Little Glasses pushed his glasses up with a hand.
“A bit far… hard to say…” he muttered, “But they don’t seem like outsiders…”
Old Lü was panting heavily, his fat belly heaving up and down. It was clear the earlier attack had shaken him badly.
“Zhang Shan…” Old Lü said, “You didn’t have to save me… I’ve already ‘resonated’…”
He scratched his forehead, which was covered in bloody scratches, as if something had clawed at it.
“I didn’t think too much about it,” Zhang Shan replied. “Just saved you on instinct. Do you recognize those two?”
Old Lü stared at the distant figures, then lowered his head as if recalling something. Quietly, he said, “That sword just now… Could it be that kid? Han, was it?”
“Han…?” Zhang Shan frowned. “Han what?”
“Hiss…” Old Lü scratched his face. “You know, that writer who used to share a room with Qi. What was his name again?”
“What’s his ‘resonance’?” Zhang Shan asked, puzzled. “I’ve never seen an ability like that—’Sword Control’?”
Little Glasses shook his head. “The name ‘Sword Control’ doesn’t even sound like a type of ‘resonance.’ It’s more like some kind of immortal technique.”
“You two weren’t there, but I saw it with my own eyes,” Old Lü said, still shaken. “Back in a classroom, that Han guy summoned a sword and chased Jin Yuanxun, nearly hacking him to death… Luckily, some unknown figure suddenly intervened and saved Jin. At the time, me, Chu Tianqiu, Yun Yao, Li Xiangling—we all saw it.”
“Strange,” Zhang Shan remarked. “What happened back then? That guy was Qi Xia’s teammate, yet he attacked Jin Yuanxun?”
“Ugh! Damn it, don’t even get me started!” Old Lü’s face twisted in confusion. “Things got so messy! Yun Yao wanted some kid named Chen to lead ‘Paradise,’ but somehow that Chen kid died, and then another Chen kid showed up. We were all baffled. Then Chu Tianqiu went and said something to Han, and the guy just snapped. The ground started shaking, the building almost collapsed, Jin Yuanxun tried to stop him, and then that damn sword came flying—slash, crash, bang!”
Zhang Shan and Little Glasses stared at Old Lü. Though he had said a lot, neither of them really understood.
“Fine,” Zhang Shan nodded. “Since we know who that guy is… we can go talk to them.”
“Zhang Shan, what do you want to talk about…?” Little Glasses asked.
“Ask them why they’re doing this, of course,” Zhang Shan said, his expression darkening as he glanced at the two figures in the distance and the countless corpses strewn between them. “What reason do these two have… to stand in ‘Paradise’ and slaughter our people? Did Qi Xia order this?”
Han Yimo closed his eyes for a moment, gathering his resolve, then suddenly snapped them open. The flying sword above him seemed to sense something and began circling in the air.
“Please…” Han Yimo murmured. “Go… go after them…”
With a piercing dragon-like screech, the “Seven Black Sword” trembled before shooting toward the distant trio.
Zhang Shan’s face hardened. He took a massive step forward. “Old Lü, protect Little Glasses!”
Old Lü immediately moved to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Zhang Shan, while Little Glasses ducked behind him.
The flying sword didn’t target Zhang Shan—instead, it streaked straight for Old Lü and Little Glasses.
Seeing this, Old Lü clenched his eyes shut and puffed out his chest. The black sword slammed into his stomach with a brutal force.
*Whoosh—*
The sound it made was like branches scraping against leather.
A shallow cut appeared on Old Lü’s belly.
“Damn it…” Old Lü gritted his teeth. “He’s serious! Even cut through ‘Hardening’… Fuck, that hurts…”
“Stay sharp!” Zhang Shan shouted.
The inky-black sword, cunning as a hawk, circled midair after failing to pierce Old Lü’s hardened body, searching for another angle.
Only then did the trio realize the sword’s true target had been Little Glasses all along.
“Shit.” Zhang Shan cracked his knuckles. “They want us dead. No need to hold back.”
“What are you gonna do…?”
“I want to win,” Zhang Shan said. “This is a battle. Lose, and we die. Win, and we live.”
*CLANG!*
A deafening sound rang out. Zhang Shan took a deep breath and lunged at the black greatsword before it could move again.
The sword hesitated midair for a split second, then abandoned its pursuit of Little Glasses and instead aimed for Zhang Shan’s abdomen.
Man and blade closed the distance in an instant, charging straight at each other.
*WHOOSH—!*
Zhang Shan didn’t dare underestimate the sentient blade. He quickly clasped his hands together, raised them overhead, and—just as the sword was about to impale him—slammed them down like a volleyball spike.
*BANG!*
His fists struck the sword’s midsection, halting its momentum. The sheer force sent the greatsword crashing to the ground like a slab of iron.
*CLATTER!*
The sword twitched on the ground like a beached fish.
Without hesitation, Zhang Shan stomped on the blade and reached for the hilt.
*HUM—*
The black greatsword vibrated furiously, unleashing a draconic roar as if offended. But Zhang Shan’s grip was unshakable. With a flick of his wrist, he lifted the hundred-pound weapon.
Even with his “Heavenly Strength,” the sheer weight and wild resistance made it a struggle to hold. The sword writhed like a living thing—one slip, and it would soar into the sky, never to be caught again.
“Damn… this is insane,” Zhang Shan muttered. “This thing’s alive. Look at the engravings—so intricate.”
Old Lü and Little Glasses, emboldened by Zhang Shan’s “taming” of the sword, cautiously moved closer to inspect it.
The greatsword was pitch-black, adorned with ancient, ornate patterns—straight out of a wuxia novel.
Humiliated by the scrutiny, the blade shuddered violently, attempting to break free. Zhang Shan tightened his grip, refusing to let it escape.
“Bastard…” Zhang Shan spat. “Killed so many and still won’t behave. Let me teach you a lesson.”
With that, he raised the sword high overhead with both hands—then brought it down hard.
He didn’t strike with the blade. Instead, he smashed the flat of the sword against the ground.
*CRACK!*
A crisp snap echoed as the sentient black greatsword split cleanly in two.
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