Chapter Forty-Two: The Scheme Within the Scheme

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The moment Hua Quenyue sensed Liu Wujian’s presence, he knew that tonight, subduing the Sacred Qilin was no longer possible.

For in his heart, Liu Wujian was even more terrifying than the Sacred Qilin. What the Qilin might do upon awakening was uncertain, but if Liu Wujian arrived, death was all but assured.

Perhaps due to this fear, Hua Quenyue tried to delay as much as possible. Yet, when he saw the sword hanging at Liu Wujian’s waist begin to tremble and sway, all his tension and inexplicable dread suddenly vanished.

The sword at Liu Wujian’s side shook ever more violently—a sure sign he was about to draw it. Yet neither Hua Quenyue nor Jin Buhuan made a move. They did not strike first.

For as two of the very few in the world who had spent significant time with Liu Wujian, they understood that his terror lay not merely in his unparalleled mastery of the sword, but in his uncanny ability to break any technique.

Just as the old man had once seen Liu Wujian slice through a blizzard with a single stroke and defeat a Soul Sect elder, for Liu Wujian, even the most formidable sword techniques were child’s play.

In a duel with Liu Wujian, standing still was safer than moving. The moment you acted, your every motion was riddled with openings in his eyes, and he had at least a hundred ways to kill you with a single strike. These words were not idle boasts from others, but the opinion of Ling Youzi, known as the foremost master in the world—though, of course, that was Ling Youzi’s warning to Hua Quenyue, not necessarily his view of facing Liu Wujian himself.

“Before my sword, no technique, no cunning, no use of artifacts or forbidden powers is of any use.”

“Before my sword, whether young or old, woman or child, soldier or cultivator—if I wish to kill, none may survive.”

“Before my sword, there are no innocents among the slain; all who die are those who deserve death.”

The sword at Liu Wujian’s waist quivered fiercely. With his words, it seemed almost alive, like a peerless dragon about to break free into the world, exuding boundless killing intent.

A deafening roar thundered forth, as if mountains were shattering, splitting the clouds above.

Hua Quenyue’s back was drenched in sweat. He whirled around to look into the Frozen Valley, and his heart sank— the Sacred Qilin had awakened.

The restless sword stilled. Liu Wujian gazed into the valley, then turned his eyes elsewhere, fixing his gaze for a moment before saying, “The world is but a chessboard; life, a game.”

Liu Wujian turned and walked away, step by step, just as he had arrived, receding into the distance.

“Damn it! He saw through it!” Jin Buhuan muttered under his breath, unable to contain his frustration.

Hua Quenyue asked, “What do you mean?”

“If Liu Wujian doesn’t draw his sword today, so be it. But the moment he does, it’s a losing game.”

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“How so?”

“The Grand Elder Tianxing has returned. This entire plan to capture the Sacred Beast was designed to draw Liu Wujian out.” Jin Buhuan glared after Liu Wujian’s departing figure, bristling with anger.

Hua Quenyue was stunned. No wonder the capture had been so arduous—the plan itself was aimed at Liu Wujian, so taking the Sacred Beast too swiftly was never the goal.

While Hua Quenyue was preoccupied suppressing the beast, the black-robed figure launched a sneak attack, only to be countered by Jin Buhuan.

Liu Wujian intervened to save the black-robed man, seemingly as a reserve for their side, yet even this had been anticipated by Jin Buhuan and the Grand Elder Tianxing.

The mantis stalks the cicada, unaware of the oriole behind; Grand Elder Tianxing was the true oriole in this game.

As the last surviving elder of the previous generation of the Spirit Realm, Tianxing was its spiritual pillar—veteran of countless battles, vanquisher of innumerable foes, having lived for centuries. In truth, Grand Elder Tianxing was the Spirit Realm’s most powerful hidden master.

His strength was certainly not inferior to Liu Wujian’s.

A thunderous crash erupted—the icy walls collapsed outward, and the colossal Sacred Qilin rose to its feet, its eyes glowing with bloodlust. The moment it awakened, the force of its presence sent the Beast Sect and Spirit Realm disciples scattering like dead leaves.

The Sacred Qilin threw back its head and howled at the sky.

“Why does it sound like a wolf?” Zhou Yu stared at the Sacred Qilin, which stood upright in the moonlight.

“I thought the same.” The old man sounded disappointed, then added, “More like a wolf in heat, actually.”

Jin Buhuan and Hua Quenyue stood motionless, for the black-robed man and Liu Wujian were only a hundred meters away—both equally still.

“What do we do?” Hua Quenyue asked Jin Buhuan at his side.

Jin Buhuan said nothing.

The situation had become delicate. The black-robed man and Liu Wujian together were a formidable pair, perhaps even more so than Hua Quenyue and Jin Buhuan—if not for Tianxing lurking as their hidden trump card, the two of them might already have lost.

As for the other cultivators, once the gulf in power was too great, numbers meant nothing unless overwhelming; the black-robed man could kill ordinary cultivators with a wave of his hand, and he could summon the mighty Xuan Zhan through secret arts. In terms of combat power, the black-robed man’s side was evenly matched with the Spirit Realm.

With such parity, both sides were cautious, unwilling to make the first move.

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But with the Sacred Qilin now awakened, there was no more room for stalemate.

Beneath the moon, the Sacred Qilin’s massive form moved swiftly, its eyes burning like two blood-red lanterns. It opened its jaws and, with a single inhale, sucked a fleeing cultivator into its mouth, chewing and swallowing him. Blood and white brain matter dripped from its maw.

One cultivator was a mere morsel for the gigantic Sacred Qilin. It immediately began searching for its next prey, while the crowd scattered in terror.

Just then, three disciples of the Beast Sect stepped forward. Arms outstretched, eyes shining with fervent devotion, they walked reverently toward the foraging Sacred Qilin.

“Great Sacred Beast, allow me to serve you,” said one Beast Sect knight, removing his helmet and bowing before the Qilin with utmost sincerity.

The Sacred Qilin lowered its head to inspect him. Then, with a single bite, it devoured half of his body.

“Idiot!” Zuo Hao cursed from behind a chunk of ice more than three meters tall.

The other two Beast Sect knights exchanged a glance and tried to flee, but before they’d taken more than a few steps, the Sacred Qilin inhaled them, making them its appetizers.

The black-robed man watched the Qilin feast, visibly excited. Clutching his shriveled, vine-like right fist, he swallowed hard and said, “Tsk tsk... looks delicious... what an adorable little white pup...”

“Shall we go together?” asked Liu Wujian.

But he was not speaking to the black-robed man; rather, he addressed Jin Buhuan and Hua Quenyue—and, more precisely, the Grand Elder Tianxing hidden in the shadows.

“I was thinking the same,” came a voice as a figure materialized from the air beside Jin Buhuan and Hua Quenyue.

Zhou Yu stared wide-eyed at the elderly figure slowly taking shape—a man of extreme rotundity, easily over two hundred pounds, and barely one and a half meters tall. He looked like a ball of flesh.

“Grand Elder Tianxing?” Zhou Yu asked, regaining his composure.

“I’ve never met him, how would I know? But I suppose there’s little doubt,” the old man grunted, taking a swig from his flask.

Zhou Yu sighed deeply, as if enlightened, then murmured, “I suppose now I understand what it means to never judge a book by its cover.”

While Zhou Yu and the old man bantered, Tianxing and Liu Wujian had already reached a tacit accord—to join forces and subdue, or perhaps defeat, the Sacred Qilin together.