Startling Swan's Shadow, White Bone's Mark

The wind hadn't moved.

The candlelight hadn't moved.

But the person had.

Qin Wuji's hand finally left his white jade belt and rested on the hilt of Chixiao.

In that instant, all the guests felt their vision blur.

As if, in this late autumn night, a red sun had suddenly risen.

Chixiao was drawn from its scabbard.

There was no roaring sword energy, no violent roar.

Only light.

A brilliant, righteous, and blinding red light, like a startling swan skimming over a cold pond, instantly filled the entire arena.

The Qin Family's ultimate technique, "Crimson Sun Swordplay."

In the hands of an ordinary person, it was fire, it was heatwaves.

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

This sword strike was named "Startling Swan."

Graceful as a startling swan, fluid as a swimming dragon.

So fast it left no room for escape.

Ji Ye was at the center of this light.

The Bushou sword in his hand was dim, broken, and covered in cracks.

Under this majestic heavenly might, any attempt to block would be a desecration of this fierce sword.

Bushou, does not defend.

Only attacks.

He met the sky-filling sword light and thrust out a sword.

This sword strike was slow, so slow it was like an old person threading a needle.

Yet it was incredibly fast, so fast it was as if it had severed the connection between light and shadow.

In the vision of "Martial Arts Through Divinity," that brilliant red light was not impenetrable.

The point where Qin Wuji's sword momentum was strongest was precisely the only crack in this sky-filling red light.

It was the stillness in the moment the tide reached its highest before receding.

It was the deepest shadow cast by the sun at its zenith.

Ji Ye's sword stabbed towards that point.

A needle point against a sharp edge.

"Too slow."

Qin Wuji's voice echoed within the sword light, smooth as jade, yet carrying a trace of the loneliness of being at the top. The sword light followed like a shadow.

"Gotcha!"

With a flick of his wrist, the sword's momentum changed.

The originally broad and powerful "Startling Swan" instantly transformed into the vicious and sinister "Heart Piercer."

The sword tip trembled, becoming three points of cold starlight.

The center of the brow.

The throat.

The heart.

Illusory and real, indistinguishable, with killing intent fully revealed.

He looked at those three points of cold starlight.

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

The same technique.

The same person.

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

Ji Ye still didn't retreat.

Instead, he advanced, charging towards those three points of cold starlight.

"He's courting death!"

Someone in the audience cried out in alarm.

This was simply a moth flying into a flame.

Xiao Hongxiu's hand, gripping the wine glass, suddenly tightened.

In the ultimate vision of [Martial Arts Through Divinity], time seemed to stretch infinitely.

Those three points of cold light were no longer deadly beams, but three clearly visible trajectories.

At the end of those trajectories, Qin Wuji's flawless aura, in the instant of drawing breath, showed a minuscule tremor.

That was the Gate of Life.

Just as the cold stars were about to pierce through the green robe.

Bushou, in Ji Ye's hand, moved.

This flick was light and elegant, yet held a decisive resolve of immense weight.

"Ding."

A crisp, almost inaudible sound.

The tip of Bushou, like a dragonfly touching water, precisely pecked at the vital point from which Chixiao's sword energy erupted.

Four Ounces Deflects a Thousand Pounds.

That killing blow, that point of cold light, was deflected by this pecking force by three inches.

The sword's edge grazed Ji Ye's temple as it missed, slicing off a few strands of hair.

The two figures crossed paths.

This was the space between life and death.

A dance on the tip of a needle.

In this sliver of space, Ji Ye spun around.

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

He did not seize the opportunity to strike at Qin Wuji's vital points.

Because Qin Wuji's protective aura had already erupted, Bushou could not pierce it.

He merely twisted his wrist, holding the sword backward.

The cracked blade, along Qin Wuji's defending arm, slid past silently.

Qin Wuji's pupils contracted sharply.

He had never seen such swordsmanship.

Not seeking victory, not aiming for perfection, but only searching for that fleeting gap in a desperate situation.

"Open!"

Qin Wuji changed his move with extreme speed, flicking his left sleeve.

Flowing Cloud Flying Sleeve, carrying overwhelming Internal Strength, slammed towards Ji Ye's chest.

Ji Ye did not resist head-on.

He used the force of the sleeve wind to propel himself backward, like a kite whose string had snapped.

But in the instant of flying out.

His sword tip, in mid-air, gave a slight hook.

Like a calligrapher's final flourish, a splash of white ink at the end of a stroke.

Swish--

The two met and separated instantly.

Ji Ye landed thirty feet away.

He still held the broken sword, his green robe slightly disheveled, but his expression was as calm as a stagnant pool of water.

Qin Wuji stood in place, his white robes like snow, Chixiao pointed diagonally.

His imposing presence remained as elegant as ever.

"Good footwork."

Qin Wuji spoke indifferently, his voice still elegant, "A pity, merely dodging won't win."

Ji Ye did not speak.

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

Qin Wuji's brow furrowed slightly.

Suddenly, he felt a coolness on his left cheek.

Immediately after, a drop of crimson blood, slid slowly down his jade-like face.

Drip.

The blood fell onto the pristine white collar, blooming like a red plum blossom.

The entire scene fell silent.

He was still dressed in white as snow, his demeanor elegant and refined.

But on his left cheek, there was a new wound.

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

If you find this book good, remember to add it to your bookshelf so you don't lose it next time.

His flesh was torn, revealing bone.

Blood instantly gushed out, dyeing half of his jade-like face crimson, and dripped from his chin onto his snow-white collar.

It was a shocking sight.

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

But he didn't roar, nor did he lose his composure.

"Good."

Qin Wuji softly uttered a single word.

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

Crack.

Crack.

Centered around his feet, the white marble floor tiles began to crack inch by inch.

Fine fissures spread out like a spiderweb.

This was the Internal Strength compressed to its limit, with nowhere to vent.

"Clang—Clang—Clang—"

Almost simultaneously.

From the shadows surrounding the arena, countless sounds of blades being drawn echoed.

The Qin Family's retainers, who had been hidden in the dark, no longer concealed their presence.

Several sharp killing intents, like taut bowstrings, instantly locked onto Ji Ye in the center of the arena.

This was the pressure of a master of the Organ Tempering realm.

It was like an invisible iron cage, trapping Ji Ye tightly within.

As soon as Qin Wuji's sword fell, these blades would mince Ji Ye into a paste.

This was a fight to the death.

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

"Clink—"

A crisp sound of porcelain colliding abruptly pierced the frozen killing intent.

Xiao Hongxiu's finger lightly tapped the rim of a white jade wine cup.

The sound was not loud, but it was like a clap of thunder.

She did not get up, nor did she even look back at the man in black behind her.

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

In that instant, her aura changed.

No longer the Grand Princess who played with the world, she was now a tigress coiled at the pinnacle of imperial power, baring her fangs.

The man in black took a step forward.

An aura of a Half-step Grandmaster surged upwards, forcefully tearing open a gap in the iron net of 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 was palpable.

He also felt the inescapable glint of swords and sabers surrounding him.

He did not move.

His fingers rested lightly on the hilt of his sword, which was half-wrapped, and his gaze passed over Qin Wuji, over the hidden assassins, and landed directly on the Old Madam seated on the high platform.

His gaze was calm.

So calm, it was as if he was watching a game of chess that had already concluded.

He was waiting.

Waiting for the Qin Family to swallow this mouthful of bloody saliva.

"Enough."

An aged voice, piercing through the sky-filled killing intent, fell upon the arena.

The voice was not loud, but it carried an undeniable authority.

The Qin Family's Old Madam continued to twirl her prayer beads, her eyelids slightly raised, her gaze cloudy yet profound.

"Today is my birthday banquet."

She said slowly, "Seeing red means it's a prize. Since the outcome is decided, why must we still decide life and death?"

Her words settled the matter.

Qin Wuji's hand, gripping the sword, had veins bulging on the back.

The wound on his face was still bleeding, the stinging pain a constant reminder of his recent humiliation.

He was unwilling.

But he could not act.

The Old Madam's words were like divine law within the Qin Family.

More importantly, the Grand Princess was watching.

The Qin Family didn't have the guts to publicly surround and kill an official appointed by the court.

Qin Wuji took a deep breath.

The overwhelming killing intent receded like a tide.

Chixiao was sheathed.

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

The blood quickly stained the handkerchief, exuding a strange, alluring beauty.

He looked at Ji Ye, the icy coldness in his eyes transforming into a bottomless, dark pool.

"Brother Ji, your swordsmanship is excellent."

His voice was calm, betraying no emotion.

"I accept this prize, Qin."

"There will be a long future, and I will certainly return the favor."

Ji Ye also sheathed his sword.

He took out the tattered cloth again and meticulously wrapped the Bushou sword.

His movements were slow and careful.

As if the surrounding experts, who were watching with predatory intent, didn't exist.

"Young Master Qin is too kind."

Ji Ye tied the last knot and looked up.

"The sword does not harm people; people harm themselves."

"This scar is not deep."

"Next time, it will be deeper."

With that, he turned and stepped off the stage.

His steps were still unhurried.

His thin figure, however, was like a moving mountain, pressing down on the Qin Family guards on either side, who were itching to move, making it hard for them to breathe.

Xiao Hongxiu had been holding her half-finished wine the entire time.

Only when Ji Ye approached did she drain the wine in her cup.

"Good sword."

She stood up, her red robes like fire, and blocked Ji Ye's path.

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

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

The Old Madam looked at her for a long time before also smiling, though the smile didn't reach her eyes.

"The Grand Princess has taken great care. The Qin Family has noted this gift."

"It's good that you've noted it."

Xiao Hongxiu waved her large sleeve, as if stirring up a thousand piles of snow.

She didn't spare another glance at the Qin Family members. Instead, she walked directly to the steps and extended a hand.

That well-maintained hand, adorned with a red jade bracelet, naturally rested on Ji Ye's offered arm.

It wasn't support; it was walking side-by-side.

"Let's return."

She spoke only two words.

Yet, they were like the most arrogant punctuation mark to this farce.

The two walked through the crowd, past the two rows of ashen-faced black-armored guards, and out of the vermilion Qin Mansion gates.

Behind them.

Qin Wuji stood on the stage, the blood-stained handkerchief in his hand turning to powder under his Internal Strength.

He watched the figure in the green shirt disappear into the night, the Chixiao sword in his hand letting out a mournful cry.

"Crack."

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

The night wind blew past.

All that remained was a ground littered with candle remnants and a crowd of terrified onlookers.