Chapter Thirty-Three: The Path of the Void

High above, twin sword auras—one white, one crimson—shot toward the golden radiance at their center, forming a parallel triad in the sky: white, red, and gold. Wang Weixue was already aware of the developing situation behind him, yet instead of halting his assault, he accelerated toward Qin Yi with even greater speed.

“Courting death,” Qin Yi sneered inwardly as he watched Wang Weixue charge directly at him. With his current cultivation, Wang Weixue could easily block Qin Yi’s own “Saint-Slaying Sword,” but it was another matter entirely to withstand Jiang Yao’s strike of the same name.

Just as Wang Weixue was about to parry Qin Yi’s “Saint-Slaying Sword,” Qin Yi retreated several paces; with his present strength, it was better to err on the side of caution.

Yet as Qin Yi prepared to watch events unfold from afar, he suddenly blinked in disbelief. Wang Weixue, who had been barreling straight at him, vanished without a trace, leaving only the two “Saint-Slaying Swords”—his and Jiang Yao’s—hurtling toward one another.

Realizing what had happened, Qin Yi quickly glanced toward the remaining three Nascent Soul cultivators of the Wang Clan of East Ridge. As expected, he caught sight of Wang Weixue there, leading the trio into the void. The four vanished instantly, leaving behind only a single phrase, echoing through every corner of Fish-Dragon Fort:

“Child, you’re still too inexperienced to contend with me. But know this—both I and the Wang Clan of East Ridge will remember what transpired here today.”

Qin Yi paid little heed to Wang Weixue’s parting words, his gaze fixed on the sky overhead. There, his own “Saint-Slaying Sword” was about to clash head-on with Jiang Yao’s, a true confrontation of titans.

Without hesitation, Qin Yi drew the three ethereal azure silhouettes floating above his head to stand before him, bracing himself for defense.

Wu Bo, Wu Lang, and Zhang Chen—witnessing this—were all deeply alarmed, but powerless to intervene. They could only watch anxiously from a distance.

“Qin Yi!” Jiang Yao shouted, her voice low and urgent, as she surged forward with renewed speed, all restraint abandoned.

At last, in midair, the two sword energies met. The outcome was immediate and decisive: the white sword aura shattered under the onslaught of the crimson energy, which, undiminished, hurtled straight toward Qin Yi.

“Damn it!” Qin Yi cursed as the red brilliance pierced through the heavens, unimpeded. He shifted the three azure phantoms from above his head to stand before him, overlapping them into a single defensive barrier.

Zhang Chen and the Wu brothers, having just emerged from the cellar, were beside themselves with anxiety, yet could do nothing to help.

On both sides of Chaoyang Street, residents of Fish-Dragon Fort watched Qin Yi’s predicament with bated breath; after all, he was one of their own. Even though Jiang Yao’s sword had already clashed with Qin Yi’s, its speed had not lessened, and it immediately reached the barrier he had set up.

In an instant, the first silhouette dissolved, followed quickly by the second. At last, under the gaze of all assembled, the third phantom, too, was shattered by Jiang Yao’s “Saint-Slaying Sword,” as easily as if it were made of paper.

With the destruction of the three silhouettes, Qin Yi bore the brunt of the impact. His feet stomped heavily on the ground as he was forced back several steps, a trickle of blood seeping from the corner of his mouth—a shocking sight.

The crowd’s anxiety only grew, especially Zhang Chen and the Wu brothers. Zhang Chen strained to control the runes he had previously set, attempting to restrain Jiang Yao’s sword, while the Wu brothers mustered their strength to attack it as well.

Qin Yi stared at the “Saint-Slaying Sword” still flying straight toward him, his eyes tinged red. Perhaps he had overestimated his own righteousness; his cultivation was lacking, yet he had acted recklessly. But now was not the time for regret—the immediate threat had to be addressed. He closed his eyes, preparing to forcibly channel his energy and perform the "Taiyi Starshift," one of the three supreme arts of Taiyi Mountain. Even if it risked damaging his meridians, survival was paramount.

“Stop right there!”

Just as Qin Yi was about to resort to this desperate, self-destructive technique, a furious shout rang out, drawing closer and closer, accompanied by a waft of fragrant breeze.

Qin Yi’s eyes snapped open. Before him floated a figure in white, ethereal as a goddess descended from the heavens. Hovering in midair, she flicked her plum-red sword, sending a scarlet beam racing toward the “Saint-Slaying Sword” she herself had unleashed. The two crimson energies collided in midair and instantly annihilated each other.

Behind her, Qin Yi finally felt his heart settle. The energy he had forcibly gathered dissipated, leaving him suddenly weak, as if the ground had vanished beneath his feet. He staggered, on the verge of collapse.

Fortunately, Jiang Yao reacted swiftly, flying backward to catch him in midair before gently lowering them both to the ground.

The residents lining Chaoyang Street, now that the turmoil had passed, burst into applause and cheers.

“How old is our fairy sister, I wonder?”

“She’s amazing! Far more impressive than those two boys, Qin Unrighteous and Zhang Incomplete!”

Though the remark was true enough, Zhang Chen found it grating. Indignantly, he pointed to the runes he had arranged. “Didn’t you see these runes?”

The townsfolk, of course, now saw the glowing patterns Zhang Chen referred to, but some remained dismissive. “What’s a rune? We don’t know anything about that.”

Others quickly agreed, “That’s right, that’s right!”

Having finally proved himself only to be ignored by his own people, Zhang Chen was fuming. He rushed over to Qin Yi, who was still feigning unconsciousness in Jiang Yao’s fragrant embrace, and shouted, “Qin Unrighteous, stop pretending! Get up and judge this for us!”

Hearing Zhang Chen’s voice, Qin Yi had no choice but to open his eyes. But before doing so, he took one last lingering moment to nestle against Jiang Yao’s warm, ample bosom—a sight that left Zhang Chen green with envy.

Jiang Yao blushed, but could not bring herself to scold Qin Yi, which only made Zhang Chen all the more jealous, and even the Wu brothers could not hide their envy.

Once Qin Yi was on his feet, he turned to the townsfolk and asked, “Is everyone unharmed?”

Since the Wang Clan of East Ridge had not gone on a rampage before Qin Yi and his group arrived, there were no casualties in Fish-Dragon Fort—at worst, a few doors and windows had been damaged in the earlier fighting.

Turning his gaze, Qin Yi addressed the Wu brothers, “Brother Wu Bo, if you don’t mind, why not stay at my humble home tonight with your brother?”

“We’d be honored,” the Wu brothers replied in unison after exchanging a glance. They had come to Fish-Dragon Fort to escape the rain, and now, having fought side by side with Qin Yi, a recent acquaintance, they were all too happy to accept his hospitality.

With Jiang Yao and the Wu brothers in tow, Qin Yi set off toward his true family home, with Zhang Chen tagging along—her own house was nearby, after all.

The rain had ceased, and as the group entered the Qin family courtyard, the doors creaked open. At that very moment, a pair of middle-aged men emerged from within the house.