Spring Terrace Dao Inquiry saw almost all disciples of the Wandering Sword Pavilion mobilized.
Shen Chengyin was also assigned to guard the venue’s security and ensure the ceremony proceeded peacefully.
When everyone’s attention was drawn to True Person Zhan, she alone noticed Liu Qiao’e’s movements first.
“Not good! Mountains and Rivers Sword!” Shen Chengyin raised her face and shouted sharply as she soared into the air on her sword.
Only then did the crowd realize belatedly that this was a diversion tactic.
But it was already too late.
In truth, the Wandering Sword Pavilion’s guards were well-trained and reacted swiftly. After Shen Chengyin’s reminder, they quickly restored order and dispatched a group to rescue the sword.
Yet before they could approach the iron chains, screams of agony rose from the crowd.
Blood filled the sky, fluttering down like blood crows.
The disciples of Joyous Union Palace and the Demonic Sect, hidden among the audience, suddenly attacked. Blades flashed, and in an instant, the mountains and forests were dyed red with blood and flesh flying everywhere.
The Wandering Sword Pavilion disciples who had not yet reacted were slain on the spot, meeting their end.
By this time, Liu Qiao’e’s fingertips had already touched the sword’s body.
True Person Zhan was blocked by Qingxu, and Song Huarong was a timid coward who prioritized her own safety. No one in this venue could stop her anymore.
The Mountains and Rivers Sword emitted buzzing sword cries, continuously scattering its sharp sword qi.
This sword qi was bone-chillingly cold, enough to slice skin and sever bones.
She showed no fear of the sword qi’s erosion. She circulated her spiritual energy to wrap her palm and reached out to seize it. The massive sword that pierced heaven and earth shrank rapidly, becoming a standard three-foot-three-inch length in the blink of an eye.
Shen Chengyin grew even more anxious upon seeing this and desperately shook her sword light.
At that moment, a figure in pale blue arrived a step ahead of her, blocking Liu Qiao’e’s path to the Mountains and Rivers Sword just in time.
Shen Chengyin’s heart nearly leaped out of her throat.
It was Ning Xia!
–
Mu Daoying had been single-mindedly seeking Liu Qiao’e’s past. How could he have anticipated such a sudden change today?
Because he had been constantly watching Liu Qiao’e, he became the first in the field to notice her movements.
At the same moment Liu Qiao’e flew toward the Mountains and Rivers Sword, Mu Daoying followed without hesitation, leaping forward!
Though he did not know how the situation had deteriorated so rapidly, he understood the stakes.
The Mountains and Rivers Sword was the Holy Monarch’s relic, eyed greedily by the Demonic Sect—it absolutely could not be lost!
There were many things in this world more important than personal grudges and hatreds.
Seeing that slender, frail pale blue figure block her path once more, heedless of death.
Liu Qiao’e’s pent-up rage finally erupted.
Mu Daoying!!
How dare he?!
How dare he be so reckless!
Liu Qiao’e’s face darkened like water in an instant. She withdrew her hand from the sword and countered by shooting out the Blood Rakshasa.
The Blood Rakshasa carried a thousand-jun killing intent as it struck fiercely at Mu Daoying’s shoulder!
Clang!
Sparks flew in the air.
At the same instant, Mu Daoying drew “Encounter Spring” and barely blocked this strike!
After months apart, Encounter Spring reappeared before the world once more.
In the instant he struck, spring winds turned green, peach groves bloomed red, and the man’s pale blue figure seemed to transform into a stalk of green bamboo, firmly rooted amid unyielding stone.
Under the Blood Rakshasa’s stormy pressure, it swayed wildly in the wind, unbowed by gales from any direction, its resilience undiminished.
Not yielding an inch!
In the moment their sword moves clashed, a surging sword momentum surged through his organs straight into his body. Mu Daoying felt as if struck by a thousand-jun hammer—stars burst before his eyes, his ears rang, and his five viscera shook.
The heavy pressure forced him to retreat a step, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.
But soon, he steadied his form. His pitch-black eyes fixed on Liu Qiao’e’s, and after retreating one step, he slowly advanced two!
Liu Qiao’e saw his face pale as snow, his refined brows holding unyielding resolve. Instead of retreating, he advanced, fueling her rage even higher.
It was people like this, with their damned frail demeanor, who stubbornly ruined her plans time and again!
“I spared your life that day, and today you come to die?!”
The intense pressure still churned within his body.
Mu Daoying pursed his lips slightly, enduring the pain and swallowing the blood rising to his mouth.
Liu Qiao’e’s strike had held nothing back.
The pain made his fingertips tremble uncontrollably. He paused, took a deep breath, forced it down, and slowly gripped the sword hilt again.
The green bamboo figure instantly became tear-stained Xiangfei bamboo.
Blood surged, his organs on the verge of shattering. None compared to the chill piercing his heart like an ice cellar.
He parted his lips, uttering only two words.
“Why?”
–
“Why?”
Those two short words were fragmented and hoarse. Mu Daoying’s lips trembled as he slowly asked again.
Unclear if he asked Liu Qiao’e or himself.
Why had everything developed into this state?!
With Ling Yuan’s death, he had already resolved to become that unworthy disciple. He could not hate her—especially after learning of Little Thatch Ridge and Cloud Mountain’s past. He could no longer hate her.
He wanted to uncover that blank.
He wanted to understand her past.
He believed the root of all this lay with Qingxu. Between him and Liu Qiao’e, there was still room for reconciliation and discussion.
He wanted to talk it out clearly with her.
But why did she choose this moment to kill and seize the sword?
From the corner of his eye, he glimpsed the bloody slaughter on the ground below.
Countless cultivators fell—they were merely innocent disciples here to watch, yet they became souls slain by these demonic soldiers and generals!
Demonic Sect techniques were bizarre and cruel: drawing tendons, peeling flesh, decapitating, disemboweling—methods too horrific to hear or see.
If Ling Yuan’s death still left Mu Daoying room for self-persuasion, these ordinary Wandering Sword Pavilion disciples below were utterly innocent!
Mu Daoying finally felt a piercing pain in his heart! His heart gradually filled with disappointment and sank.
He closed his eyes slightly, a flash of undisguised shock and anger crossing his brow.
“You and the Demonic Sect!”
So that was it.
If so, everything made sense.
She had long been in cahoots with the Demonic Sect. From the start, seeking the Spring Scroll and attending the Spring Terrace Dao Inquiry were to gain the Immortal Alliance’s trust for this day!
If that were true, then in Fogveil City, how much had she actively participated in Ling Yuan’s death?
Liu Qiao’e snapped angrily, “Just as you see!”
Her gaze nailed straight into Mu Daoying’s heart and lungs without deviation, stirring unbearable agony.
She had never seen Mu Daoying so coldly furious. Only now did a clear hatred ripple in his limpid eyes.
From the moment she decided on this path, Liu Qiao’e had prepared to part ways with him.
Her gaze drifted down to the man’s pale, gaunt fingertips, veins bulging from restraint.
She found it amusing, a mocking curve at her lips. “I told you, next time we meet, use ‘Encounter Spring’ to kill me.”
Mu Daoying’s breath seemed to freeze.
She knew he could not bear it—how could he bring himself to strike her?
But Liu Qiao’e gave him no time for hesitation.
“If you won’t kill me, then I’ll kill you!”
In an instant, lotus petals flew out, enveloping her figure as she shot forward like an arrow.
Mu Daoying coughed up a mouthful of blood foam and hastily raised his sword to counter, but Liu Qiao’e merely feinted.
As her raven-black fragrant hair brushed his nose, in the moment they passed shoulder-to-shoulder, Liu Qiao’e clawed toward the Mountains and Rivers Sword with fingers outstretched.
Mu Daoying’s expression changed drastically as he swung his sword to intercept.
But Liu Qiao’e’s foundation far surpassed his; her movements were a step faster, securely claiming the Mountains and Rivers Sword in her palm.
Seeing this, Mu Daoying changed tactics. Sword light filled the sky, weaving into a net to block her path.
“Does Daoist Mu really hate to see me go?” Her eyes held sarcasm as she taunted and provoked relentlessly.
He pressed his lips tight, his face icy cold and silent, revealing even deeper cold fury. His sword moved like wind, feet like rain, sword light pouring like mercury—endless and unrelenting.
In a few words while treading the iron chains, they had already exchanged over a hundred moves.
Liu Qiao’e was slightly surprised that Mu Daoying could hold out so many moves against her.
Just two months ago, he had still been foundation-damaged and frail beyond measure.
As they fought, they followed the iron chains and leaped onto the hundred-foot tower built nearby for today’s Spring Terrace Dao Inquiry.
–
The demonic generals dispatched by Luo Naji this time had cultivations no less than the elders of the three great sects. In the sky and on the ground, treasures clashed, lights intertwined, the battle deadlocked into a mess.
Some stepped forward boldly, others fled desperately.
At this point, a few lucky ones finally broke through the encirclement and leaped to the rooftop to aid.
But before they could act, Liu Qiao’e mercilessly struck them down one by one.
She had obtained fragments of the Holy Monarch Technique in her early years, allowing her Acacia Technique to harmonize yin and yang flawlessly.
Ordinary people, upon taking the Mountains and Rivers Sword, would be hindered by its icy baleful qi. But her dantian energy resonated perfectly with it; once in hand and slightly adapted, she wielded it as freely as her own arm.
Now holding the Mountains and Rivers Sword, she overlooked the heroes—who could do anything to her?
Even Mu Daoying: if she wished, she could end him instantly.
But she did not want to. This was the first time she saw Mu Daoying so deeply sullen and angry.
His nature was gentle, outwardly cold but inwardly warm. Even his lifebound sword was named “Encounter Spring,” its moves always like spring breezes and rippling waters—yielding, not seizing, conquering hardness with softness, strength with weakness.
Yet now, these rippling spring waters had become raging waves howling at the heavens, surging seas in torrent.
Because it was so rare, Liu Qiao’e watched as if beholding some wondrous sight, amused inwardly.
As a girl, she had fantasized about Mu Daoying chasing her, passionately confessing love. Now that he chased her in battle, how was it not a dream come true?
Pushing such a jade-warm person to the brink of collapse brought her immense pleasure.
Her words grew even more brazen.
But Mu Daoying seemed resolute, refusing to utter another word to her, lips pressed no matter how she taunted.
Liu Qiao’e’s skirt fluttered, her toes lightly tapping, shattering glazed tiles with crackling sounds.
In the instant Mu Daoying caught up, she kicked fiercely at his knee. What seemed a playful girlish shove hid a mountain-crushing force—enough to shatter an ordinary person’s kneecap.
Mu Daoying dodged sideways. Even grazed by the residual wind, his knees buckled, flesh torn open. His figure swayed, on the verge of losing balance.
Yet Mu Daoying’s figure suddenly twisted and floated.
Like a willow leaf in spring wind—extremely light, extremely soft—in its yielding weakness, it rode the wind, slowly descending.
Liu Qiao’e would not let him off easily. The moment his toes touched ground, she sneered and ghosted behind him.
He frowned slightly and slashed backhanded, but she brushed away his palm wind. The two exchanged over a dozen bare-handed blows in rapid claps.
Palms like spring winds entwining flowers, swallows chasing willows.
Finally, Liu Qiao’e seized a split-second opening, pressed his shoulders, and poured all her inner force into his body, smashing his knees onto the tiles and pressing down heavily!
Crack!
Glazed tiles shattered, jagged pieces embedding deeply into Mu Daoying’s knees. His knees sank, dropping three layers into the eaves under her press.
Before he could adjust midair, Liu Qiao’e grabbed his collar and flung him back to the rooftop.
From this fierce exchange, Mu Daoying could no longer stand. He staggered to his knees, his blue robes bloodstained, his Daoist crown fallen, black hair scattered down.
Liu Qiao’e’s gaze shifted and directly plucked the bowl-sized peony hanging from the rooftop.
Layer upon layer of petals, cut like red silk.
Petals overlapping sepals, stamens clustered in yellow powder, dazzling floral brilliance like glowing dawn clouds—much like the beauty before her, with icy snow poise, harboring resentment and faint anger.
“In the past, I too yearned for the youthful flair of plucking flowers from high towers.”
She disdainfully lifted his chin with a flower stem.
Because of his anger, Mu Daoying’s brows and eyes came alive, bringing out even more of that heart-stirring, soul-seizing city-toppling beauty.
Cold to the extreme. Sharp to the extreme. Bewitching to the extreme.
The dense petals dimmed in luster beneath those cold, rippling eyes.
Liu Qiao’e lightly whipped the side of his cheek with that peony.
“Never did I imagine I’d get to experience the flair of plucking flowers from high towers today.”
“Was Daoist Mu the flower being picked?”