In the pitch-black forest, so dark one couldn’t see a hand in front of one’s face, two figures streaked forward, one chasing the other, moving with the sharp precision of wind-blades cutting through the dark, vanishing and reappearing in an instant, over and over. The pursuer seemed always on the verge of catching the one ahead, yet remained forever a single step short, the distance between them never closing.

No matter where the leading figure reappeared, the pursuer would follow at once — yet never quite catch up.

Like lightning splitting the sky, like wind-blades tearing through the air, every branch and leaf in their wake lay shattered — even in the darkness, one could sense the spectacular devastation of falling leaves and toppling trees.

Suddenly, after one final sharp burst, the pursuer failed to catch up, and everything came to an abrupt halt, leaving only the silence of night, filled with the faint rustle of falling leaves.

After that rustling died down, a faint, dim glow began to flicker in the darkness!

Then, suddenly — “BOOM!”

A thunderous, earth-shaking sound erupted from the distance, followed by “BOOM… BOOM… BOOM,” an unbroken series of collapsing crashes, drawing steadily closer!

And with it, light too crept steadily closer, spreading from the distance! Even without seeing the full scene, one could tell from the sound alone what magnificent, overwhelming devastation this must be.

When the final “BOOM” faded away, the darkness cleared entirely, revealing everything beneath the quiet, brilliant moonlight!

Throughout the entire forest, every single tree lay toppled, the darkness completely banished. Moonlight poured down over the scene of utter destruction, illuminating one enormous fallen tree trunk lying across the clearing, and standing at either end, hands clasped behind their backs, facing each other, stood two men — one in black, one in violet.

He, in violet robes with silver hair, possessed the untainted elegance of an immortal, the ethereal beauty of a spirit given form. His tall, slender frame, amid the swirling silver hair and violet robes, stood utterly apart from the world, as though he might ascend on the wind at any moment, transcending into immortality.

Yet his face — as lovely as a lotus blooming in darkness — now bore an expression of chilling, malevolent fury. Three long streaks of blood, freshly cut across his cheek, had come dangerously close to his eye, lending that malice an even sharper edge of ruthlessness.

That pair of eyes, holding not the slightest warmth, cold as frost, bore straight into his opponent across from him.

And he!

Dressed in black combat attire that set off his powerful, lean frame with a sharpness that instantly brought to mind a leopard lurking in the night, his explosive power impossible to gauge, the kind that would strike terror into any hunter. His thousands of strands of black hair whipped wildly against the wind, and beneath his veil, only a pair of eyes was visible — deep, sharp eyes. A bottomless icy pool, a bottomless hell, a bottomless catastrophe — anyone who fell into that gaze would never find rebirth, never escape the endless cycle, for all eternity.

That gaze, too, bore straight into his opponent.

Two true masters of the continent of Longyuan, meeting for the first time — a peak confrontation!

“Who?” Xuanyuan Lige asked, sparing but a single word.

Yet Jun Beiyue didn’t even bother to answer, his figure flickering like a phantom, and in the next instant he was already airborne, his long sword slashing down!

No visible sword-qi, no visible sword-light — it looked like nothing more than a simple, casual swing, seemingly inconsequential.

Suspicion flickered through Xuanyuan Lige’s eyes, but he shot straight upward at once, and almost simultaneously, a blade of sword-light materialized out of empty air right beneath his feet, striking with the same ferocity as the visible blow — had he not dodged in time, he’d have been split clean in two!

A wind-blade!

It was force channeled through the swing, controlling the flow of air, accumulating power invisibly along its path, only bursting forth the moment it reached its target — a blade of light born purely from the sword’s motion!

Just as Xuanyuan Lige breathed a sigh of relief, to his shock, a second blade of light materialized out of nowhere, slashing straight down at his head!

One strike, two blades!

Xuanyuan Lige couldn’t help drawing a sharp breath, twisting aside desperately — but he still wasn’t fast enough, his arm sliced clean through, his sleeve shredded away.

A sword that produced wind-blades, one strike yielding two blades — this was the very pinnacle of wind-blade mastery, in no way inferior to the wind-blades summoned through Wuzheng’s playing!

Who exactly was this man?

What connection did he have to the Gu Clan of the East Sea?

Xuanyuan Lige had no time to dwell on it further. He raised his hand at once, striking with five fingers, his other hand following immediately after — in an instant, ten wind-blades shot toward Jun Beiyue in rapid succession. Jun Beiyue’s body moved with agile precision, dodging left and right, evading every single one before swinging his sword again at once!

Yet Xuanyuan Lige immediately drifted backward through the air, as though lying horizontally across some invisible zither, raising both hands and striking with all ten fingers at once, as chaotic and wild as his own disheveled silver hair, no prelude at all, plunging straight into a crescendo.

Though no actual music sounded, the sharp, howling whistle of the wind-blades themselves became a kind of stirring, magnificent composition — like ten thousand cavalry thundering across golden sands, like wind and lightning racing wild across the plain, a piece that surely belonged to heaven alone.

The wind-blades came like a rain of arrows, enough to make anyone wary — yet Jun Beiyue, of all things, sheathed his sword even as he dodged!

What was he planning?

A single swing of his sword could have blocked several wind-blades at once — why not use it?

Xuanyuan Lige had fully entered the state now, the sharp, howling sound growing ever more urgent, the wind-blades growing ever denser. But just as he glanced up, he suddenly locked eyes with Jun Beiyue’s cold stare!

He’d been dodging this entire time, and yet that one pair of deep, sharp eyes hadn’t moved once — fixed unwaveringly on his hands!

Xuanyuan Lige was struck with alarm — this man had set his sights on his hands. How ruthlessly clever!

What was he planning?

Xuanyuan Lige’s hands didn’t stop, but his focus faltered, distracted!

Then, in the next instant, Jun Beiyue turned to face him head-on, an evil smile curling his lips, and — mimicking Xuanyuan Lige’s own stance — raised both hands. But rather than striking as Xuanyuan Lige had, he paused for just a moment, his icy gaze slowly lifting to meet Xuanyuan Lige’s startled eyes, that wicked smile deepening further still, as though he were some demon risen straight from hell!

What was he planning?

Xuanyuan Lige’s hands froze — and in that very instant, Jun Beiyue’s long, elegant hands swept up gracefully, and at once, a rain of silver needles came slashing through the air with lethal speed!

The needles were every bit as sharp, as densely packed, as Xuanyuan Lige’s own wind-blades. Xuanyuan Lige released his grip at once, dropping hard and fast, the needles streaking past just above his head!

Xuanyuan Lige landed — but Jun Beiyue gave him not a moment’s respite, his long fingers rising again, another wave of needles bursting forth, forcing Xuanyuan Lige into pure evasion!

Catching sight of Jun Beiyue’s hands from the corner of his eye, Xuanyuan Lige was struck with sudden alarm — a musician valued nothing more than his hands, and he could tell at a glance that these hands were more slender and elegant than anyone’s he’d ever seen, perfectly suited to playing the zither.

Suddenly, those hands shifted, one rising, one lowering, and the needles came at him from above and below at once!

A flash of malice crossed Xuanyuan Lige’s eyes. Without raising his hands, he struck wind-blades directly, matching speed against numbers. In an instant the two of them were locked in fierce combat, Xuanyuan Lige’s expression turning grim, clearly straining under the pressure.

Jun Beiyue’s cold eyes remained perfectly composed, entirely at ease, an amused curve touching his lips. He suddenly dropped to the ground, kicking a fallen branch aside with brutal force!

Xuanyuan Lige kicked out in response too — another wind-blade!

At last, Jun Beiyue’s cold eyes narrowed, his gaze finally settling on Xuanyuan Lige’s hands, and his patience, it seemed, finally ran out. He simply stopped, letting several wind-blades pass straight through his body, and raised his sword.

Xuanyuan Lige stopped too, reaching to draw out his Blood Zither — but Jun Beiyue’s long sword was already raised high above his head, just as before, showing no sword-qi, no sword-light, slowly beginning to fall…