Chapter 246

254. Today the Long Ying Is in Hand

The atmosphere in the arena first fell silent, then erupted into chaos. The Ding Sword hung suspended in midair.

A young girl with a thin veil covering her face gripped the Moonlight Longsword, holding Prince Wei Wei Shaoxuan upright directly beneath the Ding Sword.

Chenjun Xie Xie Lingjiang's face was anxious; as soon as she spoke, Prince Wei Wei Shaoxuan and Qiu Qiu Shenji's expressions changed slightly.

"This... what is this?"

Li Su Guoer tilted her head, frowning as she stared at the "arc," her small face looking slightly dazed: "What trick are you playing? Don't move!"

The icy blade pressed close, emitting a grayish moonlight that made Prince Wei Wei Shaoxuan raise both hands high and lean back in fear.

"It has nothing to do with me, Cousin Su Guoer, stay calm!" Prince Wei Wei Shaoxuan looked utterly innocent, calling out to Qiu Qiu Shenji in the distance: "Father, don't do anything rash!"

Qiu Qiu Shenji understood at once, nodded in agreement, and silently counted in his mind.

To calm Li Su Guoer, he sincerely spread his hands open, embracing the air: "It has nothing to do with me—listen to me.

No one is retreating step by step. No one is channeling qi with overwhelming momentum.

Zhu Zhu Zifu remained silent, glancing at the hazy clouds surrounding him.

Fortunately, Zhu Zhu Zifu's former seventh-rank dantian held spiritual energy so profound and dense that the protective true qi barrier he had fully constructed was barely holding its ground against the arc's cutting force.

You stare closely and realize a hot purple "arc" line is shooting straight toward the face of the hemp-clad man, whose smile has frozen stiff—he's terrified, his soul nearly fleeing, and he retreats at eighth-rank "Weapon Master" speed, willing to endure the confines of the Square Lei Chi just to gain a moment's space to shift his body.

He frowns slightly; Zhu Zhu Zifu is even more troublesome than he imagined. Zhu Zhu Zifu is now fully trapped in the Lei Chi.

"He..." Li Su Guoer's face turned desperate; she trembled and loosened her grip, stepping forward.

The seven people—Zhu Zhu Zifu, Prince Wei Wei Shaoxuan—who had just rushed out of the main hall, were all subtly within the range of its swordlight.

Yet the consumption of that wave of purple mist also left Dai Dai Linglan's accumulated merit points stretched thin.

Zhu Zhu Zifu, cornered by Qiu Qiu Shenji's "arc" from behind, was forced into the "Square Lei Chi," enduring relentless thunderbolts.

That strange disturbance naturally made Zhu Zhu Zifu and Dai Dai Linglan look up—simultaneously stunned.

How is this possible?

Zhu Zhu Zifu's face turned deep crimson; his blood qi surged unnaturally upward, and with each step he took forward, an aura of "the brave striking a weaker opponent" exploded from him.

Zhu Zhu Zifu readily agreed, sidestepped, and vacated the nearly extinguished "Square Lei Chi" and the seven men within.

"What did he say?"

"Father, leave him alive!" Behind the courtyard, wind and thunder raged.

"Ten breaths. Ten breaths. Ten."

He suddenly looked up, hair standing on end, stepping backward as if his life depended on it.

Li Su Guoer's clear eyes widened in suspicion; Prince Wei Wei Shaoxuan stole a sidelong glance at her face and quietly lowered his hands.

It seems the Craftsmanship isn't just a food for purple mist—it can also feed the Grand Pure School's "Square Lei Chi"? Does that mean I can surpass the Grand Pure Sect's cultivation threshold?

This was something he hadn't anticipated—he originally intended to charge straight in and finish it quickly, but now he realized: locking the sword onto Zhu Zhu Zifu was difficult, his dantian's spiritual energy wasn't pure enough, the Ding Sword wasn't fast enough, and could only barely chase after Zhu Zhu Zifu.

Zhu Zhu Zifu frowned; Dai Dai Linglan froze, spun, and sprinted into the scripture-copying hall, leaping high.

The strange sound from the Buddha hall was a corpse explosion.

"Don't listen to them—they're buying time!" Chenjun Xie Xie Lingjiang urged urgently: "Run, Su Guoer!"

"So what if I did it? What can you do to me?" Dai Dai Linglan's face twisted; she taunted deliberately: "Two useless scraps! When I slaughtered you, you knelt and begged for mercy—hahaha!"

The purple glow between his fingers dimmed.

"Crack—pop!" Zhu Zhu Zifu, whose skin had been charred white by Zhu Purple thunder, stared in disbelief at the familiar young man calmly walking toward him from behind, replacing Dai Dai Linglan.

Isn't he still waiting for me? Didn't he spend his last life raising my status and forcing me to serve as his senior sister, bullying me?

"How dare you!" Zhu Zhu Zifu roared, surging torrents of spiritual energy to resist the man and his sword behind him.

The "arc" at Zhu Zhu Zifu's fingertip remained stuck, still an inch away from the hemp-clad man's brow.

But before anyone could see Dai Dai Linglan's movement, he had already flashed to stand behind Dai Dai Linglan, roaring: "Die!" The hemp-clad man resembled a war god, gathering strength to deliver a thunderous punch, meeting the "wind and thunder."

Li Su Guoer turned sharply, "Raise your hands! Don't move!" Her teeth clenched; she pressed the longsword closer to Prince Wei Wei Shaoxuan's neck—but instantly, she felt a jolt in her palm, a sharp "zing!" as the three-foot blade flew upward, spinning midair, its reflected sunlight blinding those nearby.

"Good. Let Yan Balang end this."

Even when her hair pulled him to the ground, he never believed it. "Yan Balang, don't move."

Prince Wei Wei Shaoxuan glanced at the bronze mask under Zhu Zhu Zifu's hand, then at the unconscious Li Su Guoer, opening his mouth but falling silent.

Yet,

For a moment, the stalemate held. One side weakened as the other strengthened.

The Craftsmanship doesn't just greedily consume merit-purple mist—it also devours the "unjust qi" in the chest of every person brimming with righteous fury!

The Zhu Purple talisman that had been spinning within the Lei Chi suddenly froze midair; Prince Wei Wei Shaoxuan clapped a hand over his mouth, barely suppressing a throatful of blood, yet the last of his dantian's spiritual energy was being violently drained by the "Square Lei Chi."

Zhu Zhu Zifu poured out spiritual energy like a man spending gold, desperately replenishing his front-line protective true qi barrier to resist the Ding Sword's unstoppable advance.

The two fingers pinching the swordtip remained utterly unmoved.

The two-tenths of spiritual energy he had long reserved burst forth without restraint.

No time to think—now, having absorbed the purple mist, pure Zhu Purple thunder rapidly brewed within the Lei Chi—the true "Square Lei Chi."

Even mortals possess a single "qi"!

But the truth lay before his eyes.

The former stumbled and fell, seeing the swordtip about to pierce his chest.

Zhu Zhu Zifu's fingertip bled; his gaze was unnaturally calm, hiding a scholar's wrath, a sky draped in white mourning, as he stepped backward, holding the "Craftsmanship."

Swordlight flashed—the great Buddha split into seven pieces.

Finally, the "arc" was slowly pushed inch by inch into Zhu Zhu Zifu's brow; a great terror seized his heart, and the hemp-clad man shook his head wildly:

The Lei Chi lost control, releasing its power chaotically; Dai Dai Linglan stepped back eight zhang, waiting calmly, steady, giving no opening to his opponent.

Zhu Zhu Zifu retreated step by step; his "momentum" diminished with each step forward.

Mysterious and terrifying.

Zhu Zhu Zifu weighed the pros and cons, then withdrew two thousand merit's worth of purple mist and poured it into the Lei Chi.

It resembled something crafted by a true Grand Pure Daoist, utterly distinct from Dai Dai Linglan's passive defense just moments ago.

Prince Wei Wei Shaoxuan laughed bitterly, the smile both joyful and painful.

"Father, step aside—let me handle this," Magistrate Ouyang Rong said fiercely.

Zhu Zhu Zifu's expression was cold; he turned his fingers, transforming the sword into a sword-finger, stabbing straight toward Li Su Guoer's brow.

But the soft-as-jade-and-stone true qi barrier was sliced open like cold cheese by Qiu Qiu Shenji's "arc," effortlessly penetrating halfway, aiming to split him in two.

"How is this possible? Where did he get so much extra spiritual energy?!" Zhu Zhu Zifu, unaware of the cause, jumped in shock.

The hemp-clad man stepped forward; the young county magistrate staggered forward, barely standing.

A decaying Confucian robe corpse fell from within the compassionate Buddha statue; upon contact with air, a part of the corpse exploded with a "thump."

Among the ruins, Prince Wei Wei Shaoxuan knelt dazedly, crawling backward on his knees, carefully cradling his elder brother—pale-faced, breath barely there—in his arms:

Boom—boom—boom! The eighth-rank martial artist roared like a primordial beast, hammering the Lei Chi with furious fists.

Prince Wei Wei Shaoxuan opened his mouth slightly, turned his head, and saw a scene he would never forget.

"You have no spiritual energy left!" Zhu Zhu Zifu declared with certainty, curling his lips; his eyes, once calm, now glowed with cruel amusement: "Ants are still ants. Now, watch me."

Zhu Zhu Zifu ignored him. "Found it!"

Now that the Lei Chi trapped him, it was an accidental blessing.

But he hadn't expected that before Dai Dai Linglan and Zhu Purple thunder arrived, the seven men circled around, rushing toward the fallen, severely wounded Li Su Guoer, and hurled another dim Zhu Purple talisman—binding and merging the seven men, spinning in midair, extending another zhang of hazy mist.

Zhu Zhu Zifu closed his eyes, ignoring everything, his ears filled only with the crisp sound of wooden fish.

"You didn't even know to wait for me—you always lag behind, leaving us your back..."

Whether peasant, knight, scholar, or anyone else—even those with leaky bodies... any righteous scholar under heaven, as long as his qi is full, can let his hair stand on end, sacrifice his blood qi, and with a mortal body, thrust forth a single sword!

Prince Wei Wei Shaoxuan's delicate face showed disappointment; Dai Dai Linglan frowned slightly:

On one side, Prince Wei Wei Shaoxuan panicked; on the other, Zhu Zhu Zifu's face turned ashen—his four thousand merit points poured into the Ding Sword were nearly exhausted.

The hemp-clad man, a pure martial artist, somehow possessed the delicate technique of a Yin-Yang school master, shifting weight with finesse—yet, given his former status as a veteran seventh-rank "Military Yin-Yang Master," it wasn't surprising.

Suddenly, the purple "arc" dimmed completely, but a red "arc" ignited. Both sides now entered a battle of spiritual energy versus purple mist consumption. "Father, save me!"

"Where... where did he get his qi?!"

Li Su Guoer cried out, gripping the hilt tightly and thrusting forward; the sword's blade bent.

And this evenly matched scene made Zhu Zhu Zifu look at Dai Dai Linglan with utter disbelief.

Don't forget—he's eighth rank! Even weaker than a normal eighth-ranker due to his demotion, while this boy is only fourth rank!

Zhu Zhu Zifu laughed coldly; his fist shadows blurred, then froze—he clasped both hands together, tearing open the misty thunder curtain behind him, then extended two fingers, like a woman delicately pulling thread from embroidery, pinching the air with exquisite precision.

At that moment, Dai Dai Linglan suddenly looked up at the cracked jade ring hanging at his waist and shouted quickly to Prince Wei Wei Shaoxuan:

For some reason, facing death now, Prince Wei Wei Shaoxuan's heart felt strangely calm; he looked down at his feet, and a thought suddenly flashed through his mind:

But the nearest Prince Wei Wei Shaoxuan sharply noticed Zhu Zhu Zifu forming a gesture—palms crossed, palms inward—spiritual energy surging from his palms, attempting to construct a protective true qi barrier against the outside.

That brand-new Ding Sword had somehow gained an extraordinary ability. No one was calmer or steadier than he was.

The "Craftsmanship" floated one zhang behind him; man and sword appeared motionless. "Master Chen!" Dai Dai Linglan cried out.

Boom—boom—boom!

"Ha! He has no spiritual energy! He has spiritual energy again!"

He felt it—he understood it all. The Ding Sword left behind by the old swordsmith was one that required no spiritual energy—and yet could kill!

One thousand merit points were fully transformed into purple mist, poured into the "Craftsmanship."

Prince Wei Wei Shaoxuan ran toward Qiu Qiu Shenji; Li Su Guoer dropped her longsword, clenched her lips fiercely, and drew a hidden dagger from her sleeve, stabbing straight at Magistrate Ouyang Rong's back.

Not advancing.

One side activated purple mist, using the cauldron-sword as a spear.

Leng Zi opened his eyes, pinched the glowing "arc" between two fingers, and stepped half a pace back. In that instant, a furious wind surged forth.

The "Craftsman" sword rang, joyful and exultant.

One "arc"—no one knew when—returned again to the empty space beneath the square.

"Where is Bayang? What did he do to Bayang?" I staggered, glancing wildly, voice thick with rage.

One side surged spiritual energy, forming a shield of true qi.

Dai Dai Linglan's figure appeared between Magistrate Ouyang Rong and Li Su Guoer, two fingers raised like iron tongs, clamping the sword's blade.

Zhu Zhu Zifu widened his eyes, tilted his head, and the "arc" mark on his forehead burst into blinding swordlight, vaporizing him—only a tattered hemp robe fluttered down to the floor.

Leng Zi said nothing, yet the merit points inside the Merit Tower plummeted rapidly; the purple mist from the Blessing Bell surged violently into the "Craftsman" cauldron-sword.

Li Su Guoer let out a cry of "Ah!"—her slender body and short sword were flung meters away, spitting blood, dazed.

Merit increased by a thousand.

I glared, shook my head, and unleashed the last of my spiritual energy in desperate defense.

The residual power of Zhu Zhu Zifu's talisman still lingered on his eyes, yet Zhu Zhu Zifu seemed to act of his own accord—panicking, fleeing in terror, shooting forward and crashing into the Lei Chi, swallowing every bolt of lightning whole, reduced to charred flesh and blackened bones.

"Bayang—what is that cauldron-sword of his?" Whoever lets go, dies.

With no immediate threat, Zhu Zhu Zifu dodged backward: "I'm giving you a chance to leave—come back to save someone? You're asking for death!"

Inside the Lei Chi, something like a thread appeared—I pinched it between two fingers and yanked it out sharply. In the next instant, the figure of a hemp-clad man flew backward and crashed into the tiny Lei Chi. "Sword-Bearer... Fourth Rank Executioner... Eighth Rank..."

That tip of the sword could no longer retreat an inch.

The "Craftsman" in Leng Zi's fingers rapidly faded into nothingness. I wiped blood from my nose, eyes, and mouth with the back of my hand, tilted my head up, straining to see the blue sky—then suddenly felt the white clouds above me spinning, and with a *boom*, like a jade mountain collapsing.

In the end, it became a single "arc" of Dai Dai Linglan, hanging low above all beings. The man's face was streaked with silent tears.

Even if I held the Poor Scholar's cloth-sword for dozens of breaths, how could I possibly have so much surging spiritual energy to sustain it?

I walked toward you, just like this—*whoosh! *—*crash! *

Zhu Zhu Zifu frowned slightly, but at that moment, he sensed a certain Chenjun Xie clan man inside the Scripture Copying Hall suddenly retracting his Zhu Zhu Zifu talisman, eyes blazing red as he charged forward. Without time to think, Zhu Zhu Zifu changed his thrust into a sweep, curled his two fingers, and flicked the letter-sword—*ting! *—the short sword spiraled through the air, its back striking precisely against the black forehead of the large young master.

But the hemp-clad man, brimming with malevolent energy, gave him no chance to lean in and listen. Behind him, a vivid red "arc" appeared.

Yet the old County Magistrate's eyes were hollow, murmuring: "A mortal body, forging a myth... but how can mortals forge a myth? What can mortals truly possess?"

"No... it's impossible... he's an ant—how could it be... impossible!"

Dai Dai Linglan rose from the ground, shouting urgently toward Zhu Zhu Zifu's back: "We need you! My father and I need you!" His tone was excited.

"Big Brother..." Prince Wei Wei Shaoxuan's expression was calm—no shock, no excitement, no confusion.

Dai Dai Linglan tried to help, but was blocked by the Lei Chi, and Zhu Zhu Zifu's true qi barrier—though the cauldron-sword could pierce it—he could not break through. The two stood locked in stalemate; getting closer did no good.

Beneath the Zhu Zhu Zifu talisman, crimson light flared wildly; the mist within the entire Lei Chi thickened instantly into milky white, blinding the eye. The lightning serpents grew unnervingly still—as if in a final, dying gasp, the Lei Chi was about to exhaust all its might in one burst.

"Good."

Leng Zi walked past him without glancing sideways, alone, stepping into the Lei Chi. He raised two fingers, pinched a hot purple "arc," assumed a sword-hand, and stabbed straight toward Zhu Zhu Zifu's third eye.

A "arc" appeared before Prince Wei Wei Shaoxuan and Li Su Guoer, flinging the Moonlight Longsword away. "Go and cleave open the Scripture Copying Hall's great Buddha."

Dai Dai Linglan frowned, noticing Li Su Guoer's closed lips murmuring softly, as if counting down something.

Embrace the Dao of excess leading to decline.

Now, I possess the Poor Scholar's ultimate technique, "Return, Return," and the cauldron-sword "Craftsman," which thrives on unbalanced qi—so from this day forward, I shall tell every qi-refiner in heaven and earth like Dai Dai Linglan: this is the Poor Scholar's wrath!

At this moment, the "Craftsman" above began to change color—purple mist emerged from nowhere, swirling around the "arc." Its sky-like azure gradually faded, replaced inch by inch by deep-sea purple-white.

The Lei Chi did not harm him; instead, as the mist touched him, it eagerly absorbed the purple merit mist.

Prince Wei Wei Shaoxuan froze, turned back, and frowned. He did not leave—he came to find you.

Leng Zi's blood boiled to his crown, ignoring the rapid flow of blood from his nose, mouth, and eyes, muttering: "Today, the long cord is in hand—when shall I bind the Azure Dragon?"

Pushed back inch by inch.

Leng Zi's wounded body trembled, on the verge of collapse, as over eleven thousand merit points in the Merit Tower drained at breakneck speed.

Merit points reached zero. The dantian was empty.

"Dai Dai Linglan, your Dao is nothing more than this—now it's clear..." This time, it was the old County Magistrate who looked down with cold disdain, speaking sharply: "That is my Dao."

Leng Zi's "presence," however, followed his slow retreat, step by step, ascending higher.

Leng Zi walked forward fiercely, eyes glowing purple, hands hanging at his sides. On the sleeve of his long robe, one slender index finger lifted a bronze mask.

The hemp-clad man didn't even look—he spun around instantly. Before him, in the great hall, a cool wind surged forth, rushing toward Magistrate Ouyang Rong.

Within the cool wind, Dai Ling's thunder was hidden, vast and overwhelming, like a force that could shatter even the most stubborn resistance.