Chapter 10: Do You Think I

After one move, both halted, motionless.

The moonlit courtyard fell into deathly silence, save for the sultry singing drifting over the back wall:

“Long, curved eyebrows, delicately painted~ Trembling, slender willow waist, a single pinch~…”

Linghu Qingmo’s eyelashes trembled—suddenly caught off guard. Her eyes, filled with shock, quickly shifted to horror—her chest had been firmly gripped.

?!

Realizing what happened, Linghu Qingmo’s gaze instantly turned murderous.

Xie Jin pressed his left hand against his chest, savoring the feel, then saw Qingmo’s eyes burning with intent to devour him—he snatched his hand back:

“Sparring partners, physical contact is inevitable~…”

“You despicable scoundrel!”

Before her words ended, Linghu Qingmo’s face flushed crimson; she seized Xie Jin’s left wrist, and visible flashes of pale-blue lightning danced along her arm.

Zizzzz~

Xie Jin’s wrist was clamped tight, as if seated on an electric chair; he could barely speak:

“You can’t handle losing?!”

Linghu Qingmo’s frosty cheeks blazed like sunset clouds; she longed to cleave this lecher with her sword.

But she had indeed been caught unawares—if this had been a life-or-death duel, she’d already be dead, with no chance to retaliate.

Her robe rose and fell with rage, her eyelashes trembling, yet she finally ceased her thunder technique, face still flushed, and replied:

“I come from a righteous sect—how could I refuse to lose? You’re a martial artist; how dare you use Thunder-Binding Sword to ambush me?”

Xie Jin had been electrocuted, but martial artists have tough skin and flesh—he recovered instantly:

“I told you I’ve studied many styles. You’re from Purple Banner Mountain—still afraid I’ll exploit your weakness?”

Linghu Qingmo fell silent, then demanded:

“If this was sparring, you should’ve stopped at the right moment. You already had victory secured—why didn’t you halt earlier?”

Xie Jin replied firmly: “You’re unharmed—how isn’t that stopping at the right moment? You’re the direct disciple of Purple Banner Mountain. Until the outcome was settled, how could I know if you’d use Daoist magic to shift your form or turn solid into void?”

Linghu Qingmo, enraged that Xie Jin had touched her chest and still blamed her for being weak, snapped:

“You’ve seized the heart gate—how could you still turn solid into void? Can you?”

Seeing she didn’t believe him, Xie Jin made no argument—only opened his palms:

“Come. Hit me with a palm.”

Linghu Qingmo, humiliated and furious, stepped forward without hesitation and drove a charging palm straight into Xie Jin’s chest and abdomen:

Boom~

The palm struck with a muffled crack, powerful and laced with personal spite.

But Xie Jin didn’t dodge or block—he stepped his left foot back, letting his chest absorb the force, his body shifting with the impact.

Thud—

The fierce qi surged into his body, yet didn’t explode inward to damage his organs; instead, it rippled visibly across his chest, spreading along his back and arms until it reached his left hand behind him.

Boom—

The qi discharged outward; fallen leaves behind him were blasted into a fan-shaped clearing, the entire courtyard swirling with leaves.

Yet Xie Jin was unharmed!

?!

Linghu Qingmo, her cold, piercing eyes now wide with shock, stared.

Though she didn’t understand the technique, she knew Xie Jin had used a profound method—similar to “Receive, Neutralize, Return”—to contain the qi entering his body, redirecting it backward without harming himself, just like her forced “Strike Through the Mountain.”

As Purple Banner Mountain’s direct disciple and someone who’d seen many martial masters in the Wang Fu, she’d never seen such a martial art—her eyes filled with deep bewilderment:

“What technique is this?”

Xie Jin, still feeling her hand on his pectorals, showed no shame or fury—his gaze was like a master instructing an inexperienced disciple:

This is "Ti Long Wu Jiu," one of the Eight Silver Dragon Forms. Its essence lies in avoiding the sharp edge, concealing the blade, moving qi with spirit, and using the opponent’s force against them. If I wished, I could return this palm strike to you.

The flush of shame and anger on Linghu Qingmo’s face vanished—only disbelief remained. She thought:

Eight Silver Dragon Forms…

Never heard of them. Such a brutal martial art…

He’s about my age—how could his skill be this high?

Thinking this, Linghu Qingmo asked again:

“Who is your master? What sect?”

Xie Jin felt his martial skill was self-taught, but his rapid progress in three years sounded absurd—he lied:

“Wind Spirit Valley. Hidden Immortal lineage. You’ve never heard of it.”

The Hidden Immortal sect was a Daoist branch, always secluded in mountains and rivers, emerging only in chaotic times—no one knew how many elder masters lurked within.

Xie Jin’s youth and power made his claim plausible, but Linghu Qingmo had never heard of Wind Spirit Valley:

“Where is Wind Spirit Valley?”

Xie Jin adopted a secretive expression:

“I dare not let outsiders disturb my masters’ cultivation. I beg your understanding.”

“…“

Linghu Qingmo knew the Hidden Immortals’ ways and dropped further questioning; her gaze grew complex.

Though she’d suffered greatly, Xie Jin himself could “Receive, Neutralize, Return”—his hand lingering on her chest was, in truth, unavoidable.

But then—hadn’t she just been beaten, had her chest touched, and now was expected to thank him for the lesson?

Was she really that naive?

Seeing Linghu Qingmo’s frosty expression shift endlessly, Xie Jin spoke again:

“I touched your chest once—you’ve been touching mine for ages. We’re even… sss~”

Before he finished, a pale, jade hand suddenly squeezed his chest hard—the muscle deformed beneath her slender fingers.

Linghu Qingmo gave a vicious pinch, then leapt back several steps, sword raised to guard her chest:

“Fine. You’re superior. We’re even. Goodbye.”

She turned to flee.

Xie Jin rubbed his chest, unconcerned by her retaliation—but seeing her leave, he called out:

“Wait.”

Linghu Qingmo paused, eyes wary:

“What now?”

“Goo~”

Meiqiu, before Xie Jin could speak, landed before the bamboo basket full of leaves, shaking her head and gesturing.

“Winner takes all—the courtyard must be swept clean.”

“You!”

Hearing this, Linghu Qingmo’s icy face turned green. She seethed:

“I was injured by you in daylight, groped by you at night, and now I have to clean your courtyard?”

Do you take me for a mistreated little wife—beat me, insult me, and I can’t fight back?

But she’d walked into the fight herself, been touched because she was weaker, and now had to sweep because she’d made the bet…

Linghu Qingmo was thoroughly outmaneuvered, with no counterargument. After long silence, she gritted her teeth, turned, walked to the courtyard corner, picked up a bamboo broom, and began sweeping fallen leaves and dust.

Swish-swish-swish—

With such force, Xie Jin almost pitied his own broom.

Since he bore no grudge against her, and seeing the girl had been humiliated into silence, Xie Jin didn’t act like a master—he took out a feather duster and began cleaning windows and doors.

Meiqiu was obedient too—seeing Linghu Qingmo grit her teeth while sweeping, she hopped over, picked up leaves in her beak, and dropped them into the basket:

“Gooji~”

Linghu Qingmo’s teeth clicked with rage, but seeing both man and bird were cleaning too—not treating her like a servant—her anger slowly cooled. After a moment’s thought, she asked:

“How did you find those bandits today? Any other leads?”

Xie Jin had been tricked by Night the Succubus—he replied casually:

“Went to find Captain Yang. Happened to run into them. They said they’ve gathered enough Dragon Beard Grass—nothing left to do. Oh… they also mentioned the corpse by the river caught the government office’s attention…”

“Corpse by the river?”

Linghu Qingmo thought hard: “The floating corpse found five days ago at Huaijiang Bay?”

Xie Jin looked confused: “I didn’t even arrive in Danyang City five days ago. What corpse?”

“An unidentified corpse, badly decomposed, gender unrecognizable, origin unknown—still under investigation. If it’s connected to the demon bandits, this case may be far bigger than we thought…”

With this new lead, Linghu Qingmo couldn’t sit still—she dropped the broom and ran out.

Xie Jin frowned:

“What? Giving up?”

Linghu Qingmo, eager to interrogate the captive, didn’t look back—she leapt over the courtyard wall.

“I must return to investigate. Don’t worry—I’m from a righteous sect. My word is binding. When I’m done, I’ll clean it all again.”

With that, she vanished into the night.

“Still a workaholic.”

Xie Jin needed to level up quickly and bury Night the Succubus again—he stopped cleaning and resumed pondering his “Reverse-Candle” divine art.

And the commotion from the wall side had continued without pause from the start:

“Ding ding ding~……”

“Young Master~ are you embarrassed…?”

……

(End of Chapter)