Battle with Lu Changtian
When the pill shot into Taoist Qingxuan’s mouth, two people shuddered.
One was Wu Duantian, the sect master of Qingyun Sect.
The other was Chen Huaian, staring at his phone in disbelief.
A Hardcore Move
Just moments ago, the game had prompted him:
[Do you want to hand over a normal pill to Taoist Qingxuan?]
Chen Huaian had chosen “Yes.”
But—was this handing it over?
Or was it force-feeding?
“Holy crap! Will this NPC go berserk?!”
“Is this a hidden Bad End trigger?!”
Wu Duantian, too, was stunned.
“This great cultivator actually forced a pill down someone’s throat?!”
He had expected intimidation, not straight-up humiliation.
Li Qingran was also frozen, a single strand of hair sticking up in shock.
Swallowing Both the Pill and His Pride
Taoist Qingxuan’s throat rolled, and the Da Huan Dan slid down.
He was furious, ready to lash out—
But then, the medicinal power spread.
No poison.
As the mysterious cultivator had claimed, it was a normal pill.
Xiao Yifeng’s fate was his own doing.
Taoist Qingxuan’s rage cooled, replaced by mixed emotions.
What could he even say?
He had no way to twist the truth.
Everyone had seen it.
To attack now would be reckless.
If he lost, he wouldn’t be able to show his face in Qingyun Sect ever again.
“Forget it.”
Taking a deep breath, he forced out a reply:
“There was indeed no poison… I failed in teaching my disciple properly.”
“But Xiao Yifeng has extraordinary talent in alchemy. If he achieves greatness in the future, I will ask for your guidance then.”
A veiled warning.
A subtle threat.
Chen Huaian smirked.
“By the time your disciple achieves greatness—”
“I will have already turned Qingran into a sword immortal.”
A Challenge from Lu Changtian
“Master, no need to wait that long.”
A voice cut through the tension.
Step. Step. Step.
Everyone turned.
Lu Changtian ascended the steps.
His eyes burned with determination.
He drew his flying sword, its cold gleam reflecting the light.
His aura rose sharply, filled with both anger and hatred.
At its peak—
He suppressed his cultivation to the seventh level of Qi Refining.
A challenge.
“Junior Sister.”
“I still want to call you that.”
“But I speak to the past you—”
“Not the present you, filled with hatred and vengeance.”
His voice was steady, filled with unshaken belief.
“If it weren’t for you—”
“Zhang Hanxiao, Yun Zimo, and Xiao Yifeng wouldn’t be in this state.”
“Chixiao Peak and Master wouldn’t be humiliated.”
“This is your fault.”
“Lu Changtian is Already Dead.”
Li Qingran raised her sword.
The Suxian Sword gleamed under the sunlight.
She stared him down, voice as cold as winter frost.
“I don’t want to call you Senior Brother.”
“The day I was thrown from the ring—”
“Lu Changtian was already dead.”
His grip tightened.
“You hurt Junior Sister Baishuang.”
“And you deserved it.”
Her lips curled in a sneer.
“If I truly wanted to harm Mu Baishuang—”
“You wouldn’t have been able to stop me.”
“At that time, I was in the Foundation Building stage.”
“She was only in Qi Refining.”
“You think you could have stopped me?”
“There were no elders around, only you and a mere Jindan outer sect elder.”
“Don’t make excuses.”
Lu Changtian’s expression darkened.
“Fine.”
“Then let’s see—”
“If your sword is as sharp as your tongue!”
Swords Clash
Lu Changtian charged.
His sword whipped through the air, carrying a cold, deadly aura.
The move—
“Lan Shuangxue.”
Mu Baishuang’s signature attack.
The very move she had used against Li Qingran in the ring.
Lu Changtian had studied every move she used that day.
He had mimicked everything.
If Li Qingran truly had the power—
Then she would prove it now.
Or she had been lying.
Counterattack
Li Qingran dodged.
Her figure flashed.
Her sword thrust into empty air.
But Lu Changtian’s body… dissolved into frost and snow.
An illusion.
He reappeared in midair.
His sharp gaze locked onto her.
His sword came down.
She barely blocked it in time.
The force rattled her bones.
But—
She had already moved.
The Suxian Sword flashed, slicing through the air.
Sword light like falling rain.
Faster.
Faster.
A storm of strikes.
A single misstep, and he would fall.
The Final Strike
Forty-nine consecutive strikes.
The full force of “Yu Lin Li.”
Lu Changtian barely kept up.
His body strained under the suppressed cultivation.
But—
He could endure thirty strikes.
He had trained against this move before.
If he could just last long enough…
Hiss!
Too late.
A final sword light.
Fast. Precise. Deadly.
His sword flew from his grasp.
He collapsed to his knees.
His eyes trembled in shock.
The Suxian Sword pressed against his throat.
“Why?”
His voice was hoarse, disbelieving.
“Why was that last sword so strong?”
Li Qingran sighed.
“Lu Changtian…”
“I learned it long ago.”
“You just never had the patience to let me strike the last blow.”
