Late at Night, Time to Go Back and Rest

Clang—

The blade left its sheath by half an inch.

A chill aura spilled from that exposed length of steel, like a cold tide on a winter night, silently sweeping outward and instantly filling the entire rooftop.

Zhu Yingxiong stood with his hands behind his back at one corner of the eaves, his robes fluttering lightly in the night wind as though he sensed nothing at all.

Li Jie narrowed his eyes, and his gaze turned sharp.

The next instant—

Cold light flared!

Li Jie drew his blade and slashed sideways! The strike was as swift as a bolt of lightning, its blade aura sweeping out like a white ribbon across the night sky as it went straight for Zhu Yingxiong's waist!

Before the blade arrived, its chill had already pierced to the bone.

Yet Zhu Yingxiong's figure drifted gently backward. It was as though he had not moved at all, but had merely been blown half a foot away by the night wind. He floated beyond the eaves and stood suspended in the darkness, his black robes snapping in the wind, nearly blending into the night itself like a wisp of inky smoke carried by the breeze.

The fierce blade aura swept past his chest, missing by only half an inch, yet it could not reach him in the end.

What was stranger still—

Suspended in midair, he lightly tapped the void with the tip of his foot, as if stepping on something invisible, and his entire body drifted back again. He landed steadily atop the eaves, and amid the flutter of his robes, he had resumed his former stance with his hands behind his back.

That retreat and advance flowed as naturally as drifting clouds and running water, creating a strange illusion—

It was as though he had not dodged the blade aura at all. Instead, the blade aura had gently pushed him away, then gently sent him back. The coordination was so exquisite that it seemed to have been practiced thousands upon thousands of times.

Yet that casual retreat and advance made Li Jie's expression change slightly.

Of course he knew what kind of extraordinary eyesight and exquisite movement technique were needed to accomplish such a feat.

Zhu Yingxiong was equally satisfied with that retreat and advance.

That had merely been the first form of the Illusory Demon Movement Technique, which he had only begun to grasp tonight—Shifting Forms, Changing Shadows. He had yet to master it and had gained only a superficial understanding, yet it had already elevated his movement technique to another level. Given time to fully comprehend both forms, who knew what heights it might reach?

However, judging by the expression on the other man's face, he clearly had no intention of stopping there.

Li Jie's face darkened, and his gaze grew ever sharper. He slowly exhaled a breath of stale air, his grip on the blade tightening again and again.

The next instant—

Blade light rose once more!

But there was no longer just one streak. There were seven!

Seven flashes of blade light bloomed at once, bleak and bizarre, like seven pale bolts of lightning tearing through the night. The blades shrieked harshly, as if wronged souls were wailing and howling through the sky, making one's scalp tingle.

This was the Seventeen Ghost-Prison Slashes.

When practiced to great mastery, this blade technique could unleash seventeen slashes in an instant. Every slash took a life; every slash hooked a soul. The seventeen streaks of blade light intertwined into an impenetrable net, trapping the opponent within until they were cut into countless pieces.

Li Jie had clearly not yet reached great mastery, and could only unleash seven slashes in an instant.

But those seven slashes were already astonishing enough.

The blade light crisscrossed into a pale cage, enveloping everything within a ten-foot radius around Zhu Yingxiong. Above the eaves, only blade light could be seen; no human figure was visible.

The moment Li Jie unleashed his seven slashes, he sensed that something was wrong—

The blade passed through nothing but emptiness.

There was no resistance of steel entering flesh, no warmth of splashing blood.

His pupils contracted sharply, and he abruptly withdrew his blade—

The blade light scattered, leaving the eaves utterly empty.

Where was he?

That man had clearly been standing at the corner of the eaves. His seven slashes had sealed every possible path of retreat. There was no way he could have simply vanished into thin air.

Yet the man was gone, as though swallowed by the night.

Li Jie's eyes widened. At the instant his mind was violently shaken—

"Are you looking for me?"

A voice sounded beside his ear, close enough to touch.

The voice was soft, yet it made his hair stand on end. He shot away, then whirled around in alarm atop the eaves.

Zhu Yingxiong stood with his hands behind his back where Li Jie had just been standing. His black robes blended into the night, revealing only a pair of calm, water-like eyes.

He stood there silently, as if he had never moved from the beginning.

The night was silent. The two faced each other wordlessly, one on the roof ridge and one on the eaves, their positions perfectly reversed from before.

The night wind passed between them, stirring their robes lightly, yet it could not disperse the frozen silence.

Li Jie's pupils narrowed slightly, and his Adam's apple bobbed.

"You..."

"Enough. Let's leave it at that." Zhu Yingxiong interrupted him.

"It's late. Go back and rest."

He spoke carelessly, with even a hint of weariness in his voice.

As his words fell, Zhu Yingxiong's figure drifted back from the eaves like a wisp of inky smoke caught by the wind, floating away soundlessly.

He drifted farther and farther, becoming fainter and fainter, gradually merging with the impenetrable darkness of the night.

In the blink of an eye, he was gone.

Only the mournful whistling of the night wind passing through the eaves remained, sounding like weeping and lamenting.

Li Jie stood frozen atop the roof ridge, clutching his blade tightly as he stared into the empty night for a long while without moving.

He had never felt such frustration before. It was even harder to bear than being defeated face-to-face.

Zhu Yingxiong returned safely to Anguo Temple.

He pushed open the door and entered the meditation chamber. Moonlight streamed through the lattice window, spilling a clear radiance across the floor.

Less than two hours remained before dawn.

He smiled bitterly to himself. For some time to come, I'll probably have to live like this. A gifted Shaolin disciple by day, the young master of the demonic sect by night.

Two faces, maneuvering among the various factions.

He sat cross-legged on the bed and closed his eyes in concentration, intending to replace sleep with cultivation and make it his routine from now on.

His awareness sank into his dantian, and a thread of intent reached toward his Tanzhong acupoint.

The Purple Blood true qi there had indeed grown a little stronger.

The corners of his lips lifted slightly. Killing could hasten cultivation. That feeling was truly not bad.

Yet as soon as the thought arose, his heart stirred, and he became secretly vigilant. This feeling was the easiest thing to become addicted to.

The current sect leader and the previous generation's sect leader were cautionary examples.

Only the patriarch Li Gong, from the late Song and early Yuan eras, had broken through with great perseverance and great fortune. Yet in his younger days, the name "Blood Hand" Li Gong had resounded throughout the martial world.

He drew a deep breath, gathered his mind, and immediately began circulating the Muscle-Tendon Transformation Scripture.

A righteous and peaceful aura slowly rose from his dantian and entered his Tanzhong acupoint. Like the warm sun of spring, it gently dissolved the violent malice within the blood aura before circulating through the meridians of his entire body.

The Muscle-Tendon Transformation Scripture and the Purple Blood Art, one orthodox and one unorthodox, one yang and one yin, circulated in alternation.

Within the estate in the eastern part of the city, Deng Yin stood silently in the night like a dead branch, blending into the boundless darkness.

Who knew how long he had waited—

At last, a dejected figure appeared outside the courtyard gate.

It was Li Jie, inheritor of the Ghost Blade.

With his abilities, he should have been able to sense Deng Yin's presence from several dozen feet away. Yet at this moment, he only suddenly noticed someone standing in the courtyard when he had drawn near.

His steps halted. He looked up, and his unfocused gaze took a moment to gradually regain clarity.

"Greetings, Elder." He hurriedly bowed, his voice hoarse and rough, as though something were lodged in his throat.

Deng Yin's gaze fell upon him.

Before leaving, Li Jie had been like a drawn blade, his edge fully exposed. He had possessed the pride of a young bladesman and the confidence of the Ghost Blade's inheritor.

But now, the man standing before him had a broken blade and a spirit already lost.

"The moment you followed him, I knew you would lose."

Li Jie's body trembled.

"But I didn't expect you to lose this badly." Deng Yin said blandly, "He uprooted your confidence completely, didn't he?"

Li Jie remained silent.

"That's a good thing."

"Those who have never been uprooted will never know how deep they can grow."

Deng Yin turned away, his back gradually merging into the night.

"Either rot here, or grow again. Choose for yourself."

The Yingui Sect was now lacking successors. He did not want such a useful blade to break just like that.

But he had said all there was to say. Deng Yin's figure gradually disappeared into the darkness.

At dawn, Zhu Yingxiong slowly opened his eyes, his gaze bright and clear.

He had not slept all night, yet he felt no fatigue whatsoever. On the contrary, he felt that his entire body was unblocked and refreshed, as though even his breathing had become a little deeper than yesterday.

He rose to his feet and stretched his limbs. Soft crackling sounds came from his bones and joints, crisp and powerful.

As he cultivated the Purple Blood Art and the Muscle-Tendon Transformation Scripture for longer, he increasingly felt the transformative changes occurring within him. His vital energy and blood grew ever more abundant, while his sinews and bones became steadily stronger.

When vital energy and blood flourished, the spirit was invigorated. When sinews and bones were strong, strength and force became mighty.