The moon shone bright, stars were sparse, and the water flowed quietly. Across the stone bridge stood opposing groups, enveloped in an unusual silence.
Upon hearing the Ghost King shout Meng Qi’s name, Jing Shao couldn’t hide his shock. So he was the “Sword of Astonishment,” Xiao Meng!
Joy quickly surfaced in his heart. Who in the capital didn’t know the name of the “Sword of Astonishment,” Xiao Meng, after yesterday’s events? With righteousness and loyalty, he had single-handedly escorted General Lu into the capital, leaving countless renowned martial artists defeated beneath his sword!
A man of such loyalty and righteousness was certainly worthy of trust for Jing Shao and his companion.
Reputation speaks volumes. Escorting Lu Guan, a general bearing the hopes of the realm, had elevated Meng Qi’s status among the majority of righteous martial artists in the Jianghu.
Carrying his foreign friend on his back, Jing Shao slowly approached Meng Qi. Seeing no sign of coercion from Meng Qi, he felt reassured, further convinced that Xiao Meng was no fake hero who would take advantage of others in distress.
The stone bridge, flowing water, cold moon, and swordsman blended seamlessly, forming a unified, harmonious whole that repelled external interference. This made the Ruyi Monk, Ghost King, and Lie Dao hesitant to act rashly, as if taking even a single step forward would provoke a thunderous counterattack, triggering a cataclysmic natural upheaval.
As Meng Qi slowly drew his sword, it seemed as if countless identical motions overlapped—an elegant sword-drawing motion imbued with martial principles. Both the Ruyi Monk and Ghost King instinctively narrowed their pupils, simultaneously thinking of one person:
The Sword Emperor, who had transcended the duality of sword mastery!
Could it be that “Sword of Astonishment” Xiao Meng had already reached this level? Had he crossed from form to formlessness, and then back to form, truly grasping the essence of sword techniques? Had he surpassed the stage where anything—be it heaven and earth or his own inner energy—could be wielded as a sword, returning to the sword itself and touching its fundamental nature?
What is a sword? Why a sword? Every swordsman who reaches the pinnacle of cultivation inevitably asks this question of their sword path. The answer shapes the path they choose!
The Sword Emperor’s answer was just four words: It is what it is!
Faced with Meng Qi, who now exuded traces of the Sword Emperor’s aura, neither the Ruyi Monk nor the Ghost King wished to strike first. If they were alone, perhaps they would have tested their strength out of pride. But with two other experts present, why not let them make the first move?
Moreover, if they fought Xiao Meng and both were weakened, the others would surely seize the opportunity.
One monk fetches water alone; two monks carry it together; three monks have none. Especially since the three of them belonged to different factions, cooperation was nearly impossible.
Underlying their silent hesitation and hidden fear, neither moved. One stood at the bow of the boat, his monk’s robe fluttering like a celestial being. The other kept his hands hanging low, his face obscured in shadow, exuding a chilling aura.
But Lie Dao had no choice but to act. He bore a critical mission—to kill these two young men and ensure no evidence remained.
Besides, he had never encountered the Sword Emperor and was not deeply moved by Xiao Meng’s “posture.” He merely felt the sword-drawing motion was filled with profound martial principles, concealing infinite variations within stillness—but not something he couldn’t overcome.
He strode forward, each step measured precisely, identical in length.
“Arrogant!” He raised his saber, its blade reflecting the moonlight like a blazing sun.
“Who will face my sword?” Such an arrogant declaration indeed provoked resentment. Who among them wasn’t a renowned martial expert? This condescending, indifferent attitude was naturally infuriating.
However, Lie Dao did not lose his temper. He had spoken similar words during past confrontations.
Calm and composed, his momentum grew stronger with each step, exuding an awe-inspiring presence, as if he could shake the heavens and earth.
Yet, as Meng Qi faced the demon-like Lie Dao, he suddenly sheathed his sword again, hanging it at his waist. Calmly and coldly, he said, “Your mind has too many flaws. You’re not worthy of my sword.”
With a metallic ring, his dark long blade was drawn, crackling with faint electric sparks.
“Your mind has too many flaws. You’re not worthy of my sword…” The words echoed in Lie Dao’s mind, igniting a surge of fury that reached his crown chakra. His eyes flared wide, his teeth clenched in rage.
How dare he! How dare he!
The first half of that sentence struck at his most sensitive nerve. As the saying goes, never expose another’s weakness. Yet Meng Qi had bluntly declared it aloud. The second half was even more insulting—an attitude of such disdain, as if Lie Dao were nothing more than a chicken or a dog, not even worth the effort of drawing a famed sword, as if Meng Qi could defeat him with any random weapon!
How could he not be enraged?
In that instant, Lie Dao lost his composure, his mind disturbed.
Watching from the sidelines, the Ruyi Monk and Ghost King were equally startled. If they were in Lie Dao’s place, defeating someone who had lost confidence and had glaring mental flaws wouldn’t be difficult. But if Meng Qi abandoned his most powerful and proficient martial art, relying on other techniques against Lie Dao, victory would be nearly impossible. Could his saber techniques truly rival his sword techniques, which exuded the aura of the Sword Emperor?
After all, he had always wielded the sword and gained fame through it.
Jing Shao, carrying his friend behind Meng Qi, couldn’t believe his ears. Lie Dao was also among the top martial experts in the realm. Why was Xiao Meng so arrogant and dismissive? Could it be he had absolute confidence and strength?
Since his debut, aside from his battle with the Evil Lord, Meng Qi had always been known for his swordsmanship, the cold swordsman. Thus, no one could imagine his saber techniques surpassed even his sword skills, or that he was now unable to draw his sword!
This was the benefit of cultivating a strong image!
A flash of saber light leapt forth. Jing Shao’s eyelid twitched. Meng Qi had already drawn his blade.
Moonlight shone upon “Evil Calamity,” cold like frost. The rippling water sounded like a saber cry echoing in the heart. The saber’s arc subtly followed the curvature of the stone bridge, exuding profound mystery.
Jing Shao remained composed, but to the experienced eyes of the Ruyi Monk and Ghost King, the saber light was like a fish leaping from and diving back into the water, unpredictable and embodying the natural, worldly charm, manifesting their own restless thoughts—difficult to grasp, difficult to defend against!
Was his saber technique also this terrifying?
Their inner turmoil grew fiercer!
This strike was Meng Qi’s “Fall into the Mortal World” saber technique. Though he did not channel his mind or unleash saber intent, “Fall into the Mortal World,” as an external technique, concealed martial principles within its saber movements, capturing the essence of saber cultivation—an alignment with one of the principles in the “Heavenly Saber Essentials.”
Therefore, Meng Qi, who had gained insights into the “Heavenly Saber Essentials,” applied this principle to execute “Fall into the Mortal World,” his spirit connecting with the surrounding environment, entwined with countless threads. The saber light danced, fully expressing the natural, worldly momentum!
The saber light leapt into Lie Dao’s pupils, even more terrifying.
He felt as if the saber light did not come from Meng Qi’s hand, but originated from his own mind. Every change in the saber light mirrored his own shifting thoughts, perfectly aligned with his will.
No matter how he changed his moves, the saber light would follow suit. There was no way to defend against it!
Who could possibly defeat their own mind? Thus, this strike was unstoppable!
This was Lie Dao’s feeling, as if he had returned to the time he challenged the Living Buddha—oppressed by heaven and earth, his mind cycling through torment, his spirit collapsing into ultimate despair!
He retreated, step by step, yet the dancing saber light, though seemingly slow, followed him like a shadow, never letting go—just like he could never escape his fear or mend his mental flaws.
The saber light reached him. Filled with terror, Lie Dao roared, swinging his saber sideways in a desperate last stand.
Light scattered, figures retreated. Meng Qi still stood on the stone bridge, his long saber pointing to the ground, drops of blood slowly trickling under the timeless moon and flowing water.
A shallow wound ran across Lie Dao’s chest and abdomen, with silver-white electric sparks dancing like tiny snakes, blackening his skin and evaporating his blood.
He was not dead, nor was the wound severe. After the Nine Openings, true energy naturally radiated outward, forming a protective barrier that either blocked or significantly weakened ordinary attacks.
If Meng Qi had wanted to kill him in one move, he would have had to unleash the true “Fall into the Mortal World” or “Sever Purity,” plunging Lie Dao into a daze, slowing his protective energy flow, just as he had done against An Guo Evil or injured the Evil Lord.
But doing so would fully expose his saber techniques. And to strike again, he would have to use the Sacrifice Body Technique. There were still two opponents ahead, possibly even stronger than Lie Dao!
Of course, under “Evil Calamity,” Lie Dao was already partially paralyzed. Another strike could penetrate his protective energy. But that would lose the air of a peerless martial expert, which was not conducive to “intimidating” the Ruyi Monk and Ghost King.
At this moment, the Ruyi Monk and Ghost King were already in shock. If his saber techniques were this profound and terrifying, seemingly concealing the Dao of nature itself, then what of his even more formidable sword techniques? Could it be he had truly approached the Sword Emperor’s level? His sword-drawing posture was so similar to the Sword Emperor’s—what was their relationship?
Meng Qi sheathed his saber and coldly gazed at Lie Dao:
“I told you, your mind has too many flaws.”
My saber techniques specialize in breaking the mind!
Lie Dao stood still for a moment, then suddenly let out a long howl, like a lone wolf crying to the moon, filled with sorrow and despair. He turned and fled, desperate to escape this nightmare.
Seeing Lie Dao and his men retreat, the Ruyi Monk and Ghost King grew even more wary.
Meng Qi turned to face them, drawing his long sword again, assuming the posture of unsheathing:
“You two are worthy of my sword.”
At that moment, a faint, cold snort drifted in, unmistakably familiar.
“The Sword Emperor!” the Ghost King gasped. Glancing at Meng Qi’s profound sword-drawing stance, he finally made his decision, retreating into the shadows and vanishing into the darkness.
“Xiao Meng, your righteousness reaches the heavens, and your compassion embraces all beings. Leaving these two gentlemen to you, this monk feels at ease,” the Ruyi Monk intoned, before steering his small boat downstream, disappearing with the current.
Meng Qi sheathed his sword, hands behind his back, gazing at the flowing water beneath the bridge, exuding icy composure. Yet inwardly, he chuckled: “No wonder they’re from the Run family of Langya. Their ability to mimic voices is truly impressive.”
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