Song Qianji released his divine sense to carefully probe the surroundings.
Tonight’s spectators had varied intentions, and countless hushed whispers drifted to his ears with the wind. Onlookers marveled and praised, fellow formation masters focused on learning, while more cultivators instinctively speculated, complicating matters unnecessarily:
“Wei Zhenyu is still young after all. If it were me, I’d feign breaking the formation to confuse Ji Chen while secretly sending a squad in silver armor to advance by a detour.”
“Do you think the other side hasn’t considered that? Neither side is willing to back down—there must be some rare treasure hidden nearby that they both must have.”
“What treasure could be worth this? It’s probably not just a treasure but a heaven-sent opportunity. It’d be best if they fight to a stalemate, giving us a chance to reap the spoils!”
“For the Thousand Canals team to dare set up a formation here and intercept Wei Zhenyu, it’s likely on Song Qianji’s orders. Though Song Wang hides in Thousand Canals, his disciples are loyal enough to spearhead the fight for him.”
Song Qianji found it strange.
Why would I come out? Am I the kind of person who bullies the young or flaunts seniority?
Even if they weren’t in Blood River Valley, back in Song Courtyard, they’d still be squabbling over who gets to eat the strange-flavored noodles tonight or who gets to feed the iron beast.
The spirit beads flickered with increasing frequency. Song Qianji’s heart lifted with joy, and he quickened his pace, drifting through the dense forest like a wisp of blue smoke.
The crimson river surged with furious waves, resembling a vast sea of blood.
Waves crashed against the rocks at the cliff’s edge, splashing mist that stung the faces of the onlookers.
Silvery array lines, fine as spider silk, flickered faintly as watery tornadoes and whirlpools alternated.
The roar of the river was deafening; those with weaker cultivation who stood too close felt sharp pain in their eardrums and persistent ringing.
In the river, Li Ciquan’s face was pale, while on the cliff, Ji Chen’s lips were bloodless.
As time passed and the moon’s shadow shifted westward, the outcome remained uncertain.
The portly formation master murmured, “With all their divine abilities unleashed, it’s a matter of who falters first.”
Wei Zhenyu suddenly turned, scanning the crowd before asking quietly, “Where’s Song Xun?”
Captain Lu Zhou was taken aback.
He hadn’t expected Wei Zhenyu to spare a thought for their team’s junior talismaster amid such tension, and he felt a surge of gratitude. “Young Song said the formation’s variations are too intense. His cultivation is insufficient, and watching for long makes him dizzy, so he retreated to rest.”
The sword cultivator cut in, “Does Wei Wang need him? I’ll fetch him at once.”
Wei Zhenyu frowned. “No need. Let him stay hidden.”
He turned back to the crimson river, took a light breath, and commanded, “Zhu Sheng, enter the fray.”
“As you order!” Zhu Sheng, who had been watching eagerly, could no longer contain his battle fervor. He cupped his hands toward Wei Zhenyu, then charged off the cliff, landing atop the waves and shouting boldly:
“Zhu Sheng of the Northern Desert seeks to learn from the esteemed masters of Thousand Canals!”
Li Ciquan’s array disk shifted, releasing ten silvery array lines that lifted him like a weightless cloud from the raging torrent.
Ji Chen, far from panicking, sighed in relief. “Brother Meng, lend a hand.”
Meng Heze, hugging his sword, grumbled, “Couldn’t you have said so earlier? I’ve been standing here so long I’m gathering moss.”
“My thanks!” Ji Chen’s fingers guided a massive water column that swiftly coalesced, rising like a mountain from the ground.
Meng Heze leaped gracefully, landing firmly atop the peak.
Though Song Qianji was searching for someone, he still split his attention to observe the battle, faintly hearing the cultivators remark:
“At such a critical moment, why did Wei Wang send help openly instead of transmitting a message secretly to catch Thousand Canals off guard? Why announce it loudly?”"Of course it was a deliberate reminder to the other side, letting Thousand Canals prepare."
"If it were only between the two of them, they could fight however they wanted since no one would know. But this battle will inevitably spread far and wide, and neither side wants to use underhanded tactics that could be criticized. Just watch—Thousand Canals will also make their declaration."
Sure enough, Song Qianji heard Meng Heze's voice resounding through the mountain ridges—
"Meng Heze of Song Courtyard."
"Wei Zhenyu, why don't you come down together? I'll take on both of you alone."
Cheers erupted from the southern bank as the morale of Thousand Canals' disciples soared.
Song Qianji felt complicated emotions.
I'm just a rogue cultivator from the mud, yet you all display more righteous demeanor than the last. Can rotten bamboo produce fine shoots?
Wei Zhenyu remained expressionless despite the cheers and taunts from the opposite shore.
It wasn't until Meng Heze said, "This sword of mine was personally forged by Senior Brother Song. I haven't even named it yet. Fellow cultivator across the way, may I ask what magical artifact you use?"
"Don't waste words with him." Wei Zhenyu transmitted his voice to Zhu Sheng, "End this quickly. Cut him down."
The blade flashed with crimson light, burning like fierce flames, instantly cleaving through the waves to clash with the long sword.
"Boom!"
A violent roar drowned out the thundering water sounds.
Countless people felt dizzy and disoriented, their blood and energy churning.
Formation masters on the shore hurriedly set up simple protective arrays—none wanted to become collateral damage.
Meng Heze's sword techniques were upright and balanced, his movements as light and graceful as a gentle breeze under the bright moon. With Ji Chen manipulating the water currents to assist him, he became even more formidable.
Zhu Sheng's spirit qi was violent and aggressive, his blade techniques relying on heavy slashes and cuts. With Li Ciquan's array lines providing support, his weaknesses were promptly covered.
Li Ciquan felt shocked inwardly. The two of them had gained Wei Zhenyu's trust, having experienced countless battles together and honed their mutual understanding through tacit understanding.
They had thought the one-on-one stalemate would quickly break with two against two.
Who would have expected Ji Chen and Meng Heze, one attacking and one defending, would prove even more superior?
Wei Zhenyu's expression became unreadable.
Ji Chen and Meng Heze weren't just in sync in combat—their years of deep friendship meant they could even perform a Thousand Canals duet act together.
Song Qianji caught glimpses of sword light and golden array lines cutting through the night sky.
After this battle, Meng Heze and Ji Chen would surely each gain valuable insights.
Almost simultaneously, a familiar aura revealed its traces.
Song Qianji tightened his grip on the spirit pearl. The other party suddenly turned back amid the crowd, their eyes meeting for just a moment before the figure immediately transformed into a black shadow and dashed out from the spectating crowd.
So alert.
Song Qianji laughed, "Running?"
The night wind grew colder, the sound of water fading into the distance.
Song Qianji didn't know how far he had run—the roaring river sounds and the exclamations from both banks had become indistinct.
"You can't outrun me, save your energy." When Song Qianji spoke the first word, the other was still leaping through the dense mountain forest. Before he finished speaking, they had already reached the wilderness at the mountain's foot.
Yet Song Qianji followed steadily behind like a shadow.
Song Qianji was an expert at escaping, having created his own Five Elements Escape Technique. It was more concealed than Sword Kinesis Flight and flying magical artifacts, faster than Ground Shrinking to an Inch—this was how he had repeatedly escaped certain death.
The other seemed to realize escape was impossible. Standing still under the moonlight, he lifted his hood to reveal a kindly, benevolent face and slowly said:
"So Xian Jianchen did send you after all."
Song Qianji thought to himself, if he had any other choice, he wouldn't have resorted to finding this cheap disciple of his.
The old monk smiled kindly: "A single glance at you, benefactor, has blinded one of this poor monk's eyes. Why must you still pursue so relentlessly?"Song Qianji gently touched the faint red mark between his brows, showing no trace of killing intent. "Indeed, why must you push so relentlessly? To be honest, I bear no deep grudge against you—I don’t hate you, but you annoy me. Whatever you intend to do, you shouldn’t have crossed my path again and again…"
The surroundings were vast and overgrown with wild grass.
On this moonlit night with spring breezes brushing the railings, he should have been in Song Courtyard, turning soil and watering plants, scattering new flower seeds, and waiting for the spring rain while hugging a cushion.
If not for the need to break Xian Jianchen’s contract and resolve future troubles, who would willingly plunge back into the muddy, chaotic world of swords and shadows?
"Does the benefactor harbor no doubts in his heart?" the old monk laughed.
"Of course I do. Countless doubts. But I won’t ask what you intend, and you need not explain to me." As soon as Song Qianji finished speaking, he abruptly drew his sword.
The old monk tapped his toes and swiftly retreated!
Song Qianji was quite satisfied with the sword Xian Jianchen had gifted him—it emitted no light or sound when drawn, like a shadow, making it the perfect weapon for killing.
One moment he had been chatting calmly, the next he thrust out the deadliest strike.
When he drew his sword, its trajectory had been rehearsed countless times in his mind. He knew this strike would not miss.
Anyone capable of wounding Xian Jianchen, even if severely injured, was not to be underestimated.
But as he met the old monk’s eyes under the moonlight, Song Qianji’s mind suddenly jolted.
Something was wrong. Something was off.
It was all too smooth.
A fierce wind howled, and the bright moon was gradually shrouded by thick clouds.
The old monk suddenly looked up: "It’s time."
Song Qianji’s sword tip trembled slightly.
It wasn’t his hand shaking—it was the earth itself quaking.
Tremors came wave after wave, like a giant serpent turning underground or ten thousand horses galloping.
Amid the vibrations, distant wails of agony could be faintly discerned.
Song Qianji abruptly turned his gaze toward the riverbank.
Seeing the shock in his eyes, Wuxiang’s smile deepened:
"This humble monk arranged for them to gather at Red River but forgot to inform them that a two-thousand-year-old serpent slumbers at the riverbed. Once disturbed, it will awaken."
"Stay here, and you may kill me. But the lives of ten thousand people along Red River’s banks will also be lost because of you."
"Now Red River is about to become a sea of suffering and hell. Kill one person, or save ten thousand? Benefactor Song, you who gather the world’s luck upon yourself—how will you choose?"
Song Qianji turned back, no longer looking toward the riverbank, as if he hadn’t heard at all.
His sword remained swift—even faster than before.
Wuxiang’s sleeves billowed as he shifted stances to defend, his expression gradually shifting from shock to bewilderment.
"Only fools make choices." He suddenly heard Song Qianji murmur softly.
With one hand gripping his sword, Song Qianji used the other to slap ten Sound Amplification Talismans onto himself. He smirked coldly, cleared his throat, and prepared to speak.
OpenNovel