Chapter 63: The White-Haired Stranger and the Shadow of the Serpent Part 2

“You aren’t giving me Solitary Gall out of the goodness of your heart, so I wouldn’t dare take it. Feng Rong went through immense hardship to fish this sword out of the sea. Can you really part with it?” Sang Chencao hissed, her eyes hooded.

Feng Yun’ai gripped the edge of her veiled hat. She saw Zhou Gui preparing to leap up and pluck the flower. She could hardly restrain herself from jumping onto the stage herself.

Wen Lanxin pulled a piece of torn silk from her sleeve and shoved it into Sang Chencao’s hand without a word. At the same moment, she let go of Solitary Gall.

The silk was covered in bloodstains, the red fluid dried into jagged characters.

Sang Chencao froze for a split second. As Solitary Gall nearly tumbled off the roof, she flicked her leg up to kick the sword into the air, catching it firmly.

Immediately after, Wen Lanxin slammed a palm into Sang Chencao’s shoulder, forcefully propelling her toward the stage.

Feng Yun’ai’s eyes followed the movement. When she turned back, Wen Lanxin was gone. She moved like a phantom, elusive and unpredictable.

On the stage, Zhou Gui was about to pluck the blossom, her body already soaring halfway up the Golden-Stone Heavy Sword.

She hadn’t expected someone to have the audacity to challenge her now—especially someone who looked like an unknown fledgling.

Zhou Gui’s momentum faltered slightly, but she didn’t stop. With a few more leaps, she reached the peak of the heavy sword.

The crowd was stunned. “Who is that? Who gave her the courage to cross blades with Zhou Gui?”

“I saw her at the Listening Moon Sand River. She was with a woman in white,” someone said.

“That’s right! The Yao Yao Inn at the Listening Moon Sand River!” another chimed in.

“Who is her master? What is her name? How does she dare take the stage?”

The person who had claimed to see her earlier suddenly looked embarrassed, struggling to force the name he had overheard out of his throat. “Zhe…”

Zhe Er Gen. [Note: Fish Mint/Houttuynia, a pungent-smelling herb. Sang Chencao used this as a fake name previously.]

“Zhe what?”

The man felt like he was being played. No one would actually be named that.

Someone suddenly shouted, “The blossom! Zhou Gui is going to pluck the blossom!”

But before she could, the nameless youth suddenly unleashed a surge of inner qi. The coarse cloth bound around her sword disintegrated into dust.

A scabbard as dark as ink was revealed to the sunlight, looking like a dragon-serpent emerging from the abyss—eerie and volatile.

It wasn’t a dazzling sight. The surface was covered in disorganized, carved indentations, as if it had been corroded by time.

Yet no one could look away. If the scabbard was this strange, what state would the blade hidden within be in?

The faces of several members of the Dieshan Alliance suddenly changed. These were the men who had gone to the Yellow Sand Cliff to capture Wen Lanxin; they recognized Sang Chencao’s face and had witnessed her methods.

Sang Chencao did not draw her sword. Instead, she struck out with her palm toward Zhou Gui’s lower body.

A surge of inner qi, seemingly thick with toxicity, condensed into the shape of a serpent. It wound its way upward, threatening to coil around its victim and crush them.

Zhou Gui hurriedly spun downward to avoid it, extending her own hand to meet the palm strike. She hadn’t initially taken this junior seriously, but to her horror, the skin of her palm was torn open. The opponent’s swift qi sliced through her flesh like a blade.

What kind of technique was this!

Zhou Gui could no longer pluck the flower. She had to withdraw her bleeding hand and hide it at her side, not wanting anyone to see her injury. She immediately drew her sword and took a stance. Her sword intent rose like a rainbow, her movements like a bird taking flight—graceful, soaring, and elegant.

The sword style somewhat resembled Feng Rong’s, but it was merely the form without the spirit.

Though Feng Rong had also gained enlightenment from watching birds, she hadn’t focused on their graceful flight, but rather on the boundless sky through which they soared.

On the rooftop in the distance, Feng Yun’ai’s heart hammered against her ribs.

Fortunately, while Zhou Gui was fast, she was nowhere near Sang Chencao’s speed. Sang Chencao had nearly transformed into a flickering shadow, her steps following a strange, capricious rhythm that was impossible to predict.

Sang Chencao had become a dragon-serpent of the deep, waiting for the perfect moment. Her movements were ghostly and divine, seemingly erratic yet every strike was as fast as a thunderclap, overflowing with aggression.

No one could see when her sword left its sheath, or even when she struck. They only saw a flash of cold sword qi before Zhou Gui was forced to flip away to avoid it.

This was no longer a human silhouette; it was a specter!

The crowd watched with dropped jaws. With such skill, how could she be nameless in the martial world?

Only Feng Yun’ai knew that Sang Chencao was likely using these specific moves to avoid letting anyone see the actual blade of Solitary Gall.

Though this movement technique looked powerful, it placed a massive strain on one’s inner qi. If it continued like this, Sang Chencao wouldn’t last a hundred rounds.

Zhou Gui’s face went cold. She swung her blade, unleashing a circle of sword qi that swept across the entire Sword Trial Stage, leaving no stone unturned.

Sang Chencao was forced to leap high into the air. In the moment her figure was revealed, she slid the sword back into its sheath, as if it had never been drawn at all.

The two fought like a serpent and a bird. But Sang Chencao was no mere crawling snake; she was more like a winged dragon.

Even with Zhou Gui’s vast experience, she had never encountered such bizarre movement and techniques. After a few exchanges, she was drenched in sweat, her entire body trembling with the strain.

A name suddenly flashed through Zhou Gui’s mind: Wen Lanxin.

Years ago, Wen Lanxin had become famous for exactly this kind of skill, but she had abandoned the sword early, and very few people had actually seen her style.

One fought with a jeweled longsword, the other with a sword that never left its sheath, yet they were locked in a stalemate.

Was Zhou Gui’s strength lacking, or was it because she had fought too many opponents previously and her internal power was depleted?

Feng Yun’ai watched for a long time, only snapping out of it as the sky began to darken. She suddenly stood up on the roof, sensing that Sang Chencao was beginning to flag.

Standing atop the Golden-Stone Heavy Sword, Sang Chencao suddenly flashed a bizarre smile. She abruptly thrust a palm toward Zhou Gui. The strike carried an overwhelming force, a purple mist gathering that seemed capable of poisoning the very lungs.

But the hidden poison wasn’t in her qi; it was the black snake that suddenly emerged from her sleeve.

Zhou Gui, caught off guard during her own palm strike, saw the snake far too late. Her momentum was already spent; there was no way to take it back.

The black snake was pulverized by the force of the impact, but droplets of its blood splattered directly into Zhou Gui’s eyes.