Chapter 26: Flaunting the Blade Part 1

Feng Yun’ai felt her skin crawl. Unsure of how to respond, she followed the other woman’s lead and let out a cold, airy sneer.

“It seems I’ve guessed correctly,” Sang Chencao said with absolute certainty.

Feng Yun’ai suddenly raised her arm, her wrist snapping in a sharp rotation. She pressed the hilt of Solitary Gall against the indigo-clothed woman’s brow center. “Deal with the guests downstairs,” she threatened, “or I will kill you.”

“Kill me?” Sang Chencao remained seated, unmoved. She let out a soft chuckle. “Would you actually go through with it? Just because you managed to seal my acupoints once, do you truly believe your skills surpass mine?”

Feng Yun’ai pressed her lips together and remained silent.

“You’re certainly not bad, but having tested your blade a few times, I can see you’re inexperienced in real combat.” Sang Chencao reached up and brushed the cold hilt away from her forehead. She gave a thin smile. “It’s just a few monks. Why all this talk of killing? It would only ruin our rapport.”

It was a mystery where this supposed “rapport” had come from.

Hearing the woman’s convoluted response, Feng Yun’ai retracted the hilt and instead pressed the sword’s scabbard against Sang Chencao’s shoulder. It was still a posture of intimidation, though it clearly had no effect.

Sang Chencao showed no signs of panic. She stood up and pushed the door open to head downstairs, saying leisurely, “If those monks decide to strike later, don’t forget to lend me a hand. I’m quite outnumbered, after all.”

Feng Yun’ai’s voice was icy. “If you have the heart to make amends, I doubt they will be unreasonable.”

“I have no heart for amends.” Sang Chencao looked back. With that cunning and eerie smile, she truly looked the part of the “demoness” others called her.

Downstairs, the monks stood outside the entrance holding wooden staves. The innkeeper stood trembling by the door, looking as though a stiff breeze might knock him over.

The customers who had been drinking in the hall had all stopped eating. Everyone sat on pins and needles, clearly wanting to leave, but with the monks blocking the way, none of them dared to make a move.

The innkeeper heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs and whipped his head around. His face was full of silent pleading, hoping these two would quickly usher the “Living Buddhas” away.

Feng Yun’ai had already tucked Solitary Gall back against her side. She shot a cold glare at Sang Chencao, fearing the woman would say something wretched the moment she opened her mouth.

The indigo-clothed woman descended the stairs at an unhurried pace. She leaned against a pillar with her arms crossed, her eyes curving as she spoke. “Quite the crowd. One, two, three, four, five… Cuiyu Temple has certainly brought a grand entourage.”

Feng Yun’ai gripped Solitary Gall tightly. She truly wished she could tear the white silk from her eyes and use it to gag this woman’s mouth instead.

Sweating profusely, the innkeeper spoke to the monks outside. “The two of them have come down. Shall we… talk inside the shop, or outside?”

“Outside is better. This inn isn’t large enough for these masters to fully display their prowess.” Sang Chencao strolled toward the door.

The innkeeper froze, then quickly raised his arms in a gesture of welcome, desperate to see them out.

The moment Feng Yun’ai stepped out of the inn, she sensed murderous intent lurking in all directions. Aside from the monks, many others had indeed gathered, likely hoping to catch a glimpse of the legendary sword.

And Wen Lanxin? Is she among them?

The lead monk struck the ground with his staff. Inner qi cascaded down the length of the wood, vibrating through the earth and sending clouds of dust billowing upward.

Knowing there was no way to avoid this, Feng Yun’ai frowned slightly. Her finger pressed against the hilt, ready to thrust the blade from its sheath at any moment.

“It was you who damaged the bronze bell of Cuiyu Temple,” the monk stated.

Sang Chencao looked over sluggishly. Her flexible sword was tucked at her waist like a silk ribbon; she appeared to be empty-handed.

She blew away the dust drifting toward her face and said meaningfully, “The bell only hit the ground. You can just hang it back up, can’t you? What, do you expect me to cast a new one for you?”

Her rhetoric was something most people could never hope to match.

The monks frowned in unison. The leader spoke again, “You were the ones who provoked Cuiyu Temple first.”

Sang Chencao actually feigned a look of shock. She laughed. “Provocation? I simply heard the bronze bell of Cuiyu Temple was sturdy and wanted to test my blade. Now that I think about it, perhaps testing it on people would be more reliable.”

This was a blatant threat. The monks of Cuiyu Temple weren’t exactly peaceful ascetics; how could they swallow such an insult?

Sang Chencao continued, “Since you’re here, let’s settle the logic of whether I was truly provoking you or not.”

As she spoke, she didn’t draw her own flexible sword. Instead, she reached out toward Feng Yun’ai.

Feng Yun’ai felt a sense of confusion and quickly raised her sword to block the hand. This woman’s behavior was erratic—from her stance, it looked as if she wanted to tear away the silk blindfold. How could she allow that?

But after raising her arm, Feng Yun’ai realized something was wrong. With a sharp shing, the sword in her hand was snatched from its scabbard by the other woman.

“You!” Feng Yun’ai gasped in shock.

Sang Chencao flicked her wrist, the tip of the blade pointing directly at the monks in the distance. She smiled. “Since everyone is here, I invite you all to admire this blade.”

It was broad daylight. Under the scorching sun, a flash of purple light flickered across the blade. It wasn’t piercing, but it was arrestingly beautiful.

The purple light wasn’t brilliant; it was dark and heavy, an eerie radiance that looked like a flame capable of incinerating the soul.

The monks present were relatively young, but in the martial world, they had heard their seniors speak of the sword Wen Lanxin had lost to the sea. Very few had actually been lucky enough to witness that battle years ago, but as fate would have it, the Abbot of Cuiyu Temple was one of them.

The lead monk took a startled step back, his voice filled with disbelief. “What sword is that!”

Sang Chencao’s gaze swept across the distant high pavilions and did not miss the low eaves, as if she were taking in everyone hiding in the shadows.

After a long moment, she said in a rising tone, “I don’t know what sword this is either. However, I’ve heard that with just a light graze of this blade, the victim’s internal organs will freeze over, and they will die.”