“Death by beating.”

These two cold words made Qin Chang Ge’s eyebrows twitch slightly.

Xiao Jue, you really have changed.

That violent yet kind-hearted youth of yesteryear, who during the army’s march encountered an old man displaced and weeping by the roadside, gave up his own rations and hurriedly stuffed them into the man’s arms. He himself gulped down cold water, laughed heartily as he leaped onto his horse, and cracked his whip, saying: “Though in troubled times human life is worth less than a dog’s, one must still struggle to live—old man, wait for us to pacify the mountains and rivers and return you a safe homeland!”

What heroic spirit and bold magnificence that Xiao Jue had possessed then, galloping freely across battlefields! His youthful vigor and radiance stretched ten thousand zhang, bright as the heavenly mirror in an immortal’s hand, reflecting all the demons and monsters of the world, all darkness and gloom. Like a heavenly god descending to earth, his light filled heaven and earth.

When had that radiance, though still present, become sharp as a blade’s edge, bound to wound whenever it emerged?

Many, many years ago, there had been lovers who rode freely together, singing in harmony, proudly advancing through blood-stained yellow sands. Then heaven and earth were one color, all phenomena vast and boundless, the wilderness sprouting lush green grass, and their gazing eyes surpassed ten thousand years of moonlight’s gentle pull.

Was such beauty, transparent as crystal, ultimately unable to remain long in this turbid mortal world?

Had the rolling dust of the human realm finally obscured that youth’s clear, bright eyes?

The guard’s hand had already reached Qin Chang Ge’s shoulder.

Restraining her son who wanted to jump up in protest, Qin Chang Ge didn’t resist the guard. Her smile unchanged, she raised her head to look directly at Xiao Jue.

“Your Majesty, startling the imperial presence warrants death by beating, but were you startled?”

Xiao Jue raised one eyebrow.

“Our Xiliang was founded through military might. Your Majesty is an emperor on horseback, conquering battlefields in all directions, making ten thousand armies flee in terror. You are the true dragon lord who emerged from piles of white bones and pools of crimson blood. You have always remained unmoved even when Mount Tai collapsed before you, unblinking even when deer crossed before your eyelashes. If a mere weak servant and young beggar without the strength to bind a chicken could startle the lord of Xiliang, word of this would damage Your Majesty’s prestige. This servant’s humble life is not worth regretting, but I dare not let this matter tarnish Your Majesty’s illustrious reputation and cause the surrounding nations to harbor thoughts of despising us.”

Having spoken, she prostrated respectfully on the ground, not raising her head.

Xiao Jue remained silent, watching Qin Chang Ge. His gaze flowed like the scorching midday sun, its brilliant radiance impossible to look upon directly. Wen Chang had been watching this pair of former loving spouses who met without recognition, her expression tinged with melancholy. Now she also said softly, “Your Majesty, this is a sacred Buddhist place. Please do not stain it with innocent blood.”

The word “blood” still lingered on her tongue.

A clear cry like a crane’s call pierced through layers of clouds.

A snow-white ribbon suddenly rose from the horizon.

Almost at the moment of its rising, just as that incomparably dazzling light reached people’s eyes, that ribbon had already transformed into a rolling pillar of light and arrived nearby.

Like snow-white sword light.

Sword light brilliant as flowered brocade, magnificent as spring colors.

Sword light that could move mountains and hills, gorgeous and stunning as meteors swaying across the azure sky, brilliant and shining.

The sword light poured down like heaven’s dipper overturning, unobstructed and unstoppable, roaring like wind and thunder as it splashed toward Xiao Jue.

In that instant, Xiao Jue’s entire being was enveloped in incomparably radiant sword energy.

Amid cries of alarm and running footsteps, Qin Chang Ge’s fingers dug tight into the ground.

“Crane cries through nine layers of clouds, sword moves a mountain’s spring colors.”

“Radiant Sword”

“Sword Immortal”

Shangguan Qingxun!

How could this generation’s sword immortal, famous for thirty years, who had once stirred the world and should now be leisurely wandering beyond mist and clouds, dwelling in Penglai isles, suddenly appear here after hiding his immortal traces for decades?

Who could make this world-scorning, reportedly extremely proud master swordsman of his generation step into the mortal world again?

In this instant, countless thoughts raced through Qin Chang Ge’s mind.

Save him, or not?

The Sword Immortal had a strange quirk—he never killed people in front of those who knew him.

And Qin Chang Ge had met him several times in the past.

Simply calling out “Sword Immortal” could save Xiao Jue’s life.

But how would a mere palace maid know the Sword Immortal?

But save Xiao Jue?

…

Prostrate on the ground three zhang away, she could still hear that wind fierce as a hurricane, lifting Qin Chang Ge’s long hair and the hem of her robes and skirts, all fluttering wildly.

Xiao Jue at the center of the whirlwind faced certain death.

Her heart in chaos like tangled hemp in this instant, Qin Chang Ge sighed and was about to raise her head.

A blue shadow flashed.

So fast it seemed he had originally been standing there, originally standing before Xiao Jue. That movement technique was slippery as a swimming fish, eerie as a ghost, charging straight up against the overwhelming sword wind that made one’s breath catch.

The wind sound suddenly ceased.

The sword edge entered his shoulder.

As if not seeing the long sword piercing through his body, the blue shadow suddenly stepped forward again.

Crack.

A teeth-aching sound rang out.

The sword edge entered flesh, pierced through the shoulder blade, and could advance no further.

The sword point had been met by the blue-robed man’s shoulder at an extremely skillful angle, then after entering the flesh, he twisted his step, forcibly using his shoulder blade to jam it.

Blood gushed like a spring, flowing back down along the sword edge, about to pour into Shangguan Qingxun’s sleeve.

His finger trembled, and the long sword suddenly disappeared.

Shangguan Qingxun’s face was full of disgust as he instantly flew back several zhang like a long stream of smoke sweeping across the sky.

He had a cleanliness obsession and most detested human blood, which was why he had no dedicated famous sword—because he hated wiping swords after killing.

Famous swords had lost meaning for him. In his hands, even a withered branch surpassed the strongest weapons under heaven.

Standing on a petal of a purple chrysanthemum leaning out at an angle, he didn’t look at Xiao Jue, only let his gaze seemingly casually survey the surroundings before finally settling on the blue-robed man.

His ice-cold gaze made whoever it fell upon feel as if stabbed by an ice arrow, chilled to the bone. Only that blue-robed man remained unmoved despite his blood flowing like a stream.

It was precisely the blue-robed man who had emerged like a deadly ghost when Qin Chang Ge first met Xiao Jue and deliberately dropped her scripture—Xiao Jue’s hidden guard.

His face was deathly pale, his ordinary features truly unable to reveal that the fierce, fearless act of treating his own flesh and blood like grass had been his doing.

Shangguan Qingxun, though eighty years old, appeared only like a forty-some middle-aged scholar due to his cultivation reaching a transcendent realm. His gaze lingered on the man’s face as he smiled slightly and said, “Remove your mask!”

The blue-robed man seemed not to hear, only standing before Xiao Jue as fresh blood continuously dripped from his shoulder with audible drops, quickly forming a pool on the ground.

Xiao Jue, hidden behind him, suddenly pushed away the guards rushing to protect him, slowly stepped forward, and said proudly, “Who are you?”

Shangguan Qingxun looked up at the sky, paying no attention.

Xiao Jue stood ramrod straight, saying word by word, “No matter who you are, before me you shall not be insolent, nor shall you wound my people without consequence!”

Shangguan Qingxun glanced over coldly, “With these few worthless guards of yours?”

“Perhaps I cannot deal with you now,” Xiao Jue said sternly, “but those who offend Xiliang’s heavenly might shall be punished no matter how far they flee!”

Shangguan Qingxun slowly lowered his gaze, only now seriously examining Xiao Jue. After a long moment, he murmured, “I always thought those old fellows led the little girl to choose the wrong person, causing the later uncontrollable situation… Looking now, there’s actually some merit…” He suddenly looked around again and said, “Young man, this time you’re wrong…” With a hearty laugh, he flicked his sleeve and moved out smooth as flowing clouds. In the blink of an eye, his figure had vanished, only faintly hearing someone singing loudly: “No place unworthy of seeking old journeys, nothing to seek but a youthful heart…” The voice drifted away like gossamer in an instant, seeming already high above the clouds, yet also seeming already a hundred zhang away.

Xiao Jue stood steadily on the long corridor until that voice completely faded. He raised his head, thoughtful, his pupils slightly contracting.

Then he silently collapsed.