Chapter 25: Long Street Has Rain, Blue Robe Receives Sword

Ning Xiaoling took out a new can of tea. Instead of using delicate porcelain, she unceremoniously brewed it in three large bowls.

Ning Xiaoling watched the verdant leaves unfurl and drift in the water, smiling. "My master was always stingy, so I grew accustomed to plain food and coarse tea with him. I've been in the palace for several days now, and it just occurred to me that I haven't tasted this fine tea yet."

Ning Changjiu chuckled, "Junior Sister, you have such refined tastes?"

Ning Xiaoling also smiled. "Not at all. I'm just curious."

Lu Jiajia glanced at the water stains on the table and frowned slightly. She looked at the young woman fanning the large bowls to cool them down and said with a touch of apology, "I can't stay any longer. That old fox will find me eventually. Every moment I linger is irresponsible to you."

Ning Xiaoling asked, "Sister Lu, isn't your injury still unhealed?"

Lu Jiajia tugged at her collar, covering the white bandage that was still in place. "I should be able to protect myself. Now that I know Zhao Xiang'er is guarding the palace, I can return with peace of mind. As long as I retrieve the Blue and White Sedan, it will be difficult for that old fox to harm me if I'm determined to avoid combat."

As she spoke, she picked up the long sword that had lost its spiritual energy and performed a sect's sword salute to the two young people who had shown her kindness.

"Miss Lu, wait."

"Hmm?"

Ning Changjiu suddenly stood up, took a piece of paper from his sleeve, and handed it to her. "This is today's prescription, a method I found in an ancient book. You might as well keep it; it could be useful later."

"The Grand Sword Sect has better medicine..." Lu Jiajia initially wanted to refuse, but seeing the young man's clear, distinct eyes, she hesitated for a moment before accepting it. "Thank you. Keep this mask; you can carry it with you. If I die here, you can take this mask to the Grand Sword Sect, and someone will receive you."

Ning Changjiu looked thoughtfully at the slightly broken pure white mask.

The brother and sister said no more words of retention.

Lu Jiajia began to circulate the spiritual energy within her body, controlling the sword essence in her Qi Sea, doing her best to maintain a stable mid-level Longevity Realm strength.

The moment she opened the door, a man's silhouette, hand on his saber, appeared, accompanied by scattered leaves and raindrops.

The man's calm face held a faint smile, but his eyes burned with fire.

"Long time no see, Fairy Lu. How is your injury healing?"

"It's you?" Lu Jiajia's pupils constricted instantly.

Seeing those eyes, she instantly recognized the old demon fox, who had merely changed his skin.

He arrived even faster than she had imagined!

Like a startled hedgehog, Lu Jiajia retreated half a step, assuming a defensive stance. Sword energy surged around her, erupting like hundreds of swords being drawn simultaneously.

"Senior Brother!"

The young woman's startled cry echoed from within the house.

The old fox looked towards the dimly lit house and smiled. "Are there others? I wonder if they are from Zhao."

Lu Jiajia took a deep breath and shouted, "Protect your junior sister! Don't worry about this side!"

As she spoke, she gritted her teeth against the pain. Her long, taut legs suddenly propelled her forward, and she lunged towards the old fox.

The saber at the old fox's waist simultaneously burst from its sheath.

It was a long, slender saber with a pure black blade and a silver-white edge. Subtle plum blossom patterns adorned the guard, exquisitely forged.

As the blade slid from its sheath, the saber intent cascaded like a waterfall, shredding the fine rain and cleaving through sword light. Yet, it did not harm a single brick, tile, blade of grass, or tree, demonstrating exquisite control.

This was the saber intent the man had accumulated over decades in his lifetime. However, when the old fox suddenly appeared, the man was killed with a single strike before he could even draw his saber, and his decades of accumulated saber intent now served another's purpose.

In the courtyard, sword light and saber light, like two handfuls of silver-white fire, flared brightly for a moment before spreading like a wildfire, clashing together.

Three zhang away from the old fox, Lu Jiajia leaped, her white robes like wings, and brought her sword down.

The saber intent was like wind, the saber light like mist. The excruciating pain made her body tense, and some wounds that had just barely mended burst open. Yet, the woman seemed to feel no pain; the sword strike she unleashed from mid-air had no hesitation.

There was a thunderous crash.

The courtyard wall beneath the old fox was split directly in half, the main gate shattered, and the sword intent, still unabated, continued to spread cracks towards the street.

The old fox's figure flickered, reappearing at the end of the sword energy cracks. In just a single breath, he unleashed dozens of saber strikes, shattering the persistent sword energy.

Lu Jiajia gathered another breath. Sword light flickered on her blade as a white rainbow pierced through the long street, her figure following the sword.

A peculiar glint flashed in the old fox's eyes. He hadn't expected her to recover so quickly from such severe injuries. At this moment, he was only one of three remnant souls, possessing a mid-to-upper Longevity Realm strength, not much stronger than her own.

Saber and sword clashed again and again. Amidst the clear ringing of their engagement, as the two moved with lightning speed, the surrounding air shattered, erupting with sounds like firecrackers.

"White Rainbow Pierces the Void."

"Great River Enters the Ditch."

"Ink Rain Overturns the Basin."

Lu Jiajia continuously unleashed the three most lethal sword techniques from the upper scroll of the Heavenly Oracle Sword Scripture. The three strikes followed one another in quick succession, almost without pause.

The old fox blocked with his saber from side to side, his figure sometimes still, sometimes retreating, surprisingly falling into a temporary disadvantage. Yet, despite his opponent's seemingly furious onslaught, his saber showed no panic. His slashes and blocks were remarkably simple, but he consistently managed to directly block the viper-like sword energy, then locate the weakest point in his opponent's sword intent and sever it.

He cut through the "White Rainbow" and drew his saber to sever the "Great River."

The rainbow light, at the end of its momentum, was fragmented into countless fireflies, and the intercepted "Great River" shattered into innumerable streams.

Lu Jiajia's expression remained unchanged. Sword energy could be reformed if scattered, but her momentum must never be broken.

"A Sword Strike like Crashing Thunder."

Sword energy struck like falling iron beads, and the torrential rain poured down, threatening to pierce everything it touched into a thousand holes.

The old fox suddenly tossed his saber. Placing a finger at the junction of the hilt and the guard, he found a marvelous balancing point and began to twirl the long saber like a relentless windmill or a glittering silver shield.

The clash of saber and sword, the shattering of iron beads, the thunder of sword energy, the cracking of green bricks... The world itself seemed to resonate. In the fleeting moment their figures met, these chaotic sounds, wrapped in stark white light, burst forth.

The sudden sound of shattering metal filled the air.

A sharp glint shot out from between the two, embedding itself in the ground with a *clink*. It was clearly half of a saber blade.

Though the saber had been forged countless times, it was ultimately an ordinary weapon. Under Lu Jiajia's long sword assault, which swept over like a torrential downpour, it finally succumbed to the immense pressure and abruptly shattered.

At that same moment, all the residual energy within the saber burst forth, forcing Lu Jiajia to temporarily retreat and avoid its sharp edge.

The broken saber returned to its sheath. The old fox's current body also bled profusely, but as he was not the true host, the pain did not even register in his perception.

He calmly gazed at the woman before him, who had expended her strength and was now visibly weakening, and smiled faintly.

Lu Jiajia, in white, dragged her sword, her posture erect. A chilling killing intent permeated her gaze, leaving no hint of gentleness, as if she had been born a cold and ruthless sword.

Yet, no matter how exceptional her bearing, her old wounds had not healed, and new injuries were added, causing immense damage to her body.

"Excellent swordplay," the old fox couldn't help but praise after flicking his sleeve to disperse the last lingering trace of invading sword intent.

Lu Jiajia asked coldly, "Do you dare to face another sword?"

Several zhang away, the old fox stood with his hands behind his back. "Why wouldn't I dare?"

Lu Jiajia's eyes narrowed, and she subtly turned her body. She secretly gathered the spiritual energy in her Qi Sea using a sword-breathing technique. The sword essence within the spiritual energy churned like boiling water, adhering to her sword along her five fingers, illuminating it with faint points of light.

The old fox's aura subtly shifted, for he sensed a faint sword energy clinging to every raindrop around them.

Sword Spirit Unity!

But he still did not interrupt.

She was regulating her breath; he was gathering his momentum.

A peal of autumn thunder rumbled.

It was real thunder, like the battle drums beaten when two armies confront each other. When the drums reverberate, blades and spears clash.

The fox's silhouette was like fire, the sword's like a line.

They clashed silently.

They did not touch; instead, they narrowly missed each other. The old fox's figure abruptly halted, while the pure white sword shadow streaked directly toward the palace.

Lu Jiajia had never intended to engage him in a protracted fight. The previous three fierce sword strikes, that earlier display of indomitable arrogance, were all meant to give her opponent the illusion that she would fight to the death.

But her objective from the very beginning had been singular: to enter the palace.

Just as Lu Jiajia was confident that the old demon fox would no longer be able to pursue her if she moved at full speed, she suddenly noticed a ball of fire clinging to her sleeve.

Her expression abruptly changed. With a single sword stroke, she severed her sleeve. In that same instant, flames surged, incinerating the sleeve and revealing the old fox's figure.

"Good reaction," the old fox murmured.

Lu Jiajia too was filled with lingering dread. Had she been a moment slower, she would have been severely wounded and defeated.

"You guessed it already?" the woman asked icily.

The old fox sneered, "Little girl, you are still too young."

Lu Jiajia suddenly noticed that the saber at his waist was gone.

The moment this thought arose, a chill ran down her spine, followed by agonizing, heart-wrenching pain.

The beast-hide saber sheath, which had been removed at some unknown moment, struck her back fiercely. Her already unhealed wounds tore open, bandages shredded, and blood soaked her back.

As the saber back made contact, the old fox attacked simultaneously.

One hand, like an eagle's claw, struck directly at her lower abdomen, while the other freed hand snatched the hilt of the airborne saber. With a swift *swish*, he drew the broken blade and chopped directly at her neck.

Lu Jiajia was drenched in cold sweat from the pain, her limbs momentarily uncoordinated. But the sword scriptures were etched into her very bones, and the surge of survival instinct forced her to react.

Dozens of strands of dark hair fell. The saber strike grazed her cheek in a perilous near-miss. With her other hand, Lu Jiajia blocked with her sword sheath across her shoulder, yet the immense force of the saber still forced her to one knee.

The old fox stepped forward, delivering a side elbow strike. Simultaneously, the blade scraped against the sword sheath, its edge continuing its downward trajectory.

In desperation, Lu Jiajia unleashed a burst of sword energy, abandoning the sword sheath entirely. She caught the elbow strike with her palm and used the force to slide backward.

The old fox's saber strike missed, but he remained relentless. He slapped the hilt, throwing the broken saber directly at her throat. His figure did not stop; his five fingers spread, three forming a hook like sharp claws. His silhouette vanished from his spot, launching an aerial claw strike like a demon beast pouncing on prey, its speed not inferior to the flying saber in the slightest.

A hint of despair surfaced in Lu Jiajia's heart. In the brief exchange just now, she realized that her opponent consistently exploited the gaps in her sword-breathing technique to launch fatal attacks, as if he understood every circulation of her spiritual energy.

Even among fellow disciples, familiar with each other's mental cultivation methods, such a feat would be impossible. How did that old fox manage it in such a short time?

Was this the insight of someone who had once reached above the Five Paths?

Despairing thoughts spread like ink dropped into water.

The broken saber struck her sword. As the old fox's figure followed closely, she frantically blocked, retreating step by step.

With a *thud*, the old fox's fist struck her wrist. The woman let out a pained gasp, her right hand instantly numb. Unable to react, another fist slammed into her lower abdomen. She felt her abdominal muscles instantly contract, and her internal organs churned violently. The pain made her body twitch uncontrollably, rendering her unable to mount any effective counterattack.

After a punch to her forehead, the woman's jade crown and silver hairpins fell to the ground. Her wet hair scattered, and her blood-stained lips held a tragically vivid hue.

She could no longer grip her sword. Her body reeled backward from the next punch, and the sword slipped from her grasp.

The old fox breached her final defense and clamped his hand around her neck.

Her vision blurred, and her consciousness wavered. She felt her feet leave the ground, her Qi Sea depleted of spiritual energy, unable to draw out even a trace. The pain from her neck nearly choked her.

She had believed that after twenty years of cultivation, her sword heart was perfectly clear. Yet, when death truly arrived, the immense fear still rose like a specter from beneath a sacred lake.

She suddenly remembered her childhood: her parents arguing, pots and pans crashing to the floor. She would curl up under the table, covering her ears. She wanted to help her mother but dared not leave her hiding place, for once her drunken father had nearly beaten her to death. The cowardice and fear in her heart weighed her down, while the empathy and guilt for her mother's suffering cut into her like a knife.

If only she had been a boy, perhaps things would have been different... She would always clamp her hands over her ears and squeeze her eyes shut, lost in that helpless thought.

She would forever remember that pain: darkness all around, the candlelight in the room seeming unreal. She was so hungry she was nearly fainting, and the clamor still boomed endlessly in her ears, impossible to block out.

Back then, she always prayed that if immortals truly existed, they might come and mediate her parents' arguments, and then give her a bowl of warm porridge, at least to survive the night.

Later, a sage-like old man truly came to their village.

He said he wanted to take her as his disciple.

At that time, she was ecstatic, secretly pulling down her sleeves to cover the scars and bruises on her forearms, trying her best to widen her eyes and appear innocent and charming, terrified that the old Daoist master would change his mind.

In retrospect, she was so small and thin back then, how could she have been even remotely charming?

The rain gradually grew heavier again, as if bidding her farewell.

After many years, that feeling of powerlessness surged up again. The stench of death was imminent, and yet she, who was an immortal in others' eyes, a guardian against demons and monsters, wondered who could possibly come to her aid now?

No one would...

The air in her lungs gradually depleted, her consciousness began to fragment, and a profound drowsiness swept over her. Her eyelashes trembled in the rain, on the verge of closing.

All of this could not have happened long ago. Just moments before, her hand had been shattered, and her sword had flown from her grasp, yet she still hadn't heard the sound of it hitting the ground.

The old fox hadn't heard it either.

It wasn't because too little time had passed, but because the sword had not fallen to the ground at all.

Before the gleaming long sword could touch the ground, invisible threads seemed to envelop it. Only when a distinct, yet still somewhat tender, hand grasped it did the old fox suddenly realize what had happened.

A sword struck from behind, swift as lightning.

The sound of bones breaking rang out. The body of the saber-wielding man shifted sideways but failed to evade in time.

A sound like chopping wood filled the air.

Before Lu Jiajia's eyes, the head of the man who had been gripping her neck suddenly flew into the air.

And in the corner of her eye, she only caught a glimpse of a simple blue robe flashing past.