Chapter 707: Who Is the Kingfisher? The Master

Liu Yuan unleashed the last remnants of his true qi, and at such close range, against Xie Guan—who had lost all capacity to fight—

【“Cultivation Embryo Demon Hand!”】

This demonic killing technique, wreathed in sinister blood qi, was so potent even a martial cultivator of the Upper Three Realms would dare not meet it head-on. And now, with only the Middle Three Realms of cultivation left, Xie Guan was doomed to die.

Liu Yuan leaned forward, eyes glinting with cold light, hiding a faint, almost imperceptible ecstasy. This brutal battle would finally end here.

Xie Guan stood motionless, as if he lacked even the strength to dodge.

【“Ssshh—”】

The sound of flesh and bone tearing was unnervingly clear.

【“Hahaha!”】 Liu Yuan roared with laughter; as his demon hand pierced Xie Guan’s chest, his violent true qi shattered all surrounding flesh and bone.

Still unsatisfied, he swung his arms and severed Xie Guan’s corpse at the waist!

Liu Yuan’s blood-smeared face twisted in delight. “Xie Guan… Xie Guan, I’ll remember you for the rest of my life.”

“Too bad you won’t hear your last words. But don’t worry—I’ll bring your little maid back to Great Sui with care.”

After speaking, Liu Yuan looked up at the sky, where the setting sun painted the lake surface golden.

He stood atop the shattered boat, his body mangled and bleeding, flayed skin glistening grotesquely in the dusk light.

“In the end, I won!” His hoarse laugh scraped through his throat, piercing the lake’s silence.

Yet—

The expected chorus of approval from behind never came.

Liu Yuan frowned and turned—only to see Xiao Yu’s grim expression and He Lan’s terrified eyes.

Du Kong’s lips twitched, as if he wanted to speak.

Suddenly, the world spun wildly.

Liu Yuan’s pupils shrank—where were the severed limbs?

Xie Guan still stood there, clad in his green robe, not a speck of dust on his clothes.

The boy’s gaze was calm.

A phantom butterfly fluttered gently from beside Liu Yuan and landed softly on the boy’s palm.

More chilling still: a strange bird had perched on Xie Guan’s shoulder, its glassy eyes curiously studying the group before idly pecking at his shoulder.

The female Daoist stood still by the lakeside, her plain white robe fluttering in the evening breeze. She watched in bewilderment as Liu Yuan suddenly erupted with terrifying aura, then twisted his face into wild laughter, muttering mad gibberish.

Yet Xie Guan remained motionless.

A golden-feathered bird quietly landed on Xie Guan’s shoulder, its tail feathers shimmering with rosy light.

“Zhao Ming Luan,” the female Daoist’s pupils contracted; her fingers unconsciously tightened around the incense burner she had just reclaimed.

She recalled the Daoist canon: “White crown for male, red crown for female. This is the male Zhao Ming Luan—none but the most true and virtuous, those who harbor compassion for all beings, may draw near.”

A flicker of doubt crossed her eyes: “Could this Xie Guan be born with a Saintly Destiny?”

She gazed at the phantom butterfly in the lake’s center, thinking inwardly: “To drag Liu Yuan into such a lifelike illusion—this Daoist illusion art is so refined, it must be true Xuan Gate transmission.”

Though she was the Dae Sui Crown Prince’s guardian in Bianjing, she was no mere court retainer—she had climbed Mount Zhongnan’s ancestral hall herself, offering three scrolls of the Huangting Dao Canon as tribute, to persuade her master to send her down to protect Liu Yuan.

They were not master and servant. As for Liu Yuan’s survival—

She would protect him if she could; if not, she would not sacrifice her own life.

Her master’s final words still echoed in her ears: “The Dao follows nature. Go with the flow. If a thing cannot be done, let it go.”

“This is your descent into the mortal world to cultivate. As long as you don’t let some mortal boy steal your heart, and you bring me back a fat baby boy, do as you please.”

If Liu Yuan died, she would return to Mount Zhongnan to cultivate.

In the lake’s center, Liu Yuan stared fixedly at the Zhao Ming Luan on Xie Guan’s shoulder, recalling his own mad, delusional outburst moments ago—his face turned ashen as a ghost. “How… how could you still have strength?!”

You did not answer. Between your slender fingers, sword qi already swirled.

Three utterly distinct sword intentions coiled like threads around your fingertips—

One, cold as moonlight, pure and solitary.

One, annihilating, all things returning to void.

One, like the rising sun.

“With your current state…” Your voice was soft, yet the three-colored sword light wove into a terrifying halo in your palm. “Two sword intentions should suffice.”

You spun your fingers lightly—the light flared brilliantly.

“But—”

“Three are safer.”

As the final word fell, the lethal sword scar, fused with the three sword intentions, rose from your palm.

He Lan’s face twisted in panic—he wanted to move, but his body was paralyzed.

Xiao Yu, the eunuch in charge of court protocol, wore a far calmer expression. A man who had reached the Ninth Realm with a broken body naturally possessed extraordinary willpower.

He smiled with relief. “To die at the hands of the Second Master’s heir—what a worthy end!”

Du Kong struggled forward, dragging his shattered Golden Body to shield Liu Yuan.

Only Liu Yuan’s face remained dark and menacing, his voice laced with final madness: “Xie Guan! Don’t you care about your little maid’s life?!”

Blood frothed at his lips. “If I die, no one in this world will know where she is—”

Xie Guan shook his head gently, his eyes revealing a trace of pity. “Look behind you.”

Liu Yuan’s neck veins bulged, but he dared not turn—afraid that even a moment’s distraction would see his head severed by the three sword intentions.

Until a sharp crack of shattering wood pierced the lake’s silence—and someone stepped across the water.

Liu Yuan whirled around, pupils shrinking—there stood a common man in coarse linen, carefully cradling a sleeping maid as he walked upon the lake’s surface, his entire body radiating corpse qi, the Zhao Ming Luan circling above to guide him.

The man carrying Wu Tong had an ordinary face, an unremarkable aura—like any laborer you’d see on the streets of Bianjing.

Liu Yuan’s strength vanished. The one thing he could use to threaten Xie Guan was now gone.

“How… how could this be?!” Liu Yuan screamed in frenzy. “Why?!”

You looked at him. Two Zhao Ming Luans perched on your shoulders, their feathers now glowing with gilded luster, as if steeped in your pure yang primordial spirit.

The intricate patterns on their tail feathers grew brighter; each wingbeat scattered fine golden specks.

Your previously parched primordial spirit was nourished; your cracked dantian drank deeply as if from a long-awaited rain.

These two divine birds’ first gift: they enhance cultivation speed—just by perching on your shoulders, you could borrow their power.

That was how you’d just summoned the Yin Fu Seven Arts’ “Shen Die Fa Zhuan Yuan,” creating an illusion for Liu Yuan despite having no qi left.

The second gift: shared sight.

You looked at him. “Don’t you understand yet?”

“Who… is the real kingfisher?”

Liu Yuan froze. “So… you knew everything that happened today?”

You did not answer. Even Xie Renfeng had guessed it—Wu Tong was now the most important person to you, after yourself.

How could you not know?

You held the sword scar in your palm, and gently closed your hand.

The sword intent in the lake blazed like a rainbow!

Du Kong, He Lan, and Xiao Yu’s bodies shattered into fragments, their primordial spirits extinguished utterly.

Only Liu Yuan remained!

The man handed Wu Tong to you, then punched Liu Yuan—reducing him to blood and dust, leaving no trace of bones.

You held Wu Tong close; your spirit stirred, and the blood mist was instantly pushed away by your invisible aura wall.

The two Zhao Ming Luans on your shoulders let out a clear cry, then dissolved into twin streaks of light, vanishing into the sky.

The man had killed Liu Yuan—his purpose fulfilled. His last breath escaped, and he could no longer hold on.

He knelt on the boat’s deck, his vital essence draining like a ruptured dam.

He bowed his head heavily, voice hoarse yet serene. “I die with no regrets!”

“Only one man died upstairs—the prince escaped.”

With his final strength, he hesitated, then spoke: “One more thing, my benefactor… my adoptive father has left Bianjing—he’s joined the Crimson-Eye Army.”

As he finished, his body could no longer contain itself—it exploded.

You sighed softly.

An ordinary man, with no cultivation of primordial spirit at all—only hatred and corpse qi.

This was Dong Fuzi’s adopted son!

You recalled what Hua An had told you two months ago: “Dong the old master’s only adopted son suddenly went mad today, injuring several officers. They say he went to the West Wing Pavilion, seeking his old lover—and strangled her to death. Now he’s a wanted murderer, fled without a trace.”

You absorbed the four primordial spirits into your third eye, then prepared to leave with Wu Tong.

The matter was settled. Liu Yuan and his three companions were dead. Xie Renfeng was dead.

(End of Chapter)