Chapter 38

The sound of the sword singing...

In the red curtain, the sword light flickered, and the sound of weapons clashing could be heard. Faintly, thirteen figures could be seen surrounding the scholar, advancing and retreating with precision, clearly rare martial arts experts in the secular world.

Ning Wuxie remained immersed in deep sorrow until all the guests in the pavilion were left at this table.

An old man with white hair, accompanied by his bodyguards, approached and looked at the three people, saying in a deep voice, "If you are guests, please leave. This is our garden's matter. If you are enemies..."

"The monk didn't want to meddle, but your tone angers me."

The big monk grabbed the demon-subduing staff, flipped his hand, and threw it at the old man.

The old man, who seemed frail, was extremely agile. He dodged and a figure leaped out, wielding a broad saber, engaging the monk in battle. The monk was incredibly strong, and the figure was no slouch, swinging the saber like a storm.

"Ah, killing, it's been so long since I last killed. When was the last time? Ten years ago? I can't even remember..."

The Daoist sighed, raised a bowl of wine, and drank it. He took out a fly whisk and lightly flicked it, looking at the old man and saying calmly, "Today, for a friend, the Daoist must break his vows."

"Evil Daoist, ten years ago, you wreaked havoc in the martial world, killing your peers. You deserve to die!"

A figure leaped out, blocking the Daoist, a sword in hand, like a snake, coiling around the evil Daoist.

"Imperial guards, so the Yi Xiang Garden has the shadow of the court behind it."

Seeing the figure, the evil Daoist was slightly startled, but his footwork was quick. He stepped in the pattern of the Seven Stars, the fly whisk sweeping, engaging the snake-like sword.

"Remnants of the previous dynasty, you should have been eliminated long ago, a scourge to the court and the martial world. Today, this setup is to lure you three here." The white-haired old man stepped back, watching the four people engaged in battle, a cold smile on his face.

A sword light flashed, and blood splattered onto the red curtain, making it even redder. The scholar, holding Xie Yanran, pierced through the red curtain and flew up to the second floor. The furniture shattered, and the two looked like a celestial couple, envied by all.

"Hmph, old man, when have we ever wreaked havoc in the martial world or disturbed the court? If you want to kill us, just say so. Using a woman to lure us, only you could do such a thing!"

The scholar's sword was stained with blood, and Xie Yanran's white clothes were also bloodstained, but it wasn't hers.

"Attack, kill him."

The old man's eyes were cold, and he waved his hand. Over a dozen swordsmen rushed forward, making the narrow second floor crowded. The monk and the Daoist had already moved the fight to the first floor, the sounds of battle continuous, clearly the Yi Xiang Garden was well-prepared.

The scholar was highly skilled, each sword strike drawing blood, but the white-clad fairy by his side became a burden. More experts kept pouring in from the Yi Xiang Garden, surrounding and attacking the scholar. Gradually, the scholar fell into a disadvantage, sword wounds appearing on his body, his white robe stained with blood, both his and his enemies'. Xie Yanran, however, remained unharmed, her eyes filled with tenderness and tears as she watched the scholar wield his sword.

Amidst the sword and blade flashes, Ning Wuxie sat in a daze, seemingly unaware. His eyes reflected memories, scenes from the past flashing by rapidly. Finally, a sword appeared, shattering all the memories.

Pfft...

Ning Wuxie's right hand pierced through a swordsman's chest. The swordsman's eyes were filled with disbelief; his sword pointed at Ning Wuxie's brow, the color in his eyes quickly fading. The long sword fell to the ground, and his body collapsed weakly.

"Memories are just memories, part of the past. Let the past be the past, sever the ties to the past. In this life, I have walked through the storms, cleansing the dust of the secular world. This time, I will let go of the past, blooming amidst the vast lakes and seas. Peace and tranquility are far from me, but the sword and blade are coming. Those who obstruct me, I will kill!"

Ning Wuxie slowly raised his head, his young face still somewhat naive, but his eyes were resolute. At this moment, he finally severed his ties to the past, merging with this world, because here, there were people he needed to protect, people who loved him and whom he loved!

Clang...

The fallen long sword was picked up, and Ning Wuxie advanced with the sword. The old man had seen him kill the swordsman and waved his hand, several swordsmen rushing toward Ning Wuxie.

Six or seven swords, cold light flashing, filled with killing intent. Ning Wuxie's eyes did not waver. A flame appeared on the long sword, and with one strike, the person in front of him fell to the ground, blood slowly flowing out.

"What?"

The old man saw this and drew a sharp breath. These were all elite assassins trained by the palace's secret techniques. Even the scholar and his companions could not kill six or seven people with one strike. Could this young man have such martial arts skills?

This one strike made the second floor, which was filled with fighting, suddenly quiet. Many eyes turned to Ning Wuxie, and the blood-soaked scholar was able to catch his breath.

"I just want to go to the third floor to find someone. Don't obstruct me, or I will kill!"

Ning Wuxie looked at the old man, speaking coldly, and stepped toward the third floor.

"Third floor?" The old man's eyes narrowed, shouting, "No, stop him!"

Over a dozen swordsmen blocked Ning Wuxie's path. The violent anger in Ning Wuxie's heart erupted instantly, his pupils slowly turning a cold, emotionless dark gold. He swung the long sword, sweeping it forward.

Clang, clang, clang...

Ning Wuxie charged into the swordsmen. He did not know sword techniques, but he knew how to kill with a sword. It was simple: a sharp sword lightly slicing the neck, and a life ended silently.

Swinging the sword, killing, clean and decisive. Each life taken added a wound to Ning Wuxie's body, and each wound made his heart colder. Blood stained his robe, but his eyes remained resolute. When there was no one left in front of him, Ning Wuxie stopped swinging the sword.

The scholar and Xie Yanran watched in shock. Killing, could it be like this? No technique, no hesitation, moving forward without regard for injury, like a demon. Even the scholar was stunned, forgetting about his enemies, but it seemed his enemies had already been killed by Ning Wuxie.

On the ground, a pile of bodies lay still. Ning Wuxie looked at the third floor, the pain from his wounds already numb. Compared to the suffering and torture his brother had endured, his injuries were nothing.

Ning Wuxie stepped onto the stairs. A hand slapped his back, making his body shake, and he spat out a mouthful of blood, staggering. But he did not fall. He turned around, and the broken sword pierced the chest of the white-haired old man who had attacked him from behind.

As the old man fell, he saw a figure in a white dress appear on the third floor stairs, muttering, "Princess, run," and died with blood in his mouth, his eyes open in death.

Ning Wuxie looked up at the figure, ignored it, and turned to Xie Yanran, smiling faintly, and said, "You should thank me. Will you play a tune for me?"

Xie Yanran nodded woodenly, still in shock. She had never seen anyone kill so terrifyingly, without blinking, and even smile. Was he a demon?

"Thank you!"

Ning Wuxie muttered, turned around, and looked at the figure on the stairs, supporting himself on the stairs, his footsteps echoing in the empty pavilion.

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