Chapter 44: The Scent of Blood-Red Roses

Gu Chang’an’s hands trembled slightly.

She stared intently at the golden feather mark. Each word she uttered seemed to be squeezed from between her teeth, carrying the metallic, rusty scent of blood.

“Did she touch you?” Jealousy, coupled with an undisguised, overwhelming killing intent, threatened to materialize and tear Shen Zhaoqing apart.

Shen Zhaoqing felt her wrist was truly on the verge of breaking.

She had no doubt that if she dared to nod now, Gu Chang’an would immediately rush out and declare war on the entire demon race.

“No, Senior Sister, listen to me!” Shen Zhaoqing cried out, her face pale from pain. “It’s a misunderstanding. She was just… just playing a joke on me… really, truly.”

“A joke?”

Gu Chang’an slowly lifted her gaze, her dark, profound eyes meeting Shen Zhaoqing’s.

“Leaving someone else’s mark on you—you call that a joke?”

The atmosphere froze to an absolute standstill. A clear, melodious female voice, carrying three parts playful mockery and seven parts brazen arrogance, cut through the silence like a sharp blade across ice, drifting in from outside the camp.

“Great Sword Immortal Gu, why such a temper?”

“It’s just a tiny hunt mark, you know~ Why get so angry?”

That voice!

Yuange!?

That little madwoman, who reveled in chaos, dared to show her face again? And how had she even gotten in?

Where was Tuoba Yanxue?

Before the voice faded, the grip Gu Chang’an had on Shen Zhaoqing’s wrist suddenly loosened.

Shen Zhaoqing hadn’t even had a chance to catch her breath when Gu Chang’an abruptly turned, her gaze fixed on the area outside the camp.

In that moment, all emotion vanished from her eyes, replaced by a pure, extreme killing intent capable of freezing one’s very soul.

“Seeking death.”

Two icy words escaped her lips.

The next instant, Gu Chang’an’s figure transformed into a streak of incredibly swift azure sword light, tearing through the wind and snow as she burst out of the shattered tent!

****

“Clang—!”

A deafening clash of metal echoed from the direction of the training grounds in the center of the military camp.

Shen Zhaoqing clutched her red and purple wrist, staggering out of the tent, and looked up.

Above the training grounds, a fierce battle had erupted, seemingly out of nowhere.

In the center of the training grounds, Yuange, adorned in a red and gold feathered robe, wielded a long blade formed from golden wings. Her smile was wild, her posture free and uninhibited. With every swing, she unleashed a storm of golden feather blades, both magnificent and deadly.

Opposite her, Gu Chang’an stood clad in white, pure as snow, holding her Frostbright Sword. A chilling mist swirled around the blade, and wherever its light passed, even the wind and snow froze into frost. Her sword art was devoid of any superfluous movements; each strike was swift, precise, and ruthless, aimed directly at Yuange’s vital points. The relentless, life-or-death killing intent emanating from her was palpable even from a distance, sending shivers down one’s spine.

Sword qi and frosty snow clashed wildly with golden feather blades!

A storm of destruction was woven from intertwining azure sword light and golden flowing feathers!

“Boom!”

Another violent collision sent terrifying energy ripples radiating outwards. The ground of the training grounds, paved with obsidian rock—a specialty of the northern region—was violently torn up in large sections, sending shattered stone and ice crystals flying in all directions!

“Oh my god!”

“What’s happening now?”

The surrounding soldiers cried out, scrambling and crawling further away, terrified of being caught in the terrifying aftershocks.

The entire northern military camp was alarmed by this sudden, earth-shattering battle. Countless soldiers poured out of their tents, staring dumbfounded at the two women fighting like deities above the training grounds.

Amidst the devastation, Shen Zhaoqing stood, allowing the cold snowflakes to land on her hair and shoulders. She then raised her head impassively to gaze at the gloomy sky.

The training grounds could no longer be called training grounds.

Shen Zhaoqing’s face was numb, and she felt a throbbing pain in her temples.

The azure sword frost and golden feather blades resembled two rapidly spinning nebulae, each collision erupting with a roar capable of tearing eardrums.

“Great Sword Immortal Gu, is that all you’ve got?” Yuange’s voice, clear and melodious, echoed throughout the camp, yet its content was enough to infuriate anyone to death. “It seems your sword hasn’t gotten much faster than it was years ago, during my absence.”

Gu Chang’an offered no reply. Her response was a sword light that abruptly intensified by a third! A condensed azure sword beam, like a sliver of sky frost, instantly tore through Yuange’s feather blade storm, piercing directly towards her heart!

“Tsk, are you losing your temper?” Yuange chuckled softly. Her figure flickered, leaving behind an afterimage that was shredded by the sword beam, while her true self reappeared dozens of feet away, completely unharmed.

The surrounding soldiers had retreated over a hundred feet, forming a massive circle. Each one craned their neck, watching with a mixture of terror and keen interest.

“My goodness, is this the power of the immortals? If that sword struck me, I’d probably be reduced to nothing but dust!”

Old Liu San, standing nearby, spat on the ground, a complex gleam in his single eye. “Bullshit! What’s this? These two immortals are still holding back! If they truly unleashed their full power, our Frost Iron Defense Line would be torn apart by them!”

“Lord Liu, then why… why are they fighting?” a new recruit asked curiously.

Old Liu San instinctively glanced in Shen Zhaoqing’s direction, then lowered his voice. “What else could it be? Competing for affection, of course. Listen, kid, remember this: the people you absolutely cannot provoke in this world are women, especially beautiful ones. One is enough to give you a headache; now there are two… tsk tsk, it’s a true Asura field!”

“Asura field?”

“It’s a place where even immortals would lose a layer of skin!”

Their discussion, neither too loud nor too soft, drifted into Shen Zhaoqing’s ears on the wind.

Thanks, she felt thoroughly implicated.

Shen Zhaoqing turned around expressionlessly, deciding to distance herself from this troublesome place. If she watched any longer, she feared she wouldn’t be able to resist rushing over, clinging to their legs, and crying, ‘Please, please, stop fighting! If you must fight, go to a dance studio!’

The tent’s roof had been ripped off, and its four walls were slashed like a fishing net, riddled with holes. The contents inside had been reduced to scattered dust, leaving no place to even step.

Oh, her home was gone again.

Although it had only been a shabby canvas shelter providing refuge from the elements, it was still her only private space in this wretched place. Now, even that meager privacy had been stripped away.

Shen Zhaoqing patted the dust off the gourd in her hand, twisted open the cap, and was about to take another swig to numb herself, when a faint, extremely cold, ethereal fragrance suddenly drifted into her nostrils.

It wasn’t the crisp, frosty scent of Gu Chang’an, nor the sun-warmed feather scent of Yuange.

This fragrance was like a blood-red rose blooming silently in the depths of a winter night: beautiful, deadly, and carrying a sweet, metallic undertone that made one’s soul tremble.

Shen Zhaoqing’s movements stiffened abruptly.

Her drunkenness instantly sobered by half.

This scent…

Slowly, inch by inch, she raised her head, looking towards the entrance of her ruined tent.

Or rather, where the entrance used to be.

A tall, slender, blood-red figure was leaning casually against the sole remaining, charred doorpost.

Clad in white, she watched the earth-shattering battle nearby with evident interest.

Ling Shuangjue had appeared so silently, as if she had always been there, or as if she were a demon god stepping into this world from another. The air around her seemed tainted by her demonic energy, becoming thick and cold.

“Did I disturb you?”