Chapter 23: A Duel on the Rooftops
The moonlight was bleak and cold, spreading over the eaves like frost.
Two sword-wielding figures exchanged blows, their weapons clashing with a grim, metallic ring. Within just over ten moves, the keen-eyed had already spotted the telltale signs.
“That white-clad thief is quite formidable, actually managing to withstand thirteen strikes from the Sect Master. However, his internal energy is not profound; I fear he won’t last much longer.”
“How did Senior Uncle discern this?”
“Observe: when their swords collide, the Sect Master retreats half a step, while the white-clad thief retreats two. That is the disparity in their internal strength.”
Indeed, just as he had said.
Mu Bai was able to withstand Luo Wangchuan’s thirteen strikes only thanks to Tianyu Liufang; had it been an ordinary sword, it would have long since been reduced to a pile of scrap metal.
He had now truly experienced the terror of the Sword Obsessive. Even if his master, Qin Shengyi, were here today and engaged him in combat, he might not necessarily gain the upper hand.
Each move of the Green Lotus Sword flows seamlessly into the next, like lotus petals unfolding one by one. The earlier strikes may not be powerful, but each one lays the groundwork for those that follow, making this a sword technique that grows stronger with every execution.
However, the Liu Feng Hui Xue sword technique is purely offensive with no defense, its power so terrifying that a single strike can shatter the formations of the Qing Lian sword style, leaving no chance to connect subsequent moves.
With each blow Mu Bai blocked, the shock traveled from the blade up through his entire arm; after thirteen strikes, half his body had gone numb, and his movements grew increasingly sluggish.
Yet he refused to lose.
Gritting his teeth, Mu Bai steeled himself and once again unleashed the first form of the Qing Lian sword technique.
“Clang—”
He raised his stiff arm, still executing the second form, the third…
Luo Wangchuan’s sword was blocked; with a palm strike, he sent Mu Bai off balance. Her numb body tumbled down from the flying eaves along with the roof tiles.
In the rapidly falling view, a figure in black robes seated in a wheelchair flashed by.
Su Mo nearly rose from his wheelchair, but even with his exceptional lightness skill, it was impossible for him to catch Mu Bai before she hit the ground.
No, it is still far from enough.
He cannot lose.
Mu Bai’s numb fingers suddenly clenched tight, driving the Tianyu Liufang Sword into the ground; simultaneously pushing off the wall with his toes to propel himself upward, he drew the sword, dashed five steps along the wall, stepped onto the eaves, spun around, and returned to the roof of the main hall.
Seeing him leap back up, Luo Wangchuan’s eyes brightened, and he thrust forward with another strike.
This time, Mu Bai did not meet the attack blade-to-blade; instead, he sidestepped with a swift shift and unleashed a sword strike.
Had the light been bright enough, Luo Wangchuan would have recognized this as the footwork Mu Bai had learned from Elder Meng during the martial arts tournament.
He slashed at empty air, and as he turned, his blade traced a luminous arc, gleaming like snow. Mu Bai ducked low to evade, seamlessly flowing into the second form of the Green Lotus Sword.
The Whirling Wind and Returning Snow sword strike missed again; once more, it swept forward in a blazing arc. He spread his arms, pivoting on his right heel, and let his entire body fall straight backward. As the sword’s arc passed overhead, he sprang back like a coiled spring, thrusting out the third form.
Luo Wangchuan furrowed his brows. “As expected, this is the White Crane’s style.”
Back then, the old man dodged and weaved in exactly this manner; yet this thief before him seems to have fused the Xuanhe Sect’s footwork with their sword techniques.
Though not yet fully mastered, it has already given Luo Wangchuan a considerable headache.
His sword strikes landed only on empty air; the opponent’s sword style was bizarre and uncanny. At first, it seemed unremarkable, but after a dozen exchanges, the murderous intent seeping from the blade’s glow sent a chill down his spine. That sword energy lay coiled and ready, like a bud poised to bloom—once my flower opens, all other flowers shall perish.
Luo Wangchuan flicked his wrist, causing the sword to spin rapidly in his grasp, tracing out a brilliant floral pattern of steel.
The senior martial brother who had just commented remarked, “The sect master is getting serious; this thief is in danger.”
“Huh? Isn’t it supposed to be a spar where one stops short of causing real harm?”
“In a duel where both parties give their all, how can one hold back? At most, they will avoid taking each other’s lives.”
As they spoke, the two figures on the eaves exchanged over ten more moves. Mu Bai’s robes were slashed open in several places, his body covered in bloody marks. Yet the Tianyu Liufang Sword in his hand blazed with intense brilliance; bolstered by his sword intent, he could now clash head-on with Luo Wangchuan’s blade without falling behind.
Luo Wangchuan no longer maintained the composure he had at the start; a slash from the blade tore through his arm, ripping flesh and exposing muscle. Facing Mu Bai’s increasingly fierce attacks, he was beginning to falter.
With his years of combat experience, it was easy for him to see that Mu Bai was gathering energy for a powerful strike, yet there was nothing he could do to stop it now. The jade on the Tianyu Liufang sword shimmered with light, hinting at an imminent explosion. Luo Wangchuan furrowed his brow, gritted his teeth, poured all his internal energy into the weapon, and leaped forward, thrusting his sword directly at his opponent.
Success or failure hinged on this single move.
Mu Bai’s Qinglian Sword had nearly reached its peak readiness, but the stronger the sword intent became, the harder it was to control. If he were to dodge this attack, his sword intent would surely be broken, rendering all his previous efforts futile, and he would have no strength left for any follow-up.
Mu Bai clenched his teeth, shifted slightly to the side, and still managed to unleash one final sword strike.
The “Flowing Wind Returning Snow” sword pierced through his shoulder, while the “Green Lotus Sword Formation” exploded simultaneously. Terrifying sword intent swept over the eaves like a massive wave; roof tiles cracked entirely, and shattered stones rained down upon the ground as if a mountain had collapsed.
Luo Wangchuan was bleeding profusely, his black robes dyed a deep, dark hue. He withdrew his sword, staggered momentarily, then tumbled off the rooftop.
Mu Bai wanted to reach out and grab him, but a tearing pain surged from his shoulder, leaving him unable even to stand steady.
Fortunately, Luo Ziyi arrived just in time below to catch Luo Wangchuan.
“Master, Master, are you alright? Look at me…” Luo Ziyi could clearly feel several broken bones within Luo Wangchuan’s body, who dared not move even slightly.
Luo Wangchuan had not yet lost consciousness; his eyes remained open as he rasped, “I have lost.”
“No, Master, you have not lost. You will not lose.”
Luo Wangchuan merely stared blankly, murmuring over and over, “I have lost…”
After repeating it countless times, he suddenly coughed up a mouthful of congealed blood and fell into unconsciousness.
Huamei had already rushed to the side, crouching down to examine Luo Wangchuan’s injuries.
“It’s all my fault.” Luo Ziyi’s voice choked with sobs as he clung tightly to Luo Wangchuan, unwilling to let go. “From now on, I’ll practice swordsmanship diligently. Master, please don’t die…”
“Pah, pah, pah!” Huamei hushed him sharply. “Don’t speak such ill omens! Move aside.”
Luo Ziyi fell silent, but after a moment, he cautiously asked again, “Huamei… Sister Huamei, how is my master? Is there still hope?”
Huamei was so exasperated by him that she laughed despite herself. “Yes, yes, yes—just don’t curse him to death. Although Sect Leader Luo’s injuries are severe, his life is not in immediate danger. A few of you, lend a hand…”
Everyone breathed a sigh of relief; when they looked up at the eaves again, the white-clad thief had vanished.
“To escape despite such grievous wounds—this white-robed hero is truly formidable.”
“Senior Uncle, just moments ago you called him a thief.”
“Silence! Have you ever seen a thief capable of injuring the Sect Master so severely? If word of this gets out, how can our Lingyun Palace hope to survive in the jianghu?”
“……What Senior Martial Uncle says is correct.”
Behind the main hall, the white-clad hero was being held in someone’s arms.
“Put me down; I can walk on my own.”
Su Mo lowered his head and gently kissed Mu Bai’s forehead: “Be good, don’t make a fuss.”
“…” Mu Bai felt like he was about to split apart.
Yet at this moment, he lacked even the strength to protest.
Su Mo carried him into the chamber, laid him upon the bed, then retrieved a wooden chest from beneath it. Opening the lid revealed dozens of bottles and jars nestled inside.
“Wow,” Mu Bai briefly exclaimed, but the movement strained his muscles, forcing him to fall silent from the pain.
Su Mo placed the chest beside the headboard, sat on the edge of the bed, and began unfastening Mu Bai’s blood-stained white robes.
“Hey, don’t—hiss…”
His robe had already slipped off his shoulders. Mu Bai continued to protest, “Don’t undress me!”
Su Mo glanced up, catching sight of Mu Bai’s expression—a mix of defiance and pitiful pain. He wanted to laugh but couldn’t. “Stop moving, talk less. Let me apply the medicine.”
“Hiss—be gentle, gentle! It hurts, it hurts, it really hurts…”
“Endure it for a moment; it will be over soon.”
Mu Bai clenched his teeth, enduring the sharpest wave of pain before finally allowing himself to relax slightly. He fixed his gaze on the canopy above the bed to distract himself, then asked, “Good brother, was I impressive just now?”
“Impressive, truly impressive—you were the most impressive of all.”
Mu Bai’s eyes curved into a smile, only to twitch again from the pain.
He closed his eyes and leaned against the headboard, murmuring, “I wonder how Sect Master Luo’s injuries are faring.”
Blades and swords have no eyes; when facing a master like Luo Wangchuan, one must go all out, making it impossible to hold back. In truth, just before the sword formation exploded, Mu Bai deliberately adjusted the direction, causing it to miss Luo Wangchuan by a slight margin.
Even so, he will likely need to lie in bed for ten days or half a month before recovering.
“That sword thrust just now nearly pierced through your chest.” Su Mo suddenly tightened his grip, sending a jolt of pain through Mu Bai that made him almost leap up. “And you still have the mind to worry about him?”
After a brief pause, he added, “I’ve already sent Ye Xing to check. Sect Master Luo is out of danger; with Huamei attending to him, his injuries will stabilize soon.”
Huamei’s medical skills are among the finest in the valley. Eldest Senior Sister specifically asked her to accompany us, fearing any mishap on this journey.
Relieved, Mu Bai said, “Fortunately, she is here.”
Su Mo lifted his eyes to look at him.
Mu Bai endured the pain, his fingers clutching the bedsheet until it wrinkled in several places; even his shoulders and collarbones tensed and rose slightly as his entire body trembled. Beads of fine sweat gathered at his temples while he breathed softly, then suddenly his eyes curved into a smile, the crescent-shaped pouches beneath them resembling tiny moons: “Thank you, Brother Su Mo.”
Su Mo: “…”
Truly fatal.