Chapter 68

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Chapter 68: Senior Sister Takes Flight

Ming He couldn’t help but feel a rush of emotions in response to Qin Chu Yi’s radiant and pure smile. Instinctively, she followed her guidance, lightly tapping her toes, and gracefully stood on the white flying sword that hovered in the air behind her.

“Let’s go!” Qin Chu Yi exclaimed, her spiritual energy surging as she slowly ascended toward the Floating Cloud Sect. The Qingyun Tower and Dongfeng City gradually shrank in Ming He’s view, eventually becoming a tiny black dot.

Ming He glanced down at the bustling world below and the fading Eastern Sky Arena in the clouds, a wave of reflection washing over her. She then raised her gaze to the straight back of the woman in front of her. The flying sword was neither too long nor too short, allowing her to clearly see the smooth, luminous skin at the nape of Qin Chu Yi’s neck. Her black hair cascaded behind her, fluttering in the wind.

They soared through the clouds on the sword. The scenery within the mist was breathtaking, with the sun feeling close and warm. Above them stretched a vast, azure sky, where larks flitted by, chirping merrily, while other cultivators hurried past.

Ming He reached out to touch the mist beside her, feeling the cool, ethereal fog. This was the height she had always dreamed of—it wasn’t cold at all. The sunlight bathed her in warmth, creating a soothing sensation.

“Where’s Senior Sister’s spirit boat?” Ming He asked, recalling the vessel from their first meeting, when they had traveled to the ancient cave dwelling.

“I didn’t bring it,” Qin Chu Yi replied with a soft laugh. “Flying on a sword with your own strength is far more exhilarating than sitting in a spirit boat.” Her sentiment mirrored Ming He’s own.

“That’s true,” Ming He agreed with a quiet chuckle. She gazed at Qin Chu Yi’s straight back and fell silent, her thoughts drifting to her own aspirations of breaking through to the Wind Master realm. It had been her dream since the beginning of her cultivation journey, and now it felt within reach.

They flew for several days on the sword.

As Ming He observed Qin Chu Yi’s silhouette, a question suddenly came to mind. “Is Sister Qin a disciple of the Floating Cloud Sect?”

“In a way,” Qin Chu Yi replied, her posture still straight as she faced forward. “I train within the Floating Cloud Sect, which makes me a true disciple. However, within the sect, I go by the name Chu Yi Qing.”

“Is that an alias?” Ming He asked, slightly puzzled but also finding the name quite beautiful.

“Yes,” Qin Chu Yi answered, her voice soft and melodic, like the calm after a rainstorm.

Ming He nodded silently behind her. She knew Qin Chu Yi hailed from a prominent family in the central region, as per the original storyline, but she didn’t understand why she had chosen to cultivate at the Floating Cloud Sect. Just as she hadn’t initially known about the connection between Qin Chu Yi and the Star Lock.

Curiosity stirred within her, and she was about to ask more when she noticed Qin Chu Yi’s right hand, which had been resting in her sleeve, suddenly move closer. A faint, sandalwood-like fragrance wafted toward her, accompanied by a cool breeze.

“Someone’s coming,” Qin Chu Yi whispered, her expression turning sharp. Her right hand tightened around the hilt of another sword, her energy surging like a warrior ready for battle.

Someone? Who could it be? Clearly, anyone who could provoke such a guarded reaction from Qin Chu Yi was no friend.

Ming He froze for a moment but quickly composed herself, gripping the Longquan Sword tightly. Deep down, she knew they were thousands of miles above the ground, and only cultivators at or above the Wind Master realm could reach such heights, as they were the only ones capable of riding the wind and standing amidst the clouds.

No matter how many of these newcomers arrived, she stood no chance against them.

She was too weak.

“Clang!” The sound of a sword being drawn echoed through the air.

Ming He looked up and realized that during her moment of contemplation, a group of black-clothed men had surrounded them in a tight circle. They stood in the mist, all at or above the Wind Master realm, dressed in black garments and scarves, their appearance eerily similar to the black-clothed men she had encountered and defeated at Qingyun Tower. Their expressions were equally cold and detached, their eyes filled with disdain and arrogance.

It was clear they belonged to the same group—the Black Wind Alliance, as Qin Chu Yi had mentioned. Traitors to the human race and pawns of foreign tribes, barely deserving the title of assassins.

Assassins valued efficiency, preferring a single, decisive strike over unnecessary words. The black-clothed men glared at Ming He and Qin Chu Yi with cold indifference, their weapons raised as they charged through the clouds like a pack of wolves, ruthless and relentless.

“Hold on to me,” Qin Chu Yi murmured, drawing closer to Ming He. Her right hand gripped the long sword firmly, her gaze icy. This was her first battle since breaking through to the Wind Master realm, and her true fight after overcoming the cold poison. Her blade was now ready to spill the blood of foreign races.

To her, there was no difference between the traitorous cultivators of the human race and the foreign tribes that plundered the Tianwu Continent’s resources and lands.

As for the time she had saved Ming He at Qingyun Tower, it had been a mere flick of her flying sword, effortlessly cutting down the weak and insignificant black-clothed men. They hadn’t even warranted the term “battle.”

Hearing Qin Chu Yi’s words, Ming He hesitated for a moment before reaching out to lightly hold onto her waist, ensuring she wouldn’t fall or be thrown off the flying sword during the impending clash. She didn’t draw her sword; the gap in their cultivation was too vast, and being so high in the air left her with no room to maneuver. Engaging recklessly would only burden Qin Chu Yi.

“Then let’s fight,” Qin Chu Yi whispered, her voice steady as she met the dazzling sunlight piercing through the clouds. She swung her long sword, its tip gleaming as it intertwined with the radiant light from above, forming a brilliant river of stars that surged forward, knocking the nearest black-clothed man off balance.

Ming He watched as the man at the front lost his footing and plummeted, carried down by the sword energy. He wouldn’t die, but injuries were inevitable—after all, Qin Chu Yi had sent him tumbling.

“Attack together!” one of the black-clothed men shouted, fear flickering in his eyes as he retreated slightly before rallying the others to charge again in unison.

“Humph!” Qin Chu Yi let out a cold snort, her movements almost imperceptible. In the next instant, Ming He felt her body jolt violently, nearly toppling her over. The hand that had been loosely encircling her waist tightened, its grip now firm yet gentle. Qin Chu Yi’s cool, ethereal aura wafted around her, carried by the wind, while her long black hair fluttered, brushing against Ming He’s face and leaving a faint, ticklish sensation.

The white flying sword spun in a full circle around the black-clothed men, its blade gleaming with a radiant light as sharp sword energy erupted, slicing through the air with precision and striking the black-clothed men. Ming He watched as they staggered under the force.

The sword energy seemed to scatter unevenly; some of the black-clothed men, their veils damp with blood, crumpled to the ground and vanished, while others steadied themselves and raised their long swords to strike back, relentless and unfeeling, like mindless killing machines.

Qin Chu Yi’s expression remained impassive as she shifted her stance, her long sword sweeping out with a surge of sword intent. Her attack was swift and unyielding, cutting through the onslaught of over a dozen black-clothed men. Despite being surrounded, she held the upper hand.

Though they encircled her, the black-clothed men fought without coordination, each seeking to claim the greatest reward with the least effort.

After dozens of exchanges, more black-clothed men fell from the sky, unable to withstand Qin Chu Yi’s relentless sword strikes. The initial group of a dozen dwindled to five or six.

Yet, Qin Chu Yi’s expression remained unchanged, her eyes cold and steady. Ming He, her hand still resting on Qin Chu Yi’s waist, could feel the faint tremors in her body and the instability in her aura.

She was undeniably a prodigy, soaring through the skies on her sword and cutting down dozens of black-clothed men. But her cultivation was still in its early stages; she had only just begun to recover from the effects of cold poison and was only starting to reveal her true potential. She needed more time to grow.

“A bunch of fools!” Ming He heard a cold, mocking laugh echo from the distant sky. Through the mist, several more black-clothed figures emerged, each at the Wind Master realm or higher, forming a battle formation with identical short knives in hand. Their target was clear: her.

Ming He’s pupils constricted as she watched the black blades pierce through the mist, hurtling toward her. She knew she should draw her sword, deflect the blades, and create distance with a swift movement, but the oppressive aura of the Wind Master realm cultivators pinned her in place, preventing her from unsheathing the Longquan Sword.

It was a crushing disparity in cultivation.

“Zhih!” The short knife sliced through Ming He’s left arm, aiming straight for her heart. She looked up and met a pair of cold, emotionless eyes, filled with unmistakable murderous intent.

“Clang!”

Qin Chu Yi’s expression shifted as she swung her sword to block the blade aimed at Ming He’s heart. Another black-clothed man lunged at her, but she had no time to defend. Instinctively, she maneuvered the flying sword, narrowly avoiding a fatal blow.

“Hiss.”

The blade pierced a spot near her heart, and Qin Chu Yi winced, letting out a sharp breath. Her eyes hardened as she raised her long sword, its blade surging like a tidal wave, and slashed out. She then guided the flying sword downward, knowing that in mid-air combat, she was at a disadvantage. Escape was her only option.

“Senior Sister Qin.” Ming He stared at the blade embedded in Qin Chu Yi’s left shoulder, her mind momentarily blank. She hadn’t expected Qin Chu Yi to prioritize her safety in such a life-and-death moment. Was it because of the Star Lock?

That was her first thought, but even if it was, Qin Chu Yi had undeniably saved her once again.

Ming He gazed at Qin Chu Yi’s still-straight back, her eyes flickering with uncertainty. It seemed Qin Chu Yi was nearing her limit, and there was nothing Ming He could do to help.

Once again, Ming He felt the weight of her own weakness. She had been proud of her position at the top of the Young Tiger List, but now she realized it wasn’t enough—not nearly enough.

A fierce determination ignited in Ming He’s eyes as she looked down at her right hand, finding it empty except for a storage ring. She couldn’t even draw her sword.

Wait—the storage ring?

An idea sparked in her mind, and her eyes gleamed with resolve. She retrieved a collection of spiritual artifacts from the storage ring: a small bell, a chime, a long knife, and a short sword—all obtained from Ding Jiu during the Secret Realm Trial. Though their ranks weren’t high, they could be bonded to a master, having been nurtured by the dragon energy of the Tian Cang Secret Realm.

Ming He withdrew her hand from Qin Chu Yi’s waist, bit her lip, and spat a mouthful of blood onto the artifacts, completing the bonding process. Channeling her soul power, she sent the artifacts hurtling toward the pursuing black-clothed men.

“Explode!”

As the artifacts reached their targets, Ming He whispered the command, her incantation shifting. The artifacts detonated, engulfing the black-clothed men in a dangerous cloud of smoke. The backlash left her face pale, nearly matching the white of Qin Chu Yi’s robes, and her lips took on a sickly hue.

Qin Chu Yi seized the opportunity to create distance, but the black-clothed men would soon close in again.

“Senior Sister Qin, there’s a stone forest below,” Ming He murmured, her eyes flickering with urgency. Without terrain to shield them in the open sky, they were no match for the black-clothed men. Escaping was their only hope, and the ground was their best chance.

“Alright,” Qin Chu Yi replied faintly, swallowing a pill before guiding the flying sword downward. They soon landed amidst the stone forest.

Behind them, the black-clothed men followed—the original five or six, plus the seven who had joined later, totaling around twelve or thirteen. They spread out before the stone forest, their cold, predatory gazes fixed on the two.

“Go ahead, into the stone forest,” Qin Chu Yi said, her sword held before her as she swallowed another pill. She glanced at Ming He, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “I’ll come find you.”

With that, her smile faded into cold resolve as she faced the black-clothed men. Her white robes were now stained with blood near her heart. She turned her back to Ming He, her expression hidden, but her voice carried a weight that offered little comfort.

Qin Chu Yi had already drawn her sword and charged forward, her aura as deep and distant as before, showing no signs of weakness from the earlier wound.

She must have used some secret technique, Ming He thought as she observed her slightly glowing profile.

Otherwise, she wouldn’t have been so unsteady just moments ago, nearly falling off her sword. Ming He clenched her fists; if she weren’t burdening Qin Chu Yi, even if she couldn’t defeat her enemies, she could have escaped unscathed.

She was a liability.

Ming He watched Qin Chu Yi soar into the air, her sword movements stirring the heavens and earth. Her heart grew heavy, shadowed by a sense of helplessness. She turned and entered the stone forest; she couldn’t aid Qin Chu Yi, and her priority was to ensure her own safety before anything else.

Inside the stone forest, jagged rocks stood irregularly, some towering into the sky, others varying greatly in height. Silver snakes coiled along the stone walls, their flickering tongues adding to the eerie atmosphere. A few green leaves dotted the otherwise desolate and ancient landscape, suggesting they were deep within a mountain range.

Ming He slipped into the stone forest, and behind her, a flash of blade light struck the stone wall beside her, sending sparks flying as several black-clothed men followed her into the forest.

The others pursued Qin Chu Yi.

“Hmph.” Ming He let out a cold laugh, a faint smile curling her lips. Her usually composed face now bore a chilling expression. Her peach blossom eyes narrowed, their depths unreadable, though the whiteness of her knuckles gripping the sword hilt betrayed her inner turmoil.

She was furious; she wanted these men to remain here forever.

Wind Master realm.

As Ming He surveyed the stone forest’s layout and the positions of the jagged rocks, she concealed herself behind a massive boulder, her blue clothes fluttering as she vanished, leaving the black-clothed men with only a fleeting glimpse of her.

Phantom Steps seemed tailor-made for this dark, narrow, and winding place. As Ming He moved with the Phantom Steps, she felt an unparalleled sense of freedom, as though she were a fish in water. Her figure reappeared, already putting distance between herself and the black-clothed men.

She positioned herself in the southeast of the stone forest, while the four or five pursuers remained dozens of paces to the south, clumsily searching for her like headless flies.

If she wanted to escape now, it wouldn’t be difficult.

But Ming He had no intention of fleeing; she wanted to claim lives. The humiliation of failing to draw her sword high above still burned in her mind. How could a sword cultivator be called a sword cultivator if they couldn’t draw their sword?

She was filled with resentment and rage.

“Clang!”

Ming He moved with the Phantom Steps like a gust of wind, darting around a massive rock and thrusting her sword tip at a lone black-clothed man from behind. The man instinctively raised his blade to block, but she channeled all her soul power into a sharp spike—God-Breaking Spike—and drove it into his Sea of Souls.

Given her current cultivation and soul power, the attack had little effect on a Wind Master realm cultivator, but it froze him for a fraction of a second. That was enough; in a life-and-death battle, every moment counted.

The Longquan Sword in Ming He’s hand was deflected by the black-clothed man, but her left hand swiftly drew the Moon Crescent Dagger, plunging it precisely into his heart before he could react. He fell dead, though she took a blow in return.

She had used this method of self-defense twice before; this was the third time, and she knew there would be a fourth and fifth in the future.

Ming He wiped the blood from her lips and stashed the dagger, pausing briefly as she remembered it had been a gift from Qin Chu Yi. To her own surprise, she found the courage to stand her ground, waiting for the other black-clothed men to appear. A provocative smile crossed her face as she vanished once more, leaving them with only a glimpse of her blue clothes.

The other black-clothed men, enraged, struck the nearby boulder, but the stone remained unmoved. One man recoiled as the shock reverberated through his hand, leaving him seething with frustration and helplessness.

They attempted to leap into the air to search for Ming He, but as they did, a strange and eerie force emanated from the stone forest, neutralizing their advantage as Wind Master realm cultivators.

Aside from their slightly higher cultivation, they held no other advantages.