Chapter 170 – A Crisis Like Never Before

The Xi River that cuts through the Taikun Mountain Range had frozen over in the dead of winter. A group of young Qingxiao Sect Disciples lay flat on the ice, staring without blinking through holes they’d opened at the swift water beneath.

On a nearby boulder stood a male Disciple practicing sword forms—none other than Liu Jie, one of the Seven Sons of Qingxiao.

These children were all from the villages at the foot of the mountain, each related by blood to one of the Seven Sons. Today Liu Jie had brought them here to relax.

If they managed to catch a fish, it would count as a contribution for the youngsters.

Snow drifted through the air as Liu Jie’s sword danced—every stroke fluid and natural, carrying its own quiet charm.

Among the Seven Sons he had always been unremarkable, without much standing in the Sect, yet he had never complained. In fact, he savored this easy life.

He lacked the outstanding talent and drive of Huang Shan or Yu Lin. He preferred stability; he didn’t even like traveling down-mountain for experience, spending most of his free time back in the village.

The title of Seven Sons had already been passed to newer names; the younger Disciples preferred fresh stories. Liu Jie could walk the Sect grounds indistinguishable from any ordinary Disciple—no one recognized him. Only the village children still worshipped him, still worshipped the Seven Sons of Qingxiao.

While Liu Jie was training, he suddenly noticed a figure approaching through the distant veil of snow.

At first he paid it no mind, but as the person drew nearer an inexplicable unease arose in his heart.

There was only one of them, and judging by the build, not an adult.

What ordinary child would trek up the mountain alone at this season?

Liu Jie sheathed his sword at once and shouted, “All right, back up the mountain—now!”

The children ignored him, continuing to lie on the ice and fish.

“Enough!”

Channeling his Origin Qi, Liu Jie roared, making the youngsters jump in fright and turn to him in alarm.

He kept his eyes fixed on the distant silhouette and said grimly, “Up the mountain—Qingxiao Mountain—move!”

The children followed his gaze, saw someone coming, and immediately ran for the slope.

They weren’t sure whether the newcomer posed a threat, but they trusted Liu Jie; he would never harm them.

As they passed him, one boy looked back. “Cousin, should we call for help?”

Liu Jie hesitated. “Do it.”

If he was wrong, at worst a Disciple of the Law Enforcement Hall would scold him; he would not risk a greater mistake.

These were troubled times—if even Jiang Zhaoxia’s Family could be wiped out, he had to be cautious.

Hearing his answer, the children grew more anxious and quickened their pace, vanishing quickly into the swirling snow.

Liu Jie stared ahead. Soon he saw a White-Haired Youth walking unhurriedly toward him, clothes soaked in blood.

The sight made him breathe easier—he had not sounded a false alarm.

But the next instant his heart tightened again, for he would have to face this white-haired boy alone.

Though the stranger was young, that head of white hair was eerie.

Instinct told Liu Jie he could be very dangerous.

At that moment his Senior Brother Huang Shan’s criticism echoed in his mind:

“Xiao Jie, a man needs fighting spirit. Don’t mope about all day or one day you’ll regret not having tried harder.”

Liu Jie saw the White-Haired Youth break into a sprint, charging straight at him. He raised his sword, ready to fight.

“Today… I’m not going to regret it,” he told himself silently, cold sweat on his forehead. Though filled with dread, he did not turn and run.

He had been among the first Disciples after Qingxiao Sect’s rebuilding; Liu Jie the individual might retreat, but as one of the Seven Sons he could not.

All he could do now was trust his sword.

“Halt! Who dares trespass on Qingxiao Sect land?”

He shouted with every ounce of strength, not caring that the flat ground nearby posed no avalanche risk—if anyone heard, he might live.

Of course, if he could subdue the intruder himself, so much the better.

Yet since entering the Sect he had never beaten a fellow Disciple; when it came to real combat he had little confidence.

As the figure closed in, Liu Jie steadied himself, recalling every sword form he had learned.

The white-haired boy accelerated like a ghost racing across the snow. When only seven paces separated them, Liu Jie slashed with every skill of his decade of training.

Bang!

Blood spurted. Like Jia Yi, Liu Jie was parted from his head; it tumbled high into the air.

After killing Liu Jie with ease, the White-Haired Youth did not slow. He sped after the fleeing children, face alight with excited, hungry delight.

“Fresh flesh…”

He let out a beast-like roar.

So fast was he that the youngsters Liu Jie had protected soon reappeared in his sight.

The children looked back and screamed in terror.

Whoosh—

A whistle of air tore past; the white-haired boy spun as a long sword wrapped in Sword Qi streaked by his face.

He focused his gaze and saw a group of Qingxiao Sect Disciples riding flying swords. Leading them was none other than Xue Jin.

Xue Jin had taken Disciples of the Experience Hall to survey another peak and choose a branch-hall site. From afar he had heard Liu Jie’s shout and rushed over—only to arrive in time for this.

The White-Haired Youth whirled and lunged straight toward Xue Jin and his group.

Xue Jin flew the fastest; with a wave of his hand, the long sword he had thrown earlier streaked toward the White-Haired Youth from behind.

This time the White-Haired Youth simply tilted his head and dodged with ease, catching the hilt as it whipped past his ear.

In almost the same instant, Xue Jin felt his connection to the blade severed.

Before Xue Jin could gather his thoughts, the White-Haired Youth was already bearing down on him.

Xue Jin leapt into the air, weaving a spell with both hands to send the sword he had just been standing on racing at the White-Haired Youth.

Clang—

The White-Haired Youth’s palm slashed like a blade, knocking the sword aside, then sprang forward to close the distance.

Now gripping Xue Jin’s long sword, the White-Haired Youth slashed down; Xue Jin twisted aside, but the moment he evaded the blade, a palm strike hammered into his gut. Blood sprayed from his mouth as he was hurled backward at even greater speed.

Seeing Xue Jin felled in a single exchange, the other Disciples of the Experience Hall paled in shock, yet before fear could take hold, the White-Haired Youth was already charging them.

If even someone as strong as Xue Jin could not stop the White-Haired Youth, the rest of the Disciples of the Experience Hall stood no chance.

Screams rang out one after another; blood rained down, blooming into crimson flowers across the snow.

Xue Jin crashed wretchedly onto the snow, his organs churning inside him. He lifted his gaze to see the Disciples of the Experience Hall falling in rapid succession, and his pupils dilated in horror.

Ignoring the agony wracking his body, he forced himself to his feet and staggered toward the White-Haired Youth.

With every step he took, another Disciple died.

Thud!

The last Disciple of the Experience Hall had his neck snapped by the White-Haired Youth; the corpse dropped into the snow. All fifteen Disciples lay dead.

The White-Haired Youth licked the blood from his fingers, then turned to Xue Jin in surprise. “You’re still alive?”

His expression twisted into a vicious grin. “Pity—this body isn’t my true form, or I’d have devoured your cultivation and flesh.”

Xue Jin stared at the corpses strewn across the snow; the world seemed to tremble beneath him. He had killed many, but never before had he watched so many fellow Disciples die before his eyes. An overwhelming sense of powerlessness surged through him.

The White-Haired Youth stepped toward him.

Xue Jin reached out, summoning a broken sword to his hand. With blood masking his face, he advanced faster and faster, a single thought burning in his mind: avenge his comrades!

Crackle—

A piercing sound split the air. The White-Haired Youth glanced sideways to see a bolt of lightning tearing through the snow-mist, a figure racing in its wake.

It was Xu Ning!

Lightning coiled around Xu Ning; even her silver hairpiece reflected the glare. Swift as a startled swan, she thrust her sword.

The White-Haired Youth slammed a palm onto the snow; in an instant, wooden vines burst forth like serpents, forcing Xu Ning to dodge.

Relief washed over Xue Jin at the sight of her; he sank to one knee, the last of his strength spent.

Xu Ning danced past the vines and reached the White-Haired Youth, her sword flashing in a furious storm of strikes. Yet his hands, harder than steel, parried every blow without a scratch.

The White-Haired Youth was visibly surprised. “Such speed—no wonder the Qi Clan hasn’t crushed Qingxiao Sect.”

Rather than panic, excitement flared in his eyes.

Bang!

He kicked her blade with brute force, sending Xu Ning hurtling backward and breaking her assault.

Immediately he shot after her.

Xu Ning struggled to steady herself, blood seeping from her split palm, but her gaze never left the White-Haired Youth.

She realized the gravity of the situation—Qingxiao Sect faced a crisis unlike any before.

Since embarking on the path of cultivation, this was the first time she sensed death so close, mere moments into the fight.

Yet fear found no place in her heart.

Had she not trained precisely for moments like this?

She drove her sword into the snow, using the resistance to jerk herself to a halt, then bent backward to evade the White-Haired Youth’s flying kick.

As they passed each other, a vine shot from his white hair, piercing her flank before she could twist away; blood burst forth.

With lightning reflexes she severed the vine with her left hand, stepped into the Heavenly Thunder Steps, and flashed across the snow like a streak of lightning, widening the gap.

She stopped ten zhang away, left hand braced against the ground, the wooden spike still lodged in her right side as blood streamed out.

She lifted her gaze, eyes grave.

The White-Haired Youth turned, admiration in his voice. “Your reflexes are superb. I’ve rarely seen anyone with talent like yours.”

Xu Ning rose, yanked the vine from her waist without so much as a frown.

Seeing Xu Ning—second only to the Sect Leader in his eyes—wounded, Xue Jin’s heart sank.

Wind and snow howled as Xu Ning’s robes whipped wildly; under her watchful gaze, the White-Haired Youth’s hair lengthened, and a host of wooden tendrils sprouted from his back like a dozen swaying tails.