Chapter 67: Atop the Summit of Wind and Moon Mountain

Long before the flying sword was unleashed, the scholar in robes had already prepared himself. His expression was grave, and the bamboo scroll before him radiated a brilliant yellow light. In an instant, a wall of earth and rock rose from the ground, shielding him. Yet his brows furrowed, as if sensing something, and he swiftly dodged to the side.

Bang!

The shield of earth lasted only a fleeting moment before the flying sword pierced through it. With a sudden turn, it returned to Song Yan’s side.

In truth, while Song Yan was fusing the essence of wind and thunder into the withered wood, he was not only wary of the three wandering cultivators but also of the pair, Rong Xiaofeng and Wu Huaguo. If they had chosen simply to avoid battle and escape, Song Yan was confident he could flee as well. Unexpectedly, the couple kept their word, truly guarding him; in fact, Rong Xiaofeng even sacrificed many spirit insects for his sake.

The three rogue cultivators, on the other hand, gave no chance for words, launching straight into combat with the couple, even sending a reckless one to kill Song Yan first. Faced with such intent, Song Yan saw no reason for further talk—let their actions speak.

After fusing the spirit of wind and thunder, the seed of swordsmanship beneath the Sword Mansion of the Dao was now plump and ripe. Song Yan felt a clarity both within and without, a subtle sense that once his spiritual power accumulated enough, he would naturally break through to the sixth layer of Qi Refining.

Seeing the situation turn dire, the scholar in robes realized that the brother of the woman in red had been bitten by a snake without even doing anything. Now the woman herself was seriously wounded, and he alone could hardly hope to defeat all three at once. Moreover, though the young cultivator was only at the fifth layer of Qi Refining, his sword control was precise and ruthless. If the three joined forces, he might well meet his end here.

Cursing his companion as useless, he hurriedly spoke, "Fellow Daoists—"

But things had reached such a point that Song Yan had no patience for talk. He formed a seal with his fingers, sword energy surging around him, golden arcs of electricity flickering faintly. Within the pure white sword aura now entwined several delicate threads of lightning; even before the flying sword moved, those present could already hear the low howl of wind and the roar of thunder at their ears.

"Kou."

At some unknown moment, Rong Xiaofeng’s hands moved in a Daoist gesture, and the hidden spirit insects among leaves and flowers surged forth, clinging like a layer of dust to the scholar’s protective robe.

"Get out!" the scholar roared, earthen yellow light pouring forth to drive away and suppress the insects. Countless stones and sand coalesced, forming dozens of rocky spikes that shot toward the trio at the cliff’s edge, seemingly to prevent them from taking advantage of the chaos—whether against him or the woman in red. If she tried to flee now, he could not stop her.

But—

Song Yan’s flying sword had already reached him, moving with an eerie speed and trajectory.

"How can it be so fast!?" The three rogue cultivators saw only the lightning on the withered wood, unaware that the wind’s spirit was also present. With the Dao seed fused, Song Yan found his sword’s speed had increased greatly.

Even though he tried desperately to evade, his mind was still partly occupied fending off the spirit insects. His protective robe shattered instantly.

The scholar was truly furious now, feeling his spells utterly useless—this was the terror of an insect cultivator.

Seeing the scholar fall behind, the woman in red was already contemplating retreat, but Wu Huaguo kept her entangled, preventing escape.

"Hanmei!"

Song Yan’s sword hand swept horizontally, his gaze icy: "No need to worry. You two may take your leave together."

Wind aided thunder, and nine white sword lights infused with wind and thunder circled the scholar, watching hungrily, severing all avenues of escape.

The woman in red looked on in disbelief as the tide suddenly turned, ignoring her brother’s fate as she desperately tried to flee backward—only to be caught by strong flower branches. She summoned her spiritual power to transform it into water blades to sever the branches, but the wood spirits grew ever denser. Flustered, her spiritual power depleted rapidly. Wu Huaguo now held absolute confidence in the outcome.

"Perhaps this is what the clan elder meant by... ‘When rivals meet, the brave will prevail?’"

"Fellow Daoist!"

Now, the scholar pleaded for mercy while channeling his power into stones for defense. Suddenly, terror seized him—blood burst from his back, and a small sapling sprouted forth. His spiritual power in disarray, the wood spirit Wu Huaguo had planted earlier detonated like a bomb.

With his spiritual energy in chaos, old strength spent and new not yet arisen, the stone light collapsed.

Six sword shadows pierced his body in succession. The remaining three shot upward, merging with the unmoored boat amidst the storm clouds above the cliff.

Now, the scholar was drenched in blood, clothes torn, shouting, "I am a disciple of the Zhao family of Eastern Chu—"

Rong Xiaofeng didn’t even glance at Song Yan; his eyes were cold. "That’s all the more reason you must not be spared."

Song Yan had the backing of the Cave Abyss Sect, but the couple had no such support.

The wind and thunder sword energy abruptly withdrew, thunder rolling through the clouds on the cliff.

The flying sword fell; to all present, it seemed a golden thread appeared between heaven and earth, vanishing in a blink.

Boom—

The residual sword energy became a tempest, sweeping over the mountain peak and clearing the dust and sand.

The unmoored boat returned to Song Yan’s side.

Rong Xiaofeng pondered for a moment, then stepped forward, gazing warily at the battered corpse still marked by sword energy. He dispelled the lingering sharpness with his power and began to search the body.

Song Yan and Wu Huaguo walked together to confront the woman in red.

"Spare me, spare me... I know I was wrong..."

"I’ll do anything! I beg you, let me go..."

The woman in red knew well she was doomed, but faced with death, people always plead, weep, and regret...

Song Yan suddenly recalled what the sect master had said that day: "In this world of cultivators, none are innocent, none inherently evil..."

Among cultivators, only strength matters. It has always been so.

Just like the woman before him—not because she was wrong, but because she lost.

Song Yan’s expression was devoid of emotion; he reached out idly, brushing her forehead.

Her eyes widened, full of helplessness and terror.

A sword aura pierced her skull.

Xiao He now struggled to drag the youth who had tried to kill Song Yan, placing him beside the woman’s corpse. On the little snake’s tail hung their storage pouches.

Wu Huaguo gazed down at the unconscious youth and sighed softly. "At least someone will tend to your remains."

The roots and petals of the flowering trees surged, burying the woman in red and the youth.

Rong Xiaofeng had finished dealing with the scholar’s corpse, and the three gathered.

Song Yan clasped his hands. "This time, I am deeply grateful for your assistance."

Wu Huaguo shook his head. "It was only right."

"I have already found my spirit treasure, but you two have yet to obtain anything."

Unexpectedly, Rong Xiaofeng and Wu Huaguo smiled, pointing to the scholar’s storage pouch in their hands.

"This is already enough."

Xiao He flicked its tail, tossing the two pouches onto the ground before the couple, then slipped back into Song Yan’s sleeve.

"No need for such formality, Song Yan. Once we leave this space, we’ll each take what we need and divide things accordingly."

"That will do."

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