Shuanghua’s Resolve

“Useful?” In the room, Shuanghua voiced her doubts.

Luochen, already attuned to Shuanghua’s thoughts, could discern her intentions even from her fragmented words.

This instance proved no exception.

“Unless that demonic cultivator is truly deranged, there must be a reason for conspicuously displaying the corpse in the back mountain.”

“What if he hasn’t gone far, and is merely waiting nearby for Feibai Sect’s reinforcements?”

Luochen articulated her conjecture.

“Yesterday, I had a distinct feeling someone was observing us.”

“If we feign poisoning, and he’s still lurking close by, tonight will present his prime opportunity.”

Shuanghua nodded, and the two exchanged a silent gaze.

Time slipped away, second by agonizing second.

As Shuanghua rested her eyes, she suddenly sensed movement on the bed.

Opening her eyes, she saw Luochen clutching her chest, her beautiful, willow-like brows furrowed in pain.

“Poison?”

Shuanghua resented her own inability to articulate effectively, a clear hindrance in moments of crisis.

Luochen shook her head, barely managing to force out two words: “Sick. Medicine.”

Perhaps accustomed to Luochen’s concise communication, Shuanghua immediately understood.

“Wh-where?”

Luochen attempted to raise her hand to point, yet even that minimal strength had abandoned her.

She strained to glance towards the table, but her strength gave out, and her entire body collapsed.

The searing pain in her chest surpassed any previous agony.

Her entire body turned deathly pale, her limbs grew frigid, her blood felt as though it would congeal, and she felt as if she had plunged into an icy abyss.

‘Why must the Frost Poison flare up precisely at this moment?’

The immortal maiden curled into a tiny ball, much like a stray kitten shivering in the cold wind on the streets.

A flustered Shuanghua finally managed to feed the Bamboo Green Pellet to Luochen.

After a long while, Luochen’s trembling finally subsided.

The bedding was thoroughly soaked with cold sweat, and she leaned weakly against the bedside, tears glistening at the corners of her eyes.

She seemed on the verge of tears, a sight that would evoke pity in anyone.

“Are… are you alright?”

Shuanghua strove to make her words more coherent.

“Mm.” Luochen nodded weakly.

She then swallowed the Five-Reincarnation Soul-Returning Pellet her junior sister had given her, and a touch of color finally returned to her face.

”Junior sister, I’ll treat you to extra drumsticks when we return.”

“I’m fine now. Thank you for your concern, Martial Aunt.”

Luochen managed to force out a rather strained smile.

Shuanghua finally felt her worries dissipate, exhaling a long breath of relief.

A flicker in her peripheral vision caught her attention.

The Sword Immortal, acting almost purely on instinct, scooped up Luochen and retreated backward, her foot pressing against the bed frame.

An arrow was firmly embedded in the bed, precisely aimed at Luochen’s heart.

Shuanghua’s expression turned exceedingly grim as she swiftly drew the sword from her waist, her almond-shaped eyes glaring towards the window.

“Who’s there?”

Two curved blades, wreathed in overflowing demonic energy, shattered the window and struck, still targeting Luochen.

Clang!

The resounding clang of metal on metal echoed, and the curved blades were repelled.

Luochen recalled her Sword of Sorrow, stating calmly, “Pray, do not mistake me for a weak point requiring protection.”

She stepped out of Shuanghua’s embrace, forcing herself to stand firm.

Shuanghua looked at Luochen, clearly concerned about her physical state.

“If, at a time like this, I still need Martial Aunt to shield me, then what purpose does my presence here serve?”

Luochen offered Shuanghua a faint, reassuring smile.

“Very well.”

Dispelling their concerns, both women turned their gaze towards the window.

The curved blades, guided by demonic energy, lifted from the ground.

A man clad in black, wearing a bamboo hat, reached out and caught both blades.

“Allow me to ask first: are you the demonic cultivator who slew the cultivators of my Feibai Sect?”

Luochen raised the Sword of Sorrow, pointing it at the man, and spoke slowly.

“I am.”

“Are you from the Phantom Sect?”

“What if I am?”

“A rat like you, whose Sect Master is dead and whose sect is gone, should be hiding in a gutter, clinging to a wretched existence, not boldly seeking death. Your courage, however, is commendable.”

Shuanghua was somewhat stunned; this was the first time she had witnessed such a side to Luochen, who was usually gentle, soft-spoken, and never seemed to harbor anger.

“Hahahaha.”

The man removed his bamboo hat, his eyes, brimming with hatred, fixed intently on Luochen and Shuanghua.

He ignored Luochen’s taunts and spoke, unprompted.

“I had just emerged from my seclusion, eager to share the joy of my breakthrough to the Seventh Reincarnation with my sect members.”

“Yet, I returned to find our Sect Master deceased, and all our sect members unreachable.”

“All of this is the doing of you Feibai Sect cultivators.”

“Therefore, I will make you pay the price!”

“I will slaughter every single Feibai Sect cultivator until none dare to show their faces again.”

As he spoke, his agitation grew, and the demonic energy emanating from him almost solidified.

At that moment, Shuanghua moved.

In a mere instant, her sword was pressed against the man’s neck.

The next moment, head and body parted.

A single strike had severed his head, yet an inexplicable unease washed over Shuanghua.

‘No, something’s wrong!’

Instinctively, she used her sword to block behind her, deflecting the incoming curved blades.

The curved blades returned to their wielder, and the man remained completely unscathed.

“Space-attribute? No, it’s a clone.”

Luochen understood.

“You have discerning eyes.”

The man’s presence emanated from all directions; Luochen surveyed her surroundings, finding no fewer than nine clones.

“The true body can shift between clones; only by striking the clone containing his essence can he be defeated.”

Luochen murmured.

“Kill them all.”

‘A rather blunt and simple decision,’ Luochen thought with a touch of helplessness.

Blades flashed and swords glinted, as martial arts clashed in a fierce display.

As each clone was successively struck down, fine beads of sweat appeared on the man’s face.

‘That fellow at Seventh Reincarnation is one thing, but how can that Fifth Reincarnation Luochen also hold off two of my clones?’

‘And judging by their performance, they don’t seem poisoned at all; they were merely baiting me out.’

‘I’ve been played.’

Although he had appeared with a resolute determination to die, he resolved to at least make them pay a price, a greeting gift for his Sect Master.

The man’s gaze sharpened.

‘Then, I have no choice but to use that technique.’

Concentrating his utmost demonic energy, the man unleashed a terrifyingly powerful strike.

Yet, Luochen swiftly dodged it.

She felt a flicker of confusion; despite its immense power, the move was slow. How could it possibly hit anyone?

‘Big brother, it’s up to you.’

“Beh….beh-beh-behind you!”

Disregarding the risk of exposure, Shuanghua, sensing something amiss, hastily cried out a warning.

‘Behind?’

Luochen spun her head to look, only to see A Gou bravely running towards them, a blade’s gleam flying directly towards him.

“Big sister, I’m here to help you!”

‘Oh no, it seems to be the inevitable segment with the clueless teammate (TL Note: A Chinese slang term, ‘zhu duiyou huanjie,’ referring to a situation where a ‘pig teammate’ or ‘dead weight’ inadvertently causes trouble or makes things worse).’

Luochen instantly appeared before A Gou, gathering her strongest sword intent to meet the attack head-on.

It was a futile effort.

The blade hurtled directly towards the two of them.

Hum.

With a resounding hum, a familiar surge of spiritual energy materialized into a shield, protecting Luochen and A Gou.

Luochen clutched the ring Venerable Zhu Qing had given her, her back already drenched in cold sweat.

Upon realizing A Gou was also safe, she finally let out the breath she had been holding.

‘Master, I’ll treat you to extra drumsticks when we return too.’

Luochen grabbed A Gou by the collar, depositing him outside the battle’s perimeter, and earnestly cautioned him: “Your sisters are fighting very powerful people right now. You can’t beat them yet. Come back and help your sisters when you’re stronger, alright?”

“Mm.” A Gou nodded blankly.

Watching Luochen depart, he felt a pang of dejection.

‘Still can’t do it, Third Brother?’

****

The sounds of battle gradually thinned, and with Shuanghua and Luochen’s coordinated efforts, the fight neared its conclusion.

The man was drenched in blood, his eyes bloodshot.

‘At the very least, I’ll drag you down to hell with me!’

Concentrating all his essence into his Dantian, the man intended to self-detonate.

His entire body swelled, resembling a balloon on the verge of bursting.

“Martial Aunt!” Luochen, sensing something amiss, urgently warned.

Luochen’s long hair swayed slightly.

‘A gust of wind? No, something flew past.’

In a mere flash.

The man was sent flying an extremely long distance from the ground, ultimately crashing heavily against the wall.

A sword was impaled in his Dantian, its blade covered in frost, freezing all the man’s circulating blood and spiritual energy.

“This is… what… technique?”

He deflated like a punctured balloon, his entire body shrinking.

“Shuanghua.”

Shuanghua stated blandly, her eyes filled with an icy chill, devoid of all emotion.

“To die by the blade of the Cold-Faced Sword Immortal—it is… cough, cough… not a wasted life.”

Shuanghua effortlessly withdrew her sword; its blade remained pristine, untouched by a single drop of blood.

“You are unworthy.”

She picked up the man’s curved blades and ended his life.