Xie Qidao hefted his large blade onto his shoulder. "Only if you can take it from here does it truly belong to you."
Mu Ci Ling flicked his wrist, and a broken blade on the ground suddenly shot up, aiming straight for Xie Qidao's face.
"Pathetic trick." Xie Qidao snorted coldly, shattering the broken blade with a single strike. By then, Mu Ci Ling had already leaped beside him, spinning his Horse Chopping Sword lightly. Xie Qidao retreated hastily, but this time, Mu Ci Ling merely feinted. Seeing Xie Qidao step back, he flipped away and fled. Xie Qidao paused for a moment before giving chase, only to be met by four white silk ribbons lashing toward him—reinforcements from the Mu Family had arrived.
In the courtyard, Su Muyu also rose to pursue, but Su Changhe beside him roared first, "Thieves of the Mu Family, where do you think you're running?" Then, Su Changhe stepped forward and grabbed Su Muyu's shoulder.
"What are you doing?" Su Muyu asked.
"Damn it. I took a hit from the Yama Palm earlier and can't muster any strength now," Su Changhe said gravely.
Su Muyu frowned deeply. If you can't use any strength, how are you holding me down with such immense force?
"The Yama Palm is that kind of technique—it can drain an opponent's power and instantly retaliate. You're lucky to be alive after taking it bare-handed. But your days ahead won't be easy. That True Qi will run rampant inside you. If you can't suppress it, your meridians will shatter, and you'll die." Su Jinhui emerged from the Spinning Wheel Formation.
Su Muyu looked at him and felt as though only half an hour had passed, yet Su Jinhui seemed decades older, his steps and tone both exuding exhaustion.
A sword's edge is easily broken. Su Jinhui had come infinitely close to the position of The Head—an opportunity that might come only once in a lifetime. But he was stopped just as he was about to grasp it, and worse, defeated by a junior. Now, Su Jinhui himself was like his Serpent Sword—broken.
"It seems you have no choice left," Su Changhe murmured meaningfully, his gaze fixed on Su Muyu.
Su Muyu's brow remained furrowed. "Old man."
"Muyu, go back and tell The Head that I failed to grasp the Sleeping Dragon Sword. I've let him down." Su Jinhui turned and walked toward the inner chambers.
Su Muqiu watched Su Jinhui's retreating figure and sighed softly before announcing loudly, "All members of the Su Family, sheathe your swords."
Su Changhe stroked his thin beard and asked Su Muqiu, "So the Su Family, hailed as the strongest of the three, is giving up just like that?"
Su Muqiu didn't answer directly. Instead, he said slowly, "The Mu Family has birthed a Living Yama, but our Su Family also has an Umbrella Ghost and an Undertaker. It's just that the one who holds the umbrella has taken on a new identity, while the one who buries the dead is still pondering—for whom should he conduct the funeral?"
Su Changhe released his grip on Su Muyu and scratched his head. "Of course, it's for himself."
All members of the Su Family retreated into the inner chambers, their faces grim and silent. Only Su Changhe and Su Muyu remained in the courtyard.
"Your mission isn't complete. What's your next move?" Su Changhe asked.Su Muyu shook his head. "The old master has relinquished his position as The Head. I need to discuss the subsequent matters with The Head again. But the urgent task now is to reclaim the Sleeping Dragon Sword."
"By yourself alone?" Su Changhe asked.
"Are you willing to help me?" Su Muyu countered.
Su Changhe immediately clutched his chest with his right hand. "My injuries are too severe."
"At least we won’t have to cross swords for now," Su Muyu said indifferently before leaping away in pursuit.
"Ah." Su Changhe sighed softly as he watched Su Muyu's retreating figure. "Such a naive fellow."
Su Muqiu looked at Su Changhe in the courtyard. "What will you do next?"
Su Changhe turned and smiled faintly. "Uncle Qiu seems quite curious about my choice."
In Nine Heavens City, Mu Ci Ling, clad in red robes resembling the King of Hell, sprinted swiftly across the rooftops, holding a long Horse Chopping Sword in one hand and the Sleeping Dragon Sword in the other. Gazing at the sleeping dragon engraved on the hilt of the sword, he murmured, "Just a sword—is it worth so many people fighting over it?"
"The Sleeping Dragon Sword is no ordinary sword," a voice laced with amusement suddenly whispered beside Mu Ci Ling's ear.
"Who's there!" Mu Ci Ling whipped his head around, but the street below was empty, save for the endless drizzle. Not a single soul in sight.
"You don’t know who I am, but I know you—Mu Ci Ling of the Mu Family. You secretly practiced the Yama Palm and were eventually imprisoned in the Undying Coffin with the Heart-Piercing Gu," the voice spoke again. This time, Mu Ci Ling discerned that it came from below. Yet when he looked down, there was still no one. Gritting his teeth, he leaped forward and landed on the street. "Who’s playing tricks here!"
"You’re dressed as the King of Hell, wearing a judge’s hat, and yet you accuse me of playing tricks?" The man let out a series of eerie, bone-chilling laughs. "How laughable."
Mu Ci Ling frowned slightly, then lowered his head to look at the rainwater pooling on the ground. The puddle reflected his image—a young man in official robes. But his face began to blur, distorting until it no longer resembled him. Startled, Mu Ci Ling swung his Horse Chopping Sword and stabbed downward.
But the reflection in the puddle suddenly stood up. The figure brushed past Mu Ci Ling, his hand twisting lightly—and the Sleeping Dragon Sword was now in his grasp.
Mu Ci Ling turned and glared at the young man before him, clad in purple official robes with snow-white hair. "Playing tricks like this—it reeks of the Mu Family’s style. Did Mu Zi Zhe send you?"
"Mu Zi Zhe? What status does he have to command me?" The young man twirled the Sleeping Dragon Sword in his hand and chuckled. "You insult me too much."
"If not, then return the Sleeping Dragon Sword to me." Mu Ci Ling swung his Horse Chopping Sword, sending a wave of rainwater crashing toward the young man.
"Water obeys my will." The young man raised his palm slightly, and the rainwater halted three feet away from him before slowly coalescing into the shape of an arrow. With a flick of his finger, the arrow shot straight at Mu Ci Ling. Mu Ci Ling swung his sword, forced back three steps before barely deflecting the arrow. The arrow flew toward a nearby tavern, smashing the entire roof into rubble."Damn it, so powerful!" Mu Ci Ling's face twitched slightly. "Is it really this hard for me to snatch a lousy sword?"
"Snatching the sword was never the hard part. The difficulty lies in how to wield it." The young man flicked his wrist lightly, sending the Sleeping Dragon Sword spinning into the air.
A burly figure descended from above and caught the sword in midair.
"Xie Qidao!" Mu Ci Ling roared.
The young man smiled faintly and leaned backward, his body crashing into a puddle. Yet it was as if he had melted away—not a single sound was made as he vanished without a trace.
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