Chapter Thirty-Seven: A Battle Fought in Confusion

The two quickly rose to their feet, turning to look in the direction where Xiu Ji stood, intending to speak in their own defense.

Yet, before a single word could escape their lips, the burly Xiu Ji had already begun to curse in a tone of furious outrage, "You two damned traitors! Killing my brother Wushang was bad enough, but now you attempt a diversion to snatch his body—what is your true intention?"

"What diversion?"

"Xiu Ji, you misunderstand us..."

"Silence!"

Xiu Ji roared, unable to contain his wrath, "Back in Dayong, I thought you two were decent folk, especially when you helped us put out the fire. My brother and I admired you greatly, and I even felt compelled to befriend you."

"But the human heart is unpredictable. Who would have thought that as soon as we left Dayong, Bai Mu would pursue us relentlessly, ambushing my brother and killing him outright. Are you even human?"

Hearing this, Bai Mu could not help but smile bitterly within, sighing helplessly, "Last night I spent the night in the peach grove at Dayong. I never went after you or Wushang. As for the one who ambushed you, it wasn't me. I hope you'll investigate the truth before you judge me."

"Hmph!"

Wushang glared fiercely and snorted coldly, "I saw you kill my brother with my own eyes. There is no need for you to argue. Even with your silver tongue, I will not believe a single word!"

He then changed his tone, gazing with grief at his brother's stiff corpse, "Brother, I will now slay these two villains to bring peace to your soul in the heavens!"

With that, he clenched his steel teeth, reached for the clear energy pouch at his waist—the same used during the Dayong fire—and swiftly opened its mouth, shouting, "Fiery breath, burn these villains for me!"

At his call, a surge of scorching energy erupted from the pouch, like a dragon of fire leaping across the stream, rushing toward the spot where the two stood.

Bai Mu had not wanted to fight Xiu Ji; after all, his brother had just died, and his emotions were understandably unstable. His agitation was perfectly reasonable.

But seeing Xiu Ji unleash the fiery breath with intent to burn them alive, Bai Mu realized that if he did not retaliate, his own life would be in danger—and that would be a pointless death.

With this thought, Bai Mu and Ling Yan leapt back simultaneously, their Azure Dragon Swords drawn in response. The ancient sword energy emanated instantly, forming a powerful vortex that absorbed the fiery breath released from Xiu Ji’s pouch.

Bai Mu then angled his sword sideways, sending the vortex—now mingled with fiery breath—crashing into the stream.

Bang.

As the sword energy struck the water, a thunderous explosion echoed, shattering the stones at the stream’s bottom. It was a spectacular scene.

In truth, Bai Mu had held back against Xiu Ji; he had used less than a third of his strength. Had he intended to harm Xiu Ji, the vortex would have struck him directly rather than the streambed, and even nine lives would not have been enough to save Xiu Ji.

Yet Bai Mu, compassionate by nature, had no desire to take a life needlessly, and so he sent the sword energy into the stream, sparing Xiu Ji.

In such circumstances, anyone with a modicum of sense would know to let the matter go.

But their opponent happened to be Xiu Ji—a burly man of limited wit.

Other than his considerable strength, he lacked the ability to think things through.

Of course, his so-called strength was only impressive by ordinary cultivator standards; in front of Bai Mu and Ling Yan, scions of gods, he was no more than an ant compared to the likes of the Celestial Sword Immortal.

Yet Xiu Ji failed to grasp the situation. Seeing his fiery breath so easily dealt with, he recklessly shouted again, forcing every ounce of fiery and clear energy from his pouch, unleashing two fierce streams toward Bai Mu and Ling Yan.

Both knew Xiu Ji was intent on a mutual destruction, so they dared not be careless. With a light touch to the mountain stone beneath their feet, they retreated swiftly.

Bai Mu then raised the Sacred Azure Dragon Sword, using half his power to strike forward. The ancient aura within the blade surged forth, condensing into an invisible wall of energy that blocked Xiu Ji’s fiery breath three yards away.

At this moment, Bai Mu could have dispatched Xiu Ji across the stream with a single effortless stroke, but he would not do so.

Ling Yan, beside him, possessed cultivation far beyond Bai Mu, and the attack against her was merely a stream of clear energy—something insignificant to one as agile as she.

Standing atop the hillside, she gently waved her Jade Cold Flute. A mysterious suction arose from within, drawing the surrounding energies of yin, yang, and the five elements into the flute. The clear energy, encountering this pull, was absorbed without resistance, silently strengthening the flute’s spiritual power.

Watching his hard-earned clear energy vanish in an instant, Xiu Ji stomped fiercely in place, shouting, "I’ll fight you to the end!"

With those words, he put the pouch back at his waist, formed fists with his hands, gathering all his strength into his arms, and rushed at Bai Mu like a kite with a broken string, intent on mutual destruction.

Perhaps it was seeing Bai Mu slay his brother earlier that fueled his rage; though Ling Yan had absorbed his clear energy, his target remained Bai Mu.

With the pouch put away, the fiery attack against Bai Mu ceased, but before Bai Mu could catch his breath, Xiu Ji’s iron fist was already swinging toward his face—its speed astonishing.

Ordinarily, cultivators relied on brute force, lacking the agility and quickness associated with sword immortals.

But Xiu Ji was an exception.

Not only did he possess fierce punching power, but his movements were strangely elusive. That night in the peach grove at Dayong, Bai Mu had witnessed Xiu Ji break through Feng Zijin’s barrier firsthand.