"Meet Ci Ling in life, meet Yama in death. Ten years ago, I advised Mu Zi Zhe to kill you, but he refused, saying you might be useful someday. Little did I expect 'useful' would mean this purpose." Su Jinhui sneered. "But thinking you alone can kill me? That's rather laughable."
Mu Ci Ling's lips curled slightly, his eyes flashing with arrogance. "Whether I can or not, we'll know after trying, won't we?" As the words fell, he lunged forward, charging into the hall.
Su Jinhui's robes fluttered as he placed his hand on his sword hilt.
"A mere Mu Family rebel isn't worthy of our Su Family Head's effort." Su Muqiu shouted, darting past Su Jinhui to swing his sword at Mu Ci Ling.
Su Muqiu wielded an ancient bronze sword, his moves carrying an air of classical elegance—a stark contrast to Su Ze's domineering swordplay. Yet these seemingly simple sword moves forced Mu Ci Ling back into the courtyard.
"Uncle Qiu." Su Muyu frowned slightly. In his memory, this middle-aged scholar who always attended Su Jinhui usually played the role of an advisor—rarely did he truly draw his sword.
"Your swordplay isn't bad—far better than that bald egg." Mu Ci Ling waved his hand casually, meeting Su Muqiu's blade with bare palms. "But merely 'not bad' all the same."
Su Muqiu sighed inwardly. The Yama Palm was indeed a sinister and exquisite martial art. Each time those bare hands touched his sword, he could feel his Sword Qi being drained away. A few more exchanges, and he'd end up like Su Ze.
Seeing this, Su Muyu glanced at Su Changhe.
Su Changhe shook his head slightly.
In the courtyard, Su Muqiu's sword was finally knocked away by Mu Ci Ling's palm strike. Mu Ci Ling then pinned Su Muqiu to the ground with his foot, pulling out the red booklet again. "What's your name?"
A Mu Family disciple behind him answered, "He's Su Muqiu of the Su Family."
"I see." Mu Ci Ling lifted his foot, suddenly retreating ten paces before tucking the red booklet away again. "Hahahaha! Su Jinhui, you finally dare face me? Back then, it took three of you old men working together to plant the Heart-Piercing Stake in me. Now it's just you alone—are you afraid?"
Su Jinhui stood beside Su Muqiu, his uniquely serpentine sword at the ready.
Su Changhe's lips curled slightly. "Not bad, not bad. It's been years since I've seen the Family Head take action personally."
Su Muyu whispered, "What exactly are you thinking? If we intervene now, this fight could end immediately."
Su Changhe hissed back, "You blockheaded donkey! I swear you're the dumbest person alive! Do you really think The Head stepped down willingly? He's just redirecting calamity, wanting the three families to destroy each other."
Su Muyu nodded. "I know. But if we help the old master succeed, stabilizing the Su Family's position in this conflict, we can break this deadlock."
Su Changhe smacked Su Muyu's head. "And what's in it for you? Worth risking your life over?"
Frowning, Su Muyu replied, "The old master will agree to my terms.""Idiot. The three officials of the Soul Extraction Hall would never agree to his demands. They wouldn't even recognize the old man's position as The Head." Su Changhe sighed lightly, his tone carrying a hint of frustration at someone's inability to meet expectations.
Su Muyu asked in confusion, "Why?"
"Never mind, you wouldn't understand even if I told you." Su Changhe shook his head. "Just watch the show quietly and don't interfere."
"I don't understand. You've been working for the old man, chasing me all this way, and now that the Sleeping Dragon Sword is right before us, you just want to watch? I met our teacher along the way. He said you wanted to change Dark River. Could it be..." Su Muyu's heart stirred as he recalled the words his teacher had spoken to him in the bamboo grove.
"Shh..." Su Changhe placed a finger to his lips. "Just watch the old man's Serpent Sword technique carefully. You might even gain some insight. Besides, judging by the old man's stance, he's about to win."
Su Muyu turned to look and saw Su Jinhui's Serpent Sword weaving an intricate pattern in the air, perfectly evading Mu Ci Ling's palms before lightly tapping his shoulder and instantly withdrawing three steps.
A small red dot gradually spread across Mu Ci Ling's shoulder.
"No matter how formidable a martial art is, it will always have its flaws. After the three of us subdued you back then, I spent time figuring out how to break your Yama Palm alone." Su Jinhui sheathed his sword, his back turned to Mu Ci Ling as he spoke coldly.
"Hahaha. What you saw back then was only what I wanted you to see. Did you think avoiding my Yama Palm would stop me from draining your inner energy?" Mu Ci Ling raised both hands. "This rain isn't heavy enough. Let's have a sword rain instead!" As his hands lifted, the sound of swords being drawn echoed through the hall. The swords of the Su Family disciples flew from their scabbards uncontrollably, drawn toward Mu Ci Ling and hovering above his head.
Only a few Su Family swordsmen managed to keep hold of their swords with great effort. Su Changhe lazily twirled a dagger in his hand, while Su Muyu gently pressed down on the Sleeping Dragon Sword resting on the ground, seemingly unaffected by Mu Ci Ling's influence.
Mu Ci Ling noticed the two of them and laughed. "Ah, more experts!"
Su Jinhui frowned slightly and leaped forward, thrusting his Serpent Sword toward Mu Ci Ling's forehead.
"Sword Rain!" Mu Ci Ling spread his arms, and the dozens of swords in the air instantly descended. Su Jinhui hastily retracted his sword and began swirling it wildly, creating a web of Sword Qi within a three-foot radius around him. The clanging of metal rang out continuously as the swords Mu Ci Ling controlled with Yama Palm's True Qi were all deflected. Mu Ci Ling muttered under his breath, "The old man's swordsmanship is indeed refined. No wonder Mu Zi Zhe left this task to me."
"This move shares similarities with your Eighteen Sword Formation, except he doesn't need Puppet Silk, making him even more formidable than you," Su Changhe remarked.
Su Muyu rotated his umbrella handle slightly, his pupils narrowing.
"You've seen my palm technique, but have you ever seen the King of Hell wield a blade?" Mu Ci Ling stretched his hand toward the upright coffin, and a long-handled Horse Chopping Sword flew from it into his grasp. Gripping the hilt with both hands, he crouched slightly and spun the blade in a full circle.
The courtyard was littered with broken swords. Su Muqiu sheathed his own sword and stepped aside, saying solemnly, "Family Head..."
Su Jinhui smiled faintly and raised his Serpent Sword slightly toward the sky.
Suddenly, the rain stopped.Or perhaps, what fell was no longer rain.
But hail.
It was the Qingming season, when the earth was warming—how could there still be hail?
"He's here, he's here—the old man's Frosty Sword Qi," Su Changhe said with a look of amusement. "This is going to be quite the show!"
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