Chapter 208: Wang Qingxuan, Ye Qingmei (Requesting Monthly Tickets! Requesting Subscription!)

Sixteen years later, in Liangzhou of the Great Chu, Mount Qingliang.

On the vast training ground, two figures—a man and a woman—moved at speeds too swift for the naked eye to follow; the man wielded a wooden sword, the woman twin mandarin duck knives, their forms interweaving like butterflies flitting through flowers as they sparred.

The man appeared no more than sixteen or seventeen, his features ordinary, yet his eyebrows naturally arched upward, complementing his bright eyes with a touch of irreverent charm.

The woman facing him was slightly older, but no more than twenty, clad in purple silk robes, her face exquisitely beautiful—a rare beauty indeed.

Yet more striking than her striking appearance was her demeanor as she attacked with the twin knives.

It was not that her blade movements were graceful, but that each strike brimmed with ruthlessness and ferocity; this was not sparring—it was life-or-death combat, unmistakably the type of person who thrived on rivalry.

As time passed, their battle grew increasingly intense, with the woman always on the offensive and the boy always defending.

Though the latter seemed at a disadvantage, he held firm against the storm of blade light, calm and effortless; any keen observer could tell who held the upper hand.

His decision to defend rather than attack was less an act of concession than a means to gather sword momentum—like drawing a bowstring taut, waiting for the perfect moment to rebound and strike decisively.

Clearly, the woman sensed this too; her elegant brows furrowed deeply, her expression grew colder, and her knife speed surged abruptly, as if trying to disrupt the boy's rhythm of gathering momentum.

Alas, haste bred error—the boy remained steady as ever, yet a flaw emerged in the woman's bladework.

Seeing this, the boy smirked, suddenly reversed his sword and thrust it straight into the side of one of her knives amid the dazzling whirl of steel.

A torrent of sword qi erupted instantly, the force numbing her arm and causing her grip to lift involuntarily—this opened a massive gap in her already crumbling defense.

The boy seized the opening without hesitation, using the rebound to launch a lethal counterattack.

Zzzzz—!!

The sword sang as the boy delivered three consecutive strikes, each from a completely different direction—left, right, front—perfectly sealing off every possible escape route for the woman.

Moreover, each strike carried continuous sword qi, capable of unleashing wave after wave of sustained assault, not merely fleeting contact.

Even more astonishing, the three strikes appeared to land simultaneously, with no discernible sequence or delay—speeds more than doubled from before.

The outcome, naturally, was inevitable.

The first strike jarred her attempt to resist; the second knocked one of her mandarin duck knives from her hand; the third required no effort, merely resting lightly against her pale, slender neck.

The duel was over.

"Your kindness!"

The boy grinned mischievously, clearly delighted.

Defeated in sparring, the woman looked momentarily dazed, then quickly grew cold, her face hardening with resentment and stubbornness.

"What was that move just now? Did Master teach it to you?"

"Come on, Master's been in seclusion for over half a year—he hasn't had time to teach me anything."

The boy smirked, pride evident: "That move is called 【One Sword Becomes Three Pure Ones】. I created it myself, inspired by the legendary Old Sword God's Two Sleeves of Green Snakes. Pretty impressive, right?"

"You created it yourself? I don't believe you!"

The woman widened her eyes, instinctively rebutting.

"Hmph! Don't forget, Master once said I'm a sword prodigy born once in a hundred years—if I'm willing to work hard, becoming a Sword Immortal won't be hard. What's the big deal about creating one move?"

The boy snorted, sheathed his wooden sword, placed one hand on his hip, and struck a boastful, arrogant pose.

"Teach me."

After a moment of silence, the woman said suddenly, her tone utterly matter-of-fact.

"Miss Xuanyuan, is that how you ask for help?"

The boy smirked, about to tease further, then paused as if struck by an idea, mimicking a fly caught off-guard: "I could teach you, but you have to promise me one thing."

"No way."

The woman sneered.

"Hey! I haven't even told you what it is yet!"

The boy complained.

"Your scheming mind? I know exactly what you want—either to ask out Qing'er, or else the Miss Ye… Hmph! A toad dreaming of swan meat. I advise you to give up that fantasy!"

The boy rolled his eyes: "Fine, fine! I'm a toad dreaming of swan meat—good thing I'm picky. I've got no interest in you, this temperamental black swan. You can rest easy!"

"You're asking for death!"

At this, the woman's brows snapped upright, and she raised her remaining mandarin duck knife, aiming straight for his lower body.

"Wahhh! Murder! Murder of my future husband!!"

The boy shrieked, darted away with superior agility, and fled across Mount Qingliang with the woman in hot pursuit, drawing the attention of others.

"Wenliang's gotten Qingfeng angry again."

In a deeper courtyard of Mount Qingliang, a girl in green robes, holding a black iron spear, retracted her thrusting tip and chuckled.

"Ignore them. As Master says, they're a pair of bickering lovers—either they'll end up together, or become enemies. It's up to them."

The speaker was another girl, dressed in a Confucian robe, smiling serenely as she sat on a stone bench, holding a black stone in hand, playing against herself.

Though not breathtakingly beautiful, she was delicate and charming, her eyes clear as a mountain stream, her brow radiating scholarly grace—clearly a learned, cultured maiden.

Wang Qingxuan, Ye Qingmei.

Hearing these names, few would recognize them—but if you mention Qingniao and Xu Weixiong, fans of Snowfall will surely know them.

As the saying goes, pull one hair and the whole body moves: because Wu Xian forcibly interfered with the plot, Xu Xiao and his Beiliang Army were destroyed; Ye Baikui thus did not die miserably on the battlefield, and his daughter was spared from becoming a death servant to her enemy. Instead, as the daughter of the Military Saint, she entered Wu Xian's sect and became his senior disciple.

Wang Qingxuan was the same—she was the only daughter of the Spear Immortal Wang Xiu. After Chen Zibao killed Wang Xiu, Xu Xiao placed her under Wu Su's care, training her as a death servant.

Later, during the White Robe Incident, the three-year-old Wang Qingxuan was taken to Tai'an City, discovered by Wu Xian, brought into the palace, raised under his care, and restored to her true name.

"Qingmei sister."

Hearing Ye Qingmei's earlier words, Wang Qingxuan smiled faintly, then recalled something, her gaze turning worried as she looked toward a distant spot and whispered: "It's been over seven months—how much longer will Master remain in seclusion?"

————

Has anyone read the latest Manhua? I don't understand how the Tongtian Lu works—any smart readers care to explain?

Lastly, please vote for monthly tickets!

(End of Chapter)