Chapter Forty-Two: Linghu Jinjiu Holds Back a Move

Chapter Forty-Two: Linghu Jinjiu’s Hidden Hand

Unknowingly, more than half a year passed once again.

During these months, the news of Fang Junmei collecting over two thousand Windshadow Sands had already spread, causing quite a stir. His open defiance of Gu Xijin became an even hotter topic, with some disciples secretly gloating over his actions.

Yet after that incident, Gu Xijin never came after Fang Junmei, as if he truly possessed an exceptionally broad mind.

On this day, with the five-year period drawing near, Fang Junmei emerged from seclusion once again.

His cultivation remained at the eighth level of Qi Drawing—not for lack of spirit stones, but for lack of time. There simply wasn’t enough to break through to the ninth level in such a short span.

Fang Junmei felt no anxiety about this.

He would strive, and let things unfold as they would. In the end, the outcome would surely be satisfactory.

Having walked from childhood to the pinnacle of mortal martial arts, Fang Junmei knew well that some things could not be rushed.

Clang—clang—

As soon as he stepped outside, the clash of metal reached his ears. The sound was not very loud, suggesting the combatants were some distance away, but it was certainly within the territory of the Immovable Peak.

Could it be an intruder?

Fang Junmei’s heart tightened. He glanced first at the doors of Linghu Jinjiu and Fan Lanzhou; both were open. He checked inside and found neither of them there. Only after confirming that the Daoist Cuotuo showed no sign of alarm did Fang Junmei relax, step out of the courtyard, and follow the sound.

…

Coming down from the heights of the mountain, Fang Junmei soon saw the source of the commotion.

On a rocky outcrop halfway up the northern slope, Fan Lanzhou and Linghu Jinjiu were engaged in combat—or rather, in sparring.

This was Fang Junmei’s first time witnessing a duel between cultivators of their caliber with such focus, and he was momentarily entranced.

In the sky, blue radiance flashed. Each spark of blue seemed to birth a miniature sun, so dazzling as to sting the eyes.

A succession of blue suns blazed forth, each more brilliant than the last. It was a fantastical, dreamlike scene, as if the world itself had become unreal.

Enduring the pain, Fang Junmei gathered his energy and looked closer. At the heart of each blue sun hovered a splendid sapphire sword, flickering in and out of sight, manipulated by no visible hand.

Such swordsmanship, such mystical techniques, were utterly beyond Fang Junmei’s imagination, leaving his heart and spirit quaking.

Opposing the blue sword was a rain of sword shadows, like four or five hundred blades identical to one another, each aglow with earthy yellow light—though there could only be one true sword among them.

These sword shadows merged into a dragon of light, more than ten yards long, roaring and writhing, striking down the blue suns one after another.

Bang—bang—bang—

Each clash of swords thundered like distant storms, unleashing tempests that sent rocks flying and clouds of sand swirling across the outcrop.

The scale of this duel far surpassed Fang Junmei’s battle with Xiao Yunyu. Were it not for the choice of such a barren, rocky site, countless trees might have been reduced to dust.

Two figures stood atop great stones below.

Fan Lanzhou, draped in white robes, stood easily atop one boulder, his expression calm and relaxed, his body unmoving. Only his slender fingers shifted subtly, forming arcane seals—none could tell which sword he was truly controlling.

Opposite him, of course, was Linghu Jinjiu.

By now, Linghu Jinjiu’s body was starting to sway, sweat beading on his brow. It was plain he was nearing his limit.

Besides the two combatants, a little over a hundred yards away stood two more onlookers: Yang Xiaoman and Song Shede, the latter evidently having come to find Fang Junmei and chancing upon this sparring match.

Fang Junmei watched in a daze for several moments before finally stepping toward them, his gaze never wavering.

…

“Linghu, is this the extent of your resistance?” Fan Lanzhou, seeing Linghu Jinjiu on the verge of collapse, grew colder, a hint of displeasure in his tone.

“Of course not!” Linghu Jinjiu laughed boisterously, his voice ringing out. “They call me Linghu the One Who Keeps a Trump Card—I’d hardly reveal all my tricks. Even facing you, Second Brother, I have no intention of showing everything.”

He was an amusing character, keeping secrets even from his own fellow disciples.

Hearing this, Song Shede felt a little awkward, supposing that Linghu Jinjiu was unwilling to reveal his most prized techniques before an outsider.

“Then I’ll force you to show them!” Fan Lanzhou snorted. With a twist of his fingers, the blue suns winked out one after another. Then Fan Lanzhou soared into the air, seizing the sapphire sword, his head down and feet up, plunging like an arrow toward Linghu Jinjiu.

With that strike, the blue blade erupted with blinding radiance, swelling into a colossal, spectral sword dozens of yards long, as if Fan Lanzhou himself had become a sword!

In this moment, Fan Lanzhou truly bore the air of a sword immortal.

Immovable Peak. Rocky outcrop. A giant blue sword descending upon the ant-sized Linghu Jinjiu.

This was a scene Fang Junmei had never witnessed in his life. He was transfixed, motionless.

Yang Xiaoman and Song Shede were equally spellbound.

“The Starfall Sword Technique from the Seven Swords of the Northern Dipper—legend says, like the other six forms, it requires the sword to be an extension of one’s bones before it can be cultivated. Who would have thought that beyond the departed eldest disciple, even Fan Lanzhou has reached such a level?” Song Shede murmured unconsciously.

…

Linghu Jinjiu, facing the brunt of the attack, turned pale, his eyes wide. He sensed the extraordinary force of this strike—the blade had yet to fall, but already his skin seemed to split with pain, as though his body might burst at any moment.

Bang—bang—bang—

The earth at his feet began to shatter, stones bursting into powder, cracks spiderwebbing in all directions, as though the end of days had arrived.

This was, without doubt, a strike of overwhelming power.

All eyes turned to Linghu Jinjiu, waiting to see how he would respond.

“I give up, I give up! Second Brother, I yield!” Linghu Jinjiu abruptly withdrew all his swords, hugged his head, and fled in another direction, howling wildly. He completely abandoned resistance, conjuring only a yellow shield of light to protect himself.

Song Shede, Yang Xiaoman, and Fang Junmei were all dumbfounded.

But Fan Lanzhou, his gaze icy, did not relent and pressed the attack.

The sword radiance grew ever colder, drawing ever nearer!

“Master! Second Brother’s going to kill me! Pity you’ve never even met your disciple yet!” Linghu Jinjiu shouted, seeing that Fan Lanzhou refused to hold back. It turned out that Daoist Cuotuo had been asleep when he entered the sect.

Hearing his words, Fang Junmei and the others were speechless, realizing Linghu Jinjiu had made up his mind not to reveal any further techniques.

Ten yards!

Five yards!

Three yards!

Fan Lanzhou and his blade, transformed into a stream of sword light, finally halted just three yards from Linghu Jinjiu, then silently dispersed.

…

On the rocky outcrop, the raging winds slowly died down.

Linghu Jinjiu stopped at last, gasping for breath, looking genuinely shaken.

Fan Lanzhou’s black hair and white robes still fluttered in the breeze. Sheathing his sword, he fixed Linghu Jinjiu with a stern gaze, his voice unusually cold: “Linghu, if all your life you only do what you are already capable of, you will never surpass your own limits.”

When he rebuked his junior, he truly possessed an air of authority.

Linghu Jinjiu burst out laughing, unhooked his wine gourd, and took a deep swig. “I don’t only do what I’m capable of. I just didn’t want to reveal more tricks today.”

Then, his expression growing serious, he said, “Senior brother, I know what concerns you. When the critical moment of the tournament comes, if necessary, I’ll bring out every last technique I have. I won’t let you down.”

As Linghu Jinjiu sobered, his gaze turned resolute.

Fan Lanzhou studied him intently, then finally nodded, somewhat satisfied.