Chapter Seventy-Two: The Gifted

Qin Sheng sensed trouble. The man before her seemed to have endless strength, each of his attacks more forceful than the last. Though she could still withstand his blows for now, she knew she would tire within half an hour, and when that happened, he would surely find a weakness and finish her off. Qin Sheng furrowed her brow, took a deep breath, and readjusted her rhythm, deliberately watching for any flaw in Zhang Meng’s defenses with every move.

“This isn’t good. Zhang Meng is settling in for a war of attrition. Qin Sheng will lose soon from exhaustion,” Shen Mei, who had been silent all along, never took her eyes off Qin Sheng from the moment the fight began. Her earlier fear and hesitation were swept away by the fierce battle.

Shen Mei could tell how the fight was turning, and so could Chu Xingyu and Jiang Miaomiao. Chu Xingyu coughed anxiously and glanced at Jiang Miaomiao beside him. “Miaomiao, what do we do now? We can’t just watch Sheng get hurt.”

Jiang Miaomiao was sweating nervously. Watching the fight between Zhang Meng and Qin Sheng, she realized how wrong her previous estimation of Zhang Meng’s abilities had been. Had Zhang Meng used these techniques against them earlier, she and Chu Xingyu would have been dead already.

“Don’t panic. I trust Sheng has her own plan.” Jiang Miaomiao could only use these words to comfort herself, her breath nearly stalling from anxiety.

“But—” Chu Xingyu began, then realized he could do nothing to help. With a sigh, he fell silent.

Jiang Miaomiao clenched her fists, focusing all her attention on the duel between Qin Sheng and Zhang Meng. If it came to it, she would risk her own life to protect Qin Sheng. That was her only thought. Yet what she feared most was that even dying wouldn’t save Qin Sheng, and in that case, her death would bring no peace.

Qin Sheng had never felt such hardship. Sparks flew from her Tang blade as she wielded it, but she still couldn’t find a single flaw in Zhang Meng’s defense.

“Sheng! Watch out!” Jiang Miaomiao called out, eyes fixed on the clash. The moment Qin Sheng faltered, Zhang Meng lunged at her, prompting Jiang Miaomiao to shout in alarm.

Qin Sheng’s reaction was swift; as she landed, she snatched up her Tang blade and blocked Zhang Meng’s sudden strike. But Zhang Meng’s strength was overwhelming, forcing Qin Sheng back several steps. Her already bloodstained trousers were now torn in several places from scraping against the rooftop.

Her legs throbbed with pain. Glancing down, she saw blood seeping out, but it was only a superficial wound—nothing serious.

“You’re not much, after all…” Zhang Meng sneered, a wicked grin on her face as she laughed at Qin Sheng, looking at her with utter contempt.

Qin Sheng tightened her grip on the Tang blade, her composure unshaken by Zhang Meng’s taunts.

“Then let’s try again!” she snarled, teeth gritted, swinging her blade fiercely at Zhang Meng’s neck. She missed by a hair’s breadth.

Zhang Meng dodged easily, her mocking laughter echoing. “Is that all you’ve got? How ridiculous, human.”

Qin Sheng hesitated, surprised. She knew Zhang Meng was a mutated zombie, but she hadn’t expected her to possess independent thought.

If that was the case, certain tactics would be useless against her.

Zhang Meng, seeing Qin Sheng’s silence, folded her arms and jeered. “Is that all? Allow me to send you to hell myself.”

Her smile twisted, she began to gather energy in her palms—a red glow forming, growing quickly from a spark into a blazing orb.

Qin Sheng gripped her Tang blade tightly, not taking her eyes off Zhang Meng. When she saw the red flame gather in Zhang Meng’s palm, her brows furrowed deeply.

“An ability…” she murmured inwardly. Qin Sheng had long anticipated the emergence of abilities, but she hadn’t expected the first wielder to be Zhang Meng.

As she pieced things together, she finally understood Zhang Meng’s transformation—mutated zombies could be ability users as well.

Things were turning dire. She knew what abilities were, but the others did not. If Zhang Meng ran unchecked, their once peaceful safe zone would become a slaughterhouse.

Looking at her Tang blade, Qin Sheng’s resolve hardened. If she were to die, she would make sure Zhang Meng went down with her.

In an instant, Zhang Meng hurled her flaming orb at Qin Sheng. She raised her Tang blade to meet it, and the collision sent a shockwave blasting everything aside—including Jiang Miaomiao and Aji, who were anxiously watching.

“Sheng!” Jiang Miaomiao was knocked to the ground but scrambled up, ignoring her own injuries, her heart pounding wildly as she searched for Qin Sheng.

No, please, no.

“Sheng!” Chu Xingyu, gritting his teeth through his pain, stared toward the scene with equal terror.

“She’s dead. No one can survive my Flame Slash…” Zhang Meng glanced coldly at Jiang Miaomiao and the others, shrugging with smug satisfaction.

“Impossible!” Chu Xingyu instinctively retorted.

Jiang Miaomiao said nothing, her gaze burning into the black smoke. She would believe nothing until she saw it with her own eyes.

“Tch. Believe what you want.” Zhang Meng scoffed, then turned her gaze back to Chu Xingyu and Jiang Miaomiao. A sly grin spread across her indistinct face. “Since she’s dead, it’s your turn now. Hahaha!”

Chu Xingyu and Jiang Miaomiao instantly tensed, drawing their knives and preparing to face Zhang Meng.

“It’s useless. If you beg me, maybe I’ll forgive you…” Zhang Meng taunted, red flames already forming in her hands.

Jiang Miaomiao and Chu Xingyu knew all too well the power of that unknown substance. They gripped their knives tighter. Even if all they knew were a few fighting moves, they would never surrender.

“If you won’t beg, don’t blame me for what happens next. Hahahaha!” Zhang Meng laughed wildly, her Flame Slash already complete. “I’ll send you on your way. Don’t thank me.”

A wicked smile frozen on her face, she flung the blazing orb at Jiang Miaomiao and Chu Xingyu.

Confident in their inevitable demise, Zhang Meng turned her back on them, hands clasped behind her.

“Aren’t you going to help? That’s not like you.” Not far away, two tall figures had appeared on the rooftop, having watched the entire fight unfold.

Lu Qingyan adjusted his glasses and looked at the man beside him, lips parting as though to question him, but he didn’t speak.

“She can do it.” A familiar, clear voice sounded in Lu Qingyan’s ear. He raised his brow, surprised at how much Song Qing’an trusted Qin Sheng.

For an ordinary person to face an ability user, there should have been no suspense.

Lu Qingyan couldn’t understand Song Qing’an’s confidence.

Song Qing’an saw his confusion and chuckled, turning to him. “If you don’t believe me, shall we make a wager?”

Lu Qingyan’s lips curled. “What shall we bet?”

“Your uncle’s music manuscript. You’ve wanted that for years, haven’t you?” Song Qing’an, as if he knew everything, leaned lazily against the railing, smiling.

Lu Qingyan knew exactly which manuscript Song Qing’an meant—the lost score he had tried to get from his uncle Lu Shenchen for so long. He agreed to the bet without hesitation.

“If you lose, you know what I want,” Song Qing’an said, turning to watch the black smoke.

Lu Qingyan followed his gaze. He needed no further explanation; he knew what Song Qing’an had in mind.

But the person in question had already been killed by an ability user. In that case, the manuscript would soon belong to him.

Yet suddenly, the black smoke glimmered red. Song Qing’an’s lips curled in a faint smile.

It seemed Lu Qingyan had lost.

Zhang Meng, still with her back turned, found it strange that she hadn’t heard Chu Xingyu and Jiang Miaomiao’s screams. She had held back on purpose, wanting to savor their pleas and cries.

Yet there was only silence. What was happening?

Puzzled, Zhang Meng turned, her mouth falling open in shock.

From within the black smoke, Qin Sheng had somehow risen again, Tang blade raised, blocking her Flame Slash once more.

Zhang Meng quickly regained her composure and sneered. “Not dead yet? Then let’s do this again…”

But before she could finish, before the flames could gather in her hand, a blur flashed toward her. In the blink of an eye, Qin Sheng sliced off Zhang Meng’s arm.

Zhang Meng stared at her, disbelieving, the pain making her more lucid for a moment.

“How is it possible?”

Qin Sheng closed her eyes briefly, gripped her Tang blade, and opened them again. Her black eyes were swiftly dyed blood-red—not the color of Zhang Meng’s flames, but like a phoenix reborn from fire: fierce and wild.

“She’s… an ability user…” Zhang Meng’s words faltered. Qin Sheng’s palm gathered power, her Tang blade ignited with red flames, and in the next instant, she decapitated Zhang Meng with a single blow.

Chu Xingyu and Jiang Miaomiao watched in shock as Qin Sheng severed Zhang Meng’s arm, then, as her blade fell, decapitated her as easily as crushing an ant.

It was unbelievable.

In the next moment, as if unable to withstand such power, Qin Sheng let her Tang blade slip from her hand, collapsing backward uncontrollably…