Reality allowed Meng Qi no extra thoughts. Jiang Zhiwei’s White Rainbow Piercing the Sun Sword suddenly lifted, its momentum ethereal, like mist and smoke, faintly revealing sparkling starlight. The swordplay was unpredictable, and no matter how Meng Qi used his mind’s eye or his hearing and sight to judge, he couldn’t distinguish truth from illusion—any change might become reality at any moment.
Meng Qi had no choice but to retract his saber and slash diagonally, seemingly slowly, yet internally containing infinite variations. Each variation was so fast that only afterimages remained, countering change with change.
Clang after clang rang out as their weapons clashed. Meng Qi realized Jiang Zhiwei’s qi was extraordinarily concentrated, like threads of sword energy, impossible to borrow or deflect.
As the variations unfolded, Jiang Zhiwei suddenly retracted her sword and powerfully slashed downward—simple and unchanging, yet overwhelming in force. To Meng Qi, it felt as if an entire mountain was collapsing upon him.
The surroundings were bathed in a faint glimmer of liuli Buddhist radiance. Their swordplay and saber techniques stirred flowing light, leaving ephemeral trails in the air—as if they were dueling amidst the remnants of their own past movements, weaving an ethereal, dreamlike illusion.
Faced with this strike, Meng Qi had no chance to use secret transmissions or shout out, unable to try calling her name to make Jiang Zhiwei hesitate. He could only swiftly counter with a slash like lightning across the sky, breaking through the pressure with speed.
Halfway through her strike, Jiang Zhiwei suddenly accelerated. Her sword, trailing afterimages, instantly reached Meng Qi’s saber, as if anticipating his move.
Unable to exert force from the side, Meng Qi’s right hand trembled, nearly losing his Heaven’s Sorrow.
Jiang Zhiwei’s swordplay unfolded—sometimes swift as thunder, sometimes motionless and pure, sometimes elegant and unpredictable, sometimes bizarre and unconventional, appearing full of flaws, yet at other times forming a Taiji-like unity.
Each of her strikes captured the essence effortlessly, flowing naturally, surpassing Meng Qi’s saber and sword techniques by a large margin.
Meng Qi had mastered nearly ten sword and saber principles, but he couldn’t fully integrate them into a seamless narrative. They felt like pillars not yet forming a hall.
But Jiang Zhiwei’s swordplay had already reached that level—each strike directly targeting Meng Qi’s weaknesses, perfectly embodying the most suitable principle. Moreover, each strike was not completely isolated, subtly following some underlying pattern.
From complexity to simplicity, from simplicity back to complexity—there was no distinction between the two anymore in the Lone Peak Swordplay.
Meng Qi was completely on the defensive, forced into a tense, defensive posture, like a bowstring stretched to its limit. If he let up, Jiang Zhiwei would seize the opportunity, unleashing a relentless series of deadly strikes, wave after wave, too overwhelming to endure.
He also wanted to tell a story with his saber and sword techniques, but at the beginning, facing his companion, he couldn’t summon the killer intent or the indifference to accidental harm. Oppressed by Jiang Zhiwei’s “maddened” aura, his spiritual confrontation was at a disadvantage, unable to display more than two-tenths of his full strength. In this current situation, trying to rise again and tell a compelling story was extremely difficult.
He couldn’t keep dragging this out!
Meng Qi realized something was wrong—if this continued, he would be further entrapped, perhaps even losing any chance of counterattack!
He activated the Eight-Nine Mystical Art, his body glowing faintly golden, and suddenly slashed out recklessly, as if disregarding consequences, trading injuries.
Silver-white lightning danced, leaving serpentine marks against the surrounding faintly glowing liuli light. Jiang Zhiwei redirected her sword, thrusting straight at Meng Qi’s saber back—striking the same spot as before, where residual force still lingered. Layer upon layer of force built up, and Meng Qi feared he might truly lose grip of Heaven’s Sorrow.
As the sword struck, the force was weak. Meng Qi’s Heaven’s Sorrow naturally dropped, and his left sword simultaneously lunged forward—nearly simultaneous, with no time lag.
Jiang Zhiwei horizontally swung her sword, its hilt, seemingly magnetically drawn, precisely striking Meng Qi’s Flowing Fire, yet still with little force.
At that moment, Meng Qi’s descending Heaven’s Sorrow suddenly rose, delivering a powerful downward slash. The saber strike was fierce, vibrating in place and feinting eight times before finally unleashing fully.
“Thunderclap Shaking the Nine Heavens!”
Thanks to the Eight-Nine Mystical Art and ambidexterity, Meng Qi finally seized an opportunity!
Normally, using the A-nan Breaking Precepts Saber Art would have better control, but with the “Yuan Demon” consciousness possessing him, Meng Qi feared it would fuel his desires and attachments.
Boom!
The compressed air from the eight feints generated a thunderous roar, further intensifying the strike’s power.
Purple lightning erupted, transforming into a raging dragon. Since advancing to the Seven Orifices stage, Meng Qi no longer needed to specifically accumulate Purple Thunder Qi. Simply activating the core techniques of the Eight-Nine Mystical Art allowed him to simulate purple lightning energy directly from his own qi, nearly matching its original power!
Even more miraculous than the Xiao Wu Xiang Art or the Gui Cang Myriad Things Art!
Of course, this required mastery of the core techniques and energy pathways.
The wild electric dragon surged, absorbing surrounding energy, creating a vacuum-like collapse in the space around it, making the saber strike vast and irresistible, like a rolling purple wheel, crushing everything in its path, indestructible!
Deceiving Jiang Zhiwei, Meng Qi’s strike seemed unstoppable, but her White Rainbow Piercing the Sun Sword, which had struck Flowing Fire, rebounded strangely faster than expected.
Instead of defending, she counterattacked. Her sword light surged, pure and unified, rising from below to strike across the sea, splitting mountains and parting oceans, unstoppable and majestic, directly targeting a flaw in Meng Qi’s “Thunderclap Shaking the Nine Heavens” at its peak.
How could this be… Meng Qi’s pupils slightly constricted. Suddenly, his mind reflected the surrounding scene—countless residual traces lingered faintly on the liuli glow, not yet dissipated, from Jiang Zhiwei’s first move to her current “Striking the Sea.”
The traces were mysterious, like the orbits of stars. Each sword tip left behind like a shining star.
At that moment, the all-encompassing liuli Buddhist light seemed to transform into an infinite universe, while Jiang Zhiwei’s sword techniques were like stars filling it, enclosing Meng Qi’s saber moves and momentum within their patterns, leaving no escape in the ten directions.
The sparkling stars, connected by their trails, formed a beautiful nebula, with the most brilliant and crucial star being this very “Striking the Sea!”
This was her long-prepared strike—not merely anticipating his deception. Had Meng Qi not used the Eight-Nine Mystical Art and ambidexterity to regain some advantage, he would now be completely passive, with no hope of victory!
Boom!
Nine thunderous electric dragons were severed, purple lightning exploding, completely disrupting the residual traces on the liuli glow. The clash of blade and sword was no longer a crisp sound but a thunderous explosion.
Meng Qi’s saber was knocked back, his qi momentarily disrupted, delaying the follow-up move “Heavenly Immortal from Afar” by half a beat.
Jiang Zhiwei’s sword was already rising again. Suddenly, Meng Qi felt his soul seized, his entire body stiffening, his movements slowing.
The sword strike had not yet landed, but its spiritual intent arrived first, seemingly dimming the liuli glow. This was the Dharma Body killing move—”Sword of Selfless Annihilation.”
Meng Qi recognized it, but knowing and reacting were two different things. His soul felt suppressed by the sword intent, bound by some immutable cosmic law. No matter how he responded, it seemed he would always be a beat too slow, facing life or death.
He desperately activated the “Undying Seal Art” and “Heaven-Changing and Earth-Shaking Art,” striving to unleash “Heavenly Immortal from Afar.” Yet the sword light seemed already formed, and Jiang Zhiwei’s crimson, eerie eyes gazed at him with cold indifference.
Suddenly, a ripple stirred within Jiang Zhiwei’s pupils, resembling struggle. Her sword intent wavered.
An opportunity? Meng Qi had no time to think further. He sidestepped, pushed off with his foot, and charged forward like a war chariot, closing the distance between them to within three feet. Deliberately, he rammed his left shoulder into her sword tip. The golden glow was pierced, but the damage weakened. He used his muscles and bones to clamp the sword.
Jiang Zhiwei pulled back, and Meng Qi surged forward. They were now face to face, close enough to feel each other’s breath.
Jiang Zhiwei didn’t attempt to withdraw her sword but instead unleashed sword qi. Because of her interruption, her Dharma Body ultimate move backfired slightly, temporarily preventing her from activating her treasure weapon.
Golden light flared, resisting the sharp edge, accompanied by continuous tearing sounds.
No need to hold long—just one breath!
Meng Qi’s Heaven’s Sorrow dropped on its own. His five fingers formed a strange seal, pressing toward a major acupoint in front of Jiang Zhiwei.
Jiang Zhiwei’s left hand formed a sword finger, aiming at Meng Qi’s palm.
Meng Qi subtly guided her strike upward with his fingers. Her sword finger grazed his nose bridge, neutralized by the Eight-Nine Mystical Art, leaving only two streaks of blood.
Then, Meng Qi swung his right hand, palm striking Jiang Zhiwei’s chest, his index finger suddenly extending. The force converged like starlight, rapidly spreading to other acupoints.
Star God’s Acupoint-Sealing Finger!
Jiang Zhiwei slowly fell, her grip on the sword unrelenting.
Seeing this, Meng Qi finally exhaled slightly. Without wasting time, he immediately searched Jiang Zhiwei’s pouches, retrieving the Purifying Pill.
With a slight force, he opened Jiang Zhiwei’s mouth. Meng Qi flicked his left finger, sending the Purifying Pill flying into her mouth, where it dissolved instantly upon contact with moisture.
Then, Meng Qi pressed his palm against her back, channeling energy to help her absorb the pill’s effects. He then took out the “Buddha’s Cool Serenity,” placed it before Jiang Zhiwei, and infused it with spiritual power, activating it directly.
The lamp’s glow, though dim, illuminated all directions, exuding warmth, purity, and solemnity, harmonizing perfectly with the surrounding liuli glow.
This place no longer felt like a demonic realm but a sacred Buddhist land.
The greenish lamp light shone on Jiang Zhiwei, revealing faint traces of demonic qi, with a twisted black shadow faintly visible at her forehead.
Meng Qi’s expression turned serious. His aura changed, as if the heavens were overlooking the sea and land. Using the Heaven-Changing and Earth-Shaking Art, he invaded Jiang Zhiwei’s spiritual sea.
Half of her spiritual sea was pitch black, while the other half was filled with chaotic sword qi, resisting fiercely.
Midway through, Jiang Zhiwei’s soul weakened, entangled in black mist, her eyes blood-red and hollow, her sharp aura gradually turning into filth.
The lamp light and medicinal power surged, immobilizing the black mist, slowly dissolving it.
Meng Qi directly summoned Jiang Zhiwei’s fragmented memories. Countless golden lights gathered, pouring into her soul, helping her break free from the influence of killing intent.
“…I’ve already decided on your nickname after you become famous.”
“What?”
“The Chicken-Slaying Sword God.”
The voice echoed. Jiang Zhiwei’s eyes regained clarity, her soul transforming into a sword qi, soaring into the sky.
The black mist shattered, screams rising, and Meng Qi’s consciousness was forcefully expelled from the spiritual sea.
Black mist gushed from Jiang Zhiwei’s seven orifices, completely dispelled by the radiance of the lamp. Then, she coughed violently, expelling copious amounts of dark, foul liquid. The bloodshot tint in her eyes and the bewitching crimson on her lips gradually faded away.
“Finally done,” Meng Qi couldn’t help but smile brightly. He finally turned his attention to his own injuries, letting his muscles contract to stop the bleeding.
Jiang Zhiwei looked at Meng Qi, still with two streaks of blood on his nose. She bit her lip, half-smiling, half-touched: “Don’t forget to wipe your face.”
Meng Qi nodded, first helping Jiang Zhiwei unseal her acupoints, then wiping off the blood.
“Once again, I owe you my thanks,” Jiang Zhiwei sighed. “Before, it felt like an inescapable nightmare.”
Meng Qi, having saved a companion, felt temporarily uplifted. He nodded: “Time is pressing. We must quickly find Senior Brother Qi and the others before their consciousnesses become entangled and difficult to separate. Let’s walk and talk.”
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