The sound of the chain sword being unsheathed was very light, like a snake, silent but dangerous.
The crimson sword body undulated and unfolded under the moonlight, section by section, the slender sword body covered in scale-like patterns, the sword tip forked like a snake’s tongue.
It floated beside Madam Xuanji, slowly coiling, ready to launch a fatal strike at any time.
Nanxi looked at that extraordinarily strange sword, and he tightened his grip on the warm jade short sword in his hand.
“Aren’t you curious?”
Madam Xuanji suddenly spoke, her voice soft, with a fake smile.
“Aren’t you curious why I knew you would come here tonight?”
Nanxi didn’t answer.
The moment he saw this woman, he knew someone had informed her.
Only three people knew about this plan: excluding his master and himself, only the Zhang family’s eldest miss remained.
Nanxi suddenly recalled his words from the morning: “Zhang Yiwei is a pragmatic person. In the face of a greater crisis, she can put these personal matters aside.”
Thinking about it now, those words were completely wrong.
Zhang Yiwei was indeed pragmatic, pragmatic enough to do anything for greater benefits.
What she wanted had always been only Nanxi.
A Nanxi at the end of his rope, with no other choice, who could only throw himself into her embrace.
So she sold out the information.
So Madam Xuanji could appear on time.
So she arranged the escape route to the north, waiting for Shuang Feixue to hold off Madam Xuanji so she could take Nanxi and fly far away.
The north was vast, vast enough that even if the person in front had long arms, they couldn’t reach there.
It was truly a plan full of flaws; the slightest mishap, and both the boy and she would be doomed eternally.
Nanxi gently exhaled a breath.
He didn’t feel angry, nor disappointed.
The boy knew there would be such a day, just didn’t expect it to come so soon.
“Not interested.”
The boy’s voice was very flat, lacking interest.
“I’m not interested in how you knew. I’m only interested in how you’ll die.”
Madam Xuanji raised her eyebrow, still smiling, her face carrying pity.
“You have backbone, but unfortunately, backbone can’t be used as a sword.”
She raised her left hand, her fingertip gently pointing, and the floating chain sword suddenly straightened, the crimson sword body tearing through the air, stabbing straight at Nanxi’s face.
But another figure was faster.
Ao Xian moved.
She didn’t even assume any stance, just stepped forward one step.
That step on the ground made the entire Peach Grove seem to shake.
The pool water exploded, water splashes rushing into the sky, turning into a sky-full water curtain behind her.
Then she raised her hand and punched out with one fist.
There was no fist technique, just the simplest punch, but that punch brought wind pressure that shredded all the peach blossoms along the way, pink petals mixed with air waves, like a reverse storm.
The fist wind collided with the chain sword.
There was no metal clashing sound, only a muffled explosion.
The chain sword was forcibly blasted off course, the crimson sword body bending into an exaggerated arc in the air, almost breaking, but the next moment, the sword body twisted, like a real snake shedding the force, straightening again.
Madam Xuanji retreated half a step, a flash of surprise in her eyes.
“Not bad strength, worthy of a divine beast.”
Ao Xian didn’t respond.
She shook her wrist, the sleeves of her black long skirt fluttering in the night wind.
Those golden-brown vertical pupils stared dead at Madam Xuanji, burning with anger suppressed for two hundred years, and a hint of excitement.
“Saint Transformation Realm.”
Ao Xian spoke, her voice hoarse, “I haven’t killed anyone in the Saint Transformation Realm yet.”
“What a coincidence, I haven’t slaughtered a dragon either.”
The moment the words fell, both moved at the same time.
Ao Xian’s movements were simple and brutal.
Her right foot stomped the ground, exploding a shallow pit, her whole person shooting out like a cannonball.
No technique, no flair, just pure speed and power.
She charged right in front of Madam Xuanji, her right fist straight at the chest.
Madam Xuanji didn’t take it head-on.
She twisted her waist, her whole body bending backward as if boneless, almost touching the ground.
Ao Xian’s fist grazed past her lapel, the fist wind snapping the peach tree behind her in half.
Before the broken tree fell, Madam Xuanji’s chain sword had already thrust out.
Not thrusting at Ao Xian, but at the ground under her feet.
The sword tip sank into the soil, and the next moment, dozens of crimson sword qi erupted from underground, like venomous snakes emerging from holes, entangling toward Ao Xian from all directions.
Ao Xian let out a low roar, black water vapor surging around her body.
The water vapor quickly condensed, turning into a layer of semi-transparent scale armor covering her whole body.
The sword qi collided with the scale armor, emitting ear-piercing friction sounds, sparks flying.
But it couldn’t break through.
Ao Xian grabbed two sword qi with both hands and pulled hard.
The sword qi shattered in response, turning into crimson light spots and dissipating.
She stepped forward, her left fist smashing toward Madam Xuanji’s face.
Madam Xuanji dodged again.
Her body technique was bizarre to the extreme, her whole person like a pool of flowing water, or like a real snake.
Every movement had no warning, every dodge just right.
Ao Xian’s fist clearly touched her clothes corner, but the next instant she appeared three steps away, not even the corner torn.
“Just dodging?”
Ao Xian sneered, punching out again.
This punch was faster and heavier than before.
Where the fist wind passed, the air emitted an overburdened buzz.
Madam Xuanji finally couldn’t completely dodge; she raised her left hand, condensing a crimson qi shield in her palm.
Fist and shield collided.
The qi shield exploded, Madam Xuanji retreated seven steps, her feet plowing two deep furrows in the ground.
Her left hand trembled slightly, blood seeping from her palm.
But she smiled.
“The force is enough,” she said, “but not clever enough.”
The chain sword thrust out again, this time not in a straight line, but an arc.
The crimson sword body drew a bizarre trajectory in the air, bypassing Ao Xian’s frontal defense, stabbing toward her nape.
Ao Xian didn’t turn her head, backhand punching toward the sword body.
But the chain sword suddenly forked midway, one into three, three into nine, nine sword shadows stabbing from different angles.
Ao Xian’s fist only smashed three of them, the remaining six continuing to stab at her vitals.
“Petty tricks.”
Ao Xian snorted coldly, the scale armor around her suddenly thickening.
The six sword shadows stabbed into the scale armor, leaving only six shallow white marks.
She turned, both fists out, fist winds enveloping Madam Xuanji’s whole body like a storm.
Madam Xuanji finally got serious.
She no longer just dodged, but met her head-on.
The chain sword in her hand transformed into crimson shadows that filled the sky, each strike poisonous and treacherous, aimed specifically at Ao Xian’s joints, pupils, and the area behind his ears—those weak points in the scale armor.
Her body technique became even more bizarre, sometimes sliding on the ground like a ghost, sometimes turning in mid-air like a flying bird.
The two fought in a tangle.
Ao Xian’s attacks were wide open and closed, every fist carrying mountain-crushing, stone-splitting power.
She didn’t need techniques, didn’t need moves; the dragon clan’s innate physique was the strongest weapon.
The pool water rose continuously under her control, turning into water dragons, water arrows, water prisons, coordinating her attacks from all directions.
Madam Xuanji was the complete opposite.
Every one of her swords was exquisite to the millimeter, every dodge hair-raisingly close.
The chain sword in her hand seemed to have life, sometimes straight as a spear, sometimes soft as a whip, sometimes splitting like a net.
She rarely clashed head-on with Ao Xian, always cutting in at the most opportune time, retreating at the most dangerous moment.
The aftermath of the battle swept the entire Peach Grove.
Peach blossoms shattered in swathes, trees fell one after another, the ground constantly exploded with craters, the pool water was lifted by air waves into layer after layer of huge waves.
The moonlight became hazy in the swirling dust and water mist, only two figures intersecting at high speed within, crimson and profound black, violent and诡异.
Nanxi and Shuang Feixue stood at the edge of the battlefield.
Shuang Feixue had already drawn her iron sword, the blade condensing a thick layer of frost.
Her face was very pale, not from fear, but from circulating internal force to the extreme.
She wanted to rush up to help, but Nanxi held her back.
“Wait.”
The boy only said one word.
His gaze was fixed on the battlefield, the hand gripping the warm jade short sword very steady.
The short sword was still warm, the cloud patterns on the sheath’s surface glowing faintly under the moonlight.
He was waiting, waiting for an opportunity, waiting for Madam Xuanji to reveal a flaw, waiting for that instant created by Ao Xian.
The battle went beyond a hundred moves.
Ao Xian began to gain the upper hand.
It wasn’t that Madam Xuanji weakened, but that Ao Xian gradually adapted to her fighting style.
The dragon clan’s learning ability was astonishing to begin with, let alone Ao Xian who had been imprisoned for two hundred years; in those two hundred years, besides sleeping, the only thing she could do was think.
Think about how to break the seal, think about how to fight, think about how to kill.
Now, she was putting it into practice.
After another clash, Madam Xuanji borrowed the force to retreat, the chain sword whirling to protect her body.
But Ao Xian didn’t give her a chance to breathe; her right foot stomped the ground, the ground booming and cracking, her whole person shooting out like an arrow from the string, left fist straight at Madam Xuanji’s chest.
This punch was faster than any before.
Madam Xuanji’s pupils contracted, the chain sword weaving a net in front of her.
But Ao Xian’s fist forcibly smashed through the sword net, crimson sword qi leaving several blood marks on her fist surface, but unable to stop this punch.
The fist edge touched Madam Xuanji’s lapel.
Madam Xuanji finally couldn’t completely shed the force; she crossed her hands to protect her chest, hard blocking this punch.
Bang!
A muffled sound like beating a drum.
Madam Xuanji flew backward, crashing through three peach trees before barely landing.
Blood seeped from the corner of her mouth, her crossed hands trembling slightly, fine cracks at the finger bones.
Ao Xian stood in place, shaking the blood from her hand.
Her fist surface was bloody and mangled, but the wound was healing at a visible speed.
The dragon clan’s physique, plus the power accumulated in two hundred years of sealing, gave her recovery far beyond ordinary people.
“Saint Transformation Realm.”
Ao Xian licked her lips, her golden-brown vertical pupils flashing with bloodthirsty light, “Nothing more than this.”
Madam Xuanji slowly straightened her body.
She wiped the blood from her mouth and smiled.
That smile was no longer composed, no longer playful, but a cold, almost mad excitement.
“Very good,” she said, “This is worth me getting serious.”
She raised her right hand, the chain sword returning to her grasp.
The crimson sword body began to glow, not reflecting moonlight, but emitting a demonic light from within, the scale patterns on the sword seeming to come alive, slowly wriggling.
“Second round, let’s begin.”