Volume One, Chapter 47: Third Senior Sister, Yun Jinshu

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At the Long Zhan Manor.

The room was thick with the scent of blood.

Long Zhan once again uncontrollably spat a mouthful of fresh blood, his breath growing increasingly weak, and the resentment in his heart deepening.

Today, within the ancestral courtyard, Zhao Wujiang’s final sword strike caught him completely off guard, inflicting severe internal injuries.

No matter how hard he tried to regulate his breath, his wounds healed agonizingly slowly, as if the tyrannical sword itself contained a destructive power that continuously undermined the vitality within his body.

“Zhao Wujiang, you and I are sworn enemies!” he roared inwardly, fully aware that only by steadying his emotions could he slow the damage from his internal injuries. Yet his burning rage toward Zhao Wujiang made it impossible to fully calm his mind for the time being.

Especially with the lively atmosphere in the prince’s mansion not far from his own estate—he could faintly hear the clinking of cups even with his door closed.

That honor, that celebration, should have belonged to him, Long Zhan! If only the Northern Prince hadn’t feigned death and just happened to return to the capital today to back Zhao Wujiang.

Most importantly, Zhao Wujiang’s sudden breakthrough in cultivation had made Long Zhan recall the Bridal Garment Divine Art...

Amidst the turmoil of his thoughts, the door was gently pushed open.

Sensing this, Long Zhan grasped the King’s Sword at his side with caution. When he saw who had entered, he was momentarily stunned before a rare smile appeared on his face.

It was his Third Senior Sister, Yun Jinshu, graceful and fair, wearing a sky-blue long dress. Her eyes sparkled with youthful vivacity, yet she carried the serene beauty of a noble lady.

At last, someone from the sect had come—his long wait was not in vain.

“Senior Sister...” Long Zhan called out with a smile, but pain flitted across his brow as the injury tugged at him.

“Don’t speak yet,” Yun Jinshu said, her attention not on Long Zhan himself but fixed on the King’s Sword beside him. She stepped closer, her curiosity growing.

“This is the Heavenly Sword?

The pure blue light represents the King’s Way Heavenly Sword’s essence of life; the blood-red light signifies the Tyrannical Heavenly Sword’s dominion of death.

You hold the King’s Way sword, yet how could you be so gravely injured and unable to heal?”

Hearing this, Long Zhan realized that Yun Jinshu had a way to treat his internal wounds.

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As expected of the Third Senior Sister—well-versed in both ancient and modern knowledge. Though her martial skill was modest, her innate understanding of the martial arts far surpassed anyone Long Zhan had met.

“Third Senior Sister...” Long Zhan intended to ask for help. Sensing his thoughts, Yun Jinshu cut him off.

“Since the King’s Way Heavenly Sword has accepted you as its master, your blood can activate its inherent healing power.”

Long Zhan seized the sword, cutting his palm sharply. Blood trickled down the water-blue blade. In the next moment, the King’s Way Heavenly Sword burst forth with dazzling blue light, illuminating the entire room.

Countless streams of light flowed toward Long Zhan’s seven orifices, penetrating his limbs and bones.

He felt his injuries rapidly mending, a tingling warmth spreading throughout his body, and he let out a satisfied groan.

“As far as I know, since ancient times, the owners of Heavenly Swords have been invincible. The King’s Way sword’s healing power is especially crucial,” Yun Jinshu said, intensely interested in Long Zhan’s recovery. She grabbed his arm to feel it up close.

“The heavier the injury, the swifter the recovery, often leading to a breakthrough in strength...

If you seize this chance to accelerate your cultivation during recovery, you might break through the boundary and step into the fifth rank in one go...

But I’m curious—Zhao Wujiang has long wasted his body on wine and women; how could he possibly have the martial strength to defeat you? Could it be that the Tyrannical Heavenly Sword’s power is stronger than your King’s Way sword?

That shouldn’t be...”

Long Zhan’s face darkened. Yun Jinshu’s mention stirred his anger anew, and he blurted out,

“That useless Zhao Wujiang, no matter how he trains, could never be my match!

It’s only because he used the Bridal Garment Divine Art today! Borrowing power not his own!

Despicable and shameless!

And... my Fourth Senior Sister has most likely betrayed me. Otherwise, how could Zhao Wujiang have learned the Bridal Garment Divine Art, which I have never touched?”

“Qing Xue betrayed you? And there’s this too?” Yun Jinshu’s eyes gleamed with growing curiosity; she loved the mysteries of the world and the thrill of unraveling them.

———

Outside the Northern Prince’s Mansion, in front of the heir’s bridal chamber.

The paper covering one of the windowpanes was quietly pierced, and a single eye pressed against it.

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“What’s there to see? Why drag me along? If the Northern Prince finds out we’re spying on Zhao Wujiang, we’ll—”

Ling Qingxue scanned the surroundings warily and tugged at her Fifth Junior Sister, Liu Ruyan.

“I could just say I’m Zhao Wujiang’s woman. Would the Northern Prince dare to scold his own daughter-in-law?”

Liu Ruyan poked a small hole in another windowpane nearby.

“Senior Sister, don’t pretend. Don’t you want to watch?”

“I don’t want to...” Ling Qingxue said, but her eyes had already slipped inside.

“That dog of a man! He’s never been this gentle to me. Senior Sister, aren’t you angry? Have you ever felt such tenderness from him?”

Ling Qingxue remained silent, thinking,

Why would I want to feel that?

I’m not Zhao Wujiang’s woman!

Ugh, what am I thinking?

Just then, a faint flute melody drifted through the air.

“Hm? A flute? Senior Sister, where is that coming from?”

Liu Ruyan turned around.

“That familiar flute...” Ling Qingxue frowned, looking toward the mansion’s exterior.

“Third Senior Sister is here. She’s calling for us...”