nerve to publicly besiege and kill an Imperial Court official.

Qin Wuji took a deep breath.

The killing intent that filled the sky receded like the tide.

Chixiao returned to its sheath.

He took out a spotless white handkerchief and pressed it against the wound on his cheek.

Blood quickly stained the handkerchief red, revealing a bewitchingly eerie beauty.

He looked at Ji Ye, the icy chill in his eyes turning into a bottomless, shadowy pool.

"Brother Ji, fine swordsmanship."

His voice was calm, betraying neither joy nor anger.

"I, Qin, will accept this auspicious gift."

"The days ahead are long. There will surely be a return gift."

Ji Ye sheathed his sword as well.

He took out that strip of rag again and leisurely wrapped the Immortal Sword.

His movements were slow and meticulous.

As though the watchful experts surrounding him did not exist at all.

"You are too courteous, Young Master Qin."

After tying the final knot, Ji Ye raised his head.

"A sword does not wound people; people wound themselves."

"This scar is not deep."

"Next time, it will be deeper."

With that, he turned and stepped down from the platform.

His pace remained unhurried.

That slender figure was like a moving mountain, crushing the breath from the Qin family guards on either side, who had been itching to make a move.

Xiao Hongxiu had been holding that cup of leftover wine all along.

Only when Ji Ye approached did she drain the wine in one gulp.

"Fine sword."

She rose to her feet, her red robes blazing like fire as she blocked Ji Ye's path.

"Old Madam, are you satisfied with today's birthday gift?"

Xiao Hongxiu asked with a smile, her voice crisp as pearls falling onto a jade plate.

Old Madam looked at her. After a long while, she smiled as well, though the smile did not reach her eyes.

"The Grand Princess has gone to great trouble. The Qin family will remember this gift."

"As long as you remember it."

Xiao Hongxiu swept her wide sleeve, as though rolling up a thousand heaps of snow.

She did not spare the Qin family a single glance, merely walking straight to the steps and extending one hand.

That hand, adorned with a red jade bracelet and exquisitely cared for, naturally settled onto Ji Ye's offered arm.

It was not support, but standing shoulder to shoulder.

"Return to the residence."

She spoke only two words.

Yet they seemed to draw the most overbearing full stop to this farce.

The two passed through the crowd, through the two rows of black-armored guards with faces ashen with rage, and walked out through the vermilion gates of the Qin residence.

Behind them.

Qin Wuji stood atop the arena, the bloodstained handkerchief in his hand shattered into powder by Internal Strength.

He watched that blue-robed figure vanish into the night, and the Chixiao sword in his hand let out a mournful cry.

"Crack."

The white marble tiles beneath his feet shattered completely into dust.

The night wind blew past.

All that remained were broken candles scattered across the ground, and spectators trembling with fear.