Nine years later.
In this courtyard of Nine Heavens City, Su Muyu drew his Drizzle Sword against Su Changhe, while the latter kept a dagger hidden in his sleeve, never unsheathing it.
"You think you're protecting, but to me, you're just using protection as an excuse to escape," Su Changhe sighed softly, leaning slightly forward as his hand flicked upward, the dagger now firmly in his grasp.
Bai Hehuai glanced at The Head and asked, "Aren’t you going to stop them?"
The Head lowered his head with a faint smile. "The battle between them was inevitable from the start."
"Chang He, take your people and leave. I need to speak with The Head," Su Muyu said gravely.
"No retreating." Su Changhe tapped his foot and lunged forward, appearing right before Su Muyu. His dagger spun lightly, aiming straight for Su Muyu’s throat.
Su Muyu sidestepped, his Drizzle Sword weaving a floral arc as it thrust toward Su Changhe’s heart, only to be effortlessly deflected. Su Changhe sneered, "Back then, I suggested we both train in the Inch Finger Sword—then we could carry a dozen daggers without issue. But you insisted on mastering the Eighteen Sword Formation, prancing around with an umbrella for show. Yet that formation can only be used once before needing to be reset. You already used it once today against Mu Ci Ling. Now, with just a single Drizzle Sword, do you really think you can defeat me?"
Su Muyu remained silent, retreating three steps before pressing his left hand lightly against the ground. Eight strands of Puppet Silk unfurled from his fingers, wrapping around the weapons at the waists of the Spider Shadow members. With a flick of his wrist, the blades tore free from their sheaths and shot toward Su Changhe in unison.
Su Changhe flipped backward repeatedly, his dagger flashing as metallic clangs rang out in rapid succession. Blocking furiously, he cursed, "Why is everyone in Dark River some kind of circus performer?"
Though only eight swords remained of the Eighteen Sword Formation, their power was undiminished. Su Muyu’s fingers danced lightly, the Puppet Silk swiftly manipulating the eight blades with precision.
"Controlling swords like this is akin to playing the zither," Bai Hehuai murmured thoughtfully.
The Head took a slow drag from his pipe and nodded. "The creator of the Eighteen Sword Formation was named Su Shiba. In his youth, he fell in love with a woman—a master of the zither, unparalleled in skill. But she was his assassination target. In the end, Su Shiba killed her, yet in her memory, he mimicked her zither techniques to create this sword formation."
"He killed the woman he loved, then invented a lethal sword style to commemorate her?" Bai Hehuai curled her lip. "What a twisted story."
The Head exhaled a smoke ring. "Madness breeds survival. Only the most deranged could devise such an extraordinary sword technique."
Bai Hehuai shook her head. "Not necessarily. I heard this martial art was lost after Su Shiba and only resurfaced with Su Muyu. But Su Muyu doesn’t seem like the deranged type."
The Head smiled meaningfully. "Oh? Then what kind of person do you think he is?"
After a moment of contemplation, Bai Hehuai replied, "An honest man?"
Even in such tense circumstances, the surrounding Spider Shadow members couldn’t help but burst into laughter. Even The Head struggled to suppress his amusement. "Miracle Healer Bai, you truly are a remarkable one."Su Changhe also laughed and teased, "Miracle Healer Bai, have you taken a liking to my good brother here?"
"Pah." Bai Hehuai's face flushed slightly. "How can you eavesdrop on others while fighting?"
"Chang He." Su Muyu flicked his fingertips, and a long sword grazed Su Changhe's left arm.
"Hah." Su Changhe leaned forward slightly. "Are you going to lecture me again? Do you really think I can't defeat you?" Su Changhe swung both hands, sending over a dozen daggers flying toward Su Muyu. Su Muyu first blocked with his left hand using the sword array, then suddenly shifted from defense to offense, raising his hand as eight long swords rained down like a storm, shattering the daggers into pieces. Yet one dagger still pierced through the Sword Net, aiming straight for his forehead.
"This Eighteen Sword Formation was perfected with me as your sparring partner." Su Changhe's figure flickered as he too passed through the Sword Net, catching the last dagger in his grip. "I know your weaknesses better than anyone!"
"The long swords pour down like evening rain. The moment of twilight rain is your vulnerability."
After catching the dagger, Su Changhe swung it fiercely but abruptly stopped at Su Changhe's throat—because Su Muyu's sword was already resting against his neck.
"Another draw?" Su Changhe curled his lips and sheathed his sword.
Su Muyu also withdrew his sword and took a step back.
"This is just like you. You know you're stuck between retreat and advance, yet you do nothing, say nothing. Right now, are you thinking, 'The Head must not die, Su Changhe must not die—unless I die first'?" Su Changhe sneered coldly.
Bai Hehuai, listening nearby, almost clapped in admiration. Su Changhe had hit the nail on the head—Su Muyu must indeed be thinking exactly that!
Su Muyu simply shook his head silently.
"Everyone has their own bottom line, but yours is higher than my upper limit. How infuriating! I've been infuriated for years!" With a furious roar, Su Changhe hurled the dagger in his hand straight at Su Muyu.
Su Muyu deflected the dagger with his sword, sending it clattering to the ground, while Su Changhe suddenly drew an extremely thin, soft golden sword from his sleeve.
Calling it a sword was a stretch—it was as slender as a needle.
"Golden Silk Sword," The Head murmured under his breath.
Su Changhe's golden thread clashed with Su Muyu's Drizzle Sword, the Golden Silk Sword coiling around it like a ribbon. Su Muyu lifted his sword, sending Su Changhe spinning into the air. Then, releasing his grip, Su Changhe freed the Golden Silk Sword from the Drizzle Sword, caught the hilt again, and descended from above.
A flash of gold followed—Su Changhe's Golden Silk Sword pierced Su Muyu's shoulder, while Su Muyu's Drizzle Sword slipped from his grasp, leaving a gash on Su Changhe's left cheek. Suddenly, Su Changhe abandoned his sword and struck out with his palm, aiming straight for Su Muyu's face.
The Head immediately stood up and shouted, "Yama Palm!"
Su Muyu closed his eyes, as if surrendering to fate."You, an assassin, wish to be a good man—how laughable! But it doesn’t matter. The people you refuse to kill, I’ll kill for you. The sins you won’t bear, I’ll shoulder for you. Even if you wish to leave, I can pave the way for you. But the one thing I cannot do for you is bury you when you die. Even if they call me—the Undertaker." Su Changhe withdrew his hand and took three steps back before turning sharply to The Head, his voice cutting like steel. "The Head!"
The Head’s reply was equally sharp. "Good!"
OpenNovel