Gui Mudan let out a sharp cry as a mouthful of blood sprayed onto Mo Ziru, his face twisting in disbelief. He had been lying in ambush for a long time, only emerging to play the role of the oriole when Shui Duopo truly intended to kill Mo Ziru. Never had he imagined Shui Duopo would turn on him! After all, the "Queen Bee Congealed Frost" was a peerless and deadly poison, and Shui Duopo had been afflicted by it for over twenty years—its venom had long seeped into his marrow.
But the Sword Emperor was no ordinary man. Whether lucid or not, with a sword in hand, he struck—if he wished to pierce a hole through Gui Mudan, he would pierce a hole through Gui Mudan!
Shui Duopo’s sword carried no trace of intent, cold as the bright moon, heartless and traceless.
Mo Ziru was an unquenchable sword.
Shui Duopo was a frigid blade.
At the same moment Gui Mudan was impaled through the chest, Mo Ziru pushed himself up and retaliated with his broken bow, its poisoned remnants wrapping around Gui Mudan’s neck like a ghostly noose. Stabbed in the chest and strangled by the bowstring, Gui Mudan was no Tang Wujun—as the half-severed bowstring coiled around his throat, he flicked it with his fingernail, snapping it instantly. Mo Ziru lunged forward, using his falling momentum—with a sharp crack, he shattered the broken bow in his palm, seized the thinnest and sharpest fragment of wood, and drove it straight into Gui Mudan’s dantian!
The shard was barely three inches long, and Mo Ziru was already a blood-soaked man on the verge of death.
Yet he threw himself forward without hesitation, as if he were not a man drenched in blood at all.
A dull thud—the sharp wooden shard plunged two inches into Gui Mudan’s dantian! In that instant, Gui Mudan was stabbed from behind and impaled through the abdomen. With a furious roar, he mustered all his remaining strength and slammed his palm down onto Mo Ziru’s back as the man collapsed into his arms.
A muffled crack—both Gui Mudan and Mo Ziru vomited blood. Mo Ziru lifted his head, while Gui Mudan crumpled to his knees, fine droplets of blood splattering onto each other’s robes. Shui Duopo remained standing behind Gui Mudan, his sword twisting, grinding the dying man’s heart and lungs into pulp!
Mo Ziru, struck by Gui Mudan’s full-force palm strike, tilted his head back, swayed slightly, and fell backward.
His vision was still a haze of red, barely making out that the sky had not yet fully darkened.
Beside him, Shui Duopo flicked his wrist, flinging the dying Gui Mudan aside with a single sweep of his sword. Mo Ziru could not tell whether he was mad or deranged… he was going to die.
Before death… he had held off so many. Liu Yan… should… be able to… as well…
A resounding clang—he heard the fierce wind above him, the ringing clash of two swords.
Shui Duopo raised his blade to strike him again—but from the burning ruins, a figure suddenly burst forth, sword in hand, blocking Shui Duopo’s strike.
Mo Ziru stared blankly.
His tears of blood had long dried, his once clear black-and-white eyes now nothing but two pools of murky red.
But from the sound of clashing steel… was that… Pu Zhu?
Pu Zhu had also emerged from the underground passage, his appearance equally wretched. His black hair was disheveled, his robes tattered as if scorched by fire and drenched in water, making his emaciated frame resemble a skeleton. As his sword intercepted Shui Duopo’s strike, Pu Zhu spoke in a deep voice, “The benefactor has sacrificed himself to save others, a noble and righteous act… Please steady your mind. The poison of ‘Queen Bee Congealed Frost’ is not without a cure.”Shui Duopo ignored him completely. Having failed to kill Mo Ziru with one strike, he flicked his wrist and suddenly executed the move "Wings of the Soaring Luan," slashing left and right with his sword, targeting both Pu Zhu and Mo Ziru. His swordplay was incredibly refined, the blade passing through the air like moonlight over still water—utterly without a ripple. Were this not a life-and-death struggle, Pu Zhu would have marveled at it. But as the two raised their swords to parry, Shui Duopo's skill proved slightly superior. With a swift motion, he pierced Pu Zhu's left arm.
"Amitabha..." Pu Zhu, his voice hoarse—clearly exhausted from whatever ordeal he had endured underground—said, "Liu Yan has already led the disciples to safety. There's no need to fight anymore, Benefactor. We've won!"
Shui Duopo acted as though he hadn't heard. The scent of blood on Pu Zhu seemed to disgust him—likely because it carried the taint of Queen Bee Congealed Frost, which repelled him deeply. After sniffing a few times, Shui Duopo turned back to Mo Ziru, suddenly vanishing before reappearing right beside him—using none other than Xue Xianzi's "Thousand Traces Arc Shift."
Pu Zhu couldn't catch up in time. Leaning on his sword for support, he could only muster a feeble palm strike aimed at Shui Duopo's retreating back.
Shui Duopo grabbed the near-dead Mo Ziru, bit into his neck, and drank deeply of his blood.
Pu Zhu summoned the Buddhist Lion's Roar, channeling every last ounce of his strength. "No more fighting! We've won!"
The roar shook the heavens, resonating like the tolling of temple bells at dawn and dusk. Its echoes reverberated through mountains, forests, and seas, repeating the furious cry: "No more fighting! We've won!"
"No more fighting!"
"No more fighting..."
Shui Duopo lifted his head, his sword flickering as he struck without even turning—aiming straight for Pu Zhu's heart.
Pu Zhu raised his sword to block, but with a loud clang, the weapon was knocked from his grasp. Shui Duopo grinned savagely, dropping Mo Ziru as he closed the distance with another Thousand Traces Arc Shift. In an instant, he was before Pu Zhu, his fingers hooking like talons into Pu Zhu's shoulder. With a casual twist, he prepared to snap Pu Zhu's arm.
Pu Zhu had witnessed Shui Duopo's desperate sword strike earlier—the one that had saved over three hundred lives. Even if he had the strength to retaliate, he couldn't bring himself to strike back. And now, drained of energy and blood, he had no means to resist. He could only watch helplessly as Shui Duopo gave a sharp twist—snapping his arm with a sickening crack—before raising a palm to crush his skull.
A direct hit would shatter Pu Zhu's skull, leaving his corpse unrecognizable. Closing his eyes to await death, his mind was eerily calm. His sins were countless; death was no loss. His only regret was failing to fulfill his duty to the martial world and disappointing Tang Lichen's trust.
A soft "shick" sounded, followed by searing pain in his shoulder and a warm spray of blood across his face. Pu Zhu's eyes snapped open—only to see the blade embedded in Shui Duopo's chest retract, sending blood flying.
Behind Shui Duopo, the sword's gleam lingered, swirling like the promise of spring.
Blossoms ready to bloom, rain about to fall—green robes amid spring grass, do not waste the spring breeze.
Remembering youth, as in youth—never aged, never yielding, never retreating.
Mo Ziru, in his dying moments, had surged up. Groping blindly for a sword on the ground, he had driven it through Shui Duopo's heart—a strike as precise as the one Shui Duopo had dealt him earlier.
Shui Duopo whirled around, his sword flashing like a streak of light, piercing Mo Ziru beneath the ribs.
Now, each impaled by the other's blade, they stood locked in place.
Mo Ziru coughed, spitting out a froth of blood—his lifeblood nearly spent, the color faded. "...Pu Zhu... May you... fare better... than him..."Pu Zhu witnessed the human tragedy before him, his mind shaken to the core. For a moment, he was speechless. Suddenly, his vital energy reversed course, his bones creaking throughout his body. The Queen Bee Congealed Frost poison, previously suppressed by Buddhist meditation techniques, began to stir restlessly once more.
Mo Ziru let out a low chuckle. "Ha..."
He toppled forward, closing his eyes as he passed away.
Shui Duopo, struck by his falling body, was knocked backward onto the ground. Perhaps it was the agony of the sword piercing his heart—his eyes suddenly flew wide open.
He could no longer remember the reason why, twenty-eight years ago, Mo Ziru and Shui Duopo had lived as neighbors. It was so that if the day ever came when the poison in his brow erupted uncontrollably, driving him to indiscriminate slaughter, Mo Ziru would honor their pact… and kill him with a single sword stroke.
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