Chapter Fifty-Six: So Your Name Is "Peach Capital"

A crimson flying sword pierced through the shroud of confusion, aiming straight for Yun Qi’s face.

With a sharp clang, the sword struck with such speed that Yun Qi could not dodge in time. He could only muster all his strength to raise his own blade in defense. The two swords met with a crisp sound. The fiery sword was knocked slightly askew, grazing Yun Qi’s ear and leaving a bloody gash, beads of blood scattering through the air. As soon as the swords touched, the flying sword withdrew, but “Autumn Water” still trembled in his grasp, its blade, bright as liquid silver, bearing a fresh scratch.

The flying sword returned, hovering before the group from Shu, while at that moment, a young woman dressed all in white stepped out from the mists, hands clasped behind her back, and walked beneath the talisman’s light.

She looked no older than fourteen or fifteen, somewhat slender, delicate as a willow swaying in the wind. Her lovely face was pale as the moon, outshining frost and snow. Yet a cinnabar mark between her brows lent her an air of severity that made others wary to meet her gaze.

Yun Qi could not fathom what game she played, striding so serenely before her foes, even less cautious than the men from Shu. Seizing the moment while the flame sword was still, he turned his left palm upward, curling his middle finger around his index, touching it to his thumb, the index pointing skyward while his ring and little fingers curled inward. In his right hand, he reversed his grip on “Autumn Water,” pressing his index finger along the hilt, aiming at the woman’s feet, and incanted:

“Sink!”

The earth beneath the woman’s feet instantly turned to mud. She seemed about to speak, caught off guard as she sank to her calves in the mire.

The “Sink” incantation was a spell Yun Qi had only recently mastered, involving the elements of earth, water, and void, a wondrous art of transformation, akin to the alchemy of turning stone to gold.

The woman was momentarily stunned, staring as the mud swallowed her white boots and robe.

“Kill her first!” Yun Qi cried, seizing his chance. With the flame sword now unmanned, he advanced swiftly for close combat. There was no time to waste; he might manage, but the Miao clansmen were already struggling to resist the poisonous mists. They could not linger.

The Miao warriors, hearing his command, shifted their focus at once, hurling spells, poisonous insects, and talisman arrows at the woman trapped in the mud. The men from Shu, thrown into chaos, scrambled both to defend themselves and to pull the woman free.

In the midst of this confusion, Yun Qi, ever vigilant, noticed the flame sword now hovered without a master, drifting above the fiery man’s head. With a flash of red light, it absorbed all the solar fire, leaving behind only a heap of black ash. The sword then drifted back to its place as if it had never moved.

A shrill cry rang out. The woman, hauled from the mud, seemed to awaken from a dream. She tore her arms from the grasp of her companions, formed a sword seal with her fingers, and pointed at Yun Qi:

“Swift!”

At her command, the flame sword shot toward Yun Qi. This time, the aura was even fiercer than before. Flames surged from the blade, taking the shape of a fiery bird, part rooster, part phoenix, and swooped at Yun Qi.

A strange light flickered in Yun Qi’s eyes. The woman, the flame sword, the men from Shu—he realized now that she must be Li Yingqiong of Emei, famed in recent years, though he had not expected the flame sword to resonate so with his own path.

“Vanish!” Yun Qi reversed his sword into a fist with his right hand, pinched his left index and middle fingers together, the index slightly raised while the ring and little fingers curved gently, and placed his left hand atop his right fist.

He faded from sight.

The flame sword struck only empty air.

Li Yingqiong froze for an instant. But as a true envoy of Emei, she merely sneered, “You may hide, but can they?”

With a twist of her sword seal, she sent the flame sword sweeping through the mists toward the Miao villagers, who scattered in panic, unable to resist.

A dull sound—someone’s head fell to the ground.

The first to die after the woman’s appearance was not Yun Qi, nor any of the Miao, but the third man from Shu. A sword thrust from the void, piercing his heart from the left side of his chest.

When Li Yingqiong brought her flame sword back, “Autumn Water” had already been wiped clean of blood and vanished into nothingness once more.

“Ancestor, help us!” the remaining four from Shu wailed.

But the woman only laughed coldly. “Very well. You kill yours, I’ll kill mine. Let’s see who cares.”

With that, she abandoned her comrades and took to her sword, pursuing the Miao.

It did not take long. Four crisp sounds, as easy as slicing melons, and the four from Shu lay dead, their wounds piercing heart or throat.

The talisman’s light faded, leaving not a soul alive.

—

“Seize!”

The flame sword faltered for a moment, allowing a Miao warrior to dodge at the brink of death.

“You go ahead, I’ll see the bodies returned!” Yun Qi stepped from the void, blocking Li Yingqiong’s path.

His incantation failed to seize the flame sword; instead, his own mind was scorched by its fiery intent, yet the sunfire it carried felt oddly familiar.

The Miao man, knowing he would only be a burden, called to his fellows and fled. Yet, having already inhaled much of the poisonous mist during the battle, whether they could survive outside was uncertain.

Li Yingqiong saw Yun Qi reappear, her murderous intent almost tangible. She drove the flame sword at him.

With the Miao not far away, Yun Qi dared not use his vanishing spell again. Sword in hand, he faced her head-on.

Blades clashed again and again. Yun Qi fought with all his strength, gauging each contact with care. From the first strike, he knew that even if “Autumn Water” shattered, it could not harm the flame sword. All he could do was parry as best he could.

Amidst the struggle, he cast talisman papers and arrows, hoping to wound or at least distract the woman.

Yet Li Yingqiong, famed as she was, had only blundered before; now, fighting alone, she was formidable. Beneath her feet appeared a snowy-white silken cloth—though it looked delicate, it was as large as a mat and bore her aloft. She attacked with her flying sword and deftly maneuvered her silken treasure to evade Yun Qi’s spells, seemingly at ease.

Under this relentless assault, after ten or so exchanges, Yun Qi began to lose ground. Forced onto the defensive, he could not spare his hands for the vanishing spell, and wounds slowly accumulated upon him.

A sharp clang—not from two blades meeting this time.

The flame sword struck Yun Qi squarely in the chest, hurling him a yard through the air before he crashed down, coughing up a mouthful of hot blood.

“Oh? Demon, what protective treasure do you possess that can withstand my Taodu Sword?” Li Yingqiong, hearing the sound of gold and jade, saw Yun Qi still alive after such a blow and surmised he bore some talisman. Seeing him struggle to rise, she descended on her silken cloth and approached.

Yun Qi stared fixedly at the flame sword hovering before him. He had guessed right: the blood from his ear, the cuts suffered in battle, even the mouthful he had just spat out—all of it was slowly being drawn into that sword.

A strange light glimmered in his eyes. He murmured, “So you are called ‘Taodu.’”

Li Yingqiong saw his lips move and asked, “What are you saying?”

Yun Qi did not answer.

Her robe was no ordinary garment and bore no stain, but recalling her fall into the mud, her anger flared anew.

“You dress as a cultivator, yet consort with the outcasts of Miao? Ah, I see now. You are one of those lawless wanderers from the east. My master was right—your kind cares nothing for order or sect!”

Yun Qi only smiled, unwilling to argue.

Li Yingqiong strode closer, stopping beside “Taodu.” “What do you carry in your robes? Hand it over and I might spare your life.”

Yun Qi only waited for her to draw near. At that instant, he opened his mouth and unleashed all the solar fire stored in his Twelvefold Tower—a torrent of golden flames, like a dragon.

Li Yingqiong’s eyes filled with gold, fear creeping across her delicate face. She immediately sent “Taodu” stabbing toward the young priest at point-blank range, while she herself snatched a piece of cold jade from her satchel and clutched it tight.

The golden firestorm flung her away, while “Taodu” reveled in the flames, crying out joyfully, again and again, like a rooster before dawn, refusing to strike the priest.

“Cock-a-doodle-doo—cock-a-doodle-doo—cock-a-doodle-doo—”

There was truly a rooster’s crow echoing.

Within the young priest’s Twelvefold Tower, the Daoist Yuandan sat cross-legged, hands resting before his belly, back straight, mouth half open, eyes wide with fierce intent. Yet the sound that issued forth was not human, but the cry of a rooster.

At the sound, “Taodu” trembled violently, as if overjoyed, then circled the priest in the firelight, swirling like a ribbon of flame.

“Taodu” sang in harmony with the rooster’s call, as if lute and zither played together.

Far off, lying on the ground shielded by her cold jade, Li Yingqiong stared in bewilderment, unable to comprehend what she was witnessing.