Lin Sui’an rapidly sized up the two figures across from her.

The sleeve-arrow that had been used in the sneak attack had clearly been fired by the triangular-eyed man. His frame was lean and long, his shins wrapped in binding cloth, the leg muscles visibly dense and powerful — likely a speed-type fighter who specialized in hidden weapons.

The bald giant needed no deliberation — absolutely a power-type fighter. Yet his gaze was sharp and keen, clearly not a case of brawn without brain. He would likely be very difficult to handle.

The Fusheng Sect disciples’ attitude toward these two was less one of respect than a kind of warped, pathological fear. Lin Sui’an clicked her tongue to herself — interesting. Perhaps the Fusheng Sect could still be salvaged.

Thinking this, she gave a small wave with the hand she was keeping behind her back, signaling Hua Yitang to quickly run through the formalities.

She hadn’t expected it — a cool sensation suddenly reached her palm. Lin Sui’an flinched slightly, turned her head, and saw that Hua Yitang was already using a cloth dampened with clear, translucent medicinal ointment to carefully apply it to her wound.

Lin Sui’an froze. “Hey!”

Hua Yitang seemed not to hear. In full view of everyone, he finished applying the ointment first at an unhurried pace, then lifted Lin Sui’an’s hand and blew on it gently. Then, from his robe, he produced a strip of snow-white bandaging and began wrapping it around and around, his technique rather professional — clearly the result of some tutelage from Fang Ke.

The surrounding spectators, the Fusheng Sect disciples, Gu Liang and the patrolmen, and even the two opposing bosses across from them were all stunned into immobility by Hua Yitang’s utterly unconcerned behavior. For a moment, no one reacted.

Jin Ruo and the Four Saints all averted their eyes in unison.

“Hua Yitang,” Lin Sui’an said in a low voice, ears going warm. “What are you doing at a time like this —”

Hua Yitang abruptly raised his eyes, and the watery shimmer in his reddened eye rims surfaced.

Lin Sui’an’s mouth snapped shut with a click.

Hua Yitang’s hands moved at a leisurely pace, but his tongue was anything but leisurely: “According to the testimony of Vice-Prefect Liu’s driver and attendants, the leader of the bandits who attacked him stood nine feet tall, built like an iron tower, with large hands and feet, wielding a four-foot black broadsword — that would be you, wouldn’t it?”

At the final word, an icy gaze like blades of frost shot toward the bald man.

The bald man let out a great laugh. “Ha ha ha ha — correct — it was me! I dared to do it, I dare to admit it! My name is what it is and always will be — the Fusheng Sect’s Sect Master, Gong Feiyang, at your service!”

The triangular-eyed man gave a cold laugh. “Is this soft-looking boy the so-called Yangdu number one good-for-nothing, Hua Family’s Fourth Young Master?”

Hua Yitang returned an even louder cold laugh. “What manner of creature is this?”

He directed this question to Jin Ruo. Jin Ruo gave Hu Buling a kick. Hu Buling shuddered all over. “This — this one is our Vice-Sect-Master… Rong Qianshan…”

“Ha — an absolutely vile, shameless, cowardly ambusher, reeking of filth and malice — and the name sounds almost decent.”

Hua Yitang opened his mouth and let fly a rapid-fire volley of verbal abuse — rattling off an extended string of insults before anyone could react, the full meaning of which amounted to calling Rong Qianshan subhuman.

Gong Feiyang and Rong Qianshan’s expressions darkened. The Fusheng Sect disciples all swallowed: Hua Family’s Fourth Young Master certainly lived up to his reputation. That was impressively satisfying abuse.

The surrounding spectators were abuzz:

Hey, that young constable’s style of cursing is really something!

Who is this young gentleman? Such nerve!

Didn’t you just hear — he’s from the Yangdu Hua Family. Connected.

And that formidable young lady — she should be the Jing Sect’s Qian Jing Master. They say she can single-handedly fight off a hundred.

Do you all think — if the young lady wins — will we finally be rid of Fusheng Sect’s oppression?

Don’t get your hopes up. Gong Feiyang is twice the young lady’s size — if she could beat that, it would be a miracle!

Rong Qianshan stepped forward. “Hua the Fourth, don’t mistake a toast for a forfeit. Take your people and get lost at once — otherwise the Fusheng Sect will make sure you pay dearly!”

Hua Yitang’s gaze flicked casually to Rong Qianshan. He continued applying the bandage, completing the final circle steadily, then tied a clean, neat bow. He lifted his lashes and looked fixedly at Lin Sui’an for a moment.

Lin Sui’an gave a slight smile. Rest easy — it’s only a small skirmish.

Hua Yitang exhaled softly, released Lin Sui’an’s wrist, turned, squared his shoulders, raised his chin, and raised his voice: “I, Hua Yitang, Judicial Military Adviser of Andu City, have now confirmed that the bandit chief who stabbed Vice-Prefect Liu yesterday is Fusheng Sect Sect Master Gong Feiyang. I am here to take him into custody. Those who resist will be punished without leniency!”

Spectators: Oh! So this young gentleman is the new Judicial Military Adviser.

“Who do you think you are?” Rong Qianshan shrieked. “Who do you think owns Andu City?!”

“Andu City naturally belongs to the people of Andu!” Hua Yitang thundered back. “And what are you? A pile of filth?!”

The moment these words rang out, the entire area fell instantly silent.

The spectators exchanged glances. Gu Liang and the patrolmen simultaneously straightened up — the air about them shifted.

Rong Qianshan gritted his teeth. “Fusheng Sect disciples, hear my command! Every last one of them — cut them down and feed them to the pigs!”

At the command, the Fusheng Sect disciples’ bodies reflexively tensed to attack — but Lin Sui’an stepped forward, casually flourished the blade, and eerie green blade-light spiraled through the air in a full circle overhead. The shrieking cry of the blade echoed and did not cease, until the entire street fell not a sound.

Hua Yitang thundered: “All who aid evil shall be killed without mercy! Those who turn back from the wrong path — Hua can afford leniency and deal with them with reduced punishment!”

The Fusheng Sect disciples shuddered in unison. The harrowing memory of being pummeled across the ground by Lin Sui’an came rushing back. They looked at each other, and then no one knew which ingenious soul suddenly had the bright idea — one of them spat a mouthful of blood, clutched their chest, and collapsed with a groan. And this set off a chain reaction. Everyone followed suit — some spitting blood, some hitting the ground, the “ouches” and “ohs” and “ees” coming in a five-flavored variety, the poses in which they collapsed a spectacular array.

Hu Buling’s group had the least serious injuries and couldn’t produce any blood. Fortunately their acting was passable — eyes rolling back, they toppled over stiff as planks, hitting the ground with a resounding thud.

Lin Sui’an: “……”

She could now be almost certain that this group had ties with Andu’s Jing Sect branch. Just look at the acting — it was practically a direct inheritance from the Jing Sect tradition.

Jin Ruo laughed. “Hey, you two over there — bald and black-and-bony — looks like your Fusheng Sect disciples don’t particularly like you!”

Four Saints: “Don’t like!”

Gong Feiyang’s face went dark as a pot bottom. Rong Qianshan narrowed his eyes coldly. “Truly, rotten wood cannot be carved, and scars heal without lessons being learned. No matter — once the Sect Master has cut Lin Sui’an into eight pieces, let’s see who else dares to defy us!”

Gong Feiyang unsheathed the broadsword from his back and fixed his gaze directly on Lin Sui’an. “I wish to have a showdown with Lin Niangzi. Whoever wins — whoever becomes the master of this Fusheng Sect. Does Lin Niangzi dare accept the challenge?!”

“I have no interest in being master of the Fusheng Sect!” Lin Sui’an raised Qian Jing. “This visit — is to apprehend a criminal in accordance with the law!”

The two stood facing each other. The wind and clouds went still.

The air was saturated with a killing chill. Without exception, everyone held their breath.

Suddenly, the two moved at the same time.

Gong Feiyang’s left foot drove down hard into the ground, nearly cracking the surface, like an iron ball rolling and grinding out at full speed. Lin Sui’an pushed off the ground and burst upward, body riding the wind, like a soaring hawk piercing through the clouds. Both figures were swift as gale winds, and in an instant they were face to face.

Gong Feiyang chopped vertically downward with a crosscut. Lin Sui’an raised her blade in an upward slash — one like thunder shaking the sky, one like a hurricane reversing in a gust. Blades met, and sparks flew.

In nearly the same instant, both changed techniques. Gong Feiyang drew back and thrust directly at Lin Sui’an’s throat. Lin Sui’an slanted her blade in a deflecting swing, using the momentum of the blade to drive her body into motion, spiraling in an arc to dodge the ferociously incoming attack, then counterattacked in a sweeping backhand, using the light, nimble footwork of “Swift Wind Shaking Autumn Leaves,” sending a blade-strike like a floating feather toward Gong Feiyang’s left ribs.

But at that very moment, Gong Feiyang pivoted on his tiptoe as a center point. His body spun like a vortex. Qian Jing grazed beneath Gong Feiyang’s armpit. Gong Feiyang shifted the blade from right hand to left hand, spun around, and swung the blade in a dazzling wheel of blinding light. Lin Sui’an felt Gong Feiyang’s blade momentum like the raging swells of an angry sea — great waves surging, relentlessly bearing down, every strike aimed to kill, intent saturating the air. She gritted her teeth, gripped the blade with both hands, and launched a full-force strike of “Scabbard-Cleaving” —

A thunderous “boom” — as if two mountains had collided.

Both figures were suspended in air for an instant, then simultaneously flew back several paces, steadied their footing.

Gong Feiyang’s mouth corner oozed a thread of blood. Lin Sui’an’s tiger-mouth split open, and blood dripped from the bandaging on her right hand.

In just two breaths’ time, the two had exchanged five moves. The speed was such that bystanders could barely follow the transitions in between — only the final move of equally matched power was visible, neither gaining the upper hand.

Gong Feiyang’s expression shifted. He spat a mouthful of bloody saliva.

Lin Sui’an shook her numbed arm, and inwardly thought: this is trouble.

She had assumed Gong Feiyang was a pure power-type. She hadn’t expected his speed and reflexes to also be formidable. In the last clash just now, she could gauge that Gong Feiyang’s raw strength was not far from her own — and with his enormous frame, great weight, and high momentum, a straight-on contest of brute force would not favor her.

It seemed she must find the breakthrough point in agility and maneuverability.

The onlooking spectators had unconsciously pressed forward. The Fusheng Sect disciples who had been feigning death or unconsciousness scrambled back up and squeezed in among the crowd, staring openmouthed.

This was the first time they had ever seen anyone hold Gong Feiyang to a draw. And that person turned out to be a rather attractive young woman — the degree of their shock could well be imagined.

Jin Ruo and the Four Saints were also very surprised. The reason was that Lin Sui’an had failed to achieve a crushing victory — this Gong Feiyang had the nerve to swagger about Andu City for good reason. He had real ability.

Hua Yitang stared fixedly at Lin Sui’an’s blood-dripping bandage, the look in his eyes nearly ready to burst into flames.

Gong Feiyang laughed once. “Qian Jing’s Master, Lin Sui’an — your reputation is well-deserved!”

Lin Sui’an curved a corner of her mouth. “Mad Blade Hero — fully worthy of that word ‘mad’!”

Both sets of eyes flashed simultaneously. They struck again.

Gong Feiyang’s blade momentum was like a storm — nothing but massive hacking and cleaving attacks, especially the continuous wheeling blade sequence, like ocean breakers against stone, surging and unceasing, each strike lethal, killing intent all-encompassing.

Lin Sui’an’s figure flashed and darted. The “Swift Wind Shaking Autumn Leaves” footwork combined with a half-learned lotus-step, flowing like shapeless water. The blade techniques shifted in myriad ways — using the Ascending Immortals Cult’s silk-entangling blade to deflect the opponent’s power, using Jiang Chen’s Double Dragon Emergence to disrupt the opponent’s rhythm, combining the Five Mounds Alliance’s saber-blade technique to break through defenses, interspersed with the most practiced offensive formations of the Ten Purity Collective — deploying everything she had ever learned, all in the hopes of striking Gong Feiyang down in one burst of momentum.

Ten breaths’ time — thirty-six moves exchanged. Gong Feiyang’s forehead, shoulder, arm, and thigh were all cut open, and with each attack, blood sprayed and flew. Jin Ruo and the others were greatly heartened, cheering and calling out encouragement for Lin Sui’an one after another.

Lin Sui’an was not as composed as she appeared on the surface. Every attack she launched was aimed with the intent to land a killing blow — but all had been dodged at the last critical instant. Moreover, rather than diminishing him, this seemed to ignite Gong Feiyang’s fighting spirit. He grew more savage with each moment, and the force behind each counterattack exceeded the one before. The blood from her tiger-mouth and palm had soaked through the bandaging. Her hands had gone so numb she could barely grip the blade handle.

For the first time, Lin Sui’an experienced the frustration and suffocation of all those people she had previously beaten within an inch of their lives. She was crying out inside her mind, and without realizing it, her back had become soaked through with sweat.

It seemed this was shaping up to be a battle of endurance — a test of whose staying power was greater.

Lin Sui’an had initially felt reasonably confident — until she noticed that the whites of Gong Feiyang’s eyes were gradually being suffused with a pale blue-green shimmer. Her heart jolted with alarm. This was clearly the telltale sign of Dragon God fruit poison — but Gong Feiyang’s consciousness was sharp and his combat power was formidable, utterly unlike the previous state of the Four Saints. Could it be that —

Lin Sui’an pressed down with one foot, blossomed into two shadow-remnants, soaring like a hawk plummeting from the sky to Gong Feiyang’s back. She torqued her waist and legs, coiled her body, and launched a blade-strike, breaking through one of Gong Feiyang’s attacks and pushing in close. She dropped her voice low: “You are a War-Breaker?!”

The killing intent between Gong Feiyang’s brows surged, as if he had been seized by madness. He swung his broadsword like a tempest of violent rain — in the blink of an eye, he had launched ten consecutive strikes. Lin Sui’an had no room to dodge, and the blade knocked against her cheekbone, brow ridge, and shoulder several times — blood splattered and flew. She could not help but retreat several steps in a row, her expression shifting subtly.

Good heavens. This was a conscious War-Breaker — version 4.0.

The tendons on Gong Feiyang’s bald head erupted in a blue-green network of veins, writhing like earthworms. His voice had gone hoarse. “I don’t know what you are talking about!” The broadsword slashed upward, drove down, wheeled and swept, swung side to side — a three-dimensional assault furious as a whirlwind.

Lin Sui’an could barely parry and was forced steadily backward. Her stamina drained drop by drop. Sweat beaded on her forehead.

This was a complete disaster. How was an ordinary mortal like herself supposed to beat someone who had taken a performance-enhancing substance?

Hua Yitang had also noticed the blue-green veins atop Gong Feiyang’s head, and immediately deduced this man’s identity. His heart nearly stopped. He gripped his fingers together with crushing force.

Across the spectators, everyone’s hearts were in their throats for Lin Sui’an. The most anxious of all, surprisingly, were the Fusheng Sect members.

Old Jia: “Things look bad. From the look of it, Lin Niangzi is about to lose. Should we take this chance and jump in to help the Sect Master? Otherwise, if the Sect Master wins, we’ll have no chance to make amends.”

Hu Buling: “Hold on. Wait and see.”

Old Jia: “Do you honestly believe Lin Sui’an can win?”

Hu Buling: “You’ve forgotten all those brothers who died unjustly before? Falling into the Jing Sect’s hands is still better than falling into Rong Qianshan’s hands!”

Old Jia fell silent.

Their voices were not loud — but just loud enough for Jin Ruo to catch. Jin Ruo was surprised, and glanced over sideways. At that very instant, Rong Qianshan suddenly made his move — two sleeve-arrows shot toward Hu Buling’s eyes. “Traitor — you die!”

Hu Buling was so frightened his whole body went rigid. He had no idea how to dodge. Then came two sharp clangs — the sleeve-arrows were struck aside by Jin Ruo. Rong Qianshan gave a cold laugh and turned, firing three more sleeve-arrows at Lin Sui’an. Jin Ruo erupted in fury, launched himself through the air, blade-light spinning a full circle around his body to deflect the sneak-attack arrows, then leaped forward and engaged Rong Qianshan in close combat.

Hu Buling’s legs gave out and he dropped to the ground. Old Jia’s expression had gone even grimmer. The two of them exchanged a glance and knew without speaking: if Lin Sui’an lost, they were done for too. At once they opened their throats and shouted: “Lin Niangzi, Gong Feiyang is using the Zhan Ma Blade Technique!”

“The weakness is in the lower body!”

Easier said than done — Lin Sui’an howled inwardly. She had long since spotted that Gong Feiyang’s frame was massive, his momentum great, his lower body unstable — but she simply couldn’t get through to land a hit!

The two had already exchanged nearly a hundred moves. Lin Sui’an’s entire set of clothes had been soaked through with sweat. Gradually, all she could hear was the singing of Qian Jing’s blade, her own breath, and the sound of her heartbeat.

A voice, sinister as a devil’s whisper, burrowed into her mind:

【Do you want to win?】

Of course I do!

【To win, you must be prepared to kill.】

Oh?

【Without the will to kill, you will never win!】

【Kill — and you will become a true War-Breaker, invincible in all directions, unconquerable in all battles!】

Get the hell out of here!

The War-Breaker is nothing!

Lin Sui’an deliberately plunged forward, diving straight into the ferocious wind of Gong Feiyang’s blade. Her forearm, her cheek, her back took three cuts in a row — flesh torn and blood flying, the searing pain of it instantly purging every stray thought to nothingness. Lin Sui’an ground her foot into the earth, and in an instant her entire body erupted with force, spiraling up from the ground — three shadow-remnants bloomed outward — this was her absolute limit. Gong Feiyang mistook the afterimages and two strikes cleaved empty air.

Now is the moment!

Lin Sui’an’s whole body dropped like a toppling tree, both feet in the instant of solid contact with the ground crossed in mid-air to borrow force, and her whole person became like an arrow loosed from a bowstring — shooting forward at ground-skimming speed, slipping into the gap between Gong Feiyang’s blade-strikes, and sweeping out one strike.

A soft, muffled “thwick” — a chunk of flesh flew from Gong Feiyang’s lower leg, and a gout of blood sprayed outward.

Gong Feiyang bellowed and slashed back in reverse. Lin Sui’an’s strike had already spent itself, and she hurriedly raised Qian Jing to block. The enormous force lifted her off the ground and sent her tumbling through the air, spinning once, landing on one knee, and charging forward again.

Everyone saw it now — Lin Sui’an was using a one-for-one exchange: take a blow to land a blow. Fast to the extreme, brave to the extreme, and perilous to the extreme. One moment of carelessness, and it would be mutual destruction.

Hua Yitang’s face had gone ashen. His hand was reaching into his robe for his gold leaf — poised to throw money and summon a human wave to overwhelm by numbers — when at that moment, he saw Lin Sui’an’s eyes.

Amid the wash of blood, Lin Sui’an’s eyes blazed with terrifying brilliance, spelling out: I will never give up.

This battle was not her against Gong Feiyang — it was her against herself.

Hua Yitang ground his teeth until they nearly cracked, and pressed the gold leaf back down.

Lin Sui’an — I believe in you. You will win.

Counterintuitively to the ever-accelerating pace, Lin Sui’an’s breathing grew slower and slower. Everything around her receded into a peculiar suspended stillness. Her body felt like a kite unfurled into the wind, absorbing the energy of the earth, the sky, and the wind. Every inch of muscle was taut with potential. She gradually lost the sensation of fatigue, lost the sensation of pain, and the whole of her being entered a state of utter selflessness.

Gong Feiyang’s attacks slowed in her eyes. She could see the tear in the air left by the blade’s passage, the gathering motion of muscle as it coiled and loaded power. These flowing, shifting traces of force and momentum whirled and gathered and scattered, forming an expanse of void — a zone of “force and momentum” absent any energy — exactly four inches above Gong Feiyang’s left knee. It was like a pale “eye of the typhoon,” drawing all of Lin Sui’an’s attention.

In a flash of lightning, Lin Sui’an’s mind blazed wide open. The blade followed the intention — swift as a bolt fired from a crossbow, it pierced straight into the “eye of the typhoon.” A dull, muffled thump — Gong Feiyang’s leg bone snapped clean in half. The entire man crashed heavily to the ground, spitting a mouthful of blood, and lost consciousness.

Lin Sui’an leaped back one step and stood firm, blade in hand. Her five senses gradually returned.

The surroundings were first deathly silent — then erupted into a deafening roar of cheers. The loudest voices naturally belonged to Gu Liang, the patrolmen, and Jin Ruo.

Jin Ruo planted one foot on Rong Qianshan’s face and pumped his fist in the air: “Master is mighty! Master of Qian Jing is mighty! Jing Sect is mighty!”

The surrounding spectators applauded and cheered. Most miraculously, even the Fusheng Sect disciples were shouting and yelling and whistling along — and by all appearances, they seemed genuinely excited.

Lin Sui’an tilted her head back, feeling the wind pass through her hair. The salt and iron smell of blood dissolved into the wind.

Only now did she realize — the blank zone she had glimpsed just a moment ago was Gong Feiyang’s true “weakness,” and the strike she had just delivered was the true “Breakthrough”!

Good heavens — no wonder not a single person in decades had ever grasped this “Breakthrough.” It was truly far too difficult to comprehend, Lin Sui’an thought with a wry, helpless laugh. In this lifetime, she would probably only ever manage to grasp it this once.

A gentle warmth of fruit-wood fragrance drifted in on the wind. Hua Yitang stood before her. His eyes were still red, but the smile on his face had been warmed through by the sunlight.

“Lin Sui’an — you won.”

Lin Sui’an curved the corner of her mouth. “Yes. I won!”

Epilogue Skit:

Hua Yitang: I was scared half to death! I was holding myself together on pure willpower alone, otherwise I might have fainted. Wuwuwu.

Heavens, this time my monthly visitor nearly cost me half my life — my mind just wasn’t working right.