Li Xun’s momentum surged. In a flash, he seized the moment when his opponent was distracted and closed the distance, slashing out with his sword.

The man didn’t take the attack seriously. With a casual wave of his hand, hundreds of sword qi crisscrossed the air; if Li Xun dared move in any closer, he’d be torn to pieces.

But Li Xun charged in anyway.

In an instant, his body was streaked with red. It was impossible to tell how many cuts he’d taken from the flying sword qi.

At first, the man was pleased. But then he noticed something odd: Li Xun had been hit dozens of times, yet every single wound was superficial. Not one had struck muscle or bone. The strikes that should have been fatal had vanished without a trace, like stones sinking into the sea.

Eyes widening, the man was just about to launch another strike when his hand suddenly trembled. His sword wouldn’t move.

Startled, he looked down. And saw a pale, slender hand holding the blade between two fingers. The sword qi flaring from the edge was treated like it didn’t exist. The skin on those fingers was flawless and clear, completely unaffected.

What kind of technique is this? The thought flashed through his mind, then something else hit him: Whose hand is that?

Right then, Li Xun brushed past him.

A sharp pain flared in his forehead, then his chest. Two vital points pierced in a blink, each one filled with a flood of sword qi that tore through every organ inside him. In the end, it shattered the nascent soul he’d only just begun to form.

He never had a chance.

How?

The rogue cultivator, whose level was a whole tier above Li Xun's, fell headfirst with that question still lingering in his mind.

Li Xun spat out a mouthful of dark blood, cursing under his breath.

He’d clearly underestimated his opponent’s strength. In the end, he’d been forced to summon Nether Two for help, and the sudden qi conversion during that moment had seriously injured his internal organs.

But more importantly... did anyone see?

Feeling a twinge of guilt, he glanced nervously around. Seeing no signs of alarm, he finally relaxed and retrieved the Phoenix Feather Needle.

That move he’d just used was something he’d only recently dug up. Though powerful, it could only be used once, and then it needed a good three to five days to recharge.

He let out a long breath. If I just play it safe from here, pick off a few easy targets, I should be fine.

Looking around, he quickly picked out a likely target and was just about to move when a sudden, intense sense of danger hit him.

What the hell…

Caught off guard, the sword qi around his body weakened sharply. A powerful strike broke through from behind, and the momentum carried straight into his shoulder.

A sharp crack rang out; clear as day. His shoulder blade had at least split into four pieces. The flow of true breath in half his body scattered chaotically. And that was after he’d forcibly shifted his position; if he hadn’t, the blow would’ve landed right between his shoulder blades. And killed him on the spot.

He staggered and turned around, only to see a vaguely familiar face.

Wasn’t this that half-baked guy with the flying sword?

Li Xun blinked, then gave a bitter smile.

Sure enough, just because he used a flying sword didn’t mean he was good at it. The guy’s fists were way more dangerous!

And clearly, he was cunning too. He must’ve been lurking behind Li Xun the whole time, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. The second Li Xun got distracted, he launched a sneak attack. And it worked.

Talk about slipping up in the worst possible way.

Faced with a flurry of relentless punches, Li Xun, with his injured right shoulder, was forced to switch hands. He relied on the sharpness of the Azure Jade to block five more hits, but the combined pressure from inside and out finally overwhelmed him. He lost his footing and crashed to the ground.

“Half-Bucket” closed in fast, throwing another punch straight down.

“You son of a bitch!” Furious and humiliated, Li Xun was just about to unleash a killing move to tear this fake weakling apart, when a flicker of movement caught his eye.

He froze for a split second, then purposely made the dumbest move possible, raising his sword sideways to block his chest.

“Idiot.”

A woman’s voice, sharp and clear, suddenly rang in “Half-Bucket’s” ears. He was stunned, and then horrified to feel a hand grab his shoulder and yank him backward, forcing his punch off course.

Impossible! That thought barely had time to flash through his mind before everything ended.

The violent clash of forward momentum met with backward drag was enough to twist steel into a pretzel. His body didn’t stand a chance.

There was a sickening crunch of bone. Half the bones in his body shattered on the spot. A split second later, something hard slammed into his head. His skull caved in, and his brain turned to mush.

On the ground, Li Xun let out a long breath. But when he looked up and saw Ming Ji’s slightly raised brow, he could only offer a sheepish smile.

Ming Ji let out a quiet sigh, then quickly returned to her usual calm and composed self. She reached out and pulled Li Xun to his feet.

The pain in his shoulder made Li Xun grimace, but in the chaos of the battlefield, proper treatment was out of the question. Even as Ming Ji helped him up, she managed to strike out three times with her sword, cutting down a rogue cultivator who tried to take advantage of the situation.

Li Xun quickly scanned the area. The battle was still raging, and the fighting could shift at any moment. Someone like Ming Ji, well-known and widely recognized, was bound to attract trouble.

“Martial Aunt…”

“Put your arm around my shoulder.”

That one sentence made Li Xun’s eyes widen, but Ming Ji clearly wasn’t giving him time to argue. She grabbed his arm, completely ignoring the blood and grime, and hoisted him up.

Despite having fought several rounds already, her body and robes had remained pristine. But now, just from supporting him, blood had soaked half her side.

What made it worse was that Li Xun’s right shoulder was the injured one. To support him properly, Ming Ji would have to use her left hand to wield her sword.

And back on the sect, he’d never seen her train with her left hand.

Li Xun didn’t know what to feel in that moment. Of course he was grateful, but that wasn’t really the point. What stayed with him the most was something much harder to name: a deep, unexplainable sense of being fulfilled.

It was a strange feeling; too complex to sort out right now.

But when Ming Ji’s arm wrapped around his waist, her fingers resting just under his ribs, he couldn’t deny the rush of heat that coursed through him… along with a sharp, undeniable sense of guilt.

So, the arm Li Xun had wrapped around Mingji’s neck was already a bit lost for what to do. If he held it too high, it wouldn’t be secure; too low, and he risked touching somewhere he definitely shouldn’t.

He could feel the muscles in the back of his hand start to twitch from tension, and his fingers felt like they’d cramped up, unsure of where or how to rest.

“Hold on tighter.”

Ming Ji didn’t think there was anything ambiguous about what she said. Right now, she was showing Li Xun exactly how effortless it was for a Highly skilled cultivator to maintain balance with both hands.

Supporting him, she moved swiftly eastward. They passed through battle after battle, yet not a single fight managed to slow her down.

The Lingxi Art wasn’t a technique built for overwhelming force. It focused on flowing energy, light as a thread of silk, subtle and inwardly refined. As a result, Ming Ji’s sword style had no flair or flourish. A strike was just a strike. But instead of relying on brute strength, each simple movement carried precise, intricate changes; so subtle they were nearly impossible to grasp.

Along the way, enemies hoping to seize an easy kill were met only with swift defeat. One after another, they cried out in pain and fell back. She’d faced over twenty attackers, and not a single one had survived even a single blow.

Their goal was a defensive circle set up by Qingxu and four other immortal masters, it was a safe zone for wounded disciples. It was less than a hundred paces away.

And that’s when the real trouble appeared.

“Well well, Fairy Ming Ji; where are you running off to with your little lover?”

The voice came from an old acquaintance, gloating as he spat out the insult.

He never got to finish gloating.

A sword qi tore through the air, striking him clean between the brows before he had a chance to react.

At that exact moment, the ground exploded beneath them.

If Li Xun hadn’t been there, Ming Ji could’ve easily soared into the air before the blast even hit; and likely would’ve landed a clean strike through the attacker’s skull on her way out.

But now, though her reflexes were still sharp, her movements were delayed by more than just a heartbeat. Pain flared at her ankle. Someone had grabbed her from below.

She barely registered the pain. What caught her attention was the owner of that filthy hand. With a shriek of sword qi, her blade pierced straight down into the hidden attacker’s shoulder.

The pain forced him to loosen his grip slightly, and before he could react, her second strike came down, plunging straight through the top of his head. Ming Ji used the momentum to launch herself into the air.

Even though she reacted quickly and used her sword to break free without a single mistake, her ankle’s silk stocking was torn to shreds, revealing a patch of snow-white skin marked by several bloody wounds. The sight was jarring.

Of course Li Xun noticed. But just as he opened his mouth to say something, Ming Ji shot him a glare that instantly shut him up.

Despite the injury, Ming Ji wasn’t slowed down at all. If anything, her sword qi grew even more ferocious. But just as her momentum faltered for the briefest moment, the real threat finally made its move.

The timing was precise: just as she had struck, taken flight, and begun adjusting her posture mid-air.

Her sharp momentum had just waned, and her focus was entirely on the sky. The ambusher, who had started his attack from thirty paces away, only revealed his presence at ten. By the time Ming Ji sensed him, he was already within five steps.

And he wasn’t aiming for her... he was going for Li Xun.

The flash of sword light filled Li Xun's vision. He felt his scalp explode with terror.

The man was using a brutally lethal close-combat sword technique. His body and sword moved as one, and sword qi was already cutting through the air three steps away when Li Xun felt a stabbing pain in his head, like needles piercing into his skull.

Li Xun wanted to dodge, but he was seriously wounded and being held up by Ming Ji. He couldn't move at all. He thought about summoning his two puppets, but everything was happening too fast. There was no time.

All he managed to do was turn his face, watching helplessly as the sword flashed, slicing straight toward him.

He felt a sharp pain above his neck, then suddenly the world spun. His surroundings blurred and shifted in an instant. Then came the low, hoarse hum of a sword, followed by the spray of a few drops of blood that landed on his shoulder.

"Fourth Martial Aunt?" Li Xun called out in a low voice. When he turned his head, he saw blood splattered across Ming Ji's face. Still, her expression was calm and steady. But her left arm was soaked in blood.

In that quick glance, he saw a gash that started from her left shoulder, slashing diagonally down to her elbow. He couldn’t tell how deep it went.

The attack had come from the right, but Ming Ji was hurt on her left shoulder. That meant only one thing: in the split second before the sword hit, she had spun hard to the left, pulling him with her to deflect the blade.

There were three or four ways she could have dodged, but only this one would have fully shielded Li Xun. And the cost was taking the blow across her own back.

No matter how composed or guarded Li Xun usually was, his eyes stung at the sight. Blood surged in his chest and he shouted, "Don’t worry about me—"

"Shut up!" Ming Ji snapped, her voice ice-cold. Then she signaled with her eyes. "See that man over there in the apricot-yellow Daoist robe?"

She said, striking down another charging demon cultivator, killing him on the spot. The wound on her arm split open again, and blood quickly soaked the entire sleeve.

Li Xun didn’t understand what she meant, so he looked up in a hurry. He spotted a grim-faced middle-aged Daoist with a wound on the side of his face, flying off into the distance; almost a thousand feet away by now.

Once he was sure, he gave a quick nod.

Ming Ji’s lips curled into the faintest smile. “Good. Keep your eyes on him. He got me with that last strike. I only managed to slice off half his ear... Don’t let him get away.”

Li Xun clenched his anger.

Of course he knew she was trying to comfort him in her own way. But her sharp, unwavering spirit made it impossible for him to respond. All he could do was glare fiercely in the direction that yellow-robed Daoist had fled, trying to convince himself it helped somehow.

Just then, a low whistle pierced the air beside his ear. Qingxu had seen that Ming Ji was in trouble and flew across the sky to reach them. He had been conserving his strength until now and was at his peak. With just one wave of attacks, he unleashed hundreds of sword qi that shot out in every direction, clearing a space dozens of yards wide in an instant.

Ming Ji took the chance and pushed forward, charging through the remaining distance.

Li Xun suddenly felt a tightness around his waist. Qingxu had scooped him up, pulling him off of Ming Ji. Caught off guard, Li Xun instinctively tensed, and his fingers curled. As they moved, his fingertips brushed across Ming Ji’s cheek.

The feeling at his fingertips was... unexpectedly pleasant. Li Xun couldn’t believe he had the mind to notice something like that right now. Still, along with the surprise, a small thrill stirred inside him.

But he quickly remembered what he should be doing. He pointed toward the yellow-robed Daoist.

“Over there,” he shouted.

Ming Ji glanced back with a small smile. At the same time, she shifted her sword into her right hand. With a flick of her fingers and palm, the blade that had cut down so many enemies turned into a streaking arc of light, whistling through the air as it shot forward; at least fifteen hundred feet in an instant.

The Daoist seemed to sense the danger. His own sword erupted with surging energy, forming layer upon layer of sword mist that wove together into a dense, impenetrable shield.

It was an advanced sword technique. The Mist Veil Across the Sky.

The blade flashed.

In that instant, it seemed to vanish into illusion, like a mirage slipping into the thick mist. But the next moment, it reappeared, blazing like lightning, tearing through the fog, piercing straight through the Daoist’s chest.