Chen Yi answered his question with his blade; beneath the cold moon, the light of the blade swept out like a streak of silk, impossibly sharp.

The knife and sword clashed heavily, forcing both figures to instinctively retreat. Tang Ze, whose sword momentum had weakened because of his giant shield, felt a tremor in his wrist, and blood seeped from the webbing of his hand.

Chen Yi had just retreated three steps when Zhao Yan seized the moment to act. His body lowered, moving like a hungry wyrm in the water, its tail unseen while its head hunted. When he reached three steps in front of Chen Yi, he finally struck fearsomely, stabbing upward from below.

The blade he wielded was tainted with poison—not to kill in one blow, but only to leave behind a wound.

Chen Yi drew in his breath and forcibly steadied his stance, enduring the agonizing backlash of reversed True Qi. Twisting his body, he bent his elbow and smashed downward ferociously, striking Zhao Yan's extended arm with full force!

In an instant, Zhao Yan's arm bent, his eyes widened. Though he'd trained in external hardening techniques, his arm was stricken with numbing pain so fierce he nearly dropped his blade. Quickly, he stomped backward and put distance between them, his other hand darting out from his sleeve to unleash a volley of throwing knives that shimmered mid-air with a sharp whistle.

He glanced at his arm and saw the massive, deep purple bruise swelling grotesquely.

Chen Yi swung his blade, carving arcs of light. With crackling sounds, all the throwing knives crashed to the ground.

Before Chen Yi could catch his breath and give chase, Tang Ze had already circled around him, silently advancing. The Kunlun sect's supreme Qinggong, Absolute Summit Cloudstride, reached the ninth step—it was faster than the wind by five feet. A sword thrust aimed directly at Chen Yi's ribs!

The timing of this strike was impeccable, catching Chen Yi at a moment when he was least able to react.

Chen Yi extended his left hand as if surrendering to death, reaching toward the blade. Three feet of murderous Sword Gang bore down with deadly intent. Tang Ze, carried by his overwhelming sword momentum, aimed to pierce through Chen Yi's palm and body entirely!

The left hand collided with the Sword Gang, layers of bloody streaks rising on its surface. Just before the sword tip pierced him, Chen Yi's thumb, index, and middle fingers clamped down in a sudden grip, forcibly stopping the sword in its tracks!

Tang Ze's eyes widened, his pupils constricting sharply.

A trickle of blood emerged from the corner of Chen Yi's mouth. Smiling through the crimson, he said:

"Truly, the sword has faltered."

Then, with force from his fingertips, the energy trembled through the blade, causing it to break inch by inch. Tang Ze, realizing this destruction, let go swiftly, only for his palm to be sliced open with countless wounds.

Tang Ze's gashes ran deeper than Chen Yi's.

Staring at his bloodied palm, Tang Ze felt within it a more precise and complete understanding of the Killing Sword.

This is the Killing Sword.

His gaze hardened, recalling the time he'd traveled thousands of miles in pursuit of the sword. All those tales of sincerity and dedication had only been half-truths floating around Jianghu. The Lonely Smoke Sword had indeed imparted a complete move, but it was merely delivered through the sect gate—a single strike carving a sword mark on the ground, leaving him to comprehend the technique on his own. He hadn't even seen Lonely Smoke Sword in person!

When he knelt outside, bitterly begging for guidance, Lonely Smoke Sword did not even utter a sound!

He left Kunlun to seek the sword, brimming with piety, akin to a plum blossom deer scaling an insurmountable summit, but in the end, all he had was that lone move.

His thoughts flashed fleetingly, and Tang Ze retreated step by step.

Chen Yi wiped the blood from his hand, only to see Tang Ze had moved back several paces and now stood alongside Zhao Yan.

As Chen Yi approached, Zhao Yan's lips moved faintly, transmitting his voice secretly:

"Jiang Shangli… or Tang Ze. Things have come this far; now, the only chance for us lies in a desperate fight…"

Before Tang Ze could reply, Zhao Yan's body had already shifted into a crouch. Like a ferocious tiger or leopard fighting for its life, he held his blade forward. A killer's decisiveness gleamed in his eyes as he gathered his energy and focused entirely, his aura rising sharply. The blade glowed as though slicing apart the darkened night, energy converging onto his spine.

Tang Ze nodded slightly, lifted his foot, and pushed forward with his palm.

Zhao Yan froze momentarily—the push landed squarely on his waist, sending a burst of external force through him. His entire body shot forth like a lit firecracker, and Tang Ze vaulted away, using the counterforce to smash through a window and escape!

"You damned Jiang Shangli!"

Zhao Yan roared furiously, but it was too late. His posture couldn't change fast enough, and in the blink of an eye, he was propelled straight toward Chen Yi. Awaiting him was the bloodstained Brocade Spring Blade.

The curved knife clashed with the blade's edge, creating a thunderous sound like cracking lightning that pierced the ears. The short curved knife shattered on impact—not slashed apart, but smashed into pieces. Zhao Yan's body was torn open with a massive wound; as he fell backward, his pale face received a heavy stomp from Chen Yi.

His skull was crushed into bloodied pulp, slammed into the ground with force, while Chen Yi propelled himself forward, continuing the chase after Tang Ze.

Moving like lightning, Chen Yi spotted Tang Ze fleeing over the rooftops. The latter's steps danced as though riding clouds and wind, his Qinggong masterfully honed, with three steps already taken.

Of all Tang Ze's skills, it was this supreme Qinggong, Absolute Summit Cloudstride, that intrigued Chen Yi more than his Killing Sword.

The transitions between each movement were extraordinarily intricate.

Throughout his life, Chen Yi never possessed exceptional Qinggong skills, relying merely on the passable Eagle Falling Skill, complemented by the Shangqing Heart Method that slowed opponents' movements. The appearance of Absolute Summit Cloudstride now stirred a sense of covetous excitement.

Compared to Absolute Summit Cloudstride, Tang Ze's Killing Sword wasn't bad, but it fell short in brilliance.

Chen Yi understood why Tang Ze would go to such lengths to hunt down Lonely Smoke Sword, but he could not empathize.

The Kunlun sect's Absolute Summit Cloudstride was already near the pinnacle of Qinggong, yet Tang Ze had fixated on mastering a different skill—the Killing Sword. He idolized it obsessively, crossing east and west across thousands of miles.

He was attached to form.

Perhaps one day, he would realize these obsessions were just empty illusions and awaken to become a Grandmaster.

But he wouldn't get that chance.

Chen Yi moved; the Hou Kang Sword had already been drawn from Square Land with a metallic hiss. Its pitch-black blade seemed to devour all light. Pushing the sword with his palm, Chen Yi unleashed it into the air!

True Qi infused the blade, sending its bright streak sweeping forward like woven silk. The dark night tore open with rings of rippling light!

A sharp explosion followed the sword's wake.

Tang Ze had already taken five steps—just one more step would let him evade the sword entirely.

Yet, as the faint sound of sword reverberated past his ears, he hesitated for a split second. From the wind, he glimpsed the profound wonder of the technique, recognizing its parity with Lonely Smoke Sword.

Like a plum blossom deer stepping into empty air while scaling an insurmountable peak.

Boom.

The sword blade pierced through flesh and blood; he flailed like an eagle struck by an arrow, tumbling and shattering rows of roof tiles. His Absolute Summit Cloudstride was utterly destroyed. This was the Killing Sword...

"What a swift sword!"

Landing, Chen Yi heard Tang Ze murmur faintly,

"Pity that I… never understood it…"

He sighed, becoming yet another soul claimed by the sword.

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