Chapter 90: A Contest of Skill and a Battle for Life and Death

The azure glow lingered still.

After absorbing the blood of the Three Yin Candles, the small wooden sword’s blade was etched with intricate patterns. Among these marks, one stood out, large and conspicuous, unlike any other.

Su Jingxing gazed at it for a moment, recalling a description he had once seen online about spirit swords. The most prominent detail was the core of the sword’s power—its very soul.

A mental imprint.

A spirit sword recognizes its master through the warrior’s mind and soul, manifesting as a mark upon the blade. This imprint has a fixed location, visible to the master once the recognition is complete.

With the help of the great white goose’s silvery light, Su Jingxing could now see it clearly. The imprint upon the small wooden sword was empty, a mere trace left behind, indicating Su Jingxing could inscribe his own anew.

Spirit swords are notoriously difficult to tame, primarily because one never knows where to place the mental imprint. Now, with the great white goose’s aid, Su Jingxing, delighted, gathered his spiritual strength, summoned his soul force, and focused it upon the mark.

A resonant hum echoed—three times in succession—as the sword’s spirit, instinctively resistant, quivered and tried to reject him. Yet, under the silvery radiance, Su Jingxing’s gaze remained fixed, forcing his mental imprint into place.

The instant the imprint settled—

A rush of vision flooded his mind, a vivid memory seared into his consciousness. It was the birth of the small wooden sword, and the majestic scene of its awakening.

Above the horizon, thick clouds rolled with unstoppable might. Between heaven and earth, a dozen bolts of lightning crashed down onto the mountain peak.

Atop the peak, a four-foot-long star ironwood sword faced the storm, devouring every bolt of lightning. Then, in a sudden flash, it released a colossal blade-shaped lightning, shattering mountains, tearing the sky, and breaking the earth.

Thunderstrike.

That was the name its first master bestowed upon the small wooden sword.

No mistake—the small wooden sword, or rather, Thunderstrike, was a blood spirit weapon.

Su Jingxing, having forced its submission, now possessed most of Thunderstrike’s secrets.

Its primary power: to absorb and unleash lightning.

In ancient times, lightning came from the heavens themselves. Now, things were simpler—it could be recharged directly. Though he wondered how much power outage this might cause, at least there was a way.

Moreover, Thunderstrike could not yet absorb or release lightning at full force—it needed to continue awakening. The method: constantly consuming special bloodlines. Once fully restored, Su Jingxing could recharge it and, with Thunderstrike’s aid, attain the speed of lightning.

Truly, swift as the wind and thunder!

...

“Brother Goose, thank you.” Su Jingxing put away Thunderstrike, gently stroked the great white goose’s feathers, and offered his gratitude.

“Honkkk!” The great white goose flapped its wings, calling out joyfully.

“Ready to go? No, not this time.” Su Jingxing smiled, declining the offer.

The great white goose, eager and attentive, quickly reminded Su Jingxing it could take him to two more places rich in worldly energy.

But dawn was approaching.

The True Qi in his dantian, accumulated over sixty years, had not yet been refined. If he added more, it would only complicate the purification process later.

Su Jingxing decided to wait a few days, refine his current True Qi, then cultivate more.

Having been away for a day and night, it was time to return to the city.

He had already decided how—he would fly back!

Sixty years’ worth of cultivation was enough to carry him straight to Qinghe City.

He acted at once.

He took out a handful of essence pills and fed them to the great white goose in thanks.

Then, as the sky paled in the east, Su Jingxing activated his True Qi, performed the Eight-Step Ascending Dragon, and soared skyward.

Wrapped in a protective aura, he shot straight toward Qinghe City.

The wind roared past his ears, his view vast and magnificent.

The sensation of flying with his own body was incomparable to sitting in an airplane. Like a bird soaring through the heavens, the freedom, exhilaration, and clarity filled him, broadening his heart with boundless pride.

Hundreds of meters above ground, Su Jingxing let out a long, triumphant cry. His voice echoed among the sunlit mountains, and his moving figure traced a fleeting dragon-shaped trail through the sky.

...

From the valley of the great white goose to the western outskirts of Qinghe City, the foot of the mountain south of the Tianshui River, the straight-line distance was about forty kilometers.

Su Jingxing’s direct flight took less than ten minutes.

At that speed, he was nearly traveling at 240 kilometers per hour.

If he unleashed all his True Qi and flew at full speed, he could reach 600 kilometers per hour!

Once the Eight-Step Ascending Dragon reached mastery, breaking the sound barrier would be no challenge.

Thinking of this, Su Jingxing couldn’t help but smile as he returned home to bathe and change his clothes.

...

At the same time,

In the western district of Qinghe City, at Ouyang Qinhu’s residence.

Bang bang bang—

Urgent knocking shattered the morning calm.

Ouyang Qinhu, freshly washed and about to begin his cultivation, frowned, heading toward the door. “I hear you—stop knocking.”

Bang bang bang—

The knocking continued.

Ouyang Qinhu’s gaze grew cold. He quickened his steps, opened the door, and barked, “I said stop knocking—didn’t you hear—”

“Bad news, Leader! Something terrible’s happened!” The visitor cut him off in panic, shouting, “Just now, a swordsman stormed headquarters, wounded everyone. He’s demanding to see you, threatening to kill us all and burn the building if you don’t appear! He’s terrifying—none of us could stop him. Leader, what do we do?”

“What do we do...” Ouyang Qinhu’s expression darkened, gritting his teeth. “He wants to see me? Fine, I’ll meet him!”

Receiving such a shock at dawn, Ouyang Qinhu had no option but to confront it.

He had no idea who the intruder was, but with such brazen aggression, Ouyang Qinhu could not give an inch.

He was not a solitary cultivator, but the leader of the Black Tiger Gang, a prominent figure in the western district.

If he retreated now, how could he continue to stand in Qinghe City?

With this thought, Ouyang Qinhu clenched his teeth, returned to his room briefly, then came out, called his subordinate, and sped by car to the Black Tiger Gang headquarters.

At maximum speed, they arrived in less than five minutes.

As he stepped out of the car, a man in his thirties, hair disheveled, slim and sharp-eyed, with a sword strapped to his back, stood in the sunlight and saluted Ouyang Qinhu.

“I am Nie Renchou, challenging you today, to test our strength and decide life or death!”

...

(P.S. A new week—please vote for recommendations.)