Author: 年终 / Nian Zhong

Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/

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Chapter 99: Protection

Yin Ci didn’t really close his eyes.

Dawn had barely broken, and the morning fog hadn’t yet cleared. It was still enough to see the overall situation clearly.

With Jin Lan present, Taiheng wouldn’t focus on attacking them. But here they were in front of the Ling Sect’s main branch. The Ling Sect had all the geographical advantage—Yan Zheng and Chai Xin already had disagreements. Even if Yan Zheng successfully returned to the sect, he may not be able to control the situation, so it was unknown how many masters from the Ling Sect would come out.

Under these circumstances, buying time wasn’t an easy task. Yet Shi Jingzhi was leisurely telling him to close his eyes. As the night sky was just starting to lighten, could he make a daytime firework?

As for Taiheng, let it be. The demonic sect wouldn’t just sit by and watch them mess around. The Ling Sect people had always been unaware of the meaning of “fairness”, and there was the old grudge with Zheng Fengdao. The densely packed sect members soon split into two groups, one rushing to Taiheng’s camp to stir the waters and one directly charging towards the two people in the encirclement.

Yin Ci drew out his Hanging Shadow Sword, glancing at the few members of the Chigou Sect nearby. His identity as a “descendant of the former Patriarch” could no longer be concealed, adding a bit of chaos to the situation.

On the other side, seeing Yin Ci uncooperative, Shi Jingzhi no longer urged. He ignored the charging Ling Sect team, freed a hand, and covered Yin Ci’s eyes.

Yin Ci sighed inwardly, allowing Shi Jingzhi to cover his eyes.

Then a gentle humming sound started. A speck of bright golden light slipped through Shi Jingzhi’s fingers and into Yin Ci’s eyes. The momentum of the rushing Ling Sect followers suddenly faltered, revealing a sense of stagnation. Shi Jingzhi removed his hand, and Yin Ci finally saw the scene before him—

He had actually created “fireworks on the ground”.

The fireworks flashed and disappeared, like a wilting and withering flower. But this one seemed to be frozen in mid-air—countless golden threads radiated from the master and disciple at the center, drawing beautifully curved traces. The threads, made of yang fire, were like spider silk covered in morning dew. They were stretched thin by Shi Jingzhi, standing firm in the thin mist, occasionally flashing a streak of flowing light.

Anyone who rushed forward recklessly would be cut into several segments by the golden threads of the yang fire.

This strange “flower” flickered in the morning light. Just considering the attack power and spell strength, it was far from the battle array used against the Arcane Arts, but it clearly came from the same source, carrying a dense and rain-like killing intent. Shi Jingzhi deeply cut the palm of his other hand, and blood slowly flowed down the flagpole. Before they touched the ground, they were consumed by the spell as material.

This spell didn’t require precise control, and the fire threads were thin and sparse. Along with the slow flow of blood, everything was calculated just right.

The Ling Sect team who had just rushed in didn’t have time to stop, and many hit the golden threads head-on. The Ling Sect’s footwork was fast and fierce, and the crowd was cleanly and neatly cut into several pieces. The gaps between the golden threads could accommodate people, but considering the difficulty of fighting, only those with top-notch movement skills could move around freely.

Like Yin Ci.

The ones who rushed out first were just Ling Sect thugs. Yin Ci had already raised his sword, but no one successfully charged to his front. Yin Ci stared at the fire thread close at hand, slowly turning his head to look at Shi Jingzhi a few steps away.

Thousands of golden threads were collected in the flagpole, looking like a golden acacia bending down.

“My inner force is quite capable, but in terms of external martial arts and combat response, I’m inferior to top-notch masters. With so many enemies now, if I forcibly fight alongside you, I’ll only drag you down in the end. That’s not ‘treasure’; that’s stubbornness.”

Shi Jingzhi’s smile deepened.

“On second thought, you’ve been protecting me all along. You did it in the Ghost Tomb, in Yuanxian Village, and especially before the Arcane Arts. But to ‘treasure another’ is a two-way street. If it’s one-sided, it’s not ‘treasure’, it’s sacrifice.”

A sword qi flashed, and Shi Jingzhi’s empty hand had a wound. A few defensive fireballs of yang fire were lit around Yin Ci, and they fluttered around him affectionately, chirping like sparrows. They were more flexible than before when dealing with the Arcane Arts, soaking the surrounding air with intense heat.

“After a hundred years of habit, you’ve forgotten what ‘mutually treasure each other’ is. Let me teach you. Now it’s my turn to say this—A’Ci, I’m protecting you.”

Yin Ci’s sword-holding hand moved a bit, but he didn’t answer. This kid was really greedy, he thought. He could just close his eyes and cover his ears, depending on him, but instead, Shi Jingzhi used his own blood as material to painstakingly concoct a spell just to save him a bit of pain?

He stopped caring about those pains long ago; they wouldn’t even leave a wound.

Allowing a person covered in scars to lie on soft silk was simply a waste of good things. But looking at the golden threads that blocked thousands of people in front of him, Yin Ci couldn’t easily change the subject.

Shi Jingzhi stared at him solemnly. Yin Ci could see the affection and dependence in those eyes. But there was also a strange emotion mixed in, and Yin Ci didn’t know how to describe it—Shi Jingzhi wasn’t staring at a strong collaborator, a profitable target, or a rare treasure in the world.

Shi Jingzhi was just looking at him expectantly, like a mortal looking at another.

Yin Ci suddenly found a warm and soft swamp under his feet. It made him stuck deep in the mud, but he couldn’t bear to leave. A slight pain spread throughout his body, as if an old scab had fallen off, revealing fresh new flesh.

This feeling was quite strange. It was as if he had been living his entire life for “immortality”, “martial arts experience”, and countless big and small goals. What else could be left—

‘I am still human,’ Yin Ci thought somewhat blankly.

Over the years, he had forgotten.

Outside of the golden threads, the elders of the Ling Sect saw their followers losing ground and personally rushed in. Many small sects with courage also squeezed into the cracks of the golden threads. As a result, Taiheng had to move closer to prevent those lone rangers from being used as meat shields. The encirclement tightened, but they needed to spend time and energy to avoid the fine threads of golden fire. In Yin Ci’s view, they were just easy targets.

Compared to killing all the invaders, leaving some alive was even harder.

Anyway, the Ling Sect was at the forefront. Yin Ci originally wanted to sweep out a few bloody skeletons with his Bone Sweeping Sword technique and pile them around to deter others. But just as he started to use that familiar sword technique, Yin Ci felt a bit bored.

The pain around him was still there, and the ball of golden fire around him was incredibly warm, much like the body temperature of the person who cast it. Shi Jingzhi was still waiting for his response, and Yin Ci didn’t want to answer. He just wanted to enjoy that gaze a little longer.

In such a state of mind, he could hardly bring out much anger. Yin Ci didn’t force himself to swing his sword anymore; instead, he adopted a more comfortable posture and casually made a few sword flowers.

The golden fire was fine, and the sword qi was heavy.

Those sword qi didn’t cut anyone’s skin. They were like invisible giant hands, gently but firmly pushing people away. Yin Ci’s physical skills were extremely strong. He passed through the golden threads like a phantom. Wherever the sword wind passed, the golden threads fluttered. Under this situation, the killing intent of the spell became increasingly weaker, almost disappearing.

If they didn’t retreat after being pushed away, they would be caught in the sword wind and bumped into the nearest golden fire thread. Minor cases would result in loss of limbs, and severe cases would lead to death. The bodies of the elders of the Ling Sect were scattered outside the golden threads, and the small sects were immediately discouraged, forced to slowly retreat by that unfamiliar sword technique.

Yin Ci unknowingly hooked up the corners of his mouth. He hadn’t been this focused in a long time. After a hundred years of accumulation, his qi was already heavy. Combined with the calm and gentle swordsmanship he was using now, it exuded a different kind of majestic presence.

The sword qi returned, and the sword path formed itself. Compared with the Bone Sweeping Sword technique, which left no one under it, he didn’t even need to select which sect his opponent belonged to. His new sword style fully conveyed his intentions—the pressure of stepping forward was like a mountain about to fall, but by taking a step back, one could find a wide path to life.

At this point, he could only hope they could take care of themselves.

The trajectory of the Hanging Shadow Sword became more and more smooth and beautiful, setting up a defense comparable to an iron wall. Yin Ci moved freely within the golden net, not even scratching his oily skin. Even if someone tried to take shortcuts with hidden weapons, they were all caught by the golden fireballs around him.

By now, he might not need to give Shi Jingzhi an answer.

A never before seen sword technique appeared. People couldn’t figure out Yin Ci’s origin, and they all acted more cautiously. Shi Jingzhi was staring at Yin Ci’s back, and for the first time, he laughed so gently.

This was the first time that Shi Jingzhi didn’t smell the scent of death in Yin Ci’s swordsmanship.

…After this fight, they had to give this sword technique a good name. The morning mist was just clearing, and the light was scattered. The yang fire was wrapped around Yin Ci while golden flowers bloomed from the pools of blood, yet the atmosphere created by the sword technique was peaceful and serene, with no signs of gloominess.

Flesh decayed, sweeping bones to the font, but now the withered bones gave birth to flowers.

Near the Grand Pavilion. Yan Qing and Yan Zheng were badly injured. Their battle situation wasn’t going well. The fight had been going on for nearly three hours, and their clothes were soaked with blood, sticking tight to their bodies.

Yan Zheng’s hair was scattered. His face was much paler than Yang Qing’s. At first glance, he resembled the Human Shaped Coffin under the Ghost Tomb. Yan Qing, panting, held his great sword horizontally, protecting Yan Zheng behind the blade. He wielded the defensive stance of the “Jade Chime Swordsmanship”, repeating the move “Today is Different from Yesterday” countless times. If the enemy didn’t move, he wouldn’t move, and that was how he barely held on until now.

The fight started because of the young men’s pride, but unfortunately, the gap in strength was a gap in strength—it wasn’t something that could be made up for with just courage.

Chai Xin, the former elder, had limited ability to manage the sect, but his martial arts skills were real and undiluted. His pair of daggers were named “Dragonfly Wings”; they were almost transparent and extremely sharp. With a swipe, it would cause a deep wound.

Chai Xin was vicious by nature and specifically smeared difficult-to-ward-off anesthetics on the daggers. In this way, an opponent who was injured may not be able to judge the severity of the injury in time. By the time sensation was restored, the person was likely to have lost too much blood, and it would be too late.

Chai Xin’s most famous feat was to have flayed a whole family alive that had offended the Ling Sect. That family was said to be related to Taiheng, and the dozens of people in the family were cut into thin pieces. Their flesh was placed on banquet plates and neatly stacked at the entrance of their home.

Chai Xin obviously enjoyed dealing with Yan Qing and Yan Zheng at this moment, like a cat playing with a mouse. He didn’t even let the Corpse Retrieval Team take action.

“Are you two done playing?” Chai Xin twirled his daggers in his hands, shaking off a drop of blood. “Those wounds I’ve caused, you will have to ask me to treat them later. If you come back with me sooner, you’ll suffer less.”

Up until now, anyone with a discerning eye could see that the two descendants of the Yan Clan combined weren’t his match. It was just that Yan Qing’s strange swordsmanship was particularly hard to deal with, and Chai Xin was too lazy to dawdle, so he simply withdrew his blades temporarily.

“Your swordsmanship is a bit interesting. It’s just that the state of mind is a bit lacking, not to mention a bit of heroism—such rough skills, don’t be stubborn.”

Yan Qing wiped the blood from his face and didn’t hide the hostility on it. The great sword remained motionless.

Chai Xin laughed for a while; his pair of muddy old eyes stared at Yan Qing, as if to pierce him.

“Your swordsmanship is like this. No one has taught you with heart, right? Your eyes don’t look like you’re satisfied with the current situation. Once you become my disciple, in a few years, I guarantee you’ll break into the top ten in the martial world. Following that so-called Kushan Sect—such a good material being wasted.”

“When I picked up Yan Zheng, he was also a teenager. I taught him for less than ten years. His skills…”

“Brother, don’t listen to his nonsense,” Yan Zheng interrupted coldly. “The price of joining the Ling Sect is something you can’t afford.”

Chai Xin seemed to have heard a very ridiculous joke. The wrinkles on his old face kept trembling with laughter. “Hey, hey, hey, good disciple. Anyone can say that, but you shouldn’t. According to the standards of those on the righteous path, we are nothing more than dog eats dog, wasting people’s good intentions.”

“Yan Qing, right? Do you know whose family I flayed back then?”

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The author has something to say:

Yan Qing: I don’t know √

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