A Pawn's Passage-Chapter 698: Saintly Peace

The Heaven-ranked member from The Inn had also been protected by someone, and since The Inn had more people, another Earth-ranked attendant charged over, aiming to kill Ceremony Prelude.

Naturally, Qi Xuansu could not allow that to happen. He stepped forward to confront the attacker.

The two swiftly closed the distance. Qi Xuansu formed a sword gesture with his left hand’s index and middle fingers and thrust toward the Earth-ranked attendant’s face, but the latter reached out and grabbed Qi Xuansu’s wrist.

Almost at the same time, Flying White Shadow at Qi Xuansu’s waist was drawn just a third of the way when it was forcibly pushed back into its sheath by the Earth-ranked attendant.

Then, within mere centimeters, the Earth-ranked attendant struck toward Qi Xuansu’s lower abdomen with a simple forward palm strike. Qi Xuansu was sent flying backward like a kite with a broken string, but he halted his momentum midair and landed lightly on the ground.

Qi Xuansu only suffered a minor setback. His innate qi was slightly disturbed, like river waters during a tidal surge, occasionally overflowing the embankments but not yet breaching them.

Just as Qi Xuansu was steadying his qi, he suddenly noticed that the Earth-ranked attendant had vanished. Though everything around him appeared normal, Qi Xuansu could sense a subtle shift in the environment, like ambushers hiding in dense woods, prompting birds to circle overhead without landing, or like someone concealed in the night, silencing even the insects.

Yet Qi Xuansu could not pinpoint the exact location of the Earth-ranked attendant. This was the mystical ability of a Qi Refiner at the Returning Void Realm, where a state of harmony was achieved between man and heaven.

Suddenly, Qi Xuansu sensed a faint trace of killing intent. Startled, he spun around and drew his blade.

The next moment, there was a sharp tear of fabric. Qi Xuansu’s sleeve was ripped by a sword, which then shot straight toward his chest.

While a strike to the heart would be fatal to others, Qi Xuansu had a heart of stone. He let the sword pierce his chest. In return, he stabbed his blade at his opponent’s heart.

The Earth-ranked attendant finally revealed his form. His robe tore apart at the chest, exposing the cuirass beneath his outer garment.

This cuirass consisted of only a breastplate and backplate, protecting only the torso. Flying White Shadow had struck it but failed to penetrate it.

With this failed strike, Qi Xuansu quickly retreated.

The Earth-ranked attendant twisted his body and gave chase.

Qi Xuansu had no choice but to reverse his blade for defense.

The two clashed like the tides of the sea, surging and receding, advancing and retreating. Suddenly, all their might dissipated, resembling a pair of swallows dancing among the willows in spring, darting gracefully in every direction.

After exchanging dozens of moves, a patch of blood blossomed from Qi Xuansu’s chest. The Earth-ranked attendant did not fare well either, with a blade piercing through his throat, causing blood to pour endlessly.

As Qi Xuansu staggered back, he shamelessly fired his pistol without warning.

The Earth-ranked attendant barely turned his head in time, narrowly dodging the fatal shot. Still, it grazed him. Since he was not a Martial Arts Practitioner with regenerative abilities, he lost nearly half the skin on his face.

He reached up and touched the mangled side of his face, his expression turning grim.

Qi Xuansu steadied his blade and stepped forward.

The Earth-ranked attendant and Qi Xuansu clashed once more. Qi Xuansu’s blade strikes were chaotic, yet omnipresent and inescapable. Each slash was unimaginably fast, requiring no reaction time. This was the true essence of the Demonic Blade. Relying on his cuirass, the Earth-ranked attendant did not evade but merely protected his face and limbs. Blades collided, producing a relentless metallic clamor that made one’s scalp tingle.

In an instant, the two exchanged nearly 100 blows. Blade lights and sword shadows weaved through bursts of sword qi. Then they abruptly disengaged, each gliding back over 30 meters before halting.

Qi Xuansu’s face was pale, with two crimson streams running from his nostrils, tinged with black.

The Earth-ranked attendant inhaled sharply, feeling as though fire scorched his chest and abdomen. Though clad in armor, the formless blade intent had penetrated and injured his organs. As an Innkeeper of a branch, he had lived in comfort for years and had not suffered such wounds in ages—in fact, so long that the sensation of internal injury now felt foreign to him.

Meanwhile, Dreaming Cloud drew Thunder Chisel and faced off against an opponent.

The man wore a smile, but his expression was stiff, unmoving like a mask. With a flick of his wrists, he drew two Emei thorns from his sleeves, each about 30 centimeters long and shaped like women’s hairpins. Though small, they had marvelous uses.

This man was none other than the Runner, one of the six top leaders of The Inn.

Typical Emei thorns had a central ring that fit over the middle finger. But the Runner’s were modified for sleeve concealment, omitting the ring so they could be gripped directly at the center like twin short swords.

Both were Qi Refiners, and their battle had little flourish, only occasional flashes of lightning and bursts of sword qi. They clearly avoided the battlefield between The Innkeeper and Saintly Peace, climbing ever higher and farther as they fought.

The Innkeeper clenched his fist like a small mountain and hurled it at Saintly Peace with a howling force that tore through the air. Even before the fist landed, the mere wind from the punch made Saintly Peace’s robes flap violently. It was no less powerful than Master Wan’s punch, capable of shattering mountains and uprooting peaks.

Saintly Peace did not take it head-on and immediately dodged. When the punch landed, the ground split into countless ravines. The sheer force was more than the earth could bear.

The Innkeeper’s second punch came in a flash. This time, Saintly Peace did not dodge. He gathered all his innate qi from his limbs, bones, the three Dantians, meridians, major vessels, and acupoints into a single inner core, which then condensed into a single point and sank into his lower Dantian. From there, a brilliant golden light emerged, eventually turning into golden liquid that surged upward. This golden current quickly passed through the meridians and surged straight into the upper Dantian.

At that moment, Saintly Peace’s spirit roamed the heavens and earth, not as a Diviner’s wandering yin spirit, but by treating the cosmos as his own body. This spiritual roaming was a form of internal visualization. His middle and lower Dantians were now void and still as secluded valleys. This was the Returning Void Realm.

Saintly Peace reached into the void to pull out a sword without form or shape. If not for his hand visibly gripping something, it would have been impossible to tell he held a sword.

Then, Saintly Peace temporarily merged with the world around him using the Fusion Realm, allowing him to wield this sword.

This sword was forged from heaven and earth, unchanging and everlasting in its course. It was called the Sword of Dao.

This was a mystical ability unique to Qi Refiners. Even a Banished Immortal, unable to merge with the Dao, could form this sword but could not wield it.

One sword clashed against The Innkeeper’s fist. The former was as tiny as a mustard seed, while the latter was as massive as a mountain. Yet the golden giant trembled all over and staggered backward. Not only was its palm pierced, but countless cracks spread along its arm, which now threatened to collapse entirely.

Just as Saintly Peace was about to press his advantage, he was suddenly struck by a sense of danger. Before he could react, a sharp pain pierced his back. The tip of a sword emerged through his chest, with blood streaming down.

In that instant, everything abruptly fell silent.

Saintly Peace looked down at the tip of the blade protruding from his chest, speechless.

A figure slowly appeared behind Saintly Peace. He drew his blade calmly and said, “There could be no better bond than to journey alongside your friend, Drenched Green Robes.”

“Not necessarily.” Saintly Peace had already swept his sword backward, forcing the assailant to retreat. The wound on his chest was filled with innate qi, but a shadowy mass lurked at the site like a living entity. Even the innate qi of a Zaohua-stage Qi Refiner could not dispel it.

The assailant was a completely unremarkable middle-aged man, the type who could easily disappear in a crowd. He held a bloodstained bone blade, with fresh blood continually dripping from its edge.

“I didn’t expect the Innkeeper, the Cook, and the Runner to all show up today.” Saintly Peace pressed his hand against his wound, trying to forcibly extract the strange shadowy mass, but to no avail.

This man was none other than The Inn's Cook, who assassinated Drenched Green Robes. He looked expressionlessly at Saintly Peace and spoke in a flat tone. “Don’t waste your effort. This Nether blade is coated with Imitation Shebishi Venom, which is deadly enough to fell even the Ancient Great Witches. Even though this is an imitation, it’s more than enough to kill you."

Saintly Peace was a decisive man. Gritting his teeth, he lifted his sword in his right hand and formed a sword gesture with the index and middle fingers of his left. He tapped his forehead, sternum, and lower abdomen, stimulating all three Dantians. This was a life-preservation technique passed down from the Holy Xuan, called the Borrowed Power Method. It was notoriously perilous and often left lasting harm. One misstep could mean death, so it was not to be used unless absolutely necessary.

After completing the three taps, Saintly Peace's internal qi surged again, like oil fed to a blazing fire. Not only could he temporarily ignore his injuries, but he even surpassed his peak state, just a hair’s breadth from becoming a Pseudo-Immortal.

Madam Qi would have called him a Half-Step Pseudo-Immortal.

Then Saintly Peace and the Cook began an incredibly fast close-range combat, maintaining a distance of barely 10 meters, with each move brimming with lethal intent.