Chapter 66: Thunder’s Song on the Blade

Song Yan was at that moment channeling the spirit of wind and thunder from the withered branch, the seed of swordsmanship slowly beginning to spin.

Looking toward another cliff, he saw two men and a woman.

With a sweep of the Spirit-Discerning Technique, it was clear that aside from one male cultivator at the fifth level of Qi Refinement, the other man and woman were both at the sixth level.

“Sister Han, here the mountains join—broad and level. This should be the very place described on the stele, where a Foundation Establishment predecessor once cultivated his arts.”

“Having obtained that incomplete scroll, this journey has already yielded great rewards. If only we could…”

The rogue cultivator wore a yellow scholar’s robe, scholarly air between his brows, appearing gentle and refined.

He suddenly paused, gaze landing in the distance.

Across the ravine, a young man and woman stood beside a boy seated cross-legged before a withered tree, wind and thunder swirling at his fingertips.

“Brother Zhao!”

The woman in red pointed toward Song Yan from afar. “That’s... the supreme spirit of the thunder path!”

“The stele below said, if one can use the supreme spirits of fire, wind, and thunder to assist cultivation, the scroll’s progress will be as if flying a thousand miles in a day!”

The two exchanged a glance, not bothering to consult the fifth-level cultivator, and pressed forward rapidly.

“A Ming! Go disrupt that one’s technique, then come assist us.”

“...Yes, sister.”

The fifth-level cultivator, young and much like Song Yan in age, seemed timid at the thought of conflict.

Rong Xiaofeng frowned, and together with Wu Huaguo, moved to intercept the three in the middle of the cliff’s corridor.

“Friends—”

Boom!

A condensed wave of water shot from the red-clad woman’s side, aiming straight for Wu Huaguo’s face.

She had no intention of idle talk—if the young cultivator seized the spirit, in an even fight, the outcome would be unpredictable.

With their numbers, victory was all but certain!

Who had time for useless words?

Almost simultaneously, Wu Huaguo’s hand formed a seal, and a flowering tree sprang up before her and Rong Xiaofeng.

The “Flower Speech Sutra” she practiced was incomplete, and a major flaw was that her capacity for spiritual power was less than others at her level.

She was therefore extremely careful in managing her spiritual energy.

Facing the rapid, fierce water spell, the tree branch she conjured was thin, and rather than meet the attack head-on, she angled it slightly, deflecting the concentrated water jet away.

Easily resolved.

“Brother Zhao!”

The woman in red summoned a basket-shaped water artifact, surging with water-type spiritual power, calling to the scholar-robed man.

Buzz—

Spiritual insects poured from his sleeve, forming a black cloud behind Rong Xiaofeng.

“An insect cultivator…”

The scholar’s eyes narrowed but he did not retreat; instead, he slowly unfurled a bamboo slip in his hand, from which earthen light flowed.

The battle was about to erupt.

Wu Huaguo and the woman in red were equally matched.

Rong Xiaofeng, however, found himself at a disadvantage against the scholar. His spirit insects, at first clash, were injured by the opponent’s strange earth arts.

For some reason, the earthen spiritual power made his insects sluggish, and combined with earth and stone techniques, crushed them—clearly a counter.

“Comrade Tong…”

Rong Xiaofeng grew anxious. They admired Song Yan and wished to befriend him, but would never risk both their lives for his sake.

Song Yan took in the battlefield at a glance, and spoke concisely: “Half a stick of incense.”

Half a stick of incense?

Rong Xiaofeng was stunned; it was far faster than he had expected.

He gritted his teeth. “Very well! Half a stick it is!”

Meanwhile, in an unnoticed corner, Xiao He had quietly slipped behind the “Windmoon Cliff” stele.

Wu Huaguo caught a glimpse of her from the corner of her eye, and spiritual power surged at her fingertips.

“Verdant Growth!”

Rustle, rustle—

The once bare Windmoon Cliff suddenly teemed with countless fresh shoots, grasses, wild trees, and flowers, growing densely.

A faint floral fragrance drifted in the air.

The vegetation grew ever more lush, soon reaching everyone’s calves.

Xiao He glanced at Wu Huaguo, thinking her quite clever, and darted into the greenery.

The woman in red and the scholar were locked in combat with Rong and Wu.

At the edge of the battlefield, the young rogue cultivator finally mustered his courage, wielding an old saber as he charged at Song Yan, murmuring, “Just one strike, just one…”

It seemed he was psyching himself up.

Perhaps due to his inexperience in combat or his focus on “killing,” he failed even to form a protective spiritual shield.

Hiss…

A cold-blooded hiss sounded at his ear.

From the dense grass at his feet, a chill crept swiftly up his neck.

Startled, he turned to find a pair of azure-gold snake eyes fixed mischievously on him.

Snap!

Pain blossomed at his throat.

His vision blurred, the world swimming before his eyes.

He swung his saber wildly on instinct.

The green snake vanished back into the grass.

The youth staggered, slashing blindly, his protective shield forming too late, only to dissipate again as his spiritual and physical strength faltered.

“A Ming!”

“Sis… I…”

His movements grew sluggish; he collapsed, gasping for breath.

And fainted.

“Hm?” Xiao He tilted her head in mild surprise. Even she hadn’t expected that there seemed little difference between mid- and early-stage Qi Refinement cultivators among humans—much like her experience outside Shiliang Town.

“Humans truly are fragile…” she mused.

Wu Huaguo no longer held back, focused solely on delaying.

If defeat seemed certain, she and her husband would retreat.

She pressed her palms together; petals drifted down, swirling above the cliff corridor.

“Speech Unbound!”

The woman in red suddenly noticed veins bulging on the back of her hand, as if something was about to burst forth.

“Ah—!”

Bang!

Blood bloomed as a small purple-leaved flower blossomed from her hand.

She stumbled back, coughing up dark blood.

“When… the scent… pollen?”

Fortunately, she had promptly halted her spiritual power, expelling the strange wood spirit from her body; otherwise, she might have suffered grave injury.

The scholar offered her no aid, instead reinforcing his protective aura.

He knew well—kill the insect cultivator quickly, then aid Han—that was the best course.

Rumble—

Sand surged, swallowing the swarm of spirit insects.

“No!” Rong Xiaofeng tried to withdraw them, but only managed to save a fraction.

The scholar’s lips curled in a cold smile; from afar, he clenched his fist. “Bury!”

Pff—

Rong Xiaofeng staggered, blood spilling from his lips, his vitality drained.

Countless insect corpses fell.

In the span of a breath, the sand waves swept toward him again!

Just then—

A streak of sword energy shot through the air.

The scholar sidestepped, dodging it with ease.

“Hmph, a petty tri—”

Crack!

Where the sword energy passed, there was a moment’s delay, then thunder exploded!

Golden arcs tore through the scholar’s protective shield, searing into his arm.

“What…”

He grunted, retreating as he mustered spiritual power to dissolve the lightning.

Rong Xiaofeng caught his breath and also withdrew.

All eyes turned to the withered tree—its branch now bare of wind and thunder.

Beside it, Song Yan lowered his gaze.

The Inkwhite flying sword hovered before him, his left hand tracing the blade.

“Thank you, both, for standing guard.”

Lotus-shaped sword energy flowed from his fingertips along the blade, leaving streaks of flickering golden lightning.

Buzz—

The flying sword shot toward the scholar, singing with a thunderous cry!