At the moment the pill shot into Qingxuan Taoist's mouth, two people shuddered.
One was Sect Leader Wu Duan Tian, and the other was Chen Ping An, stunned in front of his phone.
The game had just promised him whether to actively hand over a normal pill to Qingxuan Taoism, and he had selected "yes
So, this was what "handing over" looked like?
Was this really necessary?
Wouldn't the NPC get furious?
Could this trigger a Bad End?
Wu Duan Tian was shocked at Chen Ping An's rudeness. As a great cultivator, he actually forced a pill into someone's mouth...
It was utterly uncivilized!
Extremely shocking!
And surprisingly delightful!!
Fang Qingzhi was left speechless.
A strand of hair stood upright on her forehead, motionless and stunned.
Qingxuan Taoist's throat convulsed as the Great Restoration Pill slid down his throat.
He was about to unleash his anger when the pill's energy spread throughout his body. There wasn't a trace of poison, just as the mysterious cultivator had said—no deceit involved. Xiao Yicfeng's current plight was entirely self - inflicted.
Qingxuan Taoist's emotions were complicated.
His clouded mind gradually calmed.
He couldn't distort facts by claiming the pill had poison when everyone had witnessed the truth.
His face was already in the dust.
With the mysterious cultivator's unclear strength and hidden presence, he dared not act rashly.
If he lashed out and still lost, he would have no place in Qingyun Sect.
He resigned himself to swallowing his pride once more.
Qingxuan Taoist took a deep breath, his rigid face twitching as he forced out a sentence: "Hmm, this Great Restoration Pill indeed contains no poison... I've failed to discipline my disciple properly, making a spectacle in front of you. However, Xiao Yicfeng possesses exceptional alchemical talent. If he achieves something in the future, I hope to learn from you then."
Qingxuan Taoist's words were veiled.
The implication was clear: the tables could turn, just like the saying "Thirty years on this side of the river, thirty years on that."
Chen Ping An understood and sneered at the implied threat in Qingxuan Taoist's words: "By the time your disciple makes a name for himself, I'll have already turned Qingzhi into a sword immortal with my spending."
"Teacher, there's no need to wait that long. I'll gladly learn from you today," a voice rang out.
Everyone turned at the sound of footsteps.
Lu Changtian strode onto the square, stopping in front of Fang Qingzhi.
He slowly drew his flying sword, his aura intensifying, his sharp gaze locking onto Fang Qingzhi.
As the eldest disciple of Chixiao Peak, at the late stage of Foundation Establishment, he was a prodigy among cultivators under thirty.
The two stood in silence, yet the tension was palpable.
Lu Changtian's robe billowed as if filled with wind, his deep eyes brimming with anger and hatred. At the peak of his momentum, he abruptly reined it in, compressing it down to the seventh level of Qi Refining.
"Junior Sister, I still address you as such. But the 'you' I speak of is the past you, not the despicable present you.
Had it not been for you, Zhang Hanshao, Yun Zimo, and Xiao Yicfeng would not be hurt like this.
Chixiao Peak and our master would not be humiliated!"
"But I refuse to call you Senior Brother," Fang Qingzhi drew the Plain String Sword, its tip angled toward Lu Changtian. The blade reflected frost - covered eyes: "The day I fell from the arena, Lu Changtian had already died."
"You harmed my junior sister; this is your just desserts."
"If I wished to harm Mu Bai Shuang, you wouldn't have stood a chance. Back then, I was at the Foundation Establishment stage, and she at Qi Refining. What made you think you could stop me? The elders and the sect leader are absent. With your lot and a Golden Core outer sect elder, you think you can?"
"Cease your excuses. Let me see if your sword is as sharp as your tongue!"
Lu Changtian lunged forward, sword - qi like snow, icy and biting. It was the same move Mu Bai Shuang used—the Frost - Gathering technique from the Little Formless Sword.
This was the same technique Mu Bai Shuang had employed on the arena that day.
At that time, Mu Bai Shuang was at the seventh level of Qi Refining, so Lu Changtian had suppressed his cultivation to match.
He had mastered all the techniques of the Little Formless Sword. Whatever Mu Bai Shuang had used then, he could use now.
He wanted to see if it was true, as Fang Qingzhi had claimed,
that if she wished, they couldn't stop her!
Fang Qingzhi sensed Lu Changtian's intent. She dodged a sweeping sword - qi, her figure flickering as the Plain String Sword stabbed toward an empty spot.
Lu Changtian, now a figure of frost and snow, appeared in mid - air. His brow furrowed, eyes sharp, he executed a quick somersault to evade the Plain String Sword. He silently marveled at how quick Fang Qingzhi's reflexes had become.Sensing a chill above his scalp, he raised his sword to block in time. A powerful strike hit his blade but vanished instantly. Before he could deliver a sneaky whip kick, Fang Qingzhi had already retreated three steps.
The moment Lu Changtian's kick was still in motion, she thrust her sword again.
The sword - light rained down, its momentum growing.
The technique she used was the same one she had employed against Mu Bai Shuang on the arena—the sixth move of the Little Formless Sword, Drenching Rain.
Suppressing his cultivation too much, Lu Changtian's body struggled to keep up with his mind.
He hadn't anticipated that Fang Qingzhi's sword could be so swift. Even with his knowledge of the Little Formless Sword, he could only react hastily.
The Drenching Rain technique could strike up to forty - nine times consecutively.
In his memory, when Fang Qingzhi had practiced with him, she had never executed more than thirty strikes of this move.
As long as he endured past thirty strikes.
Sssss——!
No time for more thought.
A streak of sharp sword - light suddenly appeared before his eyes, fast to the extreme.
This sword - light descended from above, followed by a blurred figure.
Like a downpour, the sword - momentum fell like a cascade.
Within the sword - shadow rain, a barely perceptible sword - intent was taking shape.
After forty - nine strikes of momentum, the final thrust erupted with unstoppable force.
Clang!
Lu Changtian's sword flew from his grasp.
He knelt on the ground, pupils dilating, staring blankly at the girl before him—familiar yet strange.
The cold blade of the Plain String Sword already rested at his throat.
"Why... why could you land the final strike of Drenching Rain?"
"Why?"
Fang Qingzhi's voice seemed to sigh, yet mock herself.
"Lu Changtian, I've actually known how to do it all along. It's just that your patience never allowed me to strike the final blow."