“When this sword appears, no other sword remains in the world. In my youth, I greatly admired the Sword-less City’s reputation. What a pity that such a mighty sect vanished overnight—truly lamentable.” Song Yanhui gazed at Su Muyu, speaking slowly. “To meet the Young Lord of the Sword-less City again is our fortune. Why not come into Wushuang City for a discussion? Why must we cross swords here?”
Su Muyu traced a flower pattern with his sword: “In those days, Wushuang City claimed to be peerless in all martial arts, but my father said that in swordsmanship, he alone was unmatched. This dispute was never settled. Today I come to fulfill my father’s last wish.”
Song Yanhui started, then gave a bitter laugh. Though he couldn’t say it aloud, who in the world didn’t know that today’s Wushuang City had long lost the right to claim the name ‘peerless’ in swordsmanship?
Seeming to read his thoughts, Su Muyu continued: “Even though countless sword immortals have emerged in the world, I only seek to prove my father’s way. So, City Lord Song, please draw your sword.”
Song Yanhui placed his hand on the Autumn Water Sword and bowed slightly. Though he didn’t know the history between Wushuang and the Sword-less City, Su Muyu’s words suggested Wushuang City was involved in the Sword-less City’s destruction. Knowing he couldn’t persuade him, the only battle remained.
If Song Yanhui won, the man would leave—the reappearance of the Sword-less City would cause ripples in the martial world, but only small ones.
But if Song Yanhui lost, people wouldn’t be shocked by the Sword-less City’s return—they’d simply sigh that Wushuang City truly no longer deserved its place among the Four Cities, and the sects depending on Wushuang might scatter like monkeys from a fallen tree.
“I always thought my sword carried too much weight, making every strike less than perfect, until I donned this mask and used that long-forgotten name. But seeing you today, I finally understand what my father meant by ‘self-imprisoned sword.'” Su Muyu said gravely.
Song Yanhui started: “Self-imprisoned sword?”
“Drawing lines to make a prison, imprisoning oneself within the sword.” Su Muyu sighed softly. “You’re a fine swordsman—if we must fight, I’d prefer to face your true self. What a pity. Come, draw your sword!”
“Yanhui, as lord of a city, how can you draw your sword so lightly?” A voice like a great bell suddenly rang from above.
Song Yanhui whirled around: “Master!”
The other Wushuang City members exclaimed in shock: “Former City Lord!”
Su Muyu withdrew his sword and stepped back slightly, speaking softly: “Liu Yunqi.”
An elderly man in gray robes descended from the city gate, standing on a floating sword. His hands clasped behind his back, white hair flowing in the wind—every inch the immortal swordsman.
A sword breaking through light, smiling at rising clouds.
Liu Yunqi, the Cloud Sword Master, Wushuang City’s previous lord, once ranked alongside Zhuo Yuluo, the Sword-less City Lord, as the martial world’s greatest swordsmen. Many said the Hundred Knowledge Hall’s Sword Immortal Rankings didn’t include retired masters, which was why Liu Yunqi wasn’t listed—otherwise, how could his swordsmanship lose to Xueyue City’s young Second City Lord?
Liu Yunqi landed, his sword floating into his hand. The blade was oddly shaped—while other swords were straight, this one curved back like a hook.
“Azure Dragon Fang,” Su Muyu said softly.
Liu Yunqi nodded: “Correct. With this sword, I once fought your father for a day and night. We did not conclude.”
Su Muyu raised his head, speaking loud enough for all to hear: “But my father said he won. His joy wasn’t from defeating you, but from finding someone who could walk alongside him on the path of swordsmanship!”
Liu Yunqi’s expression changed: “Oh? Is that what he said? Then why didn’t he tell the world?”
Su Muyu was suddenly speechless. He didn’t understand why his father never announced the battle’s outcome, and with the Sword-less City’s destruction soon after, he could never find the answer. He shook his head: “Never mind. If I defeat you today, wouldn’t that prove my father truly won that day!”
“Young man, you’re quite confident.” Liu Yunqi eyed Su Muyu’s sword. “That’s a fine blade—looks like Famous Sword Manor’s work. Pity that the sharpest swords break most easily. Yanhui, stand down.”
Song Yanhui hesitated: “But Master, you…”
“I’ve nurtured my sword for years in the Sword Pavilion. This battle is now inevitable.” Liu Yunqi waved his hand. “Since he wishes to challenge Zhuo Yuluo, I shall answer. If we count it thus, this battle’s outcome settles past accounts, with no bearing on today’s Wushuang City. What say you?”
The last question was directed at Su Muyu.
Su Muyu nodded: “Agreed.”
Song Yanhui withdrew reluctantly to the city gate, understanding Liu Yunqi’s intent. He feared that if the current City Lord was publicly defeated, Wushuang City would lose all standing in the martial world. But if Liu Yunqi lost, it would merely conclude an old grudge.
Was this young man’s swordsmanship truly so formidable? Strong enough that Liu Yunqi doubted his victory?
Su Muyu raised the Crane Feather Sword, instantly flashing before Liu Yunqi. One sword flourish became hundreds, thousands, forcing Liu Yunqi back three steps: “I can defeat you, and I will kill you.”
“Boy, watch carefully!” Liu Yunqi swung Azure Dragon Fang, sending a wave of sword energy at Su Muyu. Su Muyu dodged sideways, and the energy shot skyward, dispersing the clouds.
“The Former City Lord’s sword energy is this powerful?” The onlookers like Xiu Ru marveled.
But Su Muyu pressed forward heedlessly, his style completely different from his battle with the Sword Elder—now every strike was a killing blow.
Liu Yunqi smiled slightly, thinking: This youth has already lost.
The Sword Elder, watching from the gate, frowned: Earlier, this man had used his Mountain Peak Sword Technique, showing him the soaring spirit of his youth, touching something in his heart. Why had his sword presence suddenly changed, losing that soaring quality, leaving only—killing intent?
Song Yanhui spoke gravely: “He’ll certainly lose within ten moves.”
The Sword Elder clenched his fists: “He means to trade his defeat for the Former City Lord’s life.”