"Palace Master..." Bi Lianyi had just blocked Zhu Yan's halberd strike, his inner energy in turmoil from the internal injuries sustained. Seeing Zhu Yan raise the halberd again to throw it, he softly called out to Wan Yu Yuedan, mustering all his remaining inner energy to prepare to block this fatal blow at the cost of his life. This strike would be incomparable to the previous one. Why Raging Orchid No Trace had suddenly turned back to kill Wan Yu Yuedan was beyond his understanding, but he absolutely couldn't allow this person to act recklessly within Azure Fall Palace—let alone let him kill the Palace Master!
Even if it meant his death! He would never let Raging Orchid No Trace harm even a hair on Wan Yu Yuedan's head!
The halberd swung with a "whoosh," tracing a terrifying arc through the air. Zhu Yan gripped the weapon, the breeze ruffling his multicolored disheveled hair. The polished blade reflected his sinister face as, with another "whoosh," the halberd left his hand.
The wind it stirred wasn't as fierce as one might imagine in such a heart-stopping moment. Bi Lianyi swung his sword, sending out dozens of sword shadows to intercept the halberd. Zhu Yan flipped his wrist, the halberd sweeping horizontally—clang after clang, dozens of strikes in rapid succession. The halberd's circular motion sent a sword flying, its glint disappearing into the sunlight. Amidst the gasps of the onlookers, Bi Lianyi spat blood, staggering back three steps before colliding with Tie Jing's body and finally steadying himself. Tie Jing supported him, his knuckles cracking from the force of his grip, yet he remained silent, standing firmly by Wan Yu Yuedan's side.
If even Bi Lianyi was no match, he stood even less of a chance.
With another "whoosh," the halberd traced the same arc, its blade pointing directly at Wan Yu Yuedan. A cold sneer played on Zhu Yan's lips, as if mocking Azure Fall Palace's grand reputation for being so easily crushed. The disciples tightened their grips on their weapons, silently preparing how they might block this strike and shield Wan Yu Yuedan.
"Whirr—" The halberd moved again, the wind still eerily quiet. Swords and blades swung in unison, only to shatter like porcelain plates—snap, crack, snap! Weapons broke, people fell injured. The halberd tore through the barrage of blades as if unhindered, thrusting straight for Wan Yu Yuedan's chest!
The blade gleamed, the halberd like a dragon, chasing the wind, unrivaled under the heavens!
"Palace Master!" the crowd cried out in alarm. Tie Jing flicked his sleeve, a chain whipping out to coil around the halberd—clang! But the weapon's momentum was too fierce, snapping the slender steel chain instantly without slowing its advance.
In that lightning-fast moment, Wan Yu Yuedan didn't even have time to sidestep.
Then—clang! A crisp ring echoed.
The unstoppable halberd suddenly snapped in half, its tip veering slightly to graze past Wan Yu Yuedan's sleeve before embedding itself four feet deep into the brick wall behind him, enough to pierce clean through. The crowd looked up in shock to see an object spinning back into the hand of the one who had just intervened—saving Wan Yu Yuedan's life.
The newcomer wore white robes, his hair slightly disheveled. In his right hand was a blade, in his left, a cup of tea—it was Fu Zhumei.
Zhu Yan, seeing his halberd broken, showed no concern. He lifted his head, his arrogant gaze burning toward Fu Zhumei. "You." Fu Zhumei, still holding the tea in one hand and the blade in the other, seemed a bit puzzled. He handed the milk tea to Wan Yu Yuedan before gripping his weapon. "Me."Zhu Yan extended his right hand forward, fingers slightly curled, forming a peculiar stance. "Boy, if you can't defeat me, I'll slaughter everyone in the Azure Fall Palace—spare none, not even the chickens or dogs!"
Fu Zhumei's eyelids lowered slightly before slowly opening again. His gaze turned clear yet icy, and the air around him seemed to grow colder and sharper. Gradually, a faint white mist began to envelop his figure. "As long as I'm here, no one will harm even a single thing within the Azure Fall Palace."
A man staggered out from behind the courtyard, clutching a jug of wine. He took a swig and watched Zhu Yan and Fu Zhumei with drunken, bleary eyes. Zhu Yan's claw-like stance was an exceptionally rare technique known as "Mad Yan Lone Goose," rivaling the claw techniques of any renowned martial school. Though the fool's flying dagger skills were astonishing, he might not evade Zhu Yan's five claws. The drunken spectator was none other than Plum Blossom Numerology.
A gentle breeze stirred, carrying the frigid air around Fu Zhumei toward Zhu Yan. Zhu Yan stamped his right foot, and his purple robe suddenly trembled violently, its edges fluttering wildly. Moments later, even the sand and stones on the ground seemed to quiver along with the robe's tremors. Under the sunlight, the trembling shadows cast by the robe resembled formless black serpents, writhing and growing incessantly. Bi Lianyi adjusted his breath slightly, signaling Tie Jing and He Yan'er to escort Wan Yu Yuedan back step by step. More and more members of the Azure Fall Palace gathered, forming orderly ranks and an imposing formation. Several elders also stepped forward, encircling Zhu Yan and Fu Zhumei completely.
With a low hum, Zhu Yan exhaled a puff of white mist. In an instant, he appeared before Fu Zhumei, his fingernails suddenly turning black. A thick, foul stench assaulted the senses—not from poison on his fingers, but from his blood and qi surging so violently that even his nails couldn't withstand the intensity, instantly charring to cinders. Fu Zhumei saw it clearly. The Imperial Plum Blossom Saber spun in defense, its chilling aura dispersing like a heavy snowfall between his fingers.
The sharp clashing sounds echoed as the two exchanged over fifty moves in mere moments, leaving the onlookers aghast. The terrifying heat from Zhu Yan's True Power was horrifying—wherever his fingers grazed Fu Zhumei's clothes, the fabric immediately caught fire. Fu Zhumei's saber intent was as cold as ice; wherever the blade passed, the flames were instantly extinguished. The chill carried by the saber turned the winter moisture into frost, which, under the scorching wind of Zhu Yan's fingers, melted into a misty drizzle. The two—one in white, the other in purple—fought within the circle formed by the crowd. Between fingers and saber, the scene shifted from rain to snow, swirling and cascading in a breathtaking spectacle.
"A rare sight indeed..." Wenren He murmured. "These two are prodigies unseen in a century." Though Wan Yu Yuedan couldn't see, he could well imagine the astonishing scene before everyone and smiled faintly. Bi Lianyi watched the extraordinary duel unfold. Their movements were lightning-fast, with blades and fingers exchanging techniques within a space of less than five inches before their throats. Many thrusts and strikes repeated, yet both countered with identical precision in force and angle.
An extraordinary level of concentration... Without their exceptional control and stability, without encountering an opponent of equally astonishing willpower, such a marvel could never have been unleashed. It was like the most exquisite and moving pipa melody reaching its fastest, most intricate crescendo.The strumming grew increasingly frantic, the melody more intense, as the sounds of battle erupted—like arrows piercing the sky and ten thousand horses galloping, golden spears dancing amidst blood-stained skies and mournful songs. In an instant, everyone knew the moment of the string's snap had arrived!
With a deafening hum , Fu Zhumei's saber finally found an opening, slashing straight toward Zhu Yan's right shoulder! The strike was precise and restrained—wasn't the most formidable aspect of a saber its ability to cleave and hack? As the blade descended, its wind pierced through the gusts from Zhu Yan's five fingers. The air trembled with an unending hum , forcing everyone to cover their ears as if Fu Zhumei hadn’t merely swung a blade but struck a colossal bronze bell. The window lattices of the nearby house rattled violently, several cracking apart. Zhu Yan twisted aside to evade, but the saber's intent outpaced its physical form—before the blade even arrived, a splash sounded as a gash split open on his shoulder, blood gushing forth like a spring!
Zhu Yan's eyes abruptly reddened, the greenish-red flush on his cheeks instantly darkening to a blackish-purple. With a sharp ha— , he exhaled, condensing his breath. Wenren He blurted out, "Essence of Demon's Pearl Spit!" Bi Lianyi snatched a longsword from a nearby disciple, channeling it into a radiant arc, and without hesitation slashed toward Zhu Yan's back.
The Essence of Demon's Pearl Spit was a demonic art that consumed human flesh. Without exception, all who practiced this internal technique would suddenly perish, their bodies blackened, flesh and blood withered away, leaving behind only a desiccated corpse resembling a skeleton. The Martial Arts World trembled at the mere mention of this technique, its infamy rivaling even the Rebirth Scroll. Seventy years prior, one man had mastered this art, only to slaughter indiscriminately before descending into madness and taking his own life. It was said he succeeded in cultivating the Essence of Demon's Pearl Spit because his internal organs were abnormal—possessing two hearts, two stomachs, and two livers. Now, Zhu Yan was unleashing this very technique—did that mean he, too, possessed such a freakish constitution? The Essence of Demon's Pearl Spit was terrifyingly potent, rumored to be capable of shattering mountains and splitting the earth, crushing skulls like rotten persimmons. Those struck by it would also blacken and wither away into desiccated husks...
"Lianyi!" Wenren He cried out in alarm. Zhu Yan's blackened fingers were already plunging toward Fu Zhumei's chest, five tendrils of black mist spraying from them. Fu Zhumei countered with his saber, its light flashing brilliantly as Zhu Yan's right shoulder wound tore open again—a crack suggesting a broken bone—yet those fingers still grazed Fu Zhumei's chest. Bi Lianyi's timely slash landed, forcing Zhu Yan to retract his right hand and snatch backward. The sword's edge carved a wound across Zhu Yan's back, but his fingers had already sunk half an inch into Bi Lianyi's chest! With a furious roar, Fu Zhumei sent blood flying as his Imperial Plum Blossom Saber whirled back like icy moonlight—cleaving off Zhu Yan's entire right arm in one stroke!
"Xiao Bi!" Fu Zhumei, having severed Zhu Yan's arm, watched as it fell from Bi Lianyi's chest. He immediately pulled Bi Lianyi into his embrace, his earlier composure utterly shattered. "Xiao Bi! Xiao Bi, Xiao Bi, Xiao Bi!" Bi Lianyi still clutched his sword tightly, suppressing the surge of hot blood in his throat as he muttered hoarsely, "I'm fine! Protect the palace master!" Fu Zhumei nodded frantically, rushing to shield Wan Yu Yuedan before realizing his mistake and carrying Bi Lianyi over to Tie Jing instead, his face a mask of panic. Bi Lianyi watched him, coughing weakly. This man, who remained indifferent even when poisoned himself, now wore a face on the verge of tears at the sight of another's injury... Cough, cough... "What to do? What to do?" Fu Zhumei's eyes were fixed on Zhu Yan's severed arm, yet his gaze seemed to look right through him. "Xiao Bi, does it hurt? Does it hurt?" Wan Yu Yuedan's voice was gentle, calm enough to soothe all pain. "He's fine." Tie Jing clenched his teeth, struggling to maintain a cold expression. His sword was in Bi Lianyi's hand, but Bi Lianyi didn't let go—it felt as though the sword was still firmly gripped in his own grasp.
The disciples of Azure Fall Palace drew their blades, striking them together in unison, their faces filled with fury. Zhu Yan, missing an arm, slowly rose to his feet. He didn't even glance at his severed limb, his gaze fixed solely on Fu Zhumei. Suddenly, he turned away, his heavy violet robe billowing with a sharp snap as he strode off. Blood gushed from the wound on his right shoulder, yet he lowered his lashes and walked away with long, determined steps.
Even as the one-armed Raging Orchid No Trace, no one dared to stand in his way.
The Azure Fall Palace disciples parted to clear a path. Where Zhu Yan stepped, the ground was stained crimson—pools of blood, bloody footprints, the abandoned severed arm left behind, and the broken halberd lodged in the corner. The winter wind swept through, and for some reason, it carried an indescribable sense of desolation.
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