Before Yu Ci could react, Hong Qianqiu felt that he had overreacted. Scratching his wild hair, he gave a rough chuckle and spoke again to the gray-white-bearded Daoist. "You've already lost, so what are you still standing around for? Go down and catch your breath. Come back in ten days!"
The Daoist also knew he had just snatched his life back, and hurriedly withdrew his hand. Yet something felt wrong. When he touched his beard again, he discovered that the long beard he had kept for years had been severed at the throat, falling away in rustling strands. He was also deeply versed in the sword, and at once understood that the Sword Qi Yu Ci had released had reached a level of exquisite subtlety. Only then could it cut the beard while leaving it apparently unbroken, until an outside force caused it to snap apart.
The Empirical Branch's greatest virtue was its insistence on seeking truth from facts. The Daoist knew that although their cultivations were roughly equal, both at the upper stage of Divine Connection—and perhaps he himself was the more seasoned of the two—against such superior swordsmanship, even in a fight to the death, his chances of losing were greater. He gave Yu Ci a deep look, then sighed. Without another word, he clasped his sword in salute, gathered his qi, and headed down the peak.
By then, Hong Qianqiu, suspended in the air beyond the mountain wall, had recovered himself. Yet he found the whole thing rather amusing. There was no need for any reprimand. His gaze swept across the cliff face, taking in the surrounding situation, and he grinned at Yu Ci.
"Since you've got the Sword Offering Token, junior brother, head down the mountain. Remember this: since you have the token, everyone on this