Chapter 38: Turning the Tables and Establishing Authority

Chapter 38: Turning the Tables and Establishing Authority

Amidst the intense battle, the Violet Mist True Qi within Zheng Jian surged swiftly through his veins. Fortunately, his inner energy had been refined to such purity through prior cultivation—otherwise, it would have been impossible to sustain such a high level of combat at this moment.

Gradually, Zheng Jian noticed an increasing tranquility within his heart, as though the world around him faded into the distance. Only faint ripples disturbed the stillness, and the source of these ripples was none other than Ding Mian and his two companions.

In other words, the trio’s ferocious attacks appeared upon the mirror of his heart as clearly as reflections on a calm lake, every nuance and detail manifest. Zheng Jian could now easily discern their next move, even before it happened.

To anticipate the enemy’s intention—this was the true essence of foreseeing one’s opponent.

Only now did Zheng Jian truly feel that he had mastered the “Nine Swords of Dugu,” as though he could seize control of every sword technique launched at him, and clearly perceive the fleeting flaws within each move. Though these openings flashed by in an instant, he suddenly realized he could grasp them, however brief.

“Granduncle, now I understand what you meant by ‘master the move, then forget the move!’”

No longer bound by the sword techniques of Mount Hua, nor those he had glimpsed in the rear cave, nor even the forms of the “Nine Swords of Dugu” itself.

It was as if Zheng Jian had forgotten all the sword moves he’d ever learned, his mind entering a state of ethereal clarity. Every thrust of his blade was casual and free, as spontaneous as a child’s doodle—wherever inspiration led, the tip of his sword would follow.

Yet to the onlookers, Zheng Jian’s swordsmanship now seemed utterly transcendent.

Especially for Fei Bin, Ding Mian, and Lu Bai, who were caught within the heart of this tempest—their discomfort grew with each exchange. Instead of trapping Zheng Jian within their web of swords, they felt as if he alone was drawing them in, as though it was not Zheng Jian under siege, but they themselves.

With the radiance of his lone sword, Zheng Jian enveloped the three great masters of Songshan.

“This is impossible!” Ding Mian cried out in shock, and in that moment of panic, a flaw appeared in his swordplay.

“Now!” Zheng Jian’s eyes flared with a violet light—the sign of his true qi pushed to its utmost. His longsword, as nimble as a spirit serpent, slipped past the blocking blades of Fei Bin and Lu Bai, and in the instant Ding Mian exposed his weakness, Zheng Jian’s sword plunged straight into his chest.

The onlookers erupted in astonishment.

The Taoist from Tianmen and Abbess Dingyi were both struck dumb. That sword—it had been like a stroke of divine inspiration, as if heaven itself had flung a blade to earth. The speed and timing of the strike had utterly overturned their understanding of Zheng Jian.

Ding Mian, nicknamed “Pagoda Hand,” stared at the sword sunk in his chest as agony seared through him. He raised his head, eyes fixed upon Zheng Jian, his stout body collapsing backward against his will.

“Old Ding!”

“Senior Brother Ding!”

Fei Bin and Lu Bai were aghast—the tide of battle had shifted in a mere instant, so quickly they could barely react before Ding Mian fell.

Pagoda Hand Ding Mian was the chief among the Thirteen Guardians of Songshan, his martial prowess rivaling that of any sect leader, renowned throughout the martial world. Who could have predicted he would perish here?

Better to break one finger than injure ten.

Zheng Jian knew that to defeat all three, he must first shatter their formation—and slaying Pagoda Hand Ding Mian was the most decisive blow.

The psychological and morale blow to the remaining two was devastating.

“Give me back my brother’s life!” With bloodshot eyes, Fei Bin, the “Great Pine Hand,” charged at Zheng Jian in a frenzy, heedless of all else—he and Ding Mian had been closest companions.

Zheng Jian sneered. “Even with three, you could not defeat me, and now with your strongest gone, you still dare come at me? Where do you find such courage—perhaps from Liang Jingru?”

With a flick of his sword, countless beams of light burst forth, unimpeded as they pierced Fei Bin’s throat.

Fei Bin’s eyes widened in shock, and he fell dead on the spot.

In an instant, two of the three great Songshan masters were gone.

The remaining “Crane Hand” Lu Bai was filled with terror and hatred. “You—you dare?”

Zheng Jian stepped forward, sparing not a glance for the two corpses at his feet, his gaze searing as it fixed on Lu Bai. “Care to guess if I dare kill you as well?”

Lu Bai was stricken, involuntarily retreating a step. “If you kill me, Senior Brother Zuo will never let you go!”

Zheng Jian burst into laughter. “I have already killed two of Songshan’s guardians. Even if I let you go, will your leader Zuo spare me? Since I have dared to kill, I do not fear Zuo Lengchan coming after me. Do you understand?”

Terror filled Lu Bai’s eyes. He had not imagined this youth would be so bold, unshaken even by Senior Brother Zuo’s reputation. A plea for mercy rose to his lips, but with so many martial luminaries watching, pride would not let him speak.

Reading the mingled bravado and timidity on Lu Bai’s face, Zheng Jian smiled faintly. “Don’t say I never gave you a chance. From now on, I’ll ask and you’ll answer. First: is the traitor Lao Denuo at Songshan?”

A glimmer of hope sparked in Lu Bai’s heart. In this moment, he would have agreed to anything—he would have called Zheng Jian his own father if it meant survival. He blurted out, “Yes! He is!”

Another stir of commotion swept through the crowd.

Zheng Jian nodded with satisfaction. “Second: was Lao Denuo planted as Zuo’s disciple long ago, sent to infiltrate Huashan and spy for Songshan?”

Lu Bai hesitated. He knew that to answer this would ruin Songshan’s reputation forever.

“Yes or no?” Zheng Jian’s voice rose, his face deadly.

“Yes, yes, yes!” Lu Bai blurted out reflexively, thoroughly cowed by Zheng Jian. Whatever fate awaited him after returning, at this moment, he wanted only to survive.

The Taoist from Tianmen and Abbess Dingyi turned deathly pale—even Liu Zhengfeng ground his teeth with rage.

With this revelation, the moral high ground Songshan had claimed was utterly lost.

Tianmen Daoist and Abbess Dingyi resolved privately that, upon returning, they must scrutinize their disciples to root out any spies, lest they too fall victim to Songshan’s machinations one day.

Zheng Jian laughed heartily—his goal had been achieved. He had exposed Songshan’s treachery, shifted the crowd’s suspicions away from Liu Zhengfeng’s alleged collusion with the Demonic Sect, and crippled Zuo Lengchan’s power in one stroke.

Deflecting disaster, shaking the tiger’s den!

Though from now on he would surely become a thorn in Zuo Lengchan’s side, Zheng Jian felt no fear.

“Very well. Since you’re so cooperative, I’ll spare your life. Now, take the corpses of the short and the fat one, gather your Songshan lackeys, and get out of my sight before I change my mind!” Zheng Jian commanded.

Lu Bai, as if granted amnesty, hastily beckoned his men. Shi Denda and the others quickly lifted the bodies of Ding Mian and Fei Bin and fled in panic.

Only now did Liu Zhengfeng come to his senses, tears streaming down his face as he collapsed with relief, gathering his wife and children, who had survived the sword by a hair’s breadth.

The onlooking martial artists all shook their heads in amazement, sighing that today’s “washing of the hands in gold” had turned out to be far more thrilling than anyone could have imagined.

With Songshan’s interference dispelled, Liu Zhengfeng finally washed his hands of the martial world and withdrew from all strife.

…

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(End of chapter)