Although the black garments on the fifteen year old standing in the carriage were relatively old, it fit him perfectly. Unlike his plain shoes designed for mobility, he was blessed with a handsome appearance that also starkly contrasted his piercing eyes. He burst out of the carriage’s ceiling, bringing along the unharmed mother and son pair. “You came straight here?”
Ming Feizhen’s method of destroying the carriage failed to interest the youth, but the timing of his arrival roused his curiosity. Ming Feizhen liked the question posed for the reason that it indicated the youth was a worldly individual.
“The sages of old said that death is a fate we all share; it’s sad for the parents left behind. Invest the effort and a couple shall be in love forever. From the moment you decided to kidnap a man’s wife and son, you should’ve been prepared to be chased.”
“You’ve allied with Zhuo Fengru?”
Amused with how fast the youth caught on, Ming Feizhen grinned. “If it’s a fight, I alone will suffice.”
The youth whipped his sword out, pointing to the ground on an angle. “The sword’s name is Death Omen. My name is Leng Jingliu.”
Ming Feizhen flicked up a long tree branch to catch. “My blade is called Tree branch. My name is Passerby,” he declared with a sneer. “Can we start yet?”
The atmosphere around made it seem as though peace fled the scene. The night sky seemingly split in two for a second. Even though it was clearly an impossible phenomenon, the flow of air, the sounds pounding ears and the sensation grazing skin made it difficult to disprove.
A specific spot in the ground far away blasted dirt as it sunk. Had it not been for Ming Feizhen’s white hair, nobody would’ve known he had to make a hasty retreat. Scarlet beads belted onto the ground from Ming Feizhen’s exposed left shoulder, but that was only noticeable once the two had reset.
The only proof Leng Jingliu ever moved from his starting stance was Ming Feizhen’s damaged shirt and blood.
Hua Qing: He’s too dangerous! We need to wait for Hero Zhuo’s aid.
Before anyone else could figure out why Leng Jingliu raised his sword to his chest, parallel to the ground, Ming Feizhen rammed his two feet into the sword’s blade loudly. Beaming, Ming Feizhen thrust his tree branch at Leng Jingliu’s forehead forthwith.
Hua Qing shouldn’t have fretted because Ming Feizhen already measured Leng Jingliu’s abilities from the fast time Ming Feizhen laid eyes on Leng Jingliu. In spite of his young age, the spirit of a swordsman lived in Leng Jingliu’s eyes; he was an individual who had abandoned the stances of other true swordsmen in search of the ultimate swordplay.
Leng Jingliu gave the branch the slip, then cleaved at the branch with his jet-black sword, but Ming Feizhen read him and denied Leng Jingliu with a punch that derailed Leng Jingliu’s trajectory. Leng Jingliu corrected his direction of movement, slicing through the wind Ming Feizhen generated to target Ming Feizhen’s fist again despite his reach advantage. Leng Jingliu’s style of fighting was practically one without an exit strategy.
Prior to landing, Ming Feizhen calmly circled his left hand, then uncorked a palm attack at the sword again, forcing Leng Jingliu back three steps, too. The two of them subsequently exhaled a long breath each.
Ming Feizhen checked on the deep gash on the back of his left hand. Although he managed to defuse Leng Jingliu’s technique with Tai Chi techniques, it wasn’t enough to gain the upper hand. The real problem was the black sword. It only grazed his hand, yet it penetrated his true qi armour. “There doesn’t seem to be anything that your sword can’t cut.”
There were people who had taken two punches from Ming Feizhen without paying a price. However, Leng Jingliu wasn’t one of them. Leng Jingliu wiped away the blood trickling from his mouth onto his lapels and the ground, apparently unfazed.
“It isn’t capable of cutting everything. It just so happens that I cut something that it can cut.”
“It’s black aurum, isn’t it?”
“Whatever you want it to be.” Leng Jingliu set one foot forward. “Throw that toy away, or you’ll die.”
Ming Feizhen made his cheeks resemble that of a pufferfish. “I’ve never met such a shameless cheat. You want me to fight you with my bare hands?”
“Up to you.” Leng Jingliu bound toward Ming Feizhen, sword aimed at the latter’s heart.
Ming Feizhen, using his left hand as a guard, replicated a broadsword swing with his branch to block the straight thrust.
Leng Jingliu’s black sword shifted out of Ming Feizhen’s sight the same way mist dispersed, then announced Ming Feizhen’s death omen overhead.
