Chapter 39: If You Can't Fight, Then Don't Talk
Zhao Wanqing stepped into the ruined village.
The blood on the ground had long since dried, yet the metallic stench still clung to the cold night air. Burned houses lay collapsed in piles of blackened rubble.
Every few steps, traces of ritual formation could still be seen etched into the earth — the remnants of a massive sacrificial array.
From the start, these demonic cultivators had planned to sacrifice the entire village.
She hadn't seen any other bodies along the way, except for the ones hanging from the great tree at the village entrance. Clearly, the rest had been moved — likely to the formation's core.
Taking a deep breath, Zhao Wanqing forced down the wave of nausea and anger rising within her. If there were any useful clues left, they would be at the center of that array.
Her eyes swept through the devastation as she strode forward quickly, heading straight toward the middle of the village — the one place that could anchor a formation powerful enough to cover the entire settlement.
And just as she expected — bones.
Piles upon piles of pale, hollow bones littered the ground — the remains of every villager, drained completely of blood.
But what she hadn't expected was that not all the demonic cultivators had left.
Sitting atop the mountain of bones, a man in a tattered black robe rested lazily, one hand draped over a massive blood-red blade beside him. The weapon pulsed faintly under the moonlight, radiating a sinister, throbbing energy.
"The Demon Sealing Division's efficiency gets worse every year," the black-robed man rasped, his voice hoarse and mocking. "And they only sent two people? Tell me, how are you supposed to protect anyone like this?"
Zhao Wanqing's eyes turned icy. "Did you do this?" she demanded, hand tightening around the hilt of her short blade.
"Not me?" The man let out a cold laugh. "What, you think you did it, little squad captain?"
Before his words finished echoing, his hand clamped down on the blade beside him — and with a faint crimson flash, he vanished.
In the blink of an eye, he was already beside her.
The crimson blade howled through the night, its arc leaving a burning trail in the air.
Zhao Wanqing reacted instantly, drawing her short knife in a blur and intercepting the strike.
Clang!
The sound of metal crashing against metal tore through the silent village.
The force of the blow was monstrous. Her injured arms trembled violently, the pain shooting up her shoulders. She had to summon every ounce of spiritual power she had just to keep from being cleaved in two.
This man's cultivation… late Foundation Establishment — at least.
But worse than his strength was the wave of blood qi surging from his blade.
It spread like venom, crawling along her defensive spiritual energy, seeking to corrupt and invade.
She was forced to divert part of her concentration to hold it back. If that blood qi got inside her meridians, she'd be finished.
The black-robed man grinned, twisting his body, and lashed out with a brutal kick.
Zhao Wanqing barely had time to brace herself.
Her spiritual power surged around her abdomen just as his foot struck — a thunderous impact that made her organs feel as though they'd shifted out of place.
She was flung backward, smashing into the ground hard enough to leave a small crater.
Coughing up blood, she forced herself up again, retreating several steps as she swung her blade, sending several sharp waves of sword qi to slow his advance.
But the man only sneered.
He moved through the attacks as if they were nothing, deflecting them with his blade before channeling a burst of blood-red energy straight toward her.
His tone carried a cruel mockery.
"In your next life—don't join the government!"
Zhao Wanqing gritted her teeth, raising her weapon to block again.
Seeing this, the man's lips curled into a sinister grin.
Blood qi erupted violently around him, the force pressing his blade downward at the last moment — shifting the attack's trajectory.
What was once aimed at her head now slashed toward her waist.
It was a move he'd perfected, one that had already ended the lives of many Foundation Establishment cultivators.
And now, under the crimson light of the moon, the arc of his blade swept down like a streak of red lightning—
Zhao Wanqing's eyes widened as the blade's glow surged toward her.
Bang!
A worn iron sword suddenly intercepted the crimson blade, and the next instant Zhao Wanqing felt her collar yanked backward, pulling her out of the arc of the strike just in time.
The crimson glow sliced clean through the old sword, shattering it into fragments.
Li Xingtian stared at the broken hilt in his hand. Senior sister really did set her junior up for pain.
Zhao Wanqing turned, wide-eyed, to see Li Xingtian standing calmly behind her, his expression steady as a mountain.
Out of professional courtesy — or mild concern for his employer — he asked in a flat tone, "Still alive?"
"Be… careful!"
She had meant to thank him, but the words were drowned out as the black-robed man raised his blade again and charged.
Li Xingtian's gaze lifted slightly. The shattered sword in his right hand suddenly emanated a strange, unfathomable aura.
Facing the crimson weapon filled with murderous intent, he showed no fear. He simply lifted the broken hilt — a motion so light it almost seemed lazy.
Zhao Wanqing's pupils shrank. To her, this looked like suicide.
But what happened next shocked her completely.
The one who retreated — was the black-robed man.
He pulled his blade back with lightning speed, retreating dozens of meters, his expression twisted with unease.
"…You brat… are you from Zhongzhou?"
That aura just now—there was no mistaking it. It was divine ability.
Only the great sects of Zhongzhou could afford to have their disciples cultivate divine techniques at the Foundation Establishment Realm.
Unless the boy was one of them, such a feat should have been impossible.
If not for the reflexes honed by his years of bloody slaughter, that harmless sword strike might have ended him outright.
Li Xingtian didn't answer. His hand tightened around the broken sword, spiritual energy roaring through his body.
He took a single step forward—
—and slashed.
A streak of dark red light flashed through the air.
Boom!
The ground ahead erupted. The crimson energy tore through everything before it, leaving nothing but scorched dust in its wake.
Zhao Wanqing stood frozen, staring in disbelief at the fine, threadlike ray that had annihilated everything it touched.
This was absolutely not something a Foundation Establishment cultivator should be capable of.
Dust billowed upward, only to be scattered again as Li Xingtian gave a casual flick of his wrist.
The black-robed man was gone.
"He ran," Li Xingtian said flatly. He didn't bother to chase. Turning around, he looked at Zhao Wanqing, who had collapsed weakly onto the ground. "How bad is it?"
"I… I'm fine…"
She tried to speak, but the strain of suppressing her internal injuries finally caught up.
With a choked gasp, she spat out a mouthful of blood.
Li Xingtian: "…"
"Let's pull back," he said calmly. "There might be other demonic cultivators nearby. You're too injured — I might not be able to protect you if they attack again."
Zhao Wanqing knew he was right. She nodded reluctantly.
"We'll… go back to the Demon Sealing Division…"
Another mouthful of blood spilled from her lips before she could finish.
Li Xingtian sighed faintly. "I'll carry you. Just—don't talk."
Zhao Wanqing drew a deep breath and gave a tiny nod, her face burning with humiliation.
This was beyond embarrassing.
That one strike of his—though frighteningly powerful—had also drained nearly half his spiritual energy.
To guard against the chance of another ambush, Li Xingtian slowed his pace, preserving what strength he had left as he carried her through the night.
Maybe the earlier display had truly frightened their enemies, because no one dared intercept them on the way back.
When the lights of Yuzhou City finally came into view, Li Xingtian didn't take her to the Demon Sealing Division as she'd suggested.
Instead, he went straight to the courtyard house.
Facing the closed gate, he simply grabbed Zhao Wanqing by the back of her collar and leapt over it.
Before he could even announce their return, Chu Xingchen pushed open his door, his gaze immediately landing on Zhao Wanqing — pale-faced and coughing up blood.
"What happened here?"
"Senior…" Zhao Wanqing began, but before she could finish—
Pfft!
She spat another mouthful of blood.
Chu Xingchen: "…"
Alright then. He didn't need an explanation anymore.
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