Chapter 221: In the Blink of an Eye, All Changes

Ji Tianqing was still deep in thought when Qian Ye had already summoned Dongyue and stepped forward. Facing Anwen, he said, “Attack now.”

Anwen didn’t react immediately and said in surprise, “Say that again please?”

Qian Ye raised the sword and waved toward Ji Tianqing’s statue, “Look at this statue—we share something. I won’t take advantage of you. Prepare yourself.”

Anwen’s face displayed confusion. “But I have already told you so much. Why are we fighting still?”

“You are too hazardous. I can’t rest assured unless I put you down.”

“That’s brutal!” Anwen fumed.

“That’s right on! I had little schooling, can’t grasp all high-minded philosophy you speak, my specialty only in punching and kicking,” said Qian Ye, absolutely unashamed as he slowly leaned into the fight.

Fury bubbling, Anwen had no words. He sheathed his rapier, producing instead a two-meter sword. He twirled the broad blade, roaring: “My hate of a brawl known, but you shouldn’t suppose I fear you! You may be strong, but have seen your fight with the sorceress—I suspect you’d find taking Me down tough!”

Qian Ye answered not at all words, his feet lifted from earth as the luminous wings behind his back unfurled with delicate black feathers standing sharply against light.

Glimpse at the obsidian edges of Qian Ye’s energy wings shook Anwen’s face. He couldn’t mask the sudden gasping outcry. “You, how dare you advance again? Has it been so short of a time?”

A pale smile curled Qian Ye’s lips. “The timing has not been short indeed.”

What confidence and arrogance remained vanished abruptly from Anwen’s manner. It was supplanted, in its absence, by grave caution. From him erupted suddenly countless threads of mystical qi twisting like chains around him, hoisting into sky, for in aerial dominance only his two-metre steel might reveal all its might.

With each conjured chain, Anwen shifted his positions a few more times, yet despite summoning altogether seven chains, still he saw himself trapped in the pupils inside Qian Ye.

His brow darkened, his blade lightly vibrated and a faint surge of mystical energy ascended like incandescence along the blade and vanished beyond the sky.

This clash had arrived—an ironbound contest had crystallised, though under no ordinary condition had Anwen arrived here. Back in the Unfolding Spire where Qian Ye battered the enchantress down with three blows of his Primal Pike, he has, in these very moments, experienced a promotion anew. For Qian Ye’s skill and might even as an opponent as formidable as魔女, it’s daunting. If such might befall him, how confident could Anwen, despite all ego, feel? Not in the frame of any belief that he might rival the sorceress.

But he had employed the full gambit of his arts and still failed to shake away Qian Ye’s deadly notice—only remaining course a duel in the clear light.

But do judge Anwen unprepared to err upon peril would wrong, for already his steel danced creating intricate and mystifying arrays from mystical vapour that held their form in suspension midair while fresh designs succeeded those before, piling patterns that pressed strange unease deep inside Qian Ye.

With instinctive perception Qian Ye felt the blow would admit of evasion.

By this phase, countless encounters shaped Qian Ye through ceaseless warfare, across decades faced many a master—encountering marvels, peculiarities, and rare talents beyond counting. But Anwen’s approach to swordsfolk art defied even his knowledge. Though bearing eyewitness to current spectacle, Qian Ye found this skill incomprehensible. The question lingered heavy —why could some arcane glyphwork compel lock Qian Ye in his place?

However comically styled the technique was, Qian Ye knew Anwen wield no jest. Such was how Qian Ye carved an image from stone—those glyphs operated in fashion akin formulas, calculations perhaps. Not to see was not the same as to deny its validity—merely his lack of knowing the language of its script.

Presently between Anwen and Qian Ye an unavoidable stalemate brewed—one neither would dodge the counterpart strike; injury for injury their unappeased fates.

Yet Anwen, poised at first, saw mocking smirk bloom upon Qian Ye’s visage and alarm surged his breast—the incident during fall of Floating Walls echoed once more. Then, Qian Ye met witch’s death-laced strike bare, did endure, emerged strengthened—this told how invulnerable his form might have become.

Suddenly Anwen could not vouchsafe victory. The patterns from his steel measured spacethought and timewave, calculating until conclusion no matter how Qian Ye turned, he must be carved. Yet method delivered only mark—wounding certainty but no lethal bite.

Then struck clarity sharp: wound he surely could—slay he surely might not. And Qian Ye’s might in new realm strike fatal.

Exchange? A poor bargain that. Not lost upon Qian Ye.

Adding to the strain—the rival duo before didn’t seem to fully adopt the code of masters.

Now Ji Tianqing circled, Li Kuanglan shifted to shadow sides. Ji’s eyes glued to White Kongzhao; stealthy strike poised in Li Kuanglan. Her speed told the tale: should she attack—distracted by two-fold duel his strike upon Qian Ye’s sureness may slip.

Without looking over his shoulder, Anwen roared suddenly: “Run!”

Puzzlement draped across White Kongzhao’s features: “Run? Escape—where?”

“Now! Immediately!” Urgency cracked in his cry.

And while exhorting so, his blade accelerated through designs faster still, layer on layer so even Li Kuanglan detected a locking sensation in her bones.

At this, Qian Ye sneered cold.

This cut had not slay him—it was dividing forces across two targets. Thus all it might achieve were shallow wounds at either end—not enough; not efficient.

Divide force, he may not achieve fatal bite.

His chance to wound Ji Tianqing might not return; better perhaps focus upon her? Thus might Qienye feel real threat.

Yet despite Anwen’s anxious pleas, White Kongzhao’s countenance still blanketed in befuddlement: “Why battle? Why flee?”

Before she grasped meaning to the plea, Ji Tianqing moved a step sideways appearing at Kongzhao back with path obstructed.

Drawing on a gloved hand wrapped iron barbed with vicious spikes, Ji Tianqing smiled lightly, “For long I have heard tale of your feats, always hoped to match with your legendary intuition in combats claimed as peerless and unequalled among all warriors. Such fortune granted, let’s learn finally if Bai’a’ou truly deserves his claim!”

White Kongzhao’s hands moved instinctively to retrieve her knife from back, but nothing—empty palm she met. Severed blade once halted Six-Limed Marshall. In that fraction’s gap—Ji advanced sealing space about her absolutely.

White Kongzhao’s battle-intuition monstrous terrifying—it was the kind of gift that moved in unorthodox arcs to snatch victory amidst the smallest fleeting chink. Ji Tianqing, conversely, armed with protean techniques, an array of tricks—her versatility posed perfect contradiction countering White Kongzhao’s nature.

Seal set upon victory. Anwen doomed, perhaps, to defeat; still he stood undying in fighting spirit. Yet now he sketched symbols mid-air and faint mystic auras surrounded White’s arms and legs, heightening impossibly the girl’s swiftness. Ji Tianqing smile now dimmed in presence. Fleeing, White could vanish.

“Escape!” he bellowed desperately. His single existence strained to restrain triplet.

Gameboard read dire, however, yet the duel had not fully commenced. Still shifting, invisible blows traded silently, twists spun—tremendousness in every movement.

Still White Kongzhao remained motionless—then spoke: “Escape not. I…submit.”

“Yield?” Almost stumbled, Ji Tianqing had, her attack stance broken into astonishment. She regarded both rivals here—equally formidable—on her same pedestal; figures belonging, like her, to same elevated level where no quarter offered or begged.

Eyes now moved at White’s bearing in, until now Qian Ye’s gaze bore nothing over Anwen. Shifts had come; now her alone marked in view.

Anwen should’ve glowed as pressure on Qian Ye redirected to spare friend. Yet not—he merely drew darker, tenser. The reason—Li Kuanglan hovered still; attention might not recaptured easily. Anwen dared hesitation—Qian Ye’s Primal Pike erupt and White’s very life may be claimed instantly.

Eyes locking instead upon a light feather on Qian Ye wing—one of dusky hue—he long stared; then sighed.

At long Qian Ye’s first utterance broke silence: “What is reason? Your giving-in.”

From her robe, White Kongzhao extracted half a white fruit, and stated flatly, “This is for you.”

The pale fruit seemed pristine in surface. Yet its rarity—away from Core-G zone with six-times standard gravity—was absolute. The arrival Six-Limed Marshall rendered any further procurement utterly impossible. At this critical juncture, half white fruit counted true as artifact.

“Hmph,” sniffed Ji Tianqing. “A morsel, to save lives—such offer, so trivial? Present more goods. Else, no.”

Then Qainye interject by simply raising his palm. “I take—leave you now.”

Ji and Li, both startled, not knowing why their foe had won quarter at point-blank brink.

Yet since Qian Ye pronounced thus—protest died before words. Retreat a step they did, clearing path.

White Kongzhao stepped forward to hand to Qian Ye the fruit half, then retreating. But upon Anwen, his parting word held promise. “If opportunity arise next time, I shall give you duel.”

Qian Ye spoke back softly. “I will await that.”

At point they prepared departing, Ji’s question cut in: “Where bound—why Stars-Well come?”

Without pause, Anwen spoke plainly: “Here—I hold Clouds-Feathers of Sky pearl. Desire change one raw shard.”

Understanding dawned, Ji spoke out: “Then let us see. Here exist two shards. Choose what you like? If want it—you trade Cloud-Feather pearl—and others you carry.” In palm she showed two raw shards, the very result both she and Li had forged.

To Ji’s offer, Anwen hesitated not a second. He produced a blacked-frame visionwear from folds and put upon vision to study the items keenly.

What had barely minutes since held blades drawn changed, trading begun. Speed in this shift surprised not only Ji. Qian Ye stepped near to place himself behind her.

Guessing intentions precisely, Anwen raised gaze—smirking toward Qian Ye: “Her pride runs fierce within; once promise granted—unchangeable! So it run in me. Trade begun—no attack from I! Travel companions you’ve been—should not grasp this?”

The words rendered Qian Ye speechless.

Ji’s soft lazing mirth: “Chose quickly. Delay, price rise come.”

Anwen eyed long before murmuring: “None of a higher level left? No?”

“None,” she dismissed sharply, for she wouldn’t show Qian Ye’s own forged shard—one held most precious.

With a sigh, Anwen answered: “Both, too poor—unsatisfied for her.”

“Of poorer quality?” Ji’s tone dark now.

“Her advancement will be limited if she accepts the lower ones.” Said he, plainly.

Originally, two ordinary raw shards meant for those without aspirations of becoming grandmasters, while Bai’s fame within and outside Bai family came mostly in combat intuition—but he made himself clear—she’s got potential, perhaps, to surpass them.

Ji Tianqing’s brow tightened but didn’t waste further explanation. Some truths Anwen’s alone to ponder; no reason to elaborate further her view.