Ming Zhu did not dodge. Instead, he tilted his head and blinked. "Would you really have the heart?" he asked.
Lu Qingkong replied unceremoniously, "I’m not a cutsleeve. What does your good looks have to do with me?"
As he spoke, his sleeve blade pulled back slightly. His gaze met Ming Zhu’s eyes, and without a hint of mercy, he slashed the blade toward the side of Ming Zhu’s face.
In the next instant, Ming Zhu’s pupils constricted. He raised his right hand, striking out with a burst of spiritual energy against the hilt of the blade as Lu Qingkong flipped it mid-air. The sharp sleeve blade grazed Ming Zhu’s cheek, drawing a line of crimson, and flew into the air with a whistling sound that seemed to tear through the void.
Lu Qingkong’s hands moved rapidly, sketching a crude formation in the empty air. "Divide!"
With his low shout, the sleeve blade spinning in the air suddenly split from one into two, then two into four. In an instant, it transformed into a torrential rain of blades, gleaming snowy white under the light of the lamps.
It all happened in a heartbeat. The two of them coordinated with exquisite precision, as if they had practiced this a thousand times. Ming Zhu didn't even blink; the moment the rain of blades began to fall, he raised his hand and drew out every last drop of his spiritual energy. He coated the countless blade edges with it, sending them crashing down toward the two Nascent Soul cultivators with irresistible force.
Lu Qingkong loved researching strange and eccentric things. Even a small knife that appeared utterly ordinary was full of hidden mechanisms. As the rain of blades whistled down, the two men instinctively bolstered their spiritual energy, propping up a void-like protective barrier above their heads. However, the sharp blades passed through the barrier soundlessly, shooting straight down. The edges sliced across their bodies, leaving trail after trail of bloody gashes.
A thunderous boom echoed across the deck. A cloud of dust and debris swept upward, swallowing the two injured Nascent Soul cultivators within.
Ming Zhu’s black robes fluttered violently in the fierce wind. A thin trail of fresh blood flowed slowly from the cut on his face, which he wiped away carelessly with his hand. Because he had expended all his spiritual energy in a single burst, his entire body felt drained. He gasped for breath with difficulty, cold sweat soaking the long hair at his forehead, making him look particularly wretched.
Zhou Fuxue, still shaken, reached out to support him.
The Kuayu Sword sprang from Ming Zhu's waist, transforming into a tiny human figure floating in mid-air. "I've already notified people," he said quickly. "Just hold on a little longer."
Ming Zhu gave a strained "Mm," leaning his limp body against Zhou Fuxue as he watched the smoke ahead gradually clear.
The Honglian Sword, which had been resting on Zhou Fuxue, seemed to sense something. It drifted out cautiously and tapped Ming Zhu’s arm with its hilt. As if afraid of being hit, it immediately shrank back behind Zhou Fuxue after the touch.
Ming Zhu spared it a casual glance but didn't bother with it.
The Honglian Sword drifted out again, tapped him, and shrank back—timid as a mouse.
Ming Zhu grew impatient. "Kuayu, make it shut up."
"You got it!"
Kuayu floated directly behind Zhou Fuxue, dragged the Honglian Sword out, and pinned it to the floor for another beating.
Zhou Fuxue remained dazed through the entire process, feeling as though the world around him was in total chaos. For a moment, he didn't know what he should be doing. Hearing the clattering sounds behind him, he rubbed his brow and pulled Kuayu away, saying helplessly, "The Honglian Sword is connected to Senior Brother's left hand. Do you want his flesh to split open again?"
The Honglian Sword trembled and hid behind Zhou Fuxue.
Kuayu gave a scoff and turned back to find Ming Zhu.
Once the smoke cleared, the two Nascent Soul cultivators were covered in blood from Lu Qingkong’s sleeve blades. However, no matter how strange the blades were, the edges were too short to deal a fatal blow.
One of them gave a sinister laugh, pulled a sleeve blade from his shoulder, and tossed it carelessly to the ground. His dark, predatory eyes fixed on Ming Zhu, who could barely stand. "I truly underestimated you brats," he said. "You have some skill."
The moment he finished speaking, a terrifying Nascent Soul aura rapidly spread across the deck.
Before the pressure of the Nascent Soul cultivation could descend, Ming Zhu shoved Lu Qingkong and shouted urgently, "Fuxue, take your Ninth Senior Brother and go!"
Just as Zhou Fuxue was about to speak, Lu Qingkong exploded. "Go? Go where? If we could leave, why wouldn't you come with us? You make it sound so easy!"
Ming Zhu barked, "Kuayu!"
"Aye!" Kuayu answered, manifesting a transparent barrier out of thin air to shroud the three of them, blocking the staggering Nascent Soul pressure.
The force of the Nascent Soul cultivation was horrifying, striking the wooden planks of the deck until they shattered into sawdust, which was then swept into the air by the gale.
Ming Zhu grabbed Lu Qingkong and Zhou Fuxue, dragging them a few steps toward the edge of the deck. In just those few steps, he broke into a cold sweat. "Jump... jump down..."
Lu Qingkong snapped, "Are you crazy?"
Ming Zhu gasped for air. "Their target is me. They won't chase you."
"You—"
"You'll die if you stay here!" Ming Zhu gripped Lu Qingkong’s collar tightly, leaning close to his pale face. His lips trembled as he said, "They truly intend to kill. Can't you sense it?"
Neither Lu Qingkong nor Zhou Fuxue had ever seen Ming Zhu look so cold and stern. They were momentarily stunned.
Ming Zhu took a deep breath, his voice shaking slightly. "Don't... don't worry. Kuayu has already called for help. I'll be fine."
As he spoke, he hoisted Lu Qingkong up and threw him directly overboard.
Caught off guard, Lu Qingkong didn't even have time to react before he was swept up by a violent gust of wind. He plummeted straight down, and soon a roar echoed through the air: "Ming Zhu, you... bastard...!"
Ming Zhu didn't hear the foul-mouthed cursing. His hands didn't stop as he tried to grab Zhou Fuxue to throw him down as well. However, Zhou Fuxue dodged his hand with extreme alertness, looking at him with a face full of horror.
Ming Zhu said, "Thirteen, don't mess around. Hurry, Kuayu won't be able to hold on..."
Zhou Fuxue’s voice was trembling. "Senior... Senior Brother... are you abandoning me?"
Ming Zhu froze. Then, the tension in his face suddenly softened. He reached out toward Zhou Fuxue, forcing a faint smile. "What are you talking about? I won't have any—"
Before Ming Zhu could finish, Kuayu, who was struggling to maintain the barrier, suddenly shrieked. His figure vanished from the air instantly, and the overwhelming pressure descended upon the two of them with brutal force.
"Courting death." With a face full of killing intent, the man looked coldly at Ming Zhu and struck out directly with his palm.
Ming Zhu’s spiritual energy had been completely drained; he had no power to fight back. He could only watch as the palm force cleaved toward him. In the next heartbeat, a grey robe flashed. Ming Zhu felt someone lunging toward him, standing directly in front of him to shield him with their body.
Ming Zhu’s pupils shrank to pinpricks.
However, that palm strike did not hit Zhou Fuxue. At the critical moment, a burst of azure spiritual energy suddenly erupted from Zhou Fuxue’s body. Then, tiny specks of azure light flickered, condensing into a phantom figure—it was Gui He’s protective charm.
Yet, for some reason, Gui He’s protective charm was completely different from Ming Zhu’s. The phantom figure that appeared to protect them actually reached out and lightly waved a hand toward the incoming palm wind, instantly neutralizing the Nascent Soul-level attack.
In that flash of lightning, Zhou Fuxue had remembered the protective charm his Little Martial Uncle had given him before they left. He had gambled everything to rush forward and protect Ming Zhu. He hadn't expected that Little Martial Uncle’s charm would actually be so effective, capable of blocking even a strike from a Nascent Soul cultivator.
Seeing that thin, familiar figure of his Little Martial Uncle, Ming Zhu suddenly felt a wave of relief for some unknown reason.
As if he were conducting morning lessons with them as usual, the phantom of Gui He bowed slightly toward the two murderous cultivators with refined grace. He spoke amiably, "What grievances do you two gentlemen have with these two nephews of mine that you would resort to such cruel measures? If my sect's disciples have truly been thoughtless, I shall apologize to you on their behalf. I hope you can show magnanimity and overlook their faults."
When the taller cultivator saw Gui He’s face, he suddenly let out a cold laugh. "And here I was wondering who it was. So it’s Perfected Master Gui He of Rizhao, who supposedly died a tragic death in the secret realm. It truly has been a long time. You’re actually still alive?"
Gui He remained calm, smiling good-naturedly. "It has been a long time. May I ask who you are?"
The man: "..."
Zhou Fuxue helped Ming Zhu up. Hearing the man’s words, the two of them immediately locked eyes, both seeing the shock in the other’s gaze.
Gui He? Wasn't that the senior whose longevity lamp had gone out in the Hall of Longevity? How could he be their Little Martial Uncle?
The other cultivator, seeing his companion gritting his teeth in fury at Gui He, whispered, "It’s just a wisp of remnant consciousness. Shatter it, and those two brats will be easy pickings."
The man, fuming so hard he felt lightheaded, finally suppressed his rage. "I’ll deal with Gui He. You go grab that Ming Zhu. Remember, don't injure him again."
"Understood."
As he spoke, the man bypassed Gui He’s remnant consciousness and charged toward Ming Zhu and Zhou Fuxue. Gui He instinctively moved to protect them, but before he could act, the other cultivator coldly drew his sword, blocking Gui He’s path.
After all this exertion, Ming Zhu could barely stand. He leaned on Zhou Fuxue, only just managing not to collapse. Drenched in cold sweat, he whispered, "Zhou Fuxue, if you really don't leave now, there won't be another chance."
Even as he said this, his right hand—the only one he could move—was gripping Zhou Fuxue’s collar tightly. Even if Zhou Fuxue wanted to leave, he wouldn't have been able to break free.
Zhou Fuxue was utterly helpless.
The man coming to intercept them walked over step by step. Seeing the two of them quickly backed into a corner, he revealed a cruel smile. "Little beauty, as long as you come over obediently, I promise not to hurt him. How about it?"
Ming Zhu pursed his lips. Just as he was about to speak, a voice as cold as ice suddenly drifted from the side. "Not a chance."
Ming Zhu was stunned. Then, Kuayu cheered joyfully in his consciousness: "He’s here! Zhu-zi, this is the reliable backup I told you about!"
The savior appeared out of thin air, dressed in black robes with his long hair tied loosely in a bunch, fluttering in the fierce wind. His stern face was full of ferocity. He held a longsword imbued with pitch-black flames, pointing it directly at the Nascent Soul cultivator. His thin lips parted slightly.
"Get lost now, and I will let this go."
Zhou Fuxue frowned, wondering who this person was, when the Ming Zhu in his arms suddenly struggled to stand. He stammered toward the man, "F-f-f-f-fifth Brother!"
Shang Yanfeng turned his head, his grey eyes looking at Ming Zhu coldly. "Greetings, Eldest Senior Brother. Yanfeng has arrived late."
In the entirety of Rizhao Mountain, Shang Yanfeng was likely the only one who treated Ming Zhu with the proper attitude due to an Eldest Senior Brother.
Meanwhile, Lu Qingkong, who had been tragically tossed overboard by Ming Zhu, was not having a good time. He flailed in mid-air, struggling to pull a wooden boat from his storage ring to stabilize his fall, but he couldn't get the boat’s formation to activate despite his efforts.
Lu Qingkong cursed Ming Zhu with tears in his eyes while rummaging through his things for a life-saving artifact. Perhaps because he was too panicked, he couldn't find anything even after searching for a long time, and the ground was fast approaching.
"Aaaaah—!" Lu Qingkong let out an uncontrollable scream. Seeing the ground getting closer and closer, he instinctively closed his eyes.
However, in the next moment, a pair of hands suddenly caught his falling body. The whistling wind in his ears gradually faded. He was scooped up by the back of his knees and held horizontally in someone's arms. A strong scent of rose cakes wafted over him. By the time he realized what was happening, he had already been carried safely to the ground.
Lu Qingkong slowly let out a sigh of relief, thinking that the backup Ming Zhu called had finally arrived. If they had been any later, he might have turned into a puddle of mush.
He slowly opened his eyes, wanting to see which senior brother had saved him. In the next instant, Younü’s handsome and cute face appeared in his vision.
Younü was beaming, smiling as she said, "Senior Brother, Senior Brother, did Younü arrive in time?"
Lu Qingkong: "..."
Lu Qingkong stared blankly at Younü with a stiff body for a long time before he finally couldn't take it anymore. "Pfft—"
He was about to cough up blood.
***
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Is Everyone Else's Eldest Disciple Like This? | Chapter 47 | The Arrival of Yanfeng | Novela.app | Novela.app
