Chapter 81: As Thunder Stills Its Roar

THUD!!

When the two figures landed, their feet shattered the concrete floor, cracking it in several places.

One held a knife, the other a sword; both radiated astonishing aura.

But their appearances were vastly different.

The silver-haired elder with the knife wore a suit, dress pants, and leather shoes—elegant and luxurious—but dozens of bloodstains covered his body; though most wounds had healed, only torn fabric remained.

Yet blood still seeped from his shoulder, waist, and two or three other spots, too fresh to heal.

The young man with the sword had eyebrows slightly raised and thickened from the strain of his entire body tensing.

Yet apart from faint wisps of steam rising from his skin and his flushed complexion, he showed not a single wound.

“What were you laughing at just now?”

Chu Tianshu exhaled a puff of white mist; even amid this song, he felt an unusual sense of release.

“The Great Wall stands forever, hahaha! It seems that even when ghosts and gods act openly, they still haven’t shaken our world!”

Nie Longding knew all hope was lost; his expression turned blank.

“Singing at a time like this? Does singing actually work here? And you even got the lyrics out of order?”

Nie Longding’s gaze shifted slightly, noticing the crowd over there.

“Song breaks spells—Shen Yuntai, it really is you.”

Shen Yuntai stared at him for a moment, then said, “This song was chosen by Ajun.”

“Uncle Nie.”

Fang Jun’s face showed little change, yet between his brows, complexity twisted like two dying silkworms.

Not until deep autumn will he die; even seeing autumn, he still refuses to yield.

Nie Longding had already turned his gaze away, fixing it on Chu Tianshu, yet he spoke: “Ajun, in my plans, I never imagined I’d see you here.”

“But I…”

Fang Jun spoke with difficulty, “I’ve dreamed of this many times.”

He was indeed the one who received the most of Nie Longding’s true teachings—even the secret arts of the two ghost cards, he mastered thoroughly.

Yet he never sought out malevolent spirits to keep by his side.

He wasn’t afraid he couldn’t subdue one or two malevolent spirits; he was afraid of his adoptive father.

If he truly kept two malevolent spirits beside him, he would become too much like Nie Longding’s heir.

Then, in the businesses Nie Longding entrusted to him, would there be things he absolutely could not accept?

He had always feared this.

Especially after Nie Longding recovered from his serious illness a few years ago.

Fang Jun felt his adoptive father had treated that illness as a trial, and after surviving it, he became even more determined, more spirited.

That made him even more afraid.

So he had indeed dreamed many times of meeting his adoptive father on a battlefield—even if not today’s scene, perhaps another.

He could wake himself up to escape the dream’s situation, avoiding any choice.

But reality had finally forced him into the very scenario of his dreams.

Fang Jun suddenly took one step forward.

“I truly didn’t know what choice I’d make if I stood opposite Uncle Nie.”

“It seemed so impossibly hard, so I evaded too many times.”

Nie Longding paid no mind.

“You’re just a child. You once evaded the position I assigned you, so you were unimportant in my enterprises. Later, you evaded the spirit-nurturing arts—you lacked combat power, so today, you’re unimportant here.”

Nie Longding’s voice was flat, yet it carried mockery.

“The most tragic thing isn’t my child standing against me—it’s you, who don’t even carry the weight of a choice.”

“Do you think you can plead for me with weak words, to your superior, to your partner?”

Fang Jun remained calm: “My choice may not matter, but I must still make it.”

“Only now, facing this, do I realize the answer was already in my heart—just two sentences.”

His hands hung at his sides, each holding a playing card.

“Minister, please guide me on when to strike.”

This was spoken to his senior; the other was for Nie Longding.

He was serious—even in another setting, even if Nie Longding held the upper hand, he would say this.

“Father, please fight your final battle in life!”

Nie Longding’s face had already been pale, but upon hearing this, it turned even “slightly whiter.”

“Good, good, Ajun—you’ve become a man!”

“But your playing cards are useless now.”

Nie Longding suddenly slashed off his own left arm.

The severed limb flew into the air, spurting blood in a violent burst.

In that instant, he held the knife horizontally before his chest, his demeanor strangely serene.

The robes of the swordmaster seemed to overlay his body, sleeves fluttering.

Beneath cherry blossoms, blades crossed in meditation.

And he added to this strike a dominance even the swordmaster had never possessed.

Before five hundred men, he meditated with knife held crosswise.

BOOM!!

The concrete floor cracked and sank five to six centimeters.

The armless knife-wielder shifted from absolute stillness to motion, lunging straight forward—his body light as if he’d shed not just an arm, but gravity itself.

A blade strike without touching the ground, thrusting straight to Chu Tianshu’s face.

Chu Tianshu’s pupils contracted; his right-hand sword suddenly shot forward, released from his grip.

SHING!!

That sword pierced Nie Longding mid-air.

His forward momentum was entirely negated; a gaping hole opened in his chest, blood spraying backward.

His entire body flipped backward and crashed to the ground.

The Three-Seven Divine Sword flew upward, far into the boundary mist.

Due to the overflow zone’s peculiar nature, anything entering the mist would be shot back out.

When the divine sword returned, its speed diminished, forming a parabolic arc.

Finally, its tip downward, it plunged into the sandy ground not far behind Nie Longding’s corpse.

People had vaguely sensed the old man was no good—likely the mastermind.

But the sight of the sword flying through the air, piercing through flesh—this was too much for their nerves.

Everyone instinctively stepped back, putting more distance between themselves and the large pool of blood.

After realizing Nie Longding’s self-healing came from ghosts, Chu Tianshu adopted a strategy of overwhelming the enemy with a barrage of hidden weapons.

Ghostly self-healing doesn’t arise from nothing—Nie Longding had to channel his mental energy to sustain it.

When they jumped from the third floor, Nie Longding’s mental and ghostly energy was nearly exhausted.

His self-amputation, using excruciating pain to stimulate his spirit, was meant to unleash the last remnants of the swordmaster’s soul.

This move slightly surprised Chu Tianshu.

But against Chu Tianshu, who still had abundant physical strength, this strike posed no great threat.

“So you could’ve acted all along.”

Fang Jun stared at the corpse, speaking to Chu Tianshu: “Was this deliberate—to give me a chance to speak?”

“Am I that thoughtful? Hah. I just jumped from the third floor, and my heels hurt a bit—I needed a moment to catch my breath.”

Chu Tianshu relaxed, exhaled a long, hot breath upward, and the redness across his skin faded slightly.

“But some things are better said out loud—if left unsaid, they fester into knots later.”

Fang Jun whispered: “Thank you.”

“No problem. Today’s fight was satisfying… Look over there—the mist is clearing!”

Chu Tianshu glanced at his token screen, then toward the boundary, and suddenly remembered something—he turned to find Shen Yuntai.

“By the way, Minister Shen.”

“This incident alone involved over five hundred people within the overflow zone. The fog covered the building—outside, it must’ve been very noticeable.”

“Can we still keep this supernatural incident hidden?”

Shen Yuntai had just been pleased that such a major event caused so few civilian casualties, waving to the six bodyguards on the third floor.

Upon hearing this, her face instantly turned sour.

(End of Chapter)