Chapter 38: The Xuanwei Daoist Temple

Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!

In the blink of an eye, countless flaming meteors collided with razor-sharp blades of energy, erupting in heavy, thunderous roars. In the faces of the brother and sister, disbelief was plain to see as the meteors not only blocked all their blade strikes but pressed on, bearing down upon them with unstoppable force.

At once, the siblings each slapped the jade pendants at their waists, activating a defensive spiritual shield to ward off the meteors’ assault.

The young man, being of slightly higher cultivation, managed to have his shield withstand the entirety of the attack. The young woman, however, was not as fortunate—her cultivation lagged behind, and the jade pendant’s defense was tied to her strength. The meteors crashed into her shield, shattering it in an instant. The next moment, the fireballs struck her directly.

“Ah! Help—!”

Her cry was cut short as she was engulfed by flames, her body collapsing to the ground and becoming a figure wreathed in fire.

“Younger sister!”

Despair seized the young man. With a hoarse, broken shout, his eyes reddened, he glared at Jiang Min. “I’ll kill you!” he roared.

Raising his long blade, he sprang forward, charging at Jiang Min.

Coldly, Jiang Min lifted her gaze. Her brow knit, a flicker of deadly resolve flashing in her eyes. Her right hand tightened around the Greenwood Spirit Sword as she stepped onto a star point, circling toward the man. After these siblings had tried to kill her, she had no intention of showing mercy.

So what if he was at the fifth level of Qi Refining?

Those with five spiritual roots were known for slow cultivation, but that slow and steady progress yielded a far deeper reservoir of spiritual power.

A cultivator at the fourth level of Qi Refining with five roots was no less than one at the fifth level!

In the next instant, blade and sword clashed. In the span of a single breath, several blows were exchanged. The man’s blade, merely a low-grade spiritual weapon, could not withstand the contest—even with the aid of spiritual energy, it was soon notched and chipped.

His face darkened. He had thought he’d run into a girl he could kill with a flick of his wrist. Instead, he’d encountered a formidable opponent—one who had not only taken his sister’s life but was now proving difficult for him to handle. Gritting his teeth, he snarled, “I am a direct scion of the Li clan of Fengjiang! If I die, you’ll never escape their retribution!”

Jiang Min’s eyes were unmoved. Instead, a cold, humorless smile touched her lips as she poured more spiritual energy into her sword. With a ringing hum and a murderous edge, the blade shot forward, slicing through his long knife, cleaving it in two.

Clang!

“If you kill me, you’ll suffer the wrath of the entire—”

The sharp tip of her sword flashed past the broken blade, driving straight for his throat. His words ceased abruptly, his pupils dilated and glazed over, and he toppled backward, lifeless.

“If I let you live, it’d be like releasing a tiger back to the mountains.”

Jiang Min gave a mocking laugh, withdrew her sword, and wiped its blade clean with a touch of spiritual power, restoring its luster and radiant sheen.

She gazed at the sword, her expression tinged with nostalgia.

“The path I could not finish—you must take my sword and walk it for me.”

—

Several years passed.

Ming Ruoshui's words seemed still to echo in her ears.

Jiang Min whispered softly, “Senior Sister Ming, the sword you gave me has slain a demon beast and two bandits.”

“I’m growing accustomed to this feeling of reaping lives...”

She arched a delicate brow, her tone unconcerned. “It’s not such a big deal after all. People who deserve to die are better off dead.”

“Besides, when someone comes to deliver riches, isn’t that a good thing?”

With a gentle laugh, Jiang Min stowed the Greenwood Spirit Sword in her storage pouch. She turned her gaze to the corpses at her feet, pondering quietly.

“The Li clan of Fengjiang?”

Yet another person named Li? Jiang Min recalled the late Li Mao—she always seemed to be at odds with people from the Li clan. Surely it couldn’t be mere coincidence that they all belonged to the same family? Perhaps she was overthinking it.

With a flick of her fingers, she sent a flame to the man’s body, incinerating the corpse. When only ash was left, she crouched to retrieve the storage pouch that had survived the fire.

“No matter if it’s the Zhangs or the Lis—provoke me, and it’s either your life or mine.”

She carefully examined the pouch for hidden traps. She’d heard that some storage bags were highly sophisticated—if stolen and opened, they would brand the thief with a spiritual or mental mark, making it easy to track the goods or exact revenge.

But this man’s pouch was a common artifact. After a brief inspection, she emptied it of all valuables and transferred them to her own belongings. She did the same with the woman’s pouch, though regrettably, the woman’s treasure-seeking mouse had perished in the flames alongside her.

“Hmm? What’s this?”

In the woman’s pouch, Jiang Min discovered a miniature sword, carved with ancient patterns and wreathed in threads of thunder and fire. Its use was unclear, though it resembled a token of some kind.

“I’ll keep it for now, but I’d better seal it inside a box. Who knows if someone can sense it from afar?”

She promptly took out a box of black jade, placed the thunder-fire sword inside, sealed it with a talisman to block its aura, and put it away.

“A single outing like this saves me years of struggle,” she mused.

After burying all remaining items and carefully disguising the site, only scorched traces remained—no sign that anyone had died here. Pleased with her haul, Jiang Min even tossed a spirit stone to a patch of grass for nourishment, humming a tune as she set off toward Xu Family Village, as though nothing at all had occurred.

The clash of blades, the blood and killing, swept fiercely through her heart, but left no trace behind.

She did not know—

A hundred miles away in the Li clan of Fengjiang, chaos reigned. The death lamps of two direct descendants had gone out. The clan head was furious, ordering men to scour the area where the siblings had trained, determined to find the killer and settle the blood debt.

—

Not that, even if she knew, it would change her mind. By nature, Jiang Min believed in killing when killing was called for, and if she couldn’t win, she’d simply run.

Humming softly, she replayed the day’s encounters in her mind.

“Fortune smiled on me this time—the bandits weren’t too strong. But if I’d run into a true expert, I might’ve died right here.”

“I need to learn some survival techniques. Who knows when that knowledge will save my life...”

Her thoughts turned again to the body-refining manual she’d seen in the library.

The Wind and Thunder Body.

When perfected, it granted the speed of the wind and the swiftness of lightning.

“If I can master the Wind and Thunder Body, even in danger I could escape more easily.”

“I have enough spirit stones now, but the body-refining method is demanding. To even begin, I should perfect the third level of the Red Flame Body first.”

“But before learning that, perhaps I can find something else as a stopgap...”

Outside the sect, the world was filled with murder and plunder—she had to master a true escape technique if she wanted to survive an encounter with a cultivator she could not defeat.

Deep in thought, Jiang Min arrived once more at Xu Family Village.

Evening had fallen. The golden afterglow of sunset bathed the mountainside temple, gilding it in radiant light. Jiang Min stood at the threshold, her shadow stretching deep into the great hall. There, at the far end, a tall statue of an immortal loomed, a wooden plaque at its feet inscribed with the characters “Xuanwei Immortal Lord,” suffused with the golden haze of dusk.

Above the gate, three grand, gilded characters danced in calligraphic splendor:

Xuanwei Temple.

An aged Daoist, stooped with years and carrying a teapot, ambled out from behind the immortal’s statue. He paused, surprised to see Jiang Min at the door.

“Daoist friend, you’ve returned?”

Jiang Min saluted with a smile. “It’s late, so I hope you won’t mind my asking—might there be a place to stay in your temple?”

“There is! Of course there is,” the old Daoist replied cheerfully. He then raised his voice, calling toward the rear of the hall, “Changsheng! Prepare a guest room!”

“And set out some good food and wine!”