Feng Yun’ai’s body swayed, nearly falling over, but she was caught just in time. Her head tilted, coming to rest against Sang Chencao’s shoulder.
Through the haze, she thought she could hear cries of surprise and cursing from the crowd. Someone must have used a secret technique, or perhaps someone else had used a despicable underhanded trick.
The dosage of the drug couldn’t have been large. Though Feng Yun’ai didn’t fall completely asleep, she relaxed entirely in an instant, finally letting go of the tension that usually gripped her body.
The battles raged on until dawn. By then, the current defender of the stage had bloodshot eyes, yet they still shone with a fervent light, clearly still intent on “plucking the blossom.”
Such obsession was desperate and all-consuming, worlds apart from the actors who stepped down the moment they showed a hint of fatigue.
Feng Yun’ai woke up just then. The moment she opened her eyes, she realized her feet weren’t on solid ground; she was on the verge of tumbling from a great height. Only then did she see that she was sitting on a rooftop.
She snapped her gaze toward Sang Chencao. Her cold expression was hidden behind the white veil, and though the woman beside her couldn’t see her face, she surely felt the icy aura that instantly radiated from Feng Yun’ai’s body.
Sang Chencao merely made a soft shushing sound, her eyes fixed intently on the Sword Trial Stage. “Look, Xiuxiu. This person is quite interesting. They haven’t been defeated for a long time.”
Feng Yun’ai said coldly, “How would I know how long it has been?”
Sang Chencao smirked. “It’s been sixteen challengers. Look at Zhou Gui; her face is already dark with gloom.”
Zhou Gui sat motionless, but she didn’t look gloomy as Sang Chencao claimed. She still wore a face full of smiles and pleasantries.
However, a moment later, Zhou Gui’s smile deepened.
The Thousand Machinations Sect, which had been observing for a long time, suddenly sent someone to the stage. It was a woman carrying a zither. She looked delicate and weak, but the moment she struck the strings, the bursting inner qi was enough to intimidate everyone in all directions.
The defender tried their best to counter, but after a whole night of fighting, they were at the end of their rope. Within ten moves, a weakness was exposed.
The woman with the zither was not merciful. Even seeing her opponent cough up blood, she didn’t stop. Her hands moved faster and faster across the strings, the music sounding like a thunderous, angry tide, making the ears of everyone present ring.
When the defender was finally knocked off the stage, their body convulsed. Bloody gashes suddenly erupted across their exposed face and neck—scars clearly carved by the sound of the zither.
The zitherist had truly struck with lethal intent. Judging by those wounds, she had even damaged the opponent’s meridians.
Fortunately, the defeated warrior was still able to stand up, so it seemed their life wasn’t in danger and their internal organs remained intact.
Blades and swords have no eyes; injuries are inevitable in a duel. As long as no lives were lost, even the Hantian Alliance of the past would not have intervened.
Sang Chencao whispered, “That is the granddaughter of Chen Jinsai, the Sect Leader of the Thousand Machinations Sect. Chen Jinsai poured her heart and soul into this girl, even securing the Zither Immortal, Wu Qing, as her master. That zither she holds is also extraordinary; it must have been handcrafted by Chen Jinsai herself.”
Feng Yun’ai could see that. An ordinary zither could never possess such power. Even if others used a zither as a weapon, they would have to rely entirely on their own internal breath.
When internal breath leaves the body, it becomes inner qi. While inner qi can be sharp and piercing, it shouldn’t leave such clean, distinct slashes.
Those types of wounds are usually more blurred, and the internal damage is typically far worse than the external. The skin might only look slightly bruised, while the organs have been turned to mush.
Sang Chencao said dismissively, “I underestimated Chen Jinsai. I didn’t think she could forge such a powerful weapon.”
Feng Yun’ai nodded slightly.
Sang Chencao glanced at the bundle in the other woman’s arms and said with a half-smile, “Still, it’s nothing compared to Solitary Gall. If Solitary Gall were revealed here today, most of the people in this place would probably be scared off.”
The area against Feng Yun’ai’s chest felt icy; her arms were nearly numb from the cold. She instinctively hugged the sword tighter and asked with a frown, “What are you planning?”
“I’m just talking. Don’t be afraid, Xiuxiu.” Sang Chencao leaned back on her elbows, looking up at the sky with a relaxed, leisurely air.
Feng Yun’ai continued to hold Solitary Gall tightly, giving the woman beside her no opening.
From this high vantage point, she could oversee everyone present. Unfortunately, no matter how hard she searched, she could no longer see that silver-haired figure.
“What are you looking for, Xiuxiu?” Sang Chencao sat up, propping her chin on her hand as she followed the other’s gaze.
Feng Yun’ai said coldly, “Did you truly not see that silver-haired person?”
Sang Chencao shook her head. “I did not.”
Feng Yun’ai looked directly at her. “You drugged the cake… was it really not to go and meet that person?”
The smile faded from Sang Chencao’s face, a dark shadow flickering beneath her eyes. Her tone remained slow and steady: “You think that person is Wen Lanxin? I don’t know if it is her or not, but I would never, under any circumstances, join forces with Wen Lanxin. Unless, of course, she used those Snake Parasites to control me again.”
This sudden coldness startled Feng Yun’ai for a moment. She pursed her lips for a long time before giving a small, hesitant tilt of her head. “It’s not that I don’t trust you.”
“Xiuxiu, have you ever trusted anyone? Did you even trust Feng Rong?” Sang Chencao asked mockingly.
Feng Yun’ai wanted to say yes, but the word got stuck in her throat. She couldn’t answer.
Perhaps it wasn’t trust. It was just that on Listening Goose Peak, Feng Rong was the only person she saw. Naturally, whatever Feng Rong said, she listened to, never questioning whether it was true or false.
“How can you not even know that? You poor thing.” Sang Chencao suddenly grabbed Feng Yun’ai’s hand, pressing firmly against her pulse. She said softly, “When you trust someone, your pulse is steady and strong. Where they go, your heart follows.”
Feng Yun’ai pulled her hand back and muttered, “And how would you know that?”
Sang Chencao pointed to her own heart, her voice light and airy. “I trust myself.”
Feng Yun’ai shifted her gaze away and said calmly, “That silver-haired person’s movement techniques are surely extraordinary. If she didn’t come to pluck the blossom, she must have come to watch. Yet I’ve looked everywhere, and I cannot find her.”
“Then she must have some other objective,” Sang Chencao said.
