Chapter 23

The melody disrupted Mo Feiyun’s sword aura, leaving him unable to lock onto Ye Qingyu, who darted about like a ghost using the Ye family’s flash-step technique. Furthermore, he found himself ensnared by the invisible killing intent radiating from Ye Qingyu’s music, making the struggle exceptionally grueling.

Song Chi, hearing the melody, was so incensed she nearly missed a note. "Stealing my composition!" she gritted out, her expression darkening. What bothered her even more was that not only was Ye Qingyu playing her piece better, but his version possessed ten times the lethality.

However, Song Chi quickly grasped the intent behind the two flash-step techniques created by the Immortal Qingxiao for sound cultivators. Her eyes narrowed, and she began to follow Mo Feiyun like a flowing cloud, keeping a precise distance. This was the Cloud-Drift Flash-Step, a seamless combination technique designed by the Immortal for disciples who practiced both sound and sword arts.

With this, Mo Feiyun no longer needed to protect her; instead, he was bolstered by the killing intent of her music, granting him the surplus energy to unleash a torrent of sword aura against Ye Qingyu.

Suddenly, Ye Qingyu let out a sinister laugh, his melody shifting abruptly. The tone turned volatile and violent. His music was like a raging fire—domineering and malicious—much like his feelings for the one he loved: he would tolerate no one coming near, and if they dared, he would kill them without hesitation. This obsessive emotion erupted into an unimaginable killing intent, turning the tide of the battle once more.

Not only did Ye Qingyu suppress them both, but he also took every opportunity to launch sneak attacks on Song Chi, all while taunting them with vicious, mocking words.

"Hear that? This is true killing intent in sound cultivation."

"You must crave the power to command such killing intent, don't you? But what a pity—it is something a heartless person like you will never possess."

Though each sneak attack was met with a powerful interception from Mo Feiyun, resulting in a severed sleeve, Ye Qingyu remained unscathed.

Song Chi, chest heaving with fury, took several sharp breaths. She suddenly cradled her instrument and closed her eyes, her face turning deathly pale. Seeing this, Mo Feiyun’s gaze grew as cold as frost. He held his sword before him, eyes shut, as a frost-like aura radiated from his body. This boy had clearly been concealing his true strength all along.

He had abandoned all pretense of sect loyalty, intent on bloodshed. Shen Wenyan and Mo Shubai exchanged a wary glance; if things reached a point of no return, they would have to intervene. They could not allow two such genius disciples to turn the place into a river of blood. Aside from the fact that the Ye and Mo families were not to be trifled with, it would be a failure on their part as observers to let such talents perish here.

"Begin, Senior Brother Mo!"

Before Mo Feiyun could unleash his sword aura, a low voice resonated through the dark night.

The melody began again. At first, it sounded similar to the previous piece, but the rhythm and cadence shifted entirely. From the sharp killing intent of a drawn blade, it transformed into something solemn and vast—like two armies locked in confrontation, the relentless, grand momentum of a force pushing forward. Though the tempo slowed, the pressure became far more suffocating.

This was a new piece. Furthermore, Song Chi began to seize that elusive, mysterious energy she had previously failed to grasp, weaving it into the melody note by note.

Then, a cold, biting sword aura surged toward Mo Feiyun.

Ye Qingyu paused to listen, his expression unreadable. In truth, he felt an irrepressible joy and longing; he adored Song Chi in this solemn, god-like state, yet the fact that her killing intent was directed at him left him twisted with rage.

As the sword aura surged, Mo Feiyun’s green sword flickered with white light, ready to unsheathe. Even Ye Qingyu dared not be careless, clutching his defensive artifact tightly. Mo Shubai and Shen Wenyan held their spiritual power at the ready, prepared to strike at any moment.

But just as Mo Feiyun’s sword cleared its scabbard, a muffled *pop* echoed. The three of them were suddenly swept up by a massive, spiritually dense hand and dragged into the Qingjian Sect gates.

"Master!" Mo Shubai exclaimed, startled by the overwhelming power. He immediately flashed toward the sect. Outside the mountain, he saw Song Chi, oblivious to everything, her eyes closed as she played a melody so dense with killing intent it felt like a battlefield. Beside her, Mo Feiyun, moved by some realization, erupted in a brilliant, snow-like sword aura, chasing after Ye Qingyu.

In reality, everyone present was pouring their spiritual power into shielding that unlucky boy, Ye Qingyu. One could only imagine what his sharp tongue had wrought. In just this short time, Ye Qingyu’s hair had come undone, and blood seeped from his shoulders and back, though they were only minor wounds.

The great masters watched from high above, their spiritual senses swirling, yet they did not call a halt. Both Song Chi and Mo Feiyun were at a critical moment of enlightenment; it would be disastrous to interrupt. Poor Ye Qingyu had become a human punching bag, and the masters merely ensured he stayed alive.

The boy, however, did not seem annoyed; his eyes shone with a brilliant, manic intensity. While dodging for his life, he never stopped looking at Song Chi—his gaze flickering between the brightness of stars and the darkness of a demon. Shen Wenyan had never seen such intense possessiveness in anyone. Yet, such a person was perfectly suited for the path of music.

As the domineering piece reached its second refrain, Song Chi’s spiritual power began to wane, yet she persisted. Mo Feiyun, however, possessed a gentler nature; seeing her struggle, he let his sword aura fade and emerged from his meditative state.

"Junior Sister Chi’er, there is no need to push yourself so hard. You might damage your meridians," he said, attempting to soothe her.

Ye Qingyu was having none of it. "Chi’er! Who gave you permission to call her by her name, Mo Feiyun?"

"Hmph. If you want to fight, we fight. Ye Qingyu, the arena, tomorrow at the hour of the snake."

"Fine by me. But Mo Feiyun, I want you to remember this: Song Chi is my woman. I suggest you give up that thought!"

The remark sent a flush of fury across Mo Feiyun’s handsome face, and he drew his sword on the spot.

Before he could strike, the purple-clad figure darted past him and lunged at Ye Qingyu. It was not so much a fight as a frantic beating with her pipa. Song Chi was at the end of her rope, barely able to stand. Ye Qingyu, appearing heartless, slowed his pace intentionally, allowing her to land several solid thumps on his back with the instrument.

It was only when the strings snapped that Song Chi remembered to feel heartbroken.

She hugged her pipa, preparing to fly away, but upon turning, she saw Mo Shubai, Shen Wenyan, and the other genius disciples standing in the night. Her face twitched violently, and she clutched her instrument and bolted.

"Shubai, go keep an eye on that girl. Don't let her lose her way," Master Xueqiao remarked.

"Wenyan, you go and watch over that child as well," Master Tonghua retorted with a cold snort.

Mo Shubai and Shen Wenyan were left speechless. The two masters were at it again, clearly both having developed a fondness for the talented girl. Her performance had been breathtaking—the domineering style, the superb technique, the raw emotion—it was clear she was well on her path to greatness. At least in terms of musical cultivation. As for the mysterious energy she had tapped into, she had grasped a glimpse of it, but was still missing a final piece of the puzzle.

Mo Shubai knew exactly what that piece was.

"That child has everything going for her, so why is her temperament just like yours? Both of you are entirely heartless!"

Mo Shubai heard his master mutter this while stroking his beard, his tone one of exasperated disappointment. Mo Shubai remained silent.