Chapter 26: A Junior’s Unforeseen Strike

“Ling Shuangjue! You are at the end of your tether! Surrender now, and I shall grant you an intact corpse!” Ning Jihe’s voice was sharp and severe, as the light on her Decree Plate coalesced into a potent, divine beam of disciplinary power, poised to strike.

“Heh…” Ling Shuangjue wiped the blood from the corner of her lips. Her blood-red eyes, far from showing fear, blazed with an even fiercer battle intent. “You? Are you even worthy?”

“What about me!” Gu Chang’an, leaning on her sword, swayed as she rose. The tip of her Frostbright Sword once again aimed at Ling Shuangjue. “Today, you won’t take her!”

The energies of the three entangled fiercely, their terrifying pressure causing the very ground of the valley to begin to crack.

Unbeknownst to them, the focal point of their struggle was no longer where it should have been.

‘Let them fight,’ Shen Zhaoqing thought, annoyed. ‘Am I someone who can just be taken away at will?!’

‘Still, at least let me find some unlucky soul to practice on first.’

Her gaze swept around, locking onto one individual.

‘Fight! Fight! The best outcome is for both sides to suffer heavy losses, then I can swoop in and reap the benefits! Maybe I can even have these beauties for myself… Heheheh!’

An inconspicuous Black Wind Fortress bandit cowered in a corner, watching the spectacle unfold in the dim light cast by the corpses.

Shen Zhaoqing frowned. Her cautious nature, combined with the spiritual energy that now almost completely enveloped the area, allowed her to keenly sense the opponent’s late Nascent Soul cultivation.

Late Nascent Soul, yet they held the same cultivation as Qu Hanpo, the deceased leader of the Black Wind Fortress?

Now was the moment!

Shen Zhaoqing’s pale golden eyes suddenly sharpened within the swirling mist.

She moved!

There was no tearing of the air, no explosive burst of spiritual energy.

She was like a phantom shadow, skimming low across the ground, instantly closing in behind the man.

All her spiritual energy, her entire focus, and that sliver of keen sword intent ‘borrowed’ from the Sword Tomb, converged upon the broken jade bone hairpin held between her fingers.

For the first time in her life, she launched an attack of her own volition.

‘To hell with being butchered like a lamb!’

‘To hell with being mere cargo!’

“Borrowed Sword Wind Slash!”

A low cry echoed in her mind, and her wrist flicked subtly. That imperceptible surge of keen energy transformed into a silent streak of light, perfectly concealed by the wine mist, and precisely pierced the right wrist of the man who was just beginning to react and channel his spiritual energy with all his might.

Pfft—

A faint, almost imperceptible sound of a sharp blade piercing flesh rang out. It was so soft it was nearly swallowed by the wind howling through the valley.

“Huh…?” The lecherous smile on his face instantly froze.

Slowly, stiffly, he lowered his head. A broken white jade bone hairpin protruded from the inside of his wrist, its tip still glowing with a faint, sharp white light. Blood, like a gushing spring, instantly dyed his palm crimson.

“Ugh…” The excruciating pain, delayed by half a second, then swept through his nerves like a tsunami.

Yet, more terrifying than the agony was a bone-chilling cold that permeated his very being. An incomparably sharp, alien spiritual energy had drilled into his meridians through the wound, like countless tiny blades, frantically severing the pathways of his spiritual circulation.

The profound demonic energy he had painstakingly cultivated to the late Nascent Soul stage was, before this strange, keen energy, torn apart and disrupted as easily as tofu.

“My hand… my cultivation…” He let out a wail that sounded utterly inhuman.

‘So, he’s a demonic cultivator after all?’ Shen Zhaoqing mused.

“Crack…”

What was that?!

Their gazes, like three materialized bolts of lightning, instantly shifted from one another, all simultaneously darting towards the source of the sound.

There, they saw a late Nascent Soul demonic cultivator, clad in Black Wind Fortress attire, collapsed like a heap of mud, writhing and wailing in agony, clutching his profusely bleeding wrist.

“A demonic cultivator?!” Gu Chang’an immediately turned to Ling Shuangjue. “Is this one of yours?”

“What a joke.” Ling Shuangjue disdained to speak to her, merely waving a hand.

As if a seal had broken, the man shrieked, pain spreading from his wrist to his face. Then, a thin film on his face peeled away under everyone’s watchful eyes.

“Qu Hanpo?” Gu Chang’an frowned. “You’re not dead?”

However, Qu Hanpo was too consumed by pain to speak. It was clear he had used some kind of artifact capable of both deception and identity concealment, for the Qu Hanpo on the scene when Ling Shuangjue arrived had not been the real Qu Hanpo.

Still, who could blame him for his terrible luck?

Behind him, a faint wispy cloud of wine mist slowly dissipated, revealing a slender figure. Shen Zhaoqing was still clad in her faded Qingyun Sect junior disciple’s uniform, smudged with dust and blood, looking somewhat disheveled.

Her small face was pale, and her breathing was rapid; clearly, that single strike had drained all her strength. In her hand, she still clutched the blood-stained, broken jade bone hairpin.

Her pale golden eyes, usually holding a hint of intoxication and confusion, were now startlingly clear and bright, as if freshly washed.

She stood there quietly, in the center of the gruesome battlefield, under the scrutiny of three of the world’s most formidable women. Her expression was calm, even carrying a hint of a job-done weariness.

Everyone was filled with disbelief.

“Shen Zhaoqing?” Gu Chang’an’s hand, gripping the Frostbright Sword, trembled.

‘A junior disciple at the Qi Condensation stage, with a single strike, crippled a late Nascent Soul demonic cultivator?!’

‘What kind of technique was that? That keen aura… it felt so familiar… It was the sword intent from the Sword Tomb!’

‘She had only demonstrated it once, and Shen Zhaoqing had seemed bored enough to fall asleep then. Yet, she had actually comprehended it?! And even used it?!’

“Heh…” A soft, slightly hoarse laugh escaped Ling Shuangjue’s lips.

“Interesting.”

“Truly interesting.”

She gazed at Shen Zhaoqing as if she were a unique, peerless treasure finally revealing its true brilliance. “Shen Zhaoqing, this Honored One grows fonder of you by the moment.”

Shen Zhaoqing: (Smiling broadly). Her calves were actually trembling.

That single hairpin strike had completely drained her strength; she was currently holding on purely through sheer willpower. If the wind blew any stronger, she might collapse on the spot.

Qi Condensation stage against late Nascent Soul — this was Shen Zhaoqing’s first proactive strike since arriving at the Qingyun Sect.

Shen Zhaoqing feigned composure, slowly retracting the bone hairpin. She even dramatically flicked away non-existent blood, then surveyed her surroundings with an expression that clearly asked, ‘One down, who’s next?’

Ultimately, her gaze settled on Li Ruan’yan, who was already frozen in terror.

Li Ruan’yan shuddered under her scrutiny, instinctively taking half a step back. The gentle smile on her face vanished, replaced by utter pallor. ‘This trash… how dare she?! How did she do it?!’

Shen Zhaoqing said nothing, merely tilted her head at Li Ruan’yan, a slight tug at the corner of her lips.

The meaning was abundantly clear: ‘Stop bickering. I’ve already taken care of the weakling.’

‘Now, it’s your turn.’

‘Tell me, how do you wish to die?’