Yan Zhen remembered that Lin Qizhu’s line in the script had been exactly this one—word for word, delivered with the same self-righteous tone, as if it were the man’s sacred life motto.
In the script, Yan Zhen had only been a Nine-Star Mystic Practitioner, far outclassed by Lin Qizhu’s Six-Star Mystic Scholar realm. Any ordinary mystic cultivator would have died the instant the duel began, cut down by Lin Qizhu’s blade.
Fortunately, even as a Nine-Star Mystic Practitioner, Yan Zhen possessed considerable spiritual power and wore the Surging Spring Boots on his feet. He had barely managed to dodge Lin Qizhu’s Draw Blade Slash, sparing himself from becoming another soul lost to that sword.
All that flowery wording aside, Lin Qizhu simply wanted to kill Yan Zhen right then and there, eliminating his romantic rival once and for all.
Given his status, any investigation afterward wouldn’t lead to severe punishment.
—A total hypocrite.
“I accept your challenge,” Yan Zhen said, “but the conditions aren’t quite that simple.”
Lin Qizhu’s eyes brightened slightly. “Lord Yan Zhen, please go ahead.”
Yan Zhen replied indifferently, “If I win, you leave your Pei Dao Sword behind.”
“What?” Linzaki Sayoko burst out before her brother could even respond. “You little punk, actually eyeing Big Brother’s Pei Dao Sword? What a pipe dream!”
“Sayoko, stand down.” Lin Qizhu pulled his sister aside. “Lord Yan Zhen has a keen eye. My Pei Dao Sword is rated as a Great Karma Item—sharp enough to slice through a Mystic Master’s Mystic Force Armor.”
Tachi swords were divided into five grades based on the edge’s sharpness: Mundane Item, Superior Grade Item, Great Karma Item, Supreme Great Industry Item, and the pinnacle, Famous Blade. A Famous Blade could effortlessly cut through a Mystic King’s mystic power defenses. Terrifying stuff.
“As Lord Yan Zhen proposes. If I lose, the Pei Dao Sword is yours.”
Lin Qizhu made no mention of what Yan Zhen would forfeit if he lost, coming across as remarkably accommodating.
Yet beneath that refined courtesy lurked a heart as cold and vicious as they came.
He had no need for concessions from Yan Zhen. He would simply claim the man’s life himself.
“In that case, let’s pick a spot and get started,” Yan Zhen said. “We’ve still got shopping to do afterward.”
Those words suited Lin Qizhu perfectly.
“Lord Yan Zhen speaks plainly. After you.”
The group made their way to the Golden Jade Chamber of Commerce’s Performance Arena—the very same stage where Yan Zhen had previously lopped off Han Feng’s arm.
A crowd had already gathered around the arena, as if word of the spectacle had spread in advance. That was the doing of the Second Shopkeeper and the Third Shopkeeper. At that moment, the two old schemers were peering down from a window in the chamber’s main building, their eyes gleaming as the group approached.
Yan Zhen’s cure of Ji Ya’s hidden ailment had left them all on the back foot, and they hated him bitterly for it.
“Lord Yan Zhen, no referee here,” Lin Qizhu said. “Let’s keep the duel rules straightforward: first one to fall or leave the arena loses. Sound good?”
“Can do.”
“I’ll be using my Pei Dao Sword for the duel. Lord Yan Zhen, please use whatever weapon suits you best.”
“Mm.”
With terms settled, the two men ascended the arena from opposite sides and faced off across a distance of ten meters.
Down below, Yi Xian’er frowned faintly. Lin Qizhu wielded a Pei Dao Sword comparable to a Tier 3 Mystic Artifact. He was a Quasi-7-Star Mystic Scholar to boot, with a Draw Blade Technique as fast as lightning. Yan Zhen’s chances didn’t look promising.
But Ji Ya showed no worry at all, so Yi Xian’er leaned in and whispered, “Did they duel in your past life too?”
Ji Ya nodded. “Yeah. Back then, Little Brother Yan Zhen took on a Six-Star Mystic Scholar as just a Nine-Star Mystic Practitioner—for my sake—and he barely pulled off the win.”
A Nine-Star Mystic Practitioner had beaten him? And now Yan Zhen was a Three-Star Mystic Scholar—
Suddenly, Yi Xian’er felt no anxiety at all. She waited quietly for her beloved’s moment to shine.
From nearby, Linzaki Sayoko scoffed. “A puny little Three-Star Mystic Scholar dares to challenge Big Brother? He’s got a death wish!”
She whipped her head around to face the two women. “Just watch. The instant the duel starts, Big Brother will lop that pretty boy’s head right off.”
The two women shot Linzaki Sayoko pitying looks, as if she were a fool, then murmured quietly to each other, already scheming her downfall.
Up on the arena.
“Lord Yan Zhen, are you prepared?”
“Ready whenever you are.”
“Then—”
Lin Qizhu’s demeanor shifted. He slowly closed his eyes while his right hand gripped the hilt of the tachi at his waist. His left hand braced beneath the guard, and with his thumb, he nudged the blade free just enough for it to catch the rising sun’s glare.
In that moment, Lin Qizhu poured every ounce of his essence, energy, and spirit into the sword. He snapped his eyes open, bolts of lightning flashing in his gaze.
—Divine Dream Style, Draw Blade Slash!
A sharp cry rang out. Cold light erupted as a translucent, formless blade qi hurtled toward Yan Zhen at blinding speed, aimed straight for his throat.
Any other Three-Star Mystic Scholar would have been a goner.
But the instant Lin Qizhu drew and resheathed his blade, Yan Zhen had already expanded his spiritual perception. He activated his Surging Spring Boots and unleashed the Shadow Following Step. Bolstered by ample cultivation, his footwork flowed with exceptional agility. Having sensed the attack, he sidestepped the strike with ease—the killing blow that should never have missed.
“What?”
Lin Qizhu hadn’t expected the first slash to fail. He had built up to it for so long that even a Seven-Star Mystic Scholar would have fallen on the spot. And yet Yan Zhen had dodged it? Because of those boots, some kind of Mystic Artifact? Lucky bastard.
Still, the Divine Dream Draw Blade Technique consisted of three consecutive strikes, each more devastating than the last. One whiff? Time for the second!
Buzz—
A harsh, vibrating hum echoed across the arena as the blade rasped from its sheath once more.
The second slash shot out fiercer than the first, once again locking onto Yan Zhen’s neck.
Yan Zhen dodged it without missing a beat.
At the same moment, the mightiest third slash came—a blade qi fully twice the size of the previous ones. Forget decapitation; it could bisect him at the waist with room to spare.
The area it covered was too vast to evade. The smart play was to meet it head-on.
Yan Zhen gripped his Mystic Artifact Embryo and channeled his Gold-Silver Fire into it, manifesting a resplendent Gold-Silver Extreme Flame Greatsword. He swung it directly at the oncoming wall of blade qi.
According to the script, that sword wouldn’t have fully countered the qi. Yan Zhen would have been forced back step by step, nearly tumbling off the arena.
But in reality, his single swing cleaved the blade qi apart like a hot knife through butter.
At this rate, he wouldn’t even need to pull off the Starry Sky Dance and take to the skies like in the script. He could toy with Lin Qizhu at his leisure.
Yan Zhen blinked, a touch of concern crossing his face.
Sticking too closely to the script might lead to a slip-up. One mistake, and his head was gone.
Way too risky.
Better to wrap this up quickly.
“You actually blocked my third slash?”
Lin Qizhu could scarcely believe it. With his cultivation base, landing three chained Draw Blade Slashes should fell anyone in the Mystic Scholar realm. Even a second-order mystic beast would be diced to ribbons by now. And yet Yan Zhen stood there without a scratch!
“So that’s Lord Yan Zhen’s Extreme Flame? Incredible indeed.”
Down below, the smug grin froze on Linzaki Sayoko’s face, replaced by a heavy grimness.
