The crimson whip in Du Xiaoyan's hand danced with unfathomable grace and savagery. It slashed, stabbed, twirled, and whipped across the air in a deadly symphony of forms. At times, it acted like a spear, shooting forth a storm of thrusts. Then it became a staff, its flickering shadows hacking and sweeping like a tempest. A moment later, it twisted into loops like a rope, aiming to entangle and break. In the blink of an eye, it turned to blade and sword, cleaving through the air with brutal elegance.
The sound of the whip whistling—xiao xiao—filled every inch of space within a twenty-zhang radius. Stone slabs on the ground had long been shattered, and walls, houses, even garden walls within reach of the storm were already in ruins.
Qin Nier, the purple-clad maiden, was no master of the whip. She'd only happened to be holding a horsewhip and figured it could suffice in a fight.
She hadn't anticipated Du Xiaoyan's terrifying mastery.
In the art of the whip, Du Xiaoyan stood leagues above her. If it came down to pure technique, three Qin Niers still couldn't match one Du Xiaoyan.
At first, Qin Nier fought on horseback, trying to parry from above. But soon, she had to dismount, weaving her light body art among the whip's net of illusions. For every ten moves Du Xiaoyan unleashed, Qin Nier could barely counter one.
After the time it takes for a stick of incense to burn, both had begun to tire. The whip, long and unruly, was harder for Du Xiaoyan to control. Her strikes had begun to lose their deadly precision.
At that moment, Qin Nier suddenly darted from beneath her horse, hoping to use its bulk as cover to land a surprise blow. Du Xiaoyan reacted instinctively—without a thought, she lashed out.
Shhrrrak!
The whip sliced the horse clean in two.
Blood and viscera exploded like a macabre fountain, showering toward Qin Nier.
With a scream, she rolled away, narrowly dodging the worst—but not cleanly. Her clothes were splattered with gore and guts.
Enraged and humiliated, her face twisted in fury. Tossing aside her horsewhip, she lunged forward with fluid, eerie grace. Her hands extended as if caressing silk, summoning ghostly purple shadows that shimmered with poison. A sweet, sickly scent filled the air.
From afar, a woman in white—Qin Nier's cousin, Lianzhou Luo'er—saw this and gasped in horror. "'Venomous Hands of Heaven's Net'!? Qin Nier, are you trying to kill her?"
"She tried to kill me first!" Qin Nier snapped viciously. "That whip strike would've killed me too if I hadn't dodged!"
Seeing Qin Nier's killing intent, Du Xiaoyan dared not hold back. Her wrist twisted, sending the whip into a spiral of seven loops, each aimed to snare Qin Nier's neck.
But Qin Nier's new movement technique was like flowing water and drifting clouds—slipping through the loops with uncanny timing and elegance.
How does one snare a passing cloud, or bind a flowing stream?
Maybe someone could—but Du Xiaoyan was not that someone.
In two blinks of an eye, Qin Nier had closed the distance.
Du Xiaoyan's whip, now a hindrance, was useless at close range. She had no choice but to close her eyes and await death.
Qin Nier's poison-tinged fingers were inches from Du Xiaoyan's snow-white neck—
When suddenly, an overwhelming pressure descended.
It wasn't a single current—but seven.
Seven streams of internal force, each with a different essence—fire, ice, thunder, wind, hardness, softness, and focus—converged into a single, enormous vortex of power.
The sheer pull of it dragged Qin Nier back several steps, her poisonous strike falling short.
She looked up—terrified.
From the sky, a single giant palm was descending, growing larger by the instant, enveloped in seven energies that twisted reality itself.
In that moment, all else faded.
Only the hand remained.
A hand that could shadow the heavens.
What use were drifting clouds or flowing streams now? No grace or agility could escape its grasp.
Qin Nier had nowhere left to run.
And Lianzhou Luo'er stood frozen, staring at the figure behind the giant palm.
Descending from the heavens, dressed in pale blue, his sleeves and hem billowing with the wind, was a youth she both loathed and longed for. She had dreamed of tearing him limb from limb—and also of lying beside him under moonlight.
His long hair whipped back in the wind.
That annoying, roguish smirk that usually stained his face was gone. In its place—cold resolve and burning intensity.
His gaze was like ice—and fire.
He was no longer the playful scoundrel she knew. In this moment, he was terrifyingly noble, mysteriously powerful. A man cloaked in demonic charm and supreme authority.
A man who could rule life and death with a single hand.
A hero.
And yet… Why had this hero done such despicable things? Why did he have to take her innocence using such cruel means? Why… why must he be Qin Ren?
Thousands of thoughts raced through her mind in a heartbeat.
Qin Ren's palm continued falling. Qin Nier, screaming, summoned her last ounce of strength for one final attack.
Luo'er moved.
She couldn't let her cousin die—not at his hand.
With a metallic clang, the Little Ninth Heaven Divine Sword left its sheath. Luo'er became a streak of white light, soaring like a lotus across the sky. Her sword cried out in protest as it pierced the heavens.
The Ninth Heaven Divine Skill—"To Grasp the Moon Above the Sky!"
Qin Ren saw her approach. A faint, mysterious smile tugged at his lips. With his other hand, he raised it calmly.
A move unchanged through eternity.
His only offensive technique.
Heaven-Shrouding Hand.
You try to pierce the heavens? Then let me block the sky and see if your sword can break through my palm.
Qin Nier's poison strike was about to collide with Qin Ren's palm.
She knew she couldn't win. He was immune to her poison. And compared to the force behind Heaven-Shrouding Hand, her palm strength was like a candle in a storm.
She saw the future—a shattered arm, her skull split, blood spraying.
She closed her eyes.
And Luo'er felt the same despair.
Her sword was drawn toward the vortex of seven energies in Qin Ren's palm, as if it too was being devoured. There was no breaking through.
But she wouldn't retreat. She couldn't.
Better to die here than to live haunted by dreams of his touch, of her weakness, of loving a heartless rogue.
She thrust her sword anyway, tears in her eyes, glaring at the boy she hated and… loved.
And he smiled.
Right as their blows were about to land, Qin Ren withdrew his palm.
His attack disappeared.
Qin Nier's hand struck his chest cleanly—BOOM!
At the same moment, Qin Ren also retracted his hand facing Luo'er. Her sword plunged into his shoulder, a geyser of blood spraying forth.
Qin Ren was flung sideways like a doll, blood gushing from his mouth, face pale as paper.
Everything had happened in less than a second—so fast it defied thought.
Du Xiaoyan screamed and ran to catch him.
But she was knocked aside.
Qiao Wei darted in from the flank, crashing into Du Xiaoyan and catching Qin Ren mid-air. The impact sent him tumbling back several steps before falling on his rear, but he never let Qin Ren touch the ground.
Cradling the faintly-breathing Qin Ren, Qiao Wei burst into tears. "Young Master! Why… why would you do this? To save Xiaoyan, you didn't have to throw your life away!"
Du Xiaoyan staggered over, tears streaming, hand reaching to touch Qin Ren's face.
Qiao Wei slapped her hand away. "Get away from him! If it weren't for you, would our young master be in this state? With his strength, those two girls couldn't have scratched him! Why did you have to pull back at the last second, Young Master?! Even if you regret the past, even if you want to atone—you didn't have to do it like this! Young Master, please! Stay with me! I'll go find a doctor now!"
He howled in grief, struggling to lift Qin Ren onto his shoulders.
Qin Nier and Luo'er stood stunned, staring at the bloody ground and the boy who had spared them.
Luo'er's hand flew to her mouth.
Qin Nier's expression was bizarre. "He… that lecher… the Qin family's Third Young Master—he actually let us hurt him? Was he really… really trying to atone?"
She stumbled forward, dazed.
Luo'er, too, began walking—trembling, wordless, her eyes fixed on Qin Ren's wounded body.