Volume One, Chapter 19: Zhao Qianqiu

Thirty miles away.

Not exactly close, yet not too far either. The pace of the shadow sedan chair was not fast, but according to Li Hanzhou’s calculations, they would definitely reach the Pine Forest before dawn.

Poyue Lake—this was the inevitable passage to the Pine Forest.

By the edge of Poyue Lake, a bonfire blazed, piercing the darkness of the night.

Beside the bonfire sat a middle-aged man, his expression focused as he meticulously wiped his blade.

With a pristine white handkerchief, he carefully polished every inch of the sword. In his concentrated gaze flickered a barely perceptible trace of cold-bloodedness.

“Come out.”

Without lifting his head, the man spoke softly into the air.

As his words fell, on a cliff opposite, a man clad in white leapt down with agility, his figure ghostlike, trailing a lingering shadow across the sky as though multiplying into countless copies, and in the next moment, he was seated beside the bonfire.

The speed of his movements was astonishing.

“Zhao Qianqiu,” the man in white addressed the one by the fire. “It’s been a long time since I heard any news of you in the martial world. I thought you were dead. To think you’ve resurfaced here in the Divine Realm. What is your purpose this time?”

“That’s none of your business.”

Zhao Qianqiu did not even look up, seemingly refusing to give the man in white any respect.

“At least it has nothing to do with your Tai Xuan Sacred Grounds,” Zhao Qianqiu said slowly. “I’m not here to cause trouble for your Tai Xuan Sacred Grounds. You and I, as the Sacred Lord of Tai Xuan, minding your own business, there’s no need for you to keep tabs on me.”

“Do you expect me to believe anything the Blood Sacrifice Pavilion says?” The Tai Xuan Sacred Lord sneered. “Hasn’t your Blood Sacrifice Pavilion done enough dirty deeds? Moreover, you, a peak Heavenly Gang realm assassin, stepping into my Tai Xuan Sacred Grounds’ territory—how could I possibly feel at ease?”

“So what if you don’t trust me?” Zhao Qianqiu replied. “I’ve heard about your recent rampage in the Western Courtyard Continent—how you reclaimed the Prajna Axe from Divine Ox Mountain.”

“Divine Ox Mountain is no place for the faint-hearted. The people there don’t take things lightly. You must have paid a heavy price to take back the Prajna Axe. Afterward, during the disciple evaluation at Tai Xuan Sacred Grounds, you didn’t even show up. You must have been injured. Do you think that with your injuries, you can stop me from doing what I intend?”

Upon hearing this, the Tai Xuan Sacred Lord’s eyes narrowed instinctively, and he took a half-step back.

Zhao Qianqiu spoke the truth: he had indeed been wounded at Divine Ox Mountain. Though much of the injury had healed, a confrontation between experts could fail for even the smallest reasons.

Zhao Qianqiu was a master of the Blood Sacrifice Pavilion, at the peak of the Heavenly Gang realm, not weaker than himself. If they fought, during his prime he wouldn’t have feared, but now, his chances were slim.

However, if Zhao Qianqiu truly had designs against the Tai Xuan Sacred Grounds, it wouldn’t be so easy. After all, this was their territory; if he fought desperately, he would gain nothing.

Perhaps sensing the slightest hesitation in the Sacred Lord, Zhao Qianqiu chuckled lightly, shaking his head. “Don’t worry, I’m too lazy to fight you. My mission isn’t to deal with you. Even if I kill you, no one would pay me, so I won’t waste my time or effort on you.”

“So, who exactly is your target?” the Tai Xuan Sacred Lord asked after a moment’s thought.

“That’s none of your concern,” Zhao Qianqiu resumed wiping his blade.

The Tai Xuan Sacred Lord glanced at the sword.

Number 32 on the Divine Weapons List: Autumn Burial.

Countless lives had perished at the edge of this blade.

“Someone’s coming?”

At that moment, the Sacred Lord sensed two presences approaching.

Zhao Qianqiu swiftly moved to perch atop an ancient tree nearby. The darkness of the night posed no obstacle for him.

His gaze was sharp as a hawk’s.

In the distance, he spotted two figures riding horses toward them.

“No,” Zhao Qianqiu frowned.

At the same time, the Tai Xuan Sacred Lord also climbed to the treetop, seeing Ye Ziying and Li Hanzhou riding their horses this way.

“Ye Qingbei’s daughter,” the Sacred Lord said in recognition. “The little girl was quite spirited; we at Tai Xuan Sacred Grounds liked her once. But our training methods—vigorous and axe-based—didn’t suit her. She eventually went to the Supreme Clarity Sect.”

Seeing Ye Ziying again, she had grown into a young lady.

What could she be doing out at such an hour?

As for the person riding beside Ye Ziying, neither the Sacred Lord nor Zhao Qianqiu paid any attention—he showed no trace of true energy; just an ordinary man.

Zhao Qianqiu turned to leave.

His mission was to assassinate the Ninth Prince who was likely in the Divine Realm.

He had no interest in the others, nor was he paid to harm them.

Inside the shadow sedan chair, Yu Qingyang held his breath, concentrating. But then his expression suddenly changed.

He had been injured before and had not fully recovered. Though his usual rest had been good, holding his breath so long now overwhelmed him.

A surge of energy rose within his body.

Yu Qingyang could no longer hold it—he coughed.

“Cough, cough!”

Two coughs echoed.

Yu Qingyang’s yang energy leaked!

With these coughs, the entire shadow sedan and the surrounding little ghosts slipped out from the Nether Path. Moments later, those little ghosts swayed, reluctant to proceed.

“Hmm?”

In that brief instant, both Zhao Qianqiu and the Sacred Lord sensed it.

A strange aura suddenly appeared.

Then quickly concealed itself, though not skillfully; careful perception could still detect its residue.

“The target has arrived!”

Excitement flashed through Zhao Qianqiu’s eyes.

He had waited two days, waiting for this person.

In the blink of an eye, Zhao Qianqiu drew his sword, its gleam slashing through the long night, striking directly at the spot where the aura had appeared!

The crescent moon-like blade instantly severed the entire official road!

In an instant, the void trembled.

The many little ghosts and the shadow sedan vanished completely, and Yu Qingyang was hurled out of the sedan, falling to the ground.

“Not good.”

Ye Ziying, not far behind, saw this and her expression changed immediately.

Yu Qingyang had been discovered.

And the attacker’s strength was formidable. Just that slashing blade alone proved the attacker’s great power.

“He has leaked yang energy,” Li Hanzhou observed beside her, shaking his head. Yu Qingyang’s cough had caused his yang energy to escape, forcefully ejecting his body from the Nether Path.

But someone was trying to kill the prince.

Li Hanzhou couldn’t help but feel that being born in the royal family was truly troublesome.

Living an ordinary life as a commoner would be so much easier.

“I’ve finally waited for you,” Zhao Qianqiu’s figure slowly descended, standing before Yu Qingyang.

Yu Qingyang looked at the newcomer, sensing a power that pierced through heaven and earth—far beyond his ability to resist.

“Who is this person?” The Tai Xuan Sacred Lord had never seen the Ninth Prince, so he did not intervene, merely watching from the treetop.

“He’s Zhao Qianqiu!” Ye Ziying’s face paled. Tonight, she felt the Ninth Prince was doomed.

Zhao Qianqiu, a master of the Blood Sacrifice Pavilion, peak Heavenly Gang realm, was a fearsome name in the martial world.

In his hand was the divine weapon Autumn Burial.

Countless souls had been laid to rest beneath this blade.

“Senior Li, please save the prince,” Ye Ziying could only place all her hope in Li Hanzhou.

Li Hanzhou sat astride his horse, silent, eyes fixed ahead. He knew this man was a formidable expert, but how strong exactly, he was unsure.

Tonight, Li Hanzhou wanted to test his own strength—to see if he could fight.

If he could save the Ninth Prince, all the better. If not, his lightness skill was excellent; escaping would certainly be no problem.

“I was entrusted to take your head,” Zhao Qianqiu slowly raised his hand, ready to sever Yu Qingyang’s head.

Yu Qingyang closed his eyes in despair. Against a master like Zhao Qianqiu, he stood no chance.

Yet, just as Zhao Qianqiu’s blade was about to fall, a thunderclap roared from the sky.

The thunder transformed into a howling silver serpent, opening its blood-red maw to bite toward Zhao Qianqiu.