Chapter 9: One Sword for Another
As Tie Wufeng stepped into the courtyard, his gaze swept across it like lightning before finally settling on Ye Chen.
"You're the remnant of Ye Family Manor?" he said. His voice wasn't loud, yet it made everyone's ears ring.
Ye Chen stepped forward, shielding his adoptive father.
"I am Ye Chen, the son of Ye Yun—the man you killed ten years ago."
Ye Ling waved his fan and chuckled.
"Oh? So you're my cousin. Tsk, tsk. I thought you'd frozen to death in some godforsaken corner. I never expected you to still be alive, let alone learn a little martial arts."
"Shut your mouth!" Ye Chen roared. "Ye Ling, the blood debt for the seventy-two lives of Ye Family Manor—I will collect it today!"
Ye Ling burst out laughing as though he'd just heard the funniest joke in the world.
"You'll collect it? What are you going to use to collect it? Your newly broken-through Force-Throughput realm? Or that half-baked fox on the roof?"
The instant he finished speaking, his figure vanished.
Fast—far too fast.
Even Li Qingshan, an expert at Lesser Internal Mastery, couldn't see how he moved.
There was only a flash of afterimage. Ye Ling was already standing in front of Ye Chen, the paper fan in his hand thrusting straight at his throat.
The technique was viciously dangerous. If it landed, Ye Chen would certainly die.
"Chen'er, watch out!"
Li Qingshan swung his saber, but he was a step too late.
At that critical moment, a red parasol suddenly appeared, blocking the spot directly before Ye Chen's throat.
Clang!
The paper fan collided with the red parasol, sending a spark flying.
Little Fox had somehow appeared in front of Ye Chen. Her voice was cold as ice.
"Young Master Ye, your opponent is me."
Ye Ling retreated a step and looked at Little Fox, a hint of wariness in his eyes.
"Miss, are you from Dark River? Why are you meddling in the affairs of my Sword Forge?"
"I already told you. I was paid to protect him for three days," Little Fox replied. "Those three days aren't over yet. No one is allowed to touch him."
"What if I insist?"
Ye Ling sneered, and his aura suddenly erupted. He was at the peak of Lesser Internal Mastery, just one step from First-Rate, yet his internal force was several times purer than that of ordinary martial artists. It was obvious he'd been taught a superior cultivation art.
"Then try me."
Little Fox said no more. The red parasol in her hand spun, sending countless silver needles shooting out and enveloping Ye Ling.
The two immediately became locked in combat, their figures flickering in and out of sight. Ordinary people couldn't see them clearly at all.
Elsewhere, Tie Wufeng had lost his patience. He looked at Li Qingshan.
"Li Qingshan, have you decided to shield this remnant?"
"Sect Master Tie, Ye Chen is my adopted son now. If you want to touch him, you'll have to step over my corpse first." Li Qingshan held his saber across his chest. Though he knew he was no match for Tie Wufeng, his back remained ramrod straight.
"Good! Then this old man will grant your wish!"
Tie Wufeng drew his sword. The moment his broad-bladed sword left its sheath, an invisible pressure descended over everyone in the courtyard, forcing the weaker escort guards to collapse to their knees.
This was the strength of a Half-Step Grandmaster.
He swung his sword, sending a three-zhang-long arc of sword aura straight toward Li Qingshan.
Li Qingshan roared and poured all his internal force into the Ghost-Head Saber, unleashing the strongest slash of his life.
Boom!
The saber and sword aura collided. The Ghost-Head Saber that had accompanied him for decades broke in two. Li Qingshan spat out a mouthful of blood, flew backward, and slammed into the courtyard wall.
"Father!" Li Muwan screamed and rushed over to catch him.
"I'll deal with this old man. You go kill that brat." Tie Wufeng spoke casually to Zhao Gang.
Zhao Gang bared his teeth in a grin, gripped his new sword, and advanced toward Ye Chen step by step.
"You little bastard! Last time, you got lucky and broke my sword. Let's see if you'll be that lucky again!"
Ye Chen looked at his gravely wounded adoptive father, his crying adopted sister, and Little Fox, who was being held at bay by Ye Ling. His eyes turned bloodshot.
Slowly, he drew the Broken Sword from behind his back.
The pitch-black broken blade began to glow beneath the lamplight, its red veins shining like blood.
"You want to die? Then I'll let you die first."
Ye Chen's voice was so cold that even Zhao Gang shuddered.
He took one step forward—the very same Horse Stance step he'd practiced for the past three days.
Steady as a mountain.
Then he swung his sword.
It was still the simplest, ugliest move: a downward slash.
But this time, it was no longer an illusory sword intent.
A dark-red sword light more than a zhang long shot from the Broken Sword, cleaving straight toward Zhao Gang.
Broken Sword Art, First Form: Mountain-Splitting Slash!