He Butuo laughed coldly, “Young Master Jun, coming alone into such danger is unwise.”
“You still call me Young Master; you should know I never do anything without certainty.” The Young Master replied, his voice calm yet firm.
He Butuo stepped back, his smile not reaching his eyes, “If this bloodshed could be used on the Young Master, it would be worth it.” As he spoke, he shot a hidden arrow, which soared into the sky with a sharp whistle.
The Young Master stood with his hands behind his back, as if kindly informing him, “No need to wait; your men won’t be coming.”
He Butuo’s expression changed slightly, “What do you mean?”
The Young Master sighed softly, “It seems you still don’t understand. Did you really think I brought this girl to rush to Qingchuan River? Did you really think this was the place mentioned in ‘Shanshui Yao’? Did you truly believe I was traveling leisurely because of the beauty by my side, enjoying life to the fullest?”
The roars of the leopard continued from the cave above, tearing through the night. Chuxia held the snow-white little leopard in her arms, and the words the Young Master had spoken that day echoed in her ears. It was at the Jun residence, right after she had been rescued from the burning courtyard, she had whispered a location in his ear, “Dongting Lake, Jun Mountain.” At that moment, the Young Master held her, his handsome brows slightly furrowed, then his eyes brightened in an instant. Jun Ye’an had pieced together the entire plan in that moment. He instructed her to mention another unrelated place, Qingchuan River. Then, dressed as a traveler, they headed slowly to Qingchuan River, while secretly deploying the dark guards of the Jun family to set up a vast trap, waiting for Tiangang to reveal themselves so they could be captured all at once.
“Your men, perhaps they are dead, or perhaps they wish they were. Either way, you shouldn’t expect them. However, you should know, I came here alone to this Little Mirror Lake. Whether you can kill me or not, that’s up to your skills.” The Young Master said calmly, “I’ve been wanting to lure Tiangang out for a long time.”
Upon hearing this, He Butuo gave a sinister smile, “I’ve heard that the Young Master’s Yu Yang Sword is unmatched in the martial world. But how does it compare to Master Hui Feng from Shaolin Temple in the past?”
The Young Master slightly frowned, “So, you’re saying Master Hui Feng’s death was your doing as well?”
“Indeed.” He Butuo waved his hand, and twelve men formed a sword formation around them, “The Sword Formation has only been used four times since its inception by Tiangang, and you, Young Master, are the fifth.”
“Only those about to die would boast of past glories.” The Young Master now held a five-foot-long sword, smiling lightly, “I only asked that girl to count to a hundred; if we keep this up, she’ll hate me even more.”
He said no more, his figure leaped like a cloud, executing a move from the Xiangyang Sword Technique of the Jun family, “The Sun Rolls Up the Curtain.” The sword light obscured the clouds and moon, though aimed at one person, its momentum was overwhelmingly vast, sending chills across everyone’s cheeks. The “Warrior Armor” sword formation, as its name suggested, adopted a defensive stance. Each person strictly maintained their position, yet it seemed like a massive steel plate, slowly driving the opponent into a desperate situation, crushing them to death bit by bit. The young master made several aggressive attacks but couldn’t penetrate the sword formation, and his movements slowed down slightly. He knew that while he could momentarily halt the opponent’s advance with such aggressive tactics, his own strength would soon be exhausted, whereas his opponents, twelve in total, could support each other, making it impossible for him to sustain for long. Upon closer inspection, he noticed a slight gap among the leading four. His eyes lit up, and his swordplay suddenly transformed into the fluid, agile Clear Stream Sword technique. His body spun like a whirlwind, and in an instant, he darted into the midst of the twelve.
He Bucompromised, positioned at the rear, shouted, “Change formation!” The sword formation stretched out abruptly, and under the moonlight, one could see fine threads crisscrossing the ground, forming a dense web. These threads, now taut, were sharp as blades. Anyone venturing into this web would likely be shredded to pieces. The young master realized that the previous actions were to lure him into the formation. These silk threads, besides potentially slicing someone into pieces, also served to connect and synchronize the twelve fighters. Unfazed, he swung his Yuyang Sword horizontally, but it couldn’t sever those seemingly transparent threads. He Bucompromised chuckled deeply, “Even the old monk from Shaolin died by these silken threads. Jun Ye’an, why don’t you try this taste?” The young master pressed his thin lips together, not responding, but swiftly lowered his body, almost like a fish, slipping out smoothly.
Once out of the sword formation, he saw that Chuxia had opened her eyes, staring blankly at him, timidly saying, “I’ve counted to a hundred.” The young master, ignoring the approaching sword formation, gave an apologetic smile, “Then keep your eyes open and watch me break the formation.” He then executed three consecutive moves — “Dawn in the Forest,” “Zen Mountain’s Silence,” and “Night in the Endless Woods” — each with the power to shake the earth. The four in front were forced to step back, while those on the sides and behind, not directly impacted, remained in place. He was waiting for this moment, for that brief, fleeting gap in coordination. The previously taut silk threads now slightly loosened, lacking the infusion of true energy, becoming limp. With his Yuyang Sword now imbued with full inner strength, he slashed down, splitting even a boulder, let alone the silken threads. Once the threads were severed, the sword formation broke. Several of the twelve, losing their mutual support, were knocked down by the young master’s inner force, unable to move.
The young master pointed his Yuyang Sword at He Bucompromised’s throat, saying calmly, “Does this count as breaking it?” He Bucompromised, pale-faced, clutched his chest but remained silent. The young master, not wanting to say more, was about to deliver the final blow when a scream came from behind. A steel knife was at Chuxia’s throat, held by the man who had been wrestling with the leopard mother in the den, now shirtless and covered in blood. “Young Master, put down your sword,” the man sneered, “or this loyal maid of yours will be a pity.” The young master’s mind raced with countless thoughts. How far to attack, how much force, from which direction, and what were the chances of success? But even with a ninety-nine percent certainty, there was still a chance she could be harmed by the knife.
“Number Seven, make him disable his right hand,” He Bucompromised suddenly commanded from behind. The man quickly said, “Yes! Jun Ye’an, disable your right hand, or I’ll gouge out this wretch’s left eye first!” Chuxia’s face was as white as paper, her clear eyes staring straight at him, saying nothing, yet conveying everything. In the past, amidst bullets, swords, and poisons, Jun Ye’an had faced countless dangers and killed many, but at this moment, he was truly at a loss. He regretted not bringing his shadow guards, leaving a single flaw in his plan. Chuxia, I’ve let you go once before… this time, must it be the same, watching you being threatened again?
