Chapter Thirty-Three: A Pyrrhic Victory

This was the first time Song Yue had ever seen Qian Qianxue’s delicate face so focused and serious as she cast her spells, and also the first time he had ever felt the true advantages of supernatural arts so close at hand.

A warrior’s body is heavy. Even though he had trained for years on plum blossom stakes, honing his Phantom Trace Steps, and even though he now had half a foot in the third realm of Grandmaster, a warrior is still a warrior. At full burst, he could leap dozens of meters in a single bound, or briefly dash atop the crowns of tall trees, skimming the forest canopy like a dragonfly touching water.

But to be as light as a feather—to become a man of the wind, as he was now—was nearly impossible. Even a true Grandmaster, capable of leaping hundreds of meters and soaring toward the sky, could not escape the pull of gravity; in the end, they had to come back down.

Yet high-level wind practitioners could use their arts to float in the air for a time, to leap from a skyscraper and glide gently to the ground.

So dashing!

If not for Qian Qianxue, he could never have moved so fast, nor left those three pursuers so far behind.

Just then, the sounds of fierce combat echoed from the distance behind them.

Song Yue stopped abruptly.

Qian Qianxue, not noticing, shot ahead several hundred meters in the blink of an eye. Seeing he had stopped, she doubled back and called out, “Let’s go!”

Again, rumbling booms rolled across the sky like muffled thunder.

Qian Qianxue caught on. “Is Senior Miao holding them off?”

Song Yue’s expression grew heavy.

Teacher Miao was no match for those three. As a Grandmaster of martial arts, he might take on one, but against all three… he had almost no chance.

Yet he still did it.

He knew following Song Yue meant danger, but he pressed on without hesitation.

It wasn’t mere foolishness. Song Yue had not known Teacher Miao long. Though he owed him for instruction, that was hardly enough to make a Grandmaster risk so much. They were not family, nor close friends. Why should he do this?

To say he was just currying favor for the future was far too narrow-minded.

A Grandmaster is honored wherever he goes. He has no need to depend on anyone.

No—it could only be that Teacher Miao was a hero in the truest sense: a man of boundless righteousness.

Song Yue felt he could not just walk away.

His mind resisted; his heart would never be at peace.

He turned to Qian Qianxue, his face serious for once. “Go back. Wait for me at the altar. If I’m not out in time, tell the Master that I may be stranded here for sixty years. Have him let my parents know—they needn’t worry, just live well. Sixty years from now, I’ll be strong enough to return and fulfill my duty to them.”

Qian Qianxue shook her head without the slightest hesitation. “I have something to protect my life. I’ll stay with you!”

Song Yue suddenly laughed. “You want to stay here sixty years with me?”

A faint blush rose in Qian Qianxue’s cheeks. A little embarrassed, a little annoyed, she retorted, “What nonsense! Who wants to stay here with you for sixty years? We’ll both get out safely!”

By now, the sounds of battle were fading into the distance. Clearly, Miao Qiang was trying to draw their pursuers away, buying time.

There was no time to waste. Song Yue looked at Qian Qianxue. “When we get there, hide yourself well. Don’t show yourself, don’t help me in secret, either. I may not be able to protect you.”

“I’m not a burden,” Qian Qianxue murmured softly.

Song Yue nodded, said no more, and sped toward the sound of battle.

Qian Qianxue kept pace at his side, quietly casting wind spells to aid them both.

…

One of the twin brothers, his eyes red, had strapped the lifeless, wild-spirited woman to his back.

The four of them had grown up together. All three men had loved her. As children, they were siblings. As they grew, their feelings changed; now, in the end, it was back to sibling affection.

Though not related by blood, they were closer than true kin.

Now, the beloved little sister they had all cherished was gone.

They would never see her wild, beautiful face again, nor hear her ringing, cheerful laughter.

The pain was beyond words.

If the earlier fight had been a normal battle, now the three brothers, facing Miao Qiang who stood in their way, were fighting for their lives.

Three against one, they could have crushed Grandmaster Miao Qiang. Now, desperate and reckless, the outcome was inevitable.

Miao Qiang was soon drenched in blood.

Not even a Grandmaster’s domain could withstand their frenzied assault.

He dealt them grievous wounds as well, but his own injuries were worse.

Half his body was charred, the smell of roasted flesh rising from his own skin.

A deep, gaping wound ran down one leg, flesh rolled back, blood pouring out faster than even a Grandmaster’s monstrous healing could stop.

He moved too fiercely; the wounds reopened before they could heal.

Under normal circumstances, no one could keep fighting like this, but he pressed on, just to hold those three back a little longer.

To buy Song Yue time to escape.

That boy was a genius like none before; he must not die here.

If I die here today, with that boy’s character, he’ll look after my family, won’t he?

They hadn’t known each other long, but Miao Qiang believed he had not misjudged him.

He unleashed his Star-Cleaving Palm, his Thunder Fist, fighting the three to the death.

His palm winds sliced like blades, surging in sheets.

His fists roared like thunder, every strike shattering boulders.

Though the three pressed him hard, they suffered for it, too.

Especially the twin brother with the woman on his back—his movements were even more restricted.

A Foundation Establishment cultivator’s stamina rivaled a martial Grandmaster’s, but against a true Grandmaster there was still a gap.

To make matters worse, their seemingly honest, thick-browed companion proved shrewd, always attacking Miao Qiang’s side.

The young man with the sword-like brows was restless. Their true enemy was that young man—the beast who had killed the sister they cherished.

Yet here they were, trapped by Miao Qiang.

“Miao Qiang, are you trying to get yourself killed? All for an outsider? Get lost now and we’ll spare your life!” the sword-browed youth shouted.

His answer was a Star-Cleaving Palm.

The wind sliced past like a silvery ribbon, forcing the sword-browed youth to dodge aside.

At this point, with blood red in their eyes, what need for words?

Psychological warfare? What was left to say?

The sword-browed youth’s expression was chilling. “Your family’s still in the secret realm. Aren’t you afraid I’ll kill them all?”

“Then I’ll kill you first!”

The honest man was enraged.

Why did so many like to threaten others this way?

As if only he had family, as if only they could kill, and he could not repay in kind?

Boom!

The ground split open beneath Miao Qiang’s Star-Cleaving Palm.

The sword-browed youth barely dodged, but not quite fast enough; blood spurted from his mouth.

“Kill him!” barked the other twin, the one unburdened.

All manner of powerful spells and supernatural arts rained down on Miao Qiang, heedless of cost or consequence.

Miao Qiang dodged, but the effort was immense, and with his wounds worsening, he began to falter.

Just then, the twin carrying the woman suddenly roared, casting a spell to deflect a cold, sudden bullet flying his way.

But in the next instant, a bolt of lightning exploded overhead.

With a crack of thunder, he died.

“Ah!” The remaining twin went mad on the spot.

In so short a time, his beloved sister and closest brother had both perished.

He lost himself utterly.

He mustered a terrifying supernatural art—another bolt of lightning, pouring all his lifelong cultivation into a single blast, which tore across the dense, vibrant forest.

In a flash, the lush woods erupted in flames.

“Die!” howled the surviving twin, his twisted, ugly face contorted with grief, his voice hoarse and shrill.

As the lightning fell, a yellow light suddenly flared from Qian Qianxue’s body, forming a thin shield that blocked all the terrible power outside.

She seized Song Yue’s arm, unleashed her wind spell, and a fierce gust swept them instantly away.

Then she looked back at the blazing forest, her face pale with shock.

Her mind was nearly blank. Foundation Establishment cultivators were simply too strong; had she been a moment slower, they would both have died in the inferno.

“Damn, nearly got cremated,” Song Yue muttered, drawing a third Thunder Talisman and activating it without hesitation.

At a moment like this, hovering on the edge of life and death, there was no time for regrets.

Once more, thunder cracked, striking at the grotesque surviving twin.

This time, though, the man was prepared. He looked crazed, but raised a powerful shield.

Though the thunder pierced the shield and scorched him black, blood flowing from every orifice, he survived.

Eyes wild, he glared at Song Yue and shrieked, “Come on, you little beast! Let’s see how many you’ve got left!”

The sword-browed youth on the other side had lost his mind as well, dragging himself to block Miao Qiang, howling, “You’re all going to die today!”

Song Yue drew the Dragon-Patterned Immortal-Slaying Blade and hurled the Jade Void Heavenly Stele into the air.

He poured all his mental strength into it, making the stele swell into a massive stone peak dozens of meters high, and sent it crashing down toward the charging twin.

This was no mere falling object—it was an attack linked to Song Yue’s spirit, a supernatural martial art!

He felt his spiritual energy drain away, his mind splitting with pain.

Yet he swung the Dragon-Patterned Blade with all his might.

“Let’s see who dies!”

He roared.

Qian Qianxue cast a wind spell that landed perfectly on Song Yue’s blade.

With a hiss, the blade’s light flashed like white silk, razor-sharp.

The charging twin saw his own legs running ahead of his waist.

With a crash, the Jade Void Heavenly Stele smashed down, crushing his upper body into paste.

Song Yue spat blood, his vision went dark, and he collapsed, caught by Qian Qianxue.

He was utterly spent.

Qian Qianxue’s face was ghostly pale; for a high-level Qi-Nourishing cultivator like her, casting at that level had nearly emptied her out as well.

Still, she hurled a wind-binding spell at the sword-browed youth, whose eyes were bloodshot with rage.

Wind Binding!

She forced it to bind a Foundation Establishment cultivator with Qi-Nourishing power.

And she succeeded!

Though she held him only for a moment, for a martial Grandmaster like Miao Qiang, that was enough.

In a flash, he struck, his fist thundering as it pierced the youth’s body, leaving a gaping hole.

But the youth managed a final blow—a flying sword that lodged in Miao Qiang’s forehead.

Had Miao Qiang’s punch not destroyed the youth’s chest and abdomen, the sword would surely have pierced right through his skull.

Miao Qiang dropped to one knee, staring at the youth, whose eyes remained wide open in death. Blood spurted from his mouth as he pulled the little sword from his skull. Swaying, he finally lost consciousness.