Yu Jingfeng very quickly discovered that he had not only underestimated Feng Jiu’er’s combat ability — he had equally underestimated the instinctive coordination between the two of them.
Back to back, one wielding a sword and the other a dagger, they moved in seamless, flawless tandem.
Every hidden projectile that came at them was deflected. Not a single one found its mark.
At the start, Yu Jingfeng had worried that Feng Jiu’er might struggle to hold her own, and he frequently had to keep watch over the projectiles on her side as well.
But as it turned out, she met each one with a rise of her hand and a fall of her blade, and the hidden weapons proved utterly useless against her.
“Master, just deflecting everything isn’t the answer. Let’s charge in and strike, shall we?” Feng Jiu’er was getting rather caught up in the fight.
In the past, when she had trained in ancient martial arts, the most anyone ever did was spar and exchange pointers. When had she ever fought in a live-fire engagement like this?
This kind of situation was absolutely the finest training there could be. An opportunity not to be missed!
After a brief period of adjustment, Yu Jingfeng had already made peace with his new title: Master.
He swept his gaze over the black-clad figures groaning on the ground and said: “Charge we can — but Ninth Miss, hold nothing back. Kill as you see fit.”
Unlike her! At the start, she had been landing strikes at vital points, but later — perhaps feeling the weight of too great a sin — she had mostly been severing people’s hand tendons instead.
Hesitating and holding back like that was dangerous if they encountered a truly ruthless opponent.
“I know. I make my own judgments.” She read people only by their eyes.
If the killing intent in an opponent’s gaze was heavy, she struck without mercy. If the opponent only meant to injure rather than kill her, she could afford to give them a chance to live.
But sentiment — that was something that had no place here.
“Let’s go, Master!”
“Right!”
One in front, one behind. One on the left, one on the right. One bearing a longsword, one a short blade. One moving high, one moving low.
This kind of teamwork was honestly outrageously fun.
Never mind Feng Jiu’er herself getting thoroughly swept up in the thrill — even Yu Jingfeng, with all his years of experience, was tasting for the first time the realization that a fight could actually be this exhilarating.
Still, he had heeded Feng Jiu’er’s suggestion: where possible, do not kill.
Not out of any soft-heartedness or desire to play the noble saint — rather, these people likely had families too, young and old alike, and were simply carrying out their orders.
After the time it took two sticks of incense to burn, a heap of black-clad figures lay groaning across the ground.
Yu Jingfeng stepped forward and flipped away the cloth covering one of the black-clad figures’ face: “Speak. Who sent you? Why are you pursuing and trying to kill us?”
That black-clad figure, seeing there was no possibility of escape, clenched their jaw with a sudden fierce resolve.
“Terrible! They’re going to take poison and die!” Feng Jiu’er moved to stop them, but it was already too late.
Yu Jingfeng, however, reacted as though he had seen this a hundred times before, and paid it no mind.
He turned to look. Sure enough, those black-clad figures still on the ground had all bitten down on the deadly poison concealed within their teeth.
“All that effort to spare their lives — wasted.” Yu Jingfeng slid the dagger back into his boot. “Ninth Miss, let us—Watch out!”
The words had barely left his mouth when, with sudden fury, a violent gust of wind swept in. Within that wind, it was as though countless blades were cleaving through the air — a killing aura, cold and sweeping!
Yu Jingfeng had already pulled Feng Jiu’er with him, retreating at maximum speed to evade, but while Feng Jiu’er’s combat skills were excellent, her lightness skill was remarkably, inexplicably poor.
In that life-or-death instant, Feng Jiu’er shoved Yu Jingfeng hard away from her.
And so Yu Jingfeng could only watch with his own eyes as she stood amid a dense storm of hidden projectiles, with nowhere to retreat and nowhere to hide.
“Ninth Miss!” This time, there truly was no way to save her in time.
Then — abruptly — a wild surge of wind rose up from the very ground, and a bone-chilling presence enveloped Feng Jiu’er in an instant.
She instinctively raised her arm to shield her eyes, and what she saw were those hidden projectiles — visibly, with her own naked eyes — being swept by that raging wind and sent hurtling back in the opposite direction in a single, breathtaking instant.
What formidable inner force! Who has arrived?