Qin Feng, Iron Jian, and the three elderly men halted their steps ten paces from the group led by the Nine Yin Saintess.
Qin Feng's gaze swept past the heads of the enemy and landed squarely on his younger brother. In a calm tone, he said,"Ah Ren, what a disgrace. Letting this bunch of trash block your way?"
Third Young Master replied with a roguish grin, "Come on, Big Bro, don't be so harsh. These folks aren't exactly trash. That's the Nine Yin Saintess of the Mind Bewitching Sect, along with the four Guardians of Wind, Fire, Thunder, and Lightning. Even you might struggle to take them all on by yourself."
Qin Feng nodded slightly. "So, a little demon convention, huh? I figured someone with your skills wouldn't be held up by a pack of stray dogs."
"Big Bro, Cousin, how did you know we were here?" Third Young Master looked completely at ease now that reinforcements had arrived. While the Saintess seemed uncertain of the identities behind Qin Feng, Third Young Master knew very well. "Elder Liu, Elder Nu, Elder Xiao—what a surprise to see you three here as well!"
Iron Jian grinned. "Our Iron-Blood Skyhowl Fort has some pull in Dingzhou. You lot made such a racket—if our scouts hadn't figured it out, I'd have them executed myself."
The Nine Yin Saintess finally spoke. "Young Lord Qin, could that be Iron Jian, heir of the Skyhowl Fort? And those three behind you… they're not the Three Killing Demons of the Free-Range Manor, are they—Liu Duanhun, Nu Hengmei, and Xiao Tianci?"
Qin Feng gave a slight nod. "Demoness, are you surrendering quietly, or do I have to get my hands dirty?"
The Saintess giggled, coy and enchanting. "How blunt you are, Young Lord Qin! I'm just a frail little woman. How could I possibly match blades with the Galaxy Sword Saint? Still, if I must be captured, shouldn't it be by Third Young Master? Or… could it be you've taken a liking to me too?" Her laughter rippled like spring water.
Qin Feng frowned and turned to his brother. "Ah Ren, you didn't—?"
"Hell no!" Third Young Master barked. "She's throwing herself at me, that's all. I haven't laid a single finger on her. You can go all out!"
Then, leaning in, he muttered, "But try not to kill her. Knock her out—I'll handle the rest."
Qin Feng shook his head, half annoyed, half amused. He knew his brother too well. After all, he had been complicit in Third Brother's first attempted seduction years ago.
Now that his brother had cleared the air, Qin Feng no longer needed to hold back. His voice grew icy. "Nine Yin Saintess of the Demon Sect? You flatter yourself. To me, you're no different from a rock on the roadside. Surrender now, or I promise—once my sword is drawn, I leave no survivors."
The Saintess smirked, her eyes half-lidded. "Oh my, such a temper. But I suppose a man like you doesn't indulge in carnal pleasures. Or could it be… you lost your manhood practicing swordplay and now can't perform in bed?"
Laughter erupted all around—Third Young Master, Qiao Wei, Uncle Li, even Tie Xuanxuan couldn't suppress a snort. Du Xiaoyan and Li Xiaoye turned their faces to hide giggles. Tu Hong dared not laugh, but his twitching facial muscles betrayed him.
Iron Jian let out three hearty laughs before catching a cold glare from Qin Feng—and promptly shut up.
"Find that funny?" Qin Feng said icily. "Don't you think it's shameful for a woman to speak so vulgarly?"
The Saintess batted her lashes. "Why so angry, dear Sword Saint? I'm a demoness, after all. Lewdness and shamelessness are in my job description."
Third Young Master clapped his hands in mock admiration. "Well said! Honest, unpretentious, calls it like it is! I like you. Big Bro, no need to hold back. Knock her out and let your little brother handle the punishment."
Qin Feng groaned internally. With Third Brother around, there was no winning. Somehow, Third Brother always got the girl, and he always ended up doing the dirty work—literally.
Am I, the Galaxy Sword Saint, destined to be a glorified lookout for a womanizing rogue? he wondered bitterly.
Yet fate has its way. As one who had stepped onto the Heaven Sword path, Qin Feng already felt faint stirrings of destiny—though he didn't know it yet. These weren't just random musings, but subtle whispers of the cosmic order. Unfortunately, one of those whispers was about to come true… and in the most humiliating way.
Qin Feng gave a resigned nod. "Three Killing Demons, Cousin, handle the Four Guardians. I'll take on the demoness. Once she's captured, I'll join you. Ah Ren, you still good to fight?"
"Of course!" Third Young Master shouted. "The moment I saw you, Big Bro, my energy came rushing back. I'm in peak condition now!"
"Good. Then take those two laughing idiots with you and clear the small fry. And those four naked slave girls running around—disgraceful. Execute them. No survivors."
He pronounced the death sentence like he was swatting flies.
Third Young Master protested, "You know I never kill women. How about we just capture them alive?" Then he whispered to Qiao Wei and Uncle Li, "Knock them out and split them three ways between us."
Tu Hong leaned in eagerly. "Mind if I join?"
The trio scoffed in unison. "Pervert. Creep. Morally bankrupt scum. Beat it!"
Tu Hong slunk away, seething. Damn them! Just because my cultivation is weak… Those girls will be unconscious anyway! What's there to fear? Seventeen women—including the Nine Yin Saintess—and they think three men can handle that alone? Bastards…
Meanwhile, Qiao Wei, Uncle Li, and Third Young Master advanced slowly toward the women, their hands itching and faces gleaming with wicked delight.
Qin Feng's eyes locked onto the Nine Yin Saintess, his long hair starting to stir despite the still air.
Iron Jian and the Three Killing Demons strolled toward the Four Guardians. Iron Jian began rubbing his palms together until they glowed red like smoldering coals.
"Hold up!" barked Wu Zhenhai—"Thunder of the Nine Skies"—raising a hand. "I've only had one line so far. I've got something to say."
"So do I," said Lu Dingyuan, "Lightning Strike of the Skies", his tone flat. "Maybe we shouldn't fight. Qin Feng, you don't have your sword. Without it, you lose half your strength. And we're not about to let you retrieve it."
Before anyone could move, Lu Dingyuan blurred forward like a black bolt, darting to the wall where Du Gongfu's body still hung. In a flash, he seized the Hilt of the Crescent Moon Seven-Star Sword.
No one saw him move. One blink, and the sword was in his hand. Another blink, and he stood back in place, smiling.
Admiring the sword's faint purple-blue glow, Lu Dingyuan said, "What a blade. No wonder it's one of the Seven Divine Weapons. You underestimated me, didn't you? They don't call me 'Lightning of the Skies' for nothing. Qin Ren, you pride yourself on lightness techniques—who's faster, you or me?"
Third Young Master said earnestly, "If we're talking pure speed, you've got the edge. But in terms of style and flair? I'm leagues ahead."
Lu snorted. "What's style worth in a real fight? Qin Feng, I've got your sword now. What will you do?"
Qin Feng's lips curved into a strange, mocking smile. "Who told you I need a sword to fight at full strength? And who told you I'm weak without it?"
Lu burst into arrogant laughter. "You built your name on this sword! Without it, you're nothing! You don't believe me? Fine! My sword art is called 'Electric Blade'—not fancy, but deadly. Let me show you what this divine sword can do in real hands!"
Qin Feng said coolly, "You want a duel of swordsmanship? Fine. I'll take you on with bare hands. Everyone else, stand down."
Third Young Master, Qiao Wei, Uncle Li halted. The others withdrew, giving the two combatants space.
Qin Feng strode forward slowly, hands clasped behind his back. Lu Dingyuan moved to meet him, the Seven-Star Sword gleaming in his hand.
With each step, Lu's aura surged, his inner power rising. His robe swelled, wind lifting his hood to reveal wild, black hair that began to rise and wriggle like serpents.
"Crack!" A flagstone cracked underfoot, leaving a deep imprint. Each following step grew quieter, the cracks vanishing—but the imprints deepened.
Qin Feng, by contrast, seemed utterly at ease, his pace calm, hair gently fluttering, aura unchanged—as though he were a scholar taking a stroll.
Yet the calm masked a storm.