My Enemy Became My Cultivation Companion-Chapter 726 - 465: This is the Sword Immortal (Combined - )_2

The palm strike descended from the heavens.

The fierce wind raged wildly, Zhao Deshan's entire face resembling a shattered porcelain, countless bloodlines streaming across it. His lips quivered as if trying to speak, but no words escaped. His eyes became nothing but an overwhelming void of darkness.

How many disciples of Longevity Palace could escape?

With death looming, the only thought left in Zhao Deshan's mind was the character for "death." His eyes closed, a wave of endless desolation sweeping over him.

Hoo...

Suddenly, a gentle breeze passed through.

Its origin was unknown, emerging abruptly. It fluttered through the foliage hidden among the trees, brushed against the jagged edges of broken walls and ruins, swept across the weeds lining the mountain road. It was a wisp of pristine wind from heaven and earth, crossing thresholds and finally wiping away a droplet of blood from Zhao Deshan's face.

With a splash.

Zhao Deshan only felt a scorching sensation covering his face, his breaths catching and stifled. He stood frozen for a long moment, only then managing to draw a deep breath that reminded him he was still alive.

It was as if the clouds had parted to reveal the radiance of the moon spilling across the walls surrounding him. Zhao Deshan opened his weary old eyes.

The bull was still standing, its iron tower-like body dead but unfallen. Yet, on its forehead, at the center of its brows, there was a horrifying gash—a sword wound, it seemed.

No sword light, no sword shadow could be seen. Only droplets of fresh blood hung suspended, like a curtain of red pearls, solidified. The towering mountain silhouette was nowhere to be found, as if a celestial being had blown a single breath, scattering the rivers and peaks like incense ash.

Having escaped death, Zhao Deshan widened his eyes, his trembling fingers clutching at the air. The divine aura described in the ghostly tales he had read roared through his mind, inflating his chest with awe. He stood stupefied for an indeterminate amount of time before exclaiming, "This... is a true Sword Immortal!"

......

Descending the winding mountain path, the silhouette of Liu Feng County gradually emerged. By the city gate, hawkers' cries rang out. At that moment, an elderly woman haggled before departing with a piece of cured meat, clasping her hands together in prayer as she murmured, "Amitabha Buddha." Chen Yi stepped aside to let her pass, his gaze dropping to the lonely grass lining the roadside. Returning to this small county after half a year, where Lu Ying awaited him, was proof that Yin Sword Mountain was near.

The sky was murky, shrouded in thin mist.

The road ahead was crowded, with people gathered around the yellow bulletin board by the city gate. Apart from announcements of major national events, it featured a wanted notice—a portrait drawn personally by the well-regarded "Elegant Prince Jing."

A bustling crowd surrounded the board in several layers, tightly packed like a barrier. Taller individuals blocked the view, leading others to push forward and inquire about the matter at hand.

"What other news would it be? The government across various regions is hunting a traitor. This man, once a subject of high rank, indulged in corruption, abuse of power, and nepotism," a passing vendor explained.

"Indeed, there's no need to guess; we all know who it is," the inquirer nodded. "Is it 'Chen Yi'—a monstrous person in human guise?"

"Human guise? More like monstrous inside and out! He's so ugly even a bandit's sketch looks refined by comparison—'hideous' doesn't even begin to describe it!"

Chen Yi was infuriated upon hearing this: "You dare make up baseless nonsense!"

"Would Prince Jing's artwork be fake?"

At this moment, the crowd near the bulletin board scattered slightly. Upon closer inspection, the figure in the illustration had droopy eyes, a prominent mole on his forehead, massive ears, disheveled hair, and a sharp monkey-like mouth. This visage undoubtedly belonged to a wicked man beyond redemption, and the caption read, "Portrait of the Bandit Chief Chen Yi."

Chen Yi: "…"

Seeing his motionless reaction, the vendor scoffed once more, hoisted his carrying pole, and quickly fled as if from an idiot.

Chen Yi glanced again at the bulletin board, where a chain of characters explained that this man had committed grave crimes and had long been on the government's watchlist. The delay in issuing his capture order had been due to interference from court conspirators. Now, anyone providing information would be rewarded with one hundred taels of silver; those assisting the government in his capture, one thousand taels.

When he left the capital, Chen Yi had been a Fourth Rank Martial Artist. Generally, someone of this martial realm wasn't hunted through grandiose means. He had been gone from the capital for over half a year, and now the bulletin board was finally put up. Upon closer thought, this might well have been Prince Jing's indirect way of reminding him to tread carefully.

As for the portrait...

"Does my father-in-law see me as this hideous?" Chen Yi stroked his chin and shook his head.

Lu Ying glanced at the city gate portrait, then at Chen Yi, her soft voice remarking, "They're the same."

Chen Yi felt helpless; he understood that, to the present-day Lu Ying, his appearance made no difference—just as it had to Zhou Yitang.

Not lingering long at the city gate, the two reached the inn's entrance. Behind the counter, the shopkeeper casually looked up, his gaze flickering at Chen Yi in recognition. After glancing once at Lu Ying behind him, his voice exclaimed in shock:

"Ah, you actually managed to bring her back, kid!"

Shopkeepers, as people of commerce, often had impressions—whether faint or vivid—of every customer they encountered. Familiarity was always beneficial for doing business, an unchanging truth.

Chen Yi thought back and remembered this Liu Feng County shopkeeper, grinning as he replied, "Indeed I did."

"Here…" The shopkeeper's eyes rolled before sighing, "Unluckily, there's only one room left."

"One room will do."

"I'll arrange the most spacious one for you."

The shopkeeper deftly fished out some keys, tossing them to Chen Yi.

Chen Yi caught the keys and led Lu Ying upstairs.

Lu Ying, hearing it was just one room, showed no reaction in her gaze. If it were before, she would have sternly warned him. Chen Yi noticed this slight detail and felt a vague sense of disappointment. He seemed to particularly miss the straightforward banter they shared when they had been junior and senior apprentices. Entering the guest room, he opened the windows to let the breeze blow away the stale air within. Lu Ying pulled out a chair and seated herself, staring into the misty distance, where the silhouette of Yin Sword Mountain lay faintly visible.

Chen Yi lay sideways on the Arhat bed, raising his leg slightly as he began to calculate. He was about to ascend Yin Sword Mountain—a place he hadn't set foot in for nearly a lifetime. At long last, he would return to Cangwu Peak, with its secluded multi-story pavilion, the crumpled meditation cushions at the cliff's edge, and the echoes of chanting students from the Nameless Academy. Every corner of it was a place he knew intimately. Glancing at Lu Ying again, memories surged of the closest he had come to being exposed—when he and Zhou Yitang, husband and wife, were separated from Lu Ying by just a single wall…

That time, he had trapped his teacher against the wall, the lone-armed woman's expression of anger and pleading still vividly remembered.

But this time around, such events wouldn't occur again. Even putting aside how heartless he had been then, he wasn't so merciless anymore. Moreover, Yin Tingxue was now on the mountain. With that little fox watching him, any such misstep would only heighten his guilt.

Chen Yi exhaled softly, his thoughts quickly shifting to how he might bypass Yin Sword Mountain's array and reach Cangwu Peak.

Yin Sword Mountain, as a sect for females, was renowned across the world. To guard against nefarious intruders, each of its thirty-six peaks was connected to the Mountain Protection Sword Formation, a unified network. Should anyone breach the array, the other thirty-six peaks would be alerted. If not a child, any trespasser would be executed. Hence, there was a saying in Jianghu: "Better to steal from the nunnery than to gaze upon Yin Sword Mountain."

If Chen Yi were caught trespassing, even with Zhou Yitang intervening, he might still lose a layer of skin, dripping with blood.

Before long, there was a knock at the door.

"Young man, there's a group of Daoists looking for you."

The shopkeeper's voice sounded somewhat urgent. Chen Yi furrowed his brows, calculated briefly, and immediately understood who it was. He opened the door and stepped out, leaning against the staircase railing to glance below. Sure enough, it was the Daoists he had encountered at the Tongfu Inn.

Leading them, Zhao Deshan's breaths hitched, and he immediately gave a respectful salute, followed by the other Daoists offering similar gestures.

As Chen Yi approached, Zhao Deshan lowered his voice and said, "This humble Daoist didn't recognize Mt. Tai before his eyes. The immortal kindly saved us, yet we tried to drive you away. I earnestly hope for your forgiveness."

Zhao Deshan's expression was genuine, the reverence in his eyes profound. This fifty-something Daoist showed a hint of deference akin to a junior.

Chen Yi waved his hand dismissively, indicating his lack of concern before continuing, "How did you manage to track me down?"

"We saw the immortal traveling alongside a Yin Sword Mountain Daoist companion and inquired as we went. Fortunately, we pressed forward without delay and were able to catch up with you."

Zhao Deshan quickly explained, fearful that Chen Yi might suspect ill intent.

With Chen Yi leading the way, the Daoists exhibited anxious expressions, though a few displayed a boldness, studying him closely. Among them was Li Huiyue, the Sect Leader's daughter. Though they said nothing aloud, their thoughts swirled—surely this youthful exterior concealed the spirit of an ancient, several-hundred-year-old monster.

"Sit. All of you, sit." Chen Yi gestured for the group to take seats in the front hall.

Recognizing destiny in their encounter, Chen Yi quickly engaged Zhao Deshan in conversation, learning that he hailed from Longevity Palace, part of the Shenxiao faction. They had ventured to Tongfu Inn to slay demons at the request of locals. Expecting only minor fiends obstructing paths, Zhao Deshan had led the disciples to capture them—both to defeat the menace and as experience for the junior members. Unexpectedly, the adversary turned out to be the bull demon. By the way, Zhao Deshan's Daoist title was "Wangzheng."

Chen Yi was naturally familiar with Shenxiao's reputation and their expertise in talismanic formations. Unlike Quanzhen Sect or Taihua Mountain, sects that isolated themselves, Shenxiao was more aligned with the worldly Taoist sects like Yin Sword Mountain or True Martial Mountain that served the public. Mulling this over, a thought sparked within him.

"Daoist Wangzheng, may I entrust you with a task?"

Zhao Deshan immediately cupped his hands without hesitation, "A great kindness requires no thanks. As long as the deed doesn't violate heaven's principles, we cannot decline."

"Good."

Chen Yi nodded firmly.

"I want you to kill me."