Chapter 142: You Talk Too Much

A cold glint flashed, arriving in the blink of an eye.

Qin Chuan’s vision was extraordinary; he instantly recognized the weapon as a ninja sword. The vertical blade shimmered with a dark blue hue, and the frigid murderous aura it exuded was enough to suffocate a man.

A master!

Qin Chuan’s eyes narrowed slightly. He made a split-second decision to avoid the edge, shifting his body to the side just as the blade sliced through the air and struck the ground.

Clang!

A jarring sound of metal clashing against stone, accompanied by a shower of sparks, pierced the darkness.

The assailant did not stop there. As if having anticipated the miss, the attacker rolled across the ground, wrists flipping to sweep the blade horizontally toward Qin Chuan’s legs. The movement was clean, crisp, and fluid.

"Not bad at all!"

Qin Chuan pushed off the ground, leaping high into the air. The sweeping strike, a variation of the ground-skimming saber technique, missed its mark once again.

"Baka!"

A raspy, angry curse echoed. The dark figure braced one hand against the floor, their waist coiling like a spring before suddenly snapping upright. The ninja sword thrust upward, aiming once more for Qin Chuan’s feet.

"Baka your grandfather!"

While still suspended in mid-air, Qin Chuan twisted his waist with a surge of force, spinning his body to evade the lethal strike.

"Die!"

Just then, a sharp voice rang out from the ceiling. A series of cold glints appeared; in his peripheral vision, Qin Chuan spotted several shuriken hurtling toward his vital points.

"You’re the ones who are going to die!"

Qin Chuan let out a cold snort. This time, instead of dodging, he chose to catch the projectiles with his bare hands.

Ding! Ding! Ding!

After catching the shuriken, Qin Chuan flicked his wrists, sending them flying back toward the ceiling.

"Ugh!"

With a muffled groan, a figure tumbled to the floor. Qin Chuan gave the assailant no chance to recover; he lunged forward, closing the distance in a flash, and stomped down hard on the figure's chest.

Crack!

The sound of snapping bones echoed. The fallen assailant let out a shrill scream, spat out a mouthful of blood, and then went limp as their head lolled to the side.

"Damn it!"

A curse erupted from behind, followed by a lightning-fast downward slash of a ninja sword. Qin Chuan tilted his head to dodge the fatal blow, simultaneously grabbing the blade’s edge with his right hand with pinpoint precision.

"Let go!"

Qin Chuan shook his wrist, channeling internal energy from his palm into the blade, which surged forward toward the wielder. Only then did he clearly see that his attacker was a masked figure clad in purple, with nothing visible but eyes radiating cold, murderous intent.

"Baka!"

The purple-clad ninja cursed, feeling an electric, numbing sensation course through their arm. Though they gripped the hilt with all their might, they could not withstand the sudden burst of internal energy and were forced to let go.

"Damn it, you persistent piece of trash, are you really going to keep this up?"

After disarming his opponent, Qin Chuan threw a left hook, slamming it into the masked figure’s head.

Boom!

As his fist connected with the ninja’s cheek, a cloud of black smoke suddenly erupted, momentarily catching Qin Chuan off guard.

"Blasted into dust?"

Qin Chuan quickly dismissed the thought, a playful glint flashing in his eyes.

"Ninjas! How interesting."

Qin Chuan sneered, holding his breath to sense the ninja's trail. However, the figure seemed to have vanished into thin air; the vast room was silent, not a sound to be heard.

Four or five seconds later, Qin Chuan felt a slight disturbance in the airflow. He spun around and hurled the captured ninja sword with all his might.

Thwack!

As the blade pierced flesh, the purple figure’s shoulder was struck. Due to the sheer force of the throw, the sword punched through the ninja’s body and embedded itself halfway into the wall. The ninja was pinned right there.

"Ah! Baka—"

Before the final syllable could escape, Qin Chuan delivered a punch that forced the sound back down the ninja's throat. The excruciating pain in their abdomen made the ninja break into a cold sweat, their body twitching in spasms. Qin Chuan showed no mercy, his fists raining down on the ninja like a storm.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

The purple-clad ninja was reduced to a human punching bag. After thirty consecutive blows, the figure went completely still.

Qin Chuan quickly moved toward the light switch on the wall. Just as his hand reached for it, a sudden sense of alarm flared—an unprecedented feeling of danger surged through him.

Whoosh!

Qin Chuan dodged violently to the side. A sword mark over three inches deep was carved into the wall where he had been standing. Crucially, this mark was not caused by a physical blade, but by a powerful gust of air—what practitioners of the sword call "Sword Qi."

Sword Qi is similar to the force of a punch, but it is the manifestation of a warrior’s internal energy projected through a blade. Being wounded by Sword Qi is often far more severe than being struck by a physical weapon. Qin Chuan had not sensed this presence earlier, though he didn't believe the opponent was stronger than him; it was likely a technique to mask one’s presence, something ninjas were particularly skilled at.

In the darkness, Qin Chuan’s vision remained sharp. He caught a glimpse of a tall, lithe figure in the distance. A dark purple ninja uniform clung perfectly to her frame, and the sword in her palm shimmered with a chilling intent.

A female ninja!

"If you don't want the sword techniques of the Hokushin Itto-ryu to be lost forever, surrender now. Otherwise, don't blame me for being ruthless to a beauty," Qin Chuan warned in Japanese.

The female ninja remained silent, her eyes growing colder, followed by an even more frigid gleam from her blade.

Swish! Swish! Swish!

She swung her sword three times in succession, sending three streaks of Sword Qi slicing toward Qin Chuan in the shape of a grid. Qin Chuan dodged again, and the wall behind him was scarred with a deep, grid-like pattern.

"Wooo... woo..."

Just as Qin Chuan prepared to counterattack, a muffled sobbing sound drifted from the inner room—someone had clearly been gagged.

Qin Chuan spoke again: "Hand over the person, and I’ll spare your life."

"Only by defeating the sword in my hand do you earn the right to negotiate with me."

The female ninja’s voice was icy, her tone arrogant, as if she didn't consider Qin Chuan a threat at all. Most notably, she spoke in fluent Mandarin; had it not been for Qin Chuan’s sharp senses, he would never have realized she was from the Land of Cherry Blossoms.

"Defeating the sword in your hand is more than just a negotiation. Are you sure you want to risk your life to tangle with me?"

Qin Chuan responded in Mandarin as well; since she had already identified his status, there was no point in continuing the charade.

"You talk too much!"

Before the words had finished echoing, the female ninja launched another attack.

Qin Chuan’s mouth twitched slightly. Are villains these days really this cocky? Daring to tell the protagonist that he talks too much?

Facing the incoming Sword Qi, Qin Chuan did not dodge this time. He knew clearly that he had to end this fight quickly; if he dragged it out, escaping unscathed would be as difficult as ascending to the heavens.

"You're courting death!"

Seeing Qin Chuan attempt to block the Sword Qi with his bare hands, the female ninja’s lips curled into a sneer of utter disdain, and she instinctively poured even more power into her strike.