Chapter 20: The Blade of the Cauldron Sea Part 1

With her acupoints sealed, Sang Chencao was at her opponent’s mercy. Even though she still gripped the web of Feng Yun’ai’s hand, she had lost all advantage.

Feng Yun’ai’s voice was like ice. “I don’t believe you.”

“Believe what you like,” Sang Chencao replied with a smile, seemingly unafraid of provoking her. Even if her internal energy was currently obstructed, the most she could do was a simple flourish of the wrist.

“You really are…” Feng Yun’ai’s fingers tightened. Beneath the thin layer of skin and muscle, she could feel the other woman’s pulse thrumming.

Yet Sang Chencao maintained her effortless composure, her hand slowly moving closer across the back of the white-clad woman’s hand.

They were so close their breaths nearly mingled. Sang Chencao narrowed her eyes. “However, there is something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

Feng Yun’ai did not pull away. Her vision was entirely occupied by the woman before her. “What?” she asked flatly.

Sang Chencao’s gaze shifted, drifting toward the sword behind Feng Yun’ai. “That sword of yours… where did it come from?”

Had it not been for that sword, Sang Chencao wouldn’t have faltered for that crucial second, leaving herself wide open.

It was no ordinary blade. It had previously been wrapped in coarse cloth, appearing utterly unremarkable. But just a moment ago, when it left its scabbard, the eerie purple light radiating from the steel had been blinding. Only then did one realize just how staggering the weapon truly was.

Such a sinister blade seemed more suited to someone of a demonic nature, not someone like Feng Yun’ai.

Feng Yun’ai remained silent for a moment before countering with a question of her own. “You want it?”

Sang Chencao let out a derisive snort. It wasn’t just her gestures; even the few words and sighs that escaped her lips were laced with a certain degree of contempt.

The sword was already back in its sheath, but Feng Yun’ai drew it once more. She wasn’t showing off; she simply wanted the woman in front of her to see it clearly. “This sword was given to me by my sect. I am meant to loan it out.”

“A fine blade.” Sang Chencao looked at it intently, her eyes unusually bright as they lingered on the steel. “Loan it to whom?”

Feng Yun’ai didn’t let her look for long. With a sharp clack, she slammed the blade back into the scabbard on her back. “You already know, don’t you?”

Sang Chencao finally let her fingers drop from the back of Feng Yun’ai’s hand. In secret, she was still circulating her energy, trying to force through the blockage in her meridians, while her face wore a mask of mockery. “It wouldn’t be Hu Cheng, would it? What a waste. Hu Cheng uses a saber; he wouldn’t care for your sword. Are you trying to use the pretext of a ‘loan’ to help that man pluck the blossom at the Hero Recruitment Meet?”

Feng Yun’ai lowered her hand as well. Despite several attempts to probe, she still couldn’t grasp the full extent of this woman’s background. She couldn’t figure out her martial arts style or the source of the intense heat radiating from her body.

The woman’s pulse felt no different from a normal person’s. She didn’t seem ill, nor did she seem to have taken any strength-enhancing drugs.

“Correct,” Feng Yun’ai lied, feigning admission.

Sang Chencao’s sneer deepened. “Then your judgment is poor. Even if Hu Cheng didn’t use a saber, he wouldn’t be worthy of this sword. Given how you’ve kept it hidden, you clearly know how rare it is.”

“I’ve heard a few rumors, nothing more,” Feng Yun’ai said.

Sang Chencao stared at her, her eyes fixed on those grey-white depths as she tried to catch a hint of some unusual emotion. She leaned in closer. “Do you know what this sword is forged from? It is made of Falling Heaven Meteorite. When meteorite iron is used to refine a blade, the resulting steel is as black as ink. It cuts through iron silently and can kill without a trace—but its horror goes far beyond that.”

“You certainly seem to know everything.” Feng Yun’ai had long suspected this woman’s strangeness. The indigo-clothed woman not only knew the Central Plains martial world like the back of her hand, but she was also intimately familiar with certain obscure legends.

Sang Chencao’s eyes curved, but the expression was chilling, emphasized by the two small moles beneath her eyes. “Do you know where the light on the blade comes from? It’s because of a deep-seated poison hidden within. A single scratch from this blade leaves behind a lethal seed. If the poison isn’t neutralized in time, the victim’s entire body will turn cold. Everything—from their features and skin to their internal organs—will be encased in frost. That chill… I suspect even Feng Rong couldn’t withstand it.”

“How do you know this? This sword doesn’t even have a name in the Jianghu.” Feng Yun’ai stared back at her. She was certain of this because there was no mention of it in the Jianghu Records.

Sang Chencao reached out, trying to touch the sword behind Feng Yun’ai, but her hand was ruthlessly slapped away. She chuckled. “This sword has left its sheath a few times before. The most famous instance was twenty years ago during the Battle of the Cauldron Sea. That was before Feng Rong established the Hantian Alliance. The two combatants then were Feng Rong and Wen Lanxin. The sword originally belonged to Wen Lanxin, but after three days without a victor, for some unknown reason, Wen Lanxin chose to abandon the blade and threw it into the sea.”

“Then how can you be sure this is the same one that was cast into the ocean?” Feng Yun’ai took a step back, refusing to let the woman get close.