Chapter 134

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Chapter 134: Distorting the Truth

“Su Ming He possesses mediocre talent and a restless nature. At seventeen, she only has the cultivation of the third level of Qi Refinement. After practicing swordsmanship for over a decade, she still hasn’t grasped the first realm of Swordsmanship—sword energy.”

“Do you know that it took Ming He only five years to advance from the third level of Qi Refinement to breaking through to the Wind Master realm, and then to semi-failing the Spiritual Path while forging her own Swordsmanship? What extraordinary talent she must possess!”

“Is such brilliance something a little cultivator from a remote corner of the Eastern Region could truly possess?” Liu Yu raised her head, her gaze sharp. “Moreover, I’ve investigated Ming He’s past. At seventeen, she was an outer sect disciple of the Liu Yun Sect of the Ninth Continent. Oh, that little sect where Qu Lingyun was exiled.”

She watched as the cultivators in the crowd paled at the mention of Qu Lingyun and smiled. “Su Ming He once secluded herself, attempting to break through to the fourth level of Qi Refinement. Yet, a month later, when she emerged, she had reached the fifth level of Qi Refinement.”

“Charging through the Liu Yun Mountains, befriending the Young Master of Qin Huang Mountain, being promoted to true disciple, joining the Floating Cloud Sect, participating in the Small Dragon and Tiger Rankings, and entering the Central Region—all of this began from the fifth level of Qi Refinement.”

“Perhaps, from the moment Su Ming He entered her retreat, a different soul had already taken over the body that once belonged to the human race.”

Liu Yu sneered. “She killed the original Su Ming He and took her place, becoming Ming He, hiding within the human race. Her goal was merely to relay information to the demon race, sow discord among humans, and target our talented individuals.”

“Is it impressive to break through from the Qi Refinement stage to the Wind Master realm in five years?” Zhan Qing Yi’s voice, cool and detached, echoed from the ancient pavilion.

The woman in white floated gracefully to stand before Ming He, her eyes filled with distrust and hatred as she looked at Liu Yu. “Such brilliance has indeed existed among the human race before.”

Ming He could not possibly be a demon.

“Are you trying to compare her to the Sword Master?” Liu Yu laughed. “The Sword Master spent ten years honing his sword, possessed an unparalleled Born Sword Bone, and transcended to the Wind Master realm in an instant. How could someone as mediocre as Su Ming He be compared to him?”

“Do you truly believe Ming He could be the second Sword Master?” She seemed to find the idea absurd, laughing until tears streamed down her face. “How could that be possible?”

There is only one Sword Master in the human race.

As for Ming He—

Liu Yu turned her gaze to the drifting clouds above, then shifted back, pressing on aggressively. “Xia Fengye, Meng Zizhong, Bei Ye Xun…”

She listed the names of talented individuals from the human race, all of whom now stood within a golden halo, clearly young cultivators holding dragon energy disciple tokens.

“Were you the talented ones captured by the Black Wind Alliance? Do you know what Yóu Lìng did to you?”

Liu Yu’s gaze darkened. “Do you truly believe a dignified envoy of the Black Wind Alliance would be foolish enough to simply capture you and wait for human cultivators to confront them without taking any action?”

“Then let the Lady of the Jiang Clan explain what the infamous envoy of the Black Wind Alliance did to us,” Xia Fengye retorted, her tone dripping with disdain.

When the events in Tianwu City of the Central Region unfolded, she had been traveling across the five regions, slaying demons. She wasn’t present, but she had heard about it from her fellow disciples.

She still didn’t understand why the Imperial Palace tolerated Liu Yu, but Jiang An had died at Ming He’s hands, and she hated Ming He to the core. Her words could not be taken seriously.

She didn’t believe Ming He could be a demon either.

“Channel your spiritual energy through the Zhong He, Shen Cang, and Ling Xu acupoints, and you’ll understand,” Liu Yu said, lowering her gaze. “But you’d better prepare yourself.”

“Fine,” Xia Fengye replied coldly, closing her eyes and circulating her spiritual energy through the three acupoints Liu Yu had mentioned. At first, she felt nothing, but the next moment, her face contorted in pain. She doubled over, spitting out a mouthful of blood, her body trembling uncontrollably.

It was a deep, soul-crushing pain.

“Pfft!”

The sound of blood being spat echoed among the young cultivators, all of whom had once been captured by the Black Wind Alliance.

Bloodstains soaked the golden halo within the shimmering light, casting a dark shadow over its brightness and imbuing it with a sense of despair.

The blood flowing from their lips was black.

“How is this possible?” Xia Fengye murmured, bending over in shock. “This is…”

“This is the Heavenly Horn Scorpion poison. It corrodes a cultivator’s spiritual energy. Unless a human cultivator expends one-third of their blood essence to expel it, their path to cultivation will be destroyed.” Liu Yu sighed deeply, her expression tinged with regret, though the corners of her lips betrayed a faint smirk.

“All of you carry the Heavenly Horn Scorpion poison, yet Ming He does not. Isn’t that enough to raise suspicion?”

“She is of the demon race! The demon race is an ally of outsiders, which is why Yóu Lìng spared her.”

“If Ming He truly is of the demon race and conspires with outsiders, wouldn’t Yóu Lìng’s actions expose her instead?” Zhan Qing Yi sneered. “Do you think the Envoy of the Black Wind Alliance is a fool?”

“Zhan, you are well-versed in the art of strategy—surely you’ve heard of acting contrary to expectations?” Liu Yu remained unshaken. “It is precisely because this approach seems obvious that Yóu Lìng must take it.”

“Consider this: a genius celebrated among the human race, radiant with glory—who would question her identity? At least none of you ever doubted her. Had I not pursued this matter, who would have known that a soul from the demon race resides within her human form?”

“Moreover, in the dark chamber, wasn’t she struck by Yóu Lìng’s sword?”

“That was a perilously close strike, barely an inch from her heart.” Liu Yu’s lips curved with subtle implication.

An inch away.

It was indeed a dangerous moment.

But what kind of figure is the Envoy of the Black Wind Alliance? If he intended to kill, how could he miss the vital spot?

So—

The young cultivators lowered their gazes, their expressions calm, yet a flicker of doubt stirred in their eyes.

Yes, why was it only Ming He?

Only she was untouched by the Heavenly Horn Scorpion poison, only she bore a wound from Yóu Lìng.

And earlier, in the dark chamber, Yóu Lìng had led her around the Blood Prison—what was the purpose of that?

“You—” Zhan Qing Yi clenched her fists, noticing the skeptical and distant looks from her fellow cultivators. “Even so, why are you so certain she is of the demon race?”

“Because she calls herself Ming He!”

Liu Yu exhaled softly, her smile faint. “You all should know that the current Left Envoy of the demon race is Mu Xuan Ye.”

“Mu Xuan Ye has two great guardians: the Black Demon Fierce Killer and the seductive Demon Long-Voice.

The aura of the Black Demon Fierce Killer once appeared in Qing Shi Town, tied to the Zhao Clan’s Fourth Young Master, Zhao Zhi Yuan. Zhao Zhi Yuan vanished during the Trial at the ancient cave dwelling, and now he serves Mu Xuan Ye—his identity speaks for itself.”

Zhao Zhi Yuan’s body has long been claimed by the Black Demon Fierce Killer.

“Qing Shi Town, the ancient cave dwelling, Mu Xuan Ye—need I say more about Ming He’s identity?”

“It is widely known that Long-Voice, though born of the seductive demon bloodline, severed ties with her clan in her youth and has since devoted herself to Mu Xuan Ye. Regardless of her title, she never uses her surname.”

Liu Yu brushed imaginary dust from her robes and spoke slowly, “Therefore, Ming He is Long-Voice, the guardian of Mu Xuan Ye, Left Envoy of the demon race.”

“Only a being with centuries of experience and deep knowledge of the demon race’s secrets could rise to such heights in just five years.”

“She instinctively knows how to win trust and manipulate hearts, which is why she ensnared the Young Master of the Qin Clan, leaving him utterly devoted and unable to let go.”

“Indeed, my sister Qin possesses extraordinary insight. If Ming He were merely a little cultivator from the Liu Yun Sect, she wouldn’t have spared her a second glance.” Song Tian Rou added, her eyes betraying unmistakable envy.

Ming He paid her no mind.

Facing the crowd’s skeptical gazes, she clenched her fists and stepped forward, leaving the golden halo’s protective embrace. “I am not of the demon race.”

Ming He’s voice was crisp and icy, imbued with a resolute certainty that stemmed from the depths of her heart.

The azure sky stretched clear and vast, with clouds drifting majestically; beneath it, the ocean waves mirrored the same deep blue, creating a scene of breathtaking grandeur.

Canglang Island was enveloped in an unprecedented silence.

Ming He’s words reverberated across the island, yet no one responded.

They simply watched her in silence, with no one stepping forward to vouch for her innocence.

They did not believe her.

Liu Yu glanced around before continuing, "So, you are indeed Su Ming He?"

Ming He remained silent.

This time, even Zhan Qing Yi looked at her with a hint of astonishment.

So this was the sensation of having truth and falsehood inverted.

Ming He’s eyes were wide open, her heart filled with a sense of desolation and absurdity. She did not respond, nor did she attempt to defend herself. Instead, she curled her lips slightly, as if on the verge of laughter.

Liu Yu then lifted her gaze to the Old Man in Coarse Clothing, who sat in lofty majesty above, the sovereign who held the power to decide Ming He’s fate. "Clan Ancestor of the Qin Clan, did you witness it all?"

She smirked, "We almost let Ming He become the second Xin Ming Zhu."

Xin Ming Zhu, the former Left Envoy of the demon race, Mu Xuan Ye, was the woman who had led Mu Chen to fall into darkness.

"Since the Clan Ancestor of the Qin Clan is unable to intervene, I will take matters into my own hands," Liu Yu declared. As she spoke, her figure shifted, summoning a force that seemed to draw upon the heavens themselves, pressing down upon Ming He with the intent to crush her into oblivion.

Ming He’s pupils contracted as her energy was ensnared by the ruler’s oppressive aura, rendering her immobile.

The wife of the Jiang Clan leader in Tianwu City had only reached the seventh stage of the Heaven Origin realm, yet now Ming He faced Liu Yu, a ruler of the Earth Emperor Realm.

For her sake, they had even withdrawn the protective power from the battlefield of the heavens?

A cold smile flickered in Ming He’s heart; they truly were sparing no effort, scheming against the very heavens!

But since when had her life become something others could claim or discard at will?

She had endured countless hardships to emerge from the Liu Yun Sect and stand beneath the boundless sky, not to allow others to arbitrarily decide her fate!

Ming He felt a surge of pent-up energy in her chest, a mixture of frustration, oppression, disappointment, and weight.

Is this truly the nature of the human race?

She let out a soft, bitter laugh, then drew the Jing Ying Sword and executed the Liu Yun style. A cascade of radiant light erupted from her blade, intertwining with the starlight above, resonating with the high clouds—a strike more decisive and lethal than any before.

It carried the boundless fury and murderous intent of the sword wielder.

Her innocence was never for others to judge!

The initial Liu Yun style radiated brilliance beneath her sword, transforming into the unique edge of the Liu Yun Sword Art—an edge that belonged solely to Ming He.

The essence of the sword spirit, spanning ages, could faintly be glimpsed.

Ming He wielded this brilliance, advancing rather than retreating, facing the ruler’s oppressive aura without hesitation. With a single, overwhelming strike, she shattered the cultivator’s defenses, her sword blade sharp and unyielding.

Not only did she possess the ambition to slay a ruler, but she also wielded the strength to harm one.

Liu Yu, unfazed by the failure of her attack, showed no trace of anger. Instead, the corners of her lips curved slightly, her eyes holding a secretive smile as she faced Ming He’s piercing sword tip, her emotions stirred.

With a deft twist of her palm, she deflected the tip of Ming He’s sword, guiding it in a different direction.

Ming He’s brows knitted together, then suddenly relaxed as if she had come to a realization…

"Clang!"

The clash of her long sword against the palm wind resonated through the heavens, leaving the young cultivators around her in awe, their faces a mix of shock and disbelief.

They had always known Ming He to be a prodigy among her peers, but none had anticipated her prowess to reach such heights.

She was actually trading blows with a ruler, and not just a single exchange.

Yet, the ruler’s power was boundless, a force that connected with the very essence of the world, rendering them nearly invincible.

Despite her brilliance, Ming He was merely a sword cultivator with a flawed spiritual ocean.

She had yet to grasp the fifth realm of Swordsmanship, making her incapable of defeating a ruler of the Earth Emperor Realm.

The wind roared and the waves crashed with ferocity.

Liu Yu advanced, sidestepping the three-foot azure blade, and delivered a palm strike to Ming He’s chest, causing her internal organs to shift painfully. Her already unstable spiritual ocean was further disrupted by the intense spiritual energy, exacerbating its flaws.

Ming He coughed up blood, her gaze darkening as she found herself powerless against the ruler’s overwhelming force. She clung to her Jing Ying Sword, refusing to let go, even as she struggled to remain upright.

Zhan Qing Yi stood motionless, her expression complex, yet she made no move to intervene.

Xia Fengye’s eyes flickered between doubt and trust, seemingly torn by a difficult decision.

The other young cultivators stood within the golden light, their expressions unreadable. Some made as if to step forward, but were restrained by their companions.

Ultimately, they chose to remain on the sidelines.

The Old Man in Coarse Clothing sat silently atop the clouds, his posture unchanged. He glanced briefly at Ming He, his gaze indifferent, as if content to watch from afar.

Soul power emanated from him, enveloping Canglang Island, condensing in the turbulent air, his eyes betraying a faint smile and a deep, unspoken hope.

Liu Yu’s palm wind was nearly upon them.

It was a strike that could rival the surging waves, one that could easily end Ming He’s life, fierce as thunder and as relentless as a mountain.

The Jiang Clan, one of the Four Great Ancient Clans, had built their legacy on the "Mountain-Splitting Palm," a technique passed down from ancient times.

Ming He’s pupils contracted, and she spat out more blood, leaning on her sword for support, too weak to fight back or evade.

A faint golden glow surrounded her meridians, hinting at a transformation under the intense palm wind, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared, leaving no trace.

"Bang!"

The air twisted and exploded, sending dust flying.

A Black Figure suddenly appeared before Ming He, effortlessly blocking the strike. He took a slight step back, his breath faltering under the ruler’s pressure, yet his expression remained calm and composed. "Quite the lively scene here!"

The Old Man in Coarse Clothing on the clouds curled his lips slightly, his deep gaze fixed on the Black Figure with a hint of guilt, his ruler’s spiritual power trembling uncontrollably.

As the dust settled, Yóu Lìng surveyed the young cultivators with swords drawn and smiled faintly. "Don’t move; you can’t catch me, and you might end up hurting yourselves."

He twirled a white handkerchief, frowning slightly as he brushed dust off his black clothes. "I’m just here for the spectacle."

"Here for the spectacle?" Liu Yu exchanged a glance with him, her smile bright. "We’re executing a traitor of the human race, and the esteemed envoy steps in to block a strike and save Ming He’s life, yet claims it’s just for fun—"

"Do you think the human race is that foolish?" Her tone was laced with genuine mockery.

"Traitor of the human race?" Yóu Lìng dismissed Liu Yu’s taunt. "Are you referring to Ming He?"

"Isn’t she the extraordinary genius of your human race? How could she be a traitor?"

"She’s a demon spirit, merely possessing a human body," Liu Yu insisted, her patience evident as she explained, eager to proclaim to the world that Ming He was of the demon race!

"Besides, if it weren’t for some collusion with an alien race, why would the esteemed envoy risk his life to come all this way and save her?"

"Risking his life?" Yóu Lìng looked defiant. "Among all the cultivators here, who besides the renowned ancestor of Qin Huang Mountain could even approach me?"

He tilted his head, looking up at the Old Man in Coarse Clothing. "But would the Qin Emperor dare to kill me? I doubt it."

"Centuries ago, that palm strike nearly took my life, yet here I am. The one who should have perished is probably some emperor."

"How does it feel to have an uneasy heart, facing the heavens’ condemnation, and suffering from inner demons? So close to the Great Emperor realm, yet unable to cross the threshold—how agonizing it must be."

"If you kill me now, aren’t you afraid your inner demons will consume you, reducing all your cultivation to nothing, and casting you into eternal damnation?"

"If I were to die by your hand, what do you think the human race would do?"

Yóu Lìng’s eyes glinted coldly with blood as he watched the trembling figure of the Old Man in Coarse Clothing, a mocking smile playing on his lips. Then he turned back to Ming He. "A demon spirit? How intriguing!"

"Too bad you’re mistaken."

"Ming He is not of the demon race, nor has she colluded with me," Yóu Lìng declared, his voice deep and clear, resonating through the heavens, his gaze serious and unwavering.

It seemed to echo a voice from centuries past.

That voice had said: "Mu Chen is a sword cultivator who has fallen into darkness."

Liu Yu watched him, momentarily stunned, then her expression hardened into one of sharp disdain. "You’re the envoy of the Black Wind Alliance; who do you think will believe you?"

Even if it were true, no one would believe it.

Just as before, just as now.

"That’s truly unfortunate," Yóu Lìng said, glancing back at Ming He. "You see, they don’t believe me." Nor will they believe you.

"So, do you still wish to fight for the human race?"