Chapter 19: A Figure in White Enters the City

In the clash of sword and claw, a battle of wills unfolds, where a single moment of hesitation can mean the difference between life and death.

Thunderclaps roared over Phoenix Lake, their echoes reverberating through the stormy sky. The old fox, manipulating the Witchmaster’s body, vanished from his spot in an instant, leaving only a ripple of demonic energy in his wake.

A Clash Above the Lake

A white-robed woman streaked through the air like a rainbow, her graceful form intercepted mid-flight by the old fox. The violent collision of her sword and his claw sent a dazzling trail of sparks cascading through the sky. Her movements faltered momentarily, but her long sword danced around her, its silver glow surging and flickering, deftly blocking the demonic energy invading from all directions.

The ‘Wizard Master,’ now fully under the old fox’s control, hovered before her. His aura had shifted dramatically—his once lifeless, fish-like eyes now gleamed pitch black, twin abysses that seemed to swallow all who dared meet their gaze. The white-clad woman guarded her sword’s core, carefully avoiding eye contact, sensing the immense power now radiating from her foe.

She could sense that the old fox before her was now vastly stronger than before.

His earlier words echoed in her mind, stirring turmoil. The Five Paths and the Three Realms beyond them were concepts so profound that they surpassed her imagination. Yet he spoke of them with casual ease, as if they were trivial truths. She knew she had to escape and warn her sect—her master must be informed. If the old fox fully recovered, the Southern Province would face catastrophe.

The old fox watched her, a faint smile playing on his lips.

“Truthfully, had you struck with full strength at the start, you could have gravely wounded me. It’s a pity you hesitated, each strike tempered by thoughts of retreat. Having stepped onto the path of immortality, could you not bear to tarnish it with such trivial matters as slaying demons?”

Her heart stirred with regret. His words rang true, and in that fleeting moment of doubt, a pitch-black seed took root within her, spreading rapidly, threatening to consume her soul.

A demonic seed’s corruption?

The danger was palpable. A mere flicker of wavering had allowed the enemy to exploit her weakness. What kind of terrifying cultivation realm was this? She dared not dwell on it. Instead, she drew her sword before her, plucking its blade with her finger. A clear, crystalline ring echoed, pulling her from the murky depths of her mind.

“How many years have you cultivated, little girl? Your sword heart is so weak?” the old fox taunted with a laugh.

His words carried a hypnotic power, coaxing an unconscious response from her thoughts. He snorted derisively. “So, you’re just a girl in your twenties. I suppose I’ve been bullying my juniors.”

As he spoke, a flick of his finger sent a white rainbow crashing through the sky, mirroring her own technique but with greater precision and purer sword intent. Her corrupted sword heart slowed her reaction, and the beam struck her shoulder. With a pained groan, her arm’s fabric tore, and she plummeted toward the lake.

Biting her tongue to resist the demonic seed’s corruption, she planned to sink beneath the water to conceal her escape. But the lake froze solid in an instant, and she slammed onto the ice with a dull thud.

The old fox reappeared, delivering a brutal punch to her abdomen. Blood spurted from her mouth as she stabbed her sword into the ice, sliding back dozens of zhang. The sword wailed mournfully, its cry echoing her pain.

Muttering to himself, the old fox traced strokes in the air. “Is this the essence of your sect’s sword intent?”

The woman’s mind trembled. His strokes, though not perfect, captured her sect’s sword essence with uncanny accuracy. The demonic seed made her thoughts uncontrollable, and a flame ignited within her heart. The ice beneath her vanished, replaced by roaring, searing flames.

The old fox smiled ambiguously.

“Before you die, I’ll show you the true sword. See how much you can grasp.”

His fingers swept from left to right, electric sparks coiling into a snow-white line. With a soft “Go,” the phantom sword sliced through the air, its motion both swift and deliberate, revealing every ripple and pattern. The woman, unable to look away, felt a sword form within her heart, as if slashing from within, threatening to tear her apart.

Was this strike from the old fox, or had she drawn a blade against herself?

The old fox turned toward the imperial city, but a soft “Hmm” escaped him as he glanced back. The woman had raised her sword, her torn robes stained with blood, her cracked white mask revealing serene features. In that moment between life and death, her mind emptied. The demonic seed failed to shatter her Dao-heart; instead, she harnessed its force, breaking through her spiritual barriers into a realm of ethereal mystery.

“Thank you for your guidance, Senior,” she said, her fingers tracing a reverse path from right to left, mirroring his motion perfectly.

A Battle of Sword and Spirit

The old fox’s brow furrowed. Her sword light flared, dispelling the icy river and fiery sparks, leaving only a vast white mist. A slender line surged forward like a tide, shattering his forms with crisp snapping sounds. The woman staggered to her feet, her blood-soaked robes and cracked mask revealing her resilience.

The old fox pinched the sword’s edge, drifting backward as ice, rain, and flames surged toward him, intent on shattering her strike. But her eyes shone with unprecedented brilliance. With a piercing cry, she unleashed her final trump card: under her divine will, all things became swords. The old fox’s attempt to harness cosmic power turned against him, each element cutting like a blade.

“Sword spirit and body as one?” His voice cracked with pain.

Her sword shot through the air, grazing his side as she fled toward the imperial city. Suppressing the agony of ten thousand swords piercing his flesh, the old fox pursued relentlessly. Another phantom blade struck her back, blood spurting as she fought the numbness, plummeting into the city.

By the narrowest margin, she entered first. The old fox slammed into the city wall, repelled violently. He recalled swallowing the ancient scroll tied to the city’s fate—anyone could enter, but he faced a hundredfold backlash if he tried.

Halting at the gate, he gazed where she vanished, chuckling. “Now this is getting interesting.”

The Vermilion Falcon’s Gift

“Great Sage!” a voice called. A bird, no larger than a young eagle, struggled in midair, clutching an ancient umbrella in its beak.

The old fox frowned, recognizing the umbrella but surprised by its easy delivery. “Zhao Xiang’er sent you with this for me?”

The vermilion falcon chirped, “The Prince instructed me to deliver it to the Great Sage.”

The old fox scanned the umbrella with demonic energy, confirming its authenticity before swallowing it. A lock snapped in the underground palace, and three illusory tails emerged behind him. The umbrella, tied to Zhao’s people, lifted the city’s barriers, but killing even a single citizen would now bring backlash.

“Not destroy the city? Not kill people?” He chuckled. “The little girl is quite the schemer. Could she be destined to become a sage’s seed?”

These restrictions were temporary. Once he refined the city’s treasures, they would vanish. Turning to the demonic bird, he asked, “Are you Zhao’s demonic bird?”

Sensing deadly intent, the Crimson Feather Lord replied, “I’ve lived in Zhao for decades. I’m just a messenger pigeon. His Highness promised you wouldn’t kill me.”

The old fox’s eyes deepened. “Back when I battled that immortal in the Southern State, I drank the blood of many beasts. That you survived makes you my disciple. I won’t kill you.”

The bird trembled, realizing it had consumed the old fox’s blood long ago. “So that was yours, Senior?”

The old fox nodded, lifting the bird’s restriction. “As my disciple, you must never live under another’s roof again.”

The Crimson Feather Lord prostrated, trembling with gratitude. “This junior will follow your lead, Senior.”

A Wounded Warrior’s Refuge

Wind and rain swept into the city. In a deserted alley, a faint shadow materialized on the wall. A sword streak pierced the rain, and the white-robed woman stumbled to the ground, her mask loosening. Blood spread in the puddle beneath her, her lifeless sword falling beside her.

Rain-soaked and wounded, she clutched the hilt, struggling to rise. Each raindrop felt like a drumbeat, pounding her back to the ground. Coughing, she forced true qi to move, hoping to reach her blue-and-white sedan chair, only to find their connection severed.

“Could something have happened in the palace?”

Another cough brought waves of pain, her organs sliced by invisible knives. She collapsed after a few steps. The tolling of bells signaled the old fox’s entry into the city. Powerless to conceal her aura, she knew discovery was imminent.

Soldiers’ footsteps echoed behind her. Clinging to the wall, she trudged forward, hearing their voices:

“Bloodstains here. Likely rebels fled this way.”

“The Emperor is alive. Isn’t this too heartless?”

“The Princess holds the palace. If she wants the throne, no one can stop her. We besieged the palace twenty days ago—a crime punishable by clan extermination. We must make amends.”

“They were our comrades! Can you strike them down?”

“Who would slaughter their brothers if not forced? This nation… let it perish.”

The white-clad woman, too weak to process the palace’s upheaval, moved instinctively. A courtyard gate stood open ahead. Without hesitation, she dragged her wounded body inside, collapsing.

A Quiet Sanctuary

Inside the house, Ning Xiaoling propped her chin, listening to her senior brother, Ning Changjiu, recount tedious tales. Were it not for the strange noises outside, she’d have fallen asleep.

He began a story of a fox spirit repaying a human’s kindness. Ning Xiaoling interrupted, “Senior Brother, how do you make such boring stories sound fascinating?”

Ning Changjiu chuckled, “These are stories I love… Are they really that dull?”

“They’re so cliché,” she replied. “Foxes are thankless. They’d steal a scholar’s silver before repaying kindness.”

He offered another tale, but she cut him off, covering her ears. “There’s thunder and explosions outside. I’m scared… Could that monster from underground have escaped?”

“If that’s the case, we can only pray it doesn’t find us,” Ning Changjiu said.

“We’re just Taoist priests who helped Master put on shows. No grudges, no feuds. Unless that monster’s bloodthirsty, we should be fine,” Ning Xiaoling reassured herself. “Senior Brother, lock the courtyard gate…”

A sudden thud interrupted her—the sound of someone crashing against the door. They exchanged glances.

“Should we go see?” Ning Changjiu asked.

Ning Xiaoling tossed him an umbrella, her expression hopeless, as the storm outside heralded an uncertain fate.