Tian Boguang had seen the Hengshan Sect’s swordsmanship before, but this was the first time he truly grasped how insidious this sword style could be.
The young girl before him was inferior to him in martial skill, inner strength, and experience, yet she managed to rely on the dense defenses of the Hengshan Sword Technique to block his attacks.
He was known for his swift blade—not a mere empty reputation—and disciples from other reputable sects couldn’t withstand him, like that foolish brat hiding behind the wall.
The more he fought, the more frustrated he became, and his strikes grew even more ruthless.
Linghu Chong noticed this and bent down to pick up a farmer’s sickle, leaping into the fray.
A sickle was far less handy than a sword, and his awkward use of Huashan Sword Technique made him look even stranger, but fortunately, his goal was not to kill but to disrupt.
Tian Boguang irritably turned his gaze. The moonlight was bright and illuminated Linghu Chong’s face.
Suddenly, he raised an eyebrow.
A Huashan disciple and a Hengshan nun—both young judging by their builds.
“So that’s it.” Tian Boguang laughed heartily. “The little nun is indeed troublesome, but unfortunately, your little lover is still no match.”
With a slash of his blade, he cut down half the tree canopy, the falling leaves and broken branches crashing down. Zhong Lingshou had no choice but to leap back two steps to dodge.
At the same time, Tian Boguang spun and leapt out, the tip of his blade flicking with a rebound, swiftly disarming the sickle’s inner force in three to five moves.
The somewhat rusty sickle flew up into the air, forming an arc that pierced the wall, landing far, far away from Linghu Chong.
How could bare hands withstand the ever-changing swift blade? Linghu Chong was naturally driven back step by step, soon cornered.
Zhong Lingshou could never sit idly by. She advanced with long strides, her movements naturally shifting into the myriad flowers sword technique, swiftly stabbing toward Tian Boguang’s back.
Tian Boguang blocked with a reverse hand, without showing the slightest flaw, sneering, “Little nun, your Hengshan sword style is just annoying, but your other skills are nothing but third-rate.” A ruthless gleam flashed between his brows. “This ends now!”
The blade light suddenly intensified, like a tsunami swinging a wave several meters high. Each strike was met with splashes of blood.
Linghu Chong clutched his chest, sticky blood seeping through his fingers before he realized the severity of his injury. Anxious, he shouted loudly, “Don’t worry about me, you should run!” Just those few words caused his wound to sting sharply, cold sweat dripping down.
“You’re really sentimental.” Tian Boguang laughed loudly. “Little nun, if you’re willing to keep me company for one night, I’ll let your little lover go. Otherwise, the next cut I make won’t be on his shoulder—it’ll be his neck.”
Zhong Lingshou thrust her long sword ten times in a row, all missing. She had to pause to catch her breath.
This time, she couldn’t hold back her complaint: “If you admire him so much, why not just be with him properly?”
Linghu Chong spat out a mouthful of blood, instinctively patting his ear, doubting his own hearing.
Looking again at Tian Boguang, his complexion flickered between pale and flushed.
“What are you expecting when you say things like that?” Zhong Lingshou had never understood why people chatted during fights, but now she did. There was no other reason—she simply couldn’t hold it in any longer, or she’d suffocate, have a heart attack, or break down psychologically.
Instead of hurting herself, it was better to provoke others.
“Do you want me to wholeheartedly sacrifice everything for him so you can envy that he has a loyal girl who never leaves his side? Or are you hoping I’ll betray him and feign injury so you can hypocritically sympathize and mock me? What a vulgar fantasy,” she said, looking at the finely dressed man before her.
Tian Boguang knew she meant to provoke him and coldly said, “Aren’t you afraid I’ll kill him right now?”
“Though it’d be a pity, today’s fight ends here.” Zhong Lingshou glanced at Linghu Chong. “I’ll leave first. You figure out how to escape. He won’t kill you.”
With that, she leapt to the roof eaves, evading Tian Boguang’s blade and disappearing into a blind spot, her words drifting to their ears on the wind: “Tian Boguang preying on weak women is no true hero, yet he thinks he still has some heroic spirit. If he truly killed you, wouldn’t that betray his so-called loyalty?”
With the faintest final note, she completely vanished into the thick night, truly abandoning her companion and running away.
Tian Boguang’s expression was inscrutable, like someone desperate for a bathroom but without any paper, gritting his teeth and holding back.
After a moment, he sneered, “What so-called righteous sect? They’re all cowards afraid to die.”
“That’s not true, sir.” Linghu Chong smiled. “I’m not afraid to die. Kill me if you wish.”
“You can still smile?” Tian Boguang was furious and unwilling to let him off. “The little nun abandoned you and ran off. Aren’t you sad? Aren’t you upset?”
Linghu Chong’s heart stirred. If Tian Boguang wanted to kill him, he could have done so already. This behavior—was it because Miss Yixiu’s words hit home? If so, that was hard to explain, so he laughed, “I’m glad she survived. Why would I be sad?”
Tian Boguang wasn’t convinced, sneering, “Don’t think just because you say that, I won’t kill you.”
He sized Linghu Chong up and down. “The little nun talks nonsense. If I don’t kill you, she’ll think she was right. Isn’t that laughable? I’ll tear your limbs apart and chop you into mince right before her eyes. Let’s see if she still talks back.”
“Brother Tian, that’s no fun.” Linghu Chong feigned calm. “A real man takes his death with honor if outmatched. You picking on a little girl—if that gets out, won’t everyone laugh their teeth out?”
He leaned against the wall, struggling to stand. “If you want to fight, then start.”
Whoosh!
Tian Boguang suddenly raised his blade; the sharp edge cut through the air with a sharp sound, sweeping toward Linghu Chong’s neck.
A fine pain surged from the torn skin, hot blood overflowing. Linghu Chong instinctively shut his eyes but felt the loss of his sect’s dignity, forcing himself to open them again and fixedly stared at his opponent.
Hair fluttered in the breeze.
Blood dripped along the blade—drip, drip.
The air stilled for a long moment.
Tian Boguang withdrew his blade and said lightly, “Killing you now would be too cheap for you.” He quickly struck at Linghu Chong’s acupuncture points, smiling, “I still don’t believe the little nun would really abandon you. She’ll come to save you. When she does…”
He grabbed Linghu Chong’s collar, dragging him through the back door of the brothel, laughing loudly, “I’ll make her suffer—neither able to live nor die!”
The morning light was faint. The brothel had returned to silence.
Zhong Lingshou crouched on the eaves, lifting a tile to observe inside: red curtains hung low; Tian Boguang was asleep, holding a courtesan. Linghu Chong was tied up and stuffed under the bed, his fate unknown.
But it shouldn’t be a big problem.
She had given him Tiangxiang Duanxujiao (a topical herbal glue) and Baiyun Xiongdang Wan (Bear Gallbladder Pills) in advance—one for external use, one internal. Unless the injury was extremely severe, he could be saved.
Calculating time, it had been more than an hour since his acupuncture points were sealed. It was time to free him. But how? Or maybe she should leave them alone to cultivate their feelings? In the original story, those two appreciated each other. Then she could strike unexpectedly and finish things.
Several plans flashed through Zhong Lingshou’s mind, only to be rejected one by one.
She couldn’t entrust her companion’s life to the enemy; better to rescue him early.
Rumble.
Her stomach growled, reminding her she was hungry.
First, eat.
Zhong Lingshou silently slid down the roof and found the brothel’s kitchen. Guests sang and drank every night, but now the stove only had hot water and a helper’s breakfast: noodles, steamed buns, meat-filled buns.
She slipped behind the cook unnoticed, snatching two meat buns and stuffing them into her cloak, then took a bowl of prepared noodle soup.
Not bad—after only a few months wandering the jianghu, she had already mastered the art of stealing food.
She squatted by the wall, quickly filling her stomach.
A faint noise came from behind the wall.
Zhong Lingshou pressed close, circulating her inner energy to sharpen her hearing, picking up fragments of conversation.
“… preparing breakfast, horses…”
“Kid, did you sleep well last night…”
“… cunning, can’t… leave…”
They were leaving.
Tian Boguang was experienced; in less than fifteen minutes, he tidied up, prepared two fine horses for the brothel, and threw the tightly bound Linghu Chong onto one horse’s back, departing into the morning mist.
Zhong Lingshou burped, pulled out a handkerchief to wipe her greasy fingers, then jumped onto the wall.
Tian Boguang didn’t look back; his blade was already unsheathed.
Clang!
“You really didn’t leave.” He stared at the girl on the wall, who removed her obstructive mask, revealing a fair and gentle face. “You’ve recovered quickly.”
Only two and a half hours had passed since last night’s fight. He had pretended to sleep while actually recuperating inner strength, now at eighty percent. She had already appeared, proving she never left and was constantly looking for a chance to save him.
“Sister, don’t worry about me.” Linghu Chong’s acupuncture points were released, but he was still tightly bound and couldn’t escape yet. His tone remained lighthearted, “My master has already arrived in Runing. Just deliver a message to Youfu Inn for me.”
Of course, this was a lie—he was deceiving Tian Boguang, hoping the latter would fear Yue Buqun’s reputation and not linger.
Unfortunately, Tian Boguang, having been tricked by Zhong Lingshou too many times, didn’t believe a word and still stood his ground, waiting for her to attack.
Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh.
Zhong Lingshou’s figure suddenly appeared in front of him. Tian Boguang’s mocking smile showed, and his blade slashed past, grazing Linghu Chong’s shoulder, instantly tearing his clothes open as blood welled out.
Linghu Chong winced in pain but dared not make a sound. He realized Tian Boguang was deliberately letting Sister Yixiu get close, using himself as a human shield so she would be restricted and unable to move freely, making it easier to capture her alive.
What would happen next between this infamous lecher and the girl who had repeatedly defied him, he didn’t dare imagine.
“Sister, run!” Linghu Chong whispered urgently. “Don’t mind me. I can escape on my own.”
Zhong Lingshou said nothing. Her long sword swept away the swift blade wind and opened her five fingers, striking his face.
“What?” Linghu Chong instinctively wanted to speak, but instead, he really opened his mouth. A round pill flew into his throat with her palm’s force, accompanied by a herbal fragrance, sinking into his stomach.
She leapt backward, producing a gourd from her bosom, pulling out the stopper and tossing it into the air.
Cloudy rice wine poured down, drenching Linghu Chong’s head.
He immediately understood and opened his mouth to drink greedily.
The parched tongue and throat welcomed the sweet nectar, greatly alleviating the pain.
He couldn’t help but recall his master’s birthday banquet, noisy with guests. He was confined and forbidden to drink much, bored out of his mind, so he sneaked to the kitchen to steal drinks, only to run into the same sister also stealing food. Drunk, he had flaunted his fancy drinking skills lying on a straw pile.
Miss Yixiu must have remembered that too, sending him wine in this way.
Thinking of this, he was stunned for a moment.
A shadow flashed past, the gourd shattered, and the remaining wine spilled sparsely on the ground.
Zhong Lingshou didn’t look back and swiftly left the scene using her lightness skills.
Tian Boguang’s anger flared. How many times had this happened? Always running away when he couldn’t win. So annoying! He glanced at Linghu Chong with growing murderous intent.
Linghu Chong shook his wine-soaked head, masking the ripples stirring in his heart with a smile. “Brother Tian, aren’t you leaving? If you don’t go soon, my master really will be here.”
Tian Boguang was not fooled. “Kid, I already know all about you two. It’s just you and her. We have plenty of time to play.”
He patted Linghu Chong’s shoulder, causing the injured man to grimace in pain as he turned and mounted his horse.
Clip-clop.
The two horses trotted away.
The scorching sun pierced through the shade—it was already summer.