Chapter 33: The Blade and the Shadow Part 2

Feng Yun’ai cast a quick glance at the ground. Sure enough, the bamboo splinters were meticulously carved, each one identical to the next.

From the shadows, a group of figures in green appeared, their movements perfectly synchronized. At first glance, they looked like they had been cast from the same mold, or perhaps like multiple afterimages left by a single person.

Sang Chencao leaned close to Feng Yun’ai’s ear and whispered, “The Guanfeng Gate is difficult to deal with. They know too much about the world’s affairs. They even managed to see through Feng Rong, though her weaknesses weren’t something just anyone could find.”

“What do you mean?” Feng Yun’ai didn’t look at her companion, keeping her eyes fixed on the green-clad swordsmen.

Sang Chencao said leisurely, “If you trade blows with them, do you think they’ll guess that you are the secret disciple Feng Rong took in?”

Beneath her white veil, Feng Yun’ai’s pupils constricted.

Sang Chencao laughed aloud, a sound of pure delight that, to any onlooker, would have seemed like blatant contempt.

The synchronized men in green lunged forward with their swords, looking exactly like a blur of afterimages, a sight intended to dazzle the eyes.

With the white veil obscuring her vision, Feng Yun’ai already struggled to see clearly; now, as the “afterimages” rushed closer, she felt a wave of vertigo.

Fortunately, these weren’t true afterimages. To break the stalemate, she only needed to disrupt their formation.

But because of the indigo-clothed woman’s words, Feng Yun’ai didn’t dare make a move.

Sang Chencao laughed again. She suddenly struck out behind her with a palm—not to collapse the rickety inn, but to use the force to propel herself into the center of the Guanfeng Gate’s formation.

Her movements were erratic and strange, as if she were walking straight into a trap.

The Guanfeng Gate disciples, initially confident, were now bewildered. They couldn’t fathom what this woman was planning.

Sang Chencao’s strikes were lightning-fast. She didn’t draw her sword, using only her palms. Every strike landed perfectly on the swirling “afterimages” behind her.

It appeared as if she were hitting the same person, but in reality, every single disciple took one of her hits—none missed, none repeated!

This required not only extreme perception but also immense physical power. Very few in the world possessed both.

Yet she looked as if she were merely plucking flowers, suspended calmly in the center. What seemed like casual palm strikes were actually gathering the force of a mountain and the momentum of the sea.

She entered the formation alone and passed through it just as easily, coming and going as she pleased. Every move was steeped in disdain.

This bizarre and agile movement technique was unheard of in the current martial world, leaving the Guanfeng Gate disciples stunned.

In an instant, those who had taken a hit spat out blood, their faces filled with shock.

“What movement technique is this? Who is your master!” the leader demanded.

Sang Chencao stood with her hands behind her back, appearing relaxed. The two moles beneath her eyes caught the faint morning light like fallen stars; she didn’t look like a creature of this world.

“Speak!” the man shouted again.

Sang Chencao arched an eyebrow and smiled. “This is the Cencao Movement Technique. My master is… the Damp Banks of the Water?”

Feng Yun’ai, still standing by the side of the inn, felt her brow twitch.

The plant known as heartleaf went by many names. Some called it fish-mint, others called it dog-fly herb, but a more elegant name for it was Cencao.

The woman was clearly talking nonsense again; not a single word of truth ever left her mouth.

The crowd could naturally tell it was a lie. They exchanged glances, their expressions shifting before they reformed their formation.

However, as white figures began to swirl, their movements changed. They were now drifting and unpredictable—clearly mimicking Sang Chencao!

It was no wonder the Guanfeng Gate was so formidable; they could achieve a resemblance in form after just a single exchange.

If they fought a few more times, would they be able to capture the very essence of the technique?

A normal person would feel deeply insulted by such mimicry.

“Interesting!” Sang Chencao actually laughed with genuine joy. “The way you use other people’s martial arts to fight looks a bit like the old Moonlight Sect. Just how much does the Guanfeng Gate envy the talent of the Moonlight Sect?”

The Guanfeng Gate disciples were fuming with rage.

Sang Chencao suddenly drew the flexible sword from her waist. The blade moved like a bewitching snake.

The person had a movement technique, and her sword did as well. Every strike was unexpected, every path impossible to track.

The sword was like a rainbow scattering shadows, like the moon reflected in water—seemingly formless, yet physical. No one could seize it.

And since the Guanfeng Gate was still mimicking her, Sang Chencao was essentially fighting a dozen men while simultaneously competing against herself.

“Clumsy,” Sang Chencao spat out. With a single flick of her blade, she sliced off a disciple’s hair, leaving only a short stubble.

She could have defeated them in one move, yet she chose to toy with them like a hawk with a rabbit. If this wasn’t contempt, nothing was.

Feng Yun’ai suddenly heard more movement. An uncountable number of people were approaching—not just from other sects, but members of the Hantian Alliance were arriving as well.

At this rate, the two of them wouldn’t be able to handle it alone.

“Move!” Feng Yun’ai said coldly.

Sang Chencao glanced back, withdrawing her sword and retreating in the same breath. She stepped onto a treetop to gain momentum, suddenly leaping away. She casually beckoned to Feng Yun’ai.

Feng Yun’ai felt a sensation like ants crawling over her skin—the gu was taking effect. She had no choice but to follow.

“It seems they’ve all arrived. They really do take me for Wen Lanxin,” Sang Chencao mocked.

As Feng Yun’ai drew closer, the crawling sensation vanished. A drop of cold sweat rolled down her forehead. “Once we find Wen Lanxin, you won’t be mistaken for her anymore,” she said sharply.

“Fine. Let’s find Wen Lanxin,” Sang Chencao agreed readily.

Such a quick agreement made Feng Yun’ai hesitate. She asked with a frown, “To Cloud City?”

Sang Chencao grabbed the hem of Feng Yun’ai’s pure white sleeve and leaned in close. “Yes, we’ll go together. But this time, you have to show your face.”

“What?” Feng Yun’ai was startled by the sudden proximity of the woman’s warm breath and leaned back slightly.

“You’re going to sign up for the Hero Recruitment Meet,” Sang Chencao laughed. “I want to see you on that stage!”