My Enemy Became My Cultivation Companion-Chapter 625 - 413: Descending from the Sky

Death comes in an instant.

The deadly contests between masters are either excruciatingly slow or blindingly fast—slow because their techniques are so deeply intertwined that neither can overcome the other's defenses, fast because a single, unforeseen move changes everything in the blink of an eye.

Chen Yi was always adept at the unforeseen.

The Hou Kang Sword drew its blade.

At the moment the sixth step of Absolute Cloudstride was taken, Chen Yi closed the distance in an instant, his figure arriving near the poised Flying Swordsman, whose sword remained sheathed as if he had been standing idly there all along.

The Flying Swordsman seemed unsurprised by Chen Yi's approach.

In combat against many foes, the key isn't to pit two fists against multiple hands—it's finding a way to turn the battle into a one-on-one duel.

That's why alleys, staircases, and narrow gates—all areas where one man can block an army—are favored by martial artists across the Jianghu.

The Flying Swordsman stood near Thunder Bear, neither too close nor too far from Chen Yi, his hands clasped behind his back as if he had made no preparations to strike.

He suspected that, even if their positions were swapped, Chen Yi would still choose to target him first.

What's more, among swordsmen, there has always been a pursuit of testing one's sword against another.

The Flying Swordsman exhaled a cold breath and moved his foot.

The distance between Chen Yi and him instantly closed; Chen Yi's sword blade lifted high, and every motion of his exuded a resolute killing intent. The air surged violently—his attack was so fast it left only afterimages in its wake.

But the Flying Swordsman was faster.

It was just that, as Chen Yi released his sword stroke, he seemed to hesitate upon realizing that the Flying Swordsman hadn't moved. In that fleeting instant, a sliver of doubt crept in.

A moment of hesitant uncertainty.

The two met in the blink of an eye. The Flying Swordsman stepped forward decisively; explosive energy burst forth from his stance, rippling into waves. With one hand thrust forward and the other rapping against his scabbard, his long sword shot forth as if summoned—it fell neatly into his grip, and without pause, a piercing strike surged directly outward!

The razor-sharp sword edge sliced through the air, shrieking like a dragon's cry.

A chilling, white blade light extended forward—sharp and unstoppable—destined to pierce Chen Yi's heart.

Chen Yi's earlier sword stroke had lagged behind, its hesitation born of cautious doubt. Amid the shifting tides of battle, the smallest misstep or hesitation often spells one's doom.

Countless martial arts masters have perished in the span of a single, doubtful thought.

The victor now seemed determined; the outcome long since sealed.

In that instant, the gathered masters sighed heavily.

There followed a faint, almost imperceptible note of disappointment.

To have gone from four-against-one to a decisive kill in less than fifteen minutes—it had spoiled their thrill and left them feeling unfulfilled.

But the dust had settled.

The Flying Swordsman's blade had precisely exploited Chen Yi's almost imperceptible flaw. There was now no turning the blade back, nor room to change techniques, and yet Chen Yi's sword was compelled to strike forward regardless.

However, as Chen Yi moved to attack, his foot landed differently.

The seventh step of Absolute Cloudstride.

His figure shifted dramatically; his form veered just past the sword edge, disappearing entirely from the corridor. The Flying Swordsman's gaze flickered with astonishment as Six Yang Grandmaster, the most seasoned among them, abruptly looked skyward.

What he saw was Chen Yi leaping high into the air, propelling the sword momentum toward someone perched above, lying in wait—the Yanling Saber.

This sudden shift was utterly unexpected. The Yanling Saber felt a chill rise from the base of his spine, piercing upward throughout his body. In his panic, he raised his saber defensively, unaware that the chill foretold the mortal terror of impending death.

The sword edge tore through sunlight, and also his throat.

Chen Yi's long sword carried the unmistakable sensation of slicing through flesh and bone. The brilliant sword shadow descended amidst the spray of blood; he spun the blade precisely, light dancing in arcs.

A bloodied head shot skyward, flipping as it dropped and tumbled into the building with a sickening crash.

The Yanling Saber's eyes widened as his pupils darted violently up and down—he seemed ready to lift his saber to defend, yet had forgotten that his head was no longer attached to his body.

He died with his eyes open.

At that moment, Chen Yi descended gracefully. His foot stomped firmly on the severed head, using it as a platform from which he launched himself anew. With a sudden reversal, his sword shot forward once again in murderous pursuit of the Flying Swordsman.

The savage killing intent of the scene elicited a subconscious sigh from Six Yang Grandmaster. What seemed like hesitation from Chen Yi earlier—his deliberate feint against the Flying Swordsman's attack, his redirection to kill the Yanling Saber—was now unfolding into a deceptive gambit, a calculated performance...

A flaw sold so convincingly, it didn't resemble a flaw at all...

He had misled the Flying Swordsman, misled Thunder Bear, misled Yanling Saber—and perhaps most astonishingly, had managed to mislead Six Yang Grandmaster himself.

In an instant, he had become the master of the field.

Far in the distance, Huang Jing's face grew heavy with concern. Unconsciously, he raised his hand across his chest in caution, as though suspecting Chen Yi might yet appear before him in the next breath.

The atmosphere was rife with killing intent, the thrill palpable, the hairs on everyone's neck standing straight.

And in an unnoticed corner,

The Yanling Saber's head landed with a heavy thud, his lifeless eyes still open as his remains crumpled into so much mangled flesh.

What could he possibly say now?

Meanwhile, the corridor's brutal duel raged on; Chen Yi thrust his sword toward the Flying Swordsman with deadly precision. The surging Sword Intent sent waves rippling, forcing beads of cold sweat to break upon the Flying Swordsman's brow, his hair flying wildly in the scattered pressure.

The imposing sword momentum bore down as if it would pierce his very essence at the slightest change in his energy.

And yet, just then, a gargantuan force pressed sideways.

BAM!

Chen Yi's sword blade collided with what felt like a pitch-black, inky boulder, detonating with a deafening mountain-crumble roar. Shockwaves expanded outward in concentric blasts.

Chen Yi's gaze lifted slightly—Hou Kang Sword had embedded itself in Thunder Bear's arm. The previously unrivaled killing blade had sunk mere inches into flesh; beyond the impenetrable body, a feral expression twisted upon Thunder Bear's towering face.

Both men recoiled.

Blood gushed freely from Thunder Bear's arm; his limb, so broad it seemed a massive shield, had narrowly saved the Flying Swordsman's life in the last heartbeat.

Chen Yi's eyes flashed with severity as he stepped back, flourishing the sword into fluid circles and neutralizing the residual force from the clash using a refined swordsman's technique.

Such brutal endurance—

Far superior to his own Copper Bone Skill.

Thunder Bear was likewise shocked. Born with a massive, ox-like physique, he had once trained under renowned monks at a famed temple, mastering Martial Arts techniques such as the Golden Bell Shield and Iron Cloth Shirt. His hardened body rivaled tempered steel, deflecting strikes from ordinary blades while leaving him unscathed—today, however, this man had sliced into him, breaking past his flesh and using an entirely foreign Swordsmanship to dissipate the backlash of his momentum. Despite his many years in the Jianghu, he had never witnessed such a feat.

"Impressive, brat…"

Both fighters retreated after their clash.

The air within Yuanfeng Building became filled with heavy anticipation, the calm before the storm.

Dong Gong Ruo Shu widened her eyes as she observed, seemingly unconcerned by the danger. She only knew that the brief exchanges had dazzled her eyes.

Moments earlier, Chen Yi had seemingly attacked the Flying Swordsman, only to shift midway to kill the Yanling Saber. His movements had shifted with fluid precision; his strikes had been clean, leaving no room for hesitation.

One against four, now swiftly reversed into two dead…

So exhilarating!

If she could, she'd swap Martial Arts with Chen Yi herself, slashing her way through the chaos and spreading fluttering leaves wherever she passed.

Thinking this, Dong Gong Ruo Shu tightened her grip around the Yanling Saber in her hand.

Chen Yi did not know Dong Gong Ruo Shu's thoughts. He scanned the situation, noticing the growing crowd closing around Yuanfeng Building, leaving no room for escape, and that distant figure of the Yuanfeng Building Owner still standing idle, biding his time.

One against four sounded simple in theory, but surviving such odds depended entirely upon exploiting the unprepared.

If the fight truly dragged into desperation, even if he killed them all, he'd likely never leave alive.

Chen Yi exhaled deeply, his gaze undulating with contemplation.

Yet Thunder Bear had already stormed forward, shouting at the top of his lungs:

"Let's see how you break my Golden Bell Shield again!"

As his words fell, Thunder Bear's hairs stood on end, each bristling like sharpened spikes. His entire body seemed cloaked in a luminous, iron-like aura, his energy surging in overwhelming waves. The corridor trembled thrice beneath his feet, and the combatants collided once more.

Thunder Bear swung his enormous palm downward violently, the wind howling through his outstretched fingers toward Chen Yi's skull.

Chen Yi's gaze shifted, his body sliding sideways as the strike whisked past his face. His blade and saber moved simultaneously—a strike slashed across the abdomen, while a thrust punctured the ribs. Both blows merely broke the skin.

Thunder Bear grunted, lifting his left hand like a massive hammer and slamming it out sideways. Chen Yi ducked swiftly beneath the blow, his peripheral vision catching glimpses of both the Flying Swordsman and Six Yang Grandmaster readying their swords to strike a killing blow.

No time for dragging this out.

In a fleeting gambit, Chen Yi sent forth a rapid flurry of slashes and thrusts—his abdomen, sides, and arm traced by cold flashes of swordlight. Streams of red streaked the corridor, painting it with savage strokes. Thunder Bear remained upright, though his clothes lay in tatters and blood flowed freely. None of Chen Yi's blows were fatal.

"You think you'll find my weak spot?!"

Thunder Bear roared furiously as his strikes continued—he saw through Chen Yi's intentions clearly enough, though rage fogged his vision. Blood mist swirled around him as he bellowed once more.

Suddenly, he sent a fist barreling straight for Chen Yi's face.

Chen Yi's pupils constricted.

The Flying Swordsman and Six Yang Grandmaster prepared their swords.

The fist, as massive as a mountain, descended menacingly, almost set to crush Chen Yi entirely when a sudden glimmer of cold light swept from behind him.

"Duck!"

Before the voice had finished speaking, Chen Yi instinctively tucked his head tightly downward.

A gale erupted—the edge was neither strictly sword-like nor knife-like, but a sharp, sweeping force.

The Sword Intent of Broken Swordsman.

Shhhhhhk.

Thunder Bear's eyes bulged out; his mountain-like fist was cleaved cleanly apart by the icy light.

Unimaginable pain surged toward his brain; his pupils filled quickly with blood, and he let out a horrifying scream. His hulking body convulsed violently under the shock.

The massive corridor-rending figure wavered, while the Flying Swordsman and Six Yang Grandmaster hesitated—unwilling to risk friendly fire, unable to find an opening for their blades. Thunder Bear, now overcome by blind instinct and wild terror, hurled his limbs about haphazardly, misstepping and stumbling as he crashed toward Yuanfeng Building's walls.

CRASH!

The wall exploded outward, sending clouds and billows of dust and debris rolling forth, obscuring everyone's vision.

Seizing the chance amidst the chaos, Chen Yi leapt backward, encircled Dong Gong Ruo Shu around the waist, and his figure darted agilely through the smoke like a fleeing hare, bounding cleanly over Yuanfeng Building's rooftop.

Absolute Cloudstride.

By the time the dust cleared, he was nowhere to be seen.

...…

Near Yuanfeng Building, in a secluded residential courtyard.

This was the rehearsal space of a theater troupe, where the female actors practiced vocal training and rested on days when there were no performances.

Following "Si Fan", no further shows were scheduled for the day, and Xiao Tao had returned to the residence ahead of her peers.

As the troupe's lead female role, she was always slightly more pampered than the other performers.

Xiao Tao leaned against white cloth draped across the yard for shade, idly chatting with her maid:

"You know, those two men earlier—truly handsome, both. The short one is a little too dense, the tall one almost too clever. They make quite the pairing."

"But they're men…"

"Oh, you don't understand—those wealthy young masters adore 'attendant student' types. I dare say, they wouldn't even know who's supposed to be whose attendant student." Xiao Tao chuckled mischievously.

"But they are beautiful," the maid pondered briefly before lifting her brows. "Xiao Tao jie, maybe you should flirt with them more. Who knows—you might have your freedom bought!"

Xiao Tao laughed heartily. "Would you want one for yourself, hmm?"

The maid's face turned bright crimson at once.

Xiao Tao tapped her nose teasingly and scolded her: "You, silly girl."

The maid looked away bashfully, rubbing her nose repeatedly with flustered hands.

Xiao Tao turned her face aside, supporting her chin thoughtfully. "Too far out of reach... I was sold to this troupe for three hundred taels—not even these men's swords cost less than three hundred taels. Dream your silly dreams, it's not as if headstones are falling from the heavens."

BOOM!

A thunderous crash interrupted her midsentence—the expansive white cloth overhead snapped as something enormous smashed through it, startling them both.

The maid brushed away the swirling dust with both hands. When her eyes finally focused on the scene, her shocked voice rang out:

"Something really fell from the sky!"