Volume One: The Emperor's Sword Chapter 60: Returning the Favor

The Golden Flood Python had seized both the advantage of time and place, while Xue Ziyi was left without even a serviceable weapon. Victory was out of the question; even preserving her own life and avoiding being devoured seemed a slender hope as she struggled to fend off the raging beast.

But the appearance of the Sword Stone transformed the battlefield. Thirty-six flying swords burst forth, forming a profound and mysterious sword formation. Xue Ziyi’s fortunes reversed instantly, as if she’d grown wings—soon, she forced the Golden Flood Python back beneath the water’s surface.

The small boat in the heart of the river had already shattered. Fortunately, the three disciples aboard survived and now floated upon the water, crying out for rescue. Ma Yong and Niu Butsai, seeing an opportunity, each controlled their flying swords to rush to the river’s center. With practiced agility, and with the help of their senior sister, they managed to pull the three from the water one after another.

On the shore, the disciples of the Northern Yard cheered in delight at the rescue of their comrades. But suddenly, a whirlpool appeared on the river’s surface, the water rising swiftly, churning up into a waterspout!

Xue Ziyi and the others were all trapped inside!

Within the waterspout, golden light flashed—it was none other than the work of the Golden Flood Python.

Cries of alarm echoed from the watching crowd as a great hole was torn through the waterspout. Thirty-six flying swords howled outward, with Xue Ziyi and her companions bursting from danger and landing swiftly upon the riverbank.

The waterspout collapsed, but the massive Golden Flood Python was not willing to give up its prey. It surged toward the bank, jaws wide, stirring up a huge wave behind it, its momentum irresistible.

Xue Ziyi steadied herself on the shore, formed a sword seal with her fingers, and called out in a ringing voice, “By my command!”

Ma Yong and Niu Butsai responded at once, urging their flying swords to her side and pooling their spiritual energy to the utmost. Wu Dachuan and the other disciples of the Northern Yard also stepped forward, each drawing their swords. Those with Spirit Overflow Rings activated their magical weapons; those without gripped their sword hilts tightly.

Yun Que wielded a long saber seized from the barbarian tribes, which he activated with his own Spirit Overflow Ring.

With a mighty wave, the Golden Flood Python reached the bank, claws and fangs bared.

Facing the ferocious beast, Xue Ziyi’s sword seal grew ever more intricate. The thirty-six flying swords suddenly became ethereal, as if multiplying, real and unreal, like frost or rain.

Yun Que noticed something: Ma Yong and Niu Butsai’s sword seals were nearly identical to their senior sister’s. Their flying swords also showed signs of becoming illusory, but none as elusive as the ones Xue Ziyi controlled.

Sword technique! And not just any technique, but the same one!

Yun Que immediately thought of the Northern Yard Elder’s teachings. With so few disciples left, if he did not pass on his best arts, the Northern Yard would soon be empty.

“Release your swords!” Xue Ziyi shouted. Everyone struck as one.

Regardless of their actual power, the spectacle was awe-inspiring.

The advancing Golden Flood Python was visibly intimidated, its speed dramatically reduced. The enormous wave behind it began to freeze, a layer of ice slowly creeping across its surface!

Yun Que watched Xue Ziyi’s swordsmanship without blinking. Her skills, at the Foundation Establishment stage, far surpassed those of the Qi Refining disciples. She could even manifest the power of the Five Elements within her swordplay!

Under Xue Ziyi’s sword aura, a strange frost appeared along the riverbank, and the stones at their feet became covered in white in an instant.

The power of ice!

A layer of frost formed over the Golden Flood Python’s scales, quickly thickening into ice. As it lunged at the shore, its entire body was frozen solid—transformed into a sculpture of ice!

What a formidable sword art, Yun Que thought with admiration. He could truly feel the chill seeping toward him—not an illusion, but a palpable, biting cold!

The others believed the Golden Flood Python was finished and cheered wildly, but Xue Ziyi remained grave and watchful.

Crack—crack—

The sound of shattering ice rang out. The python’s head broke free, its scarlet eyes fixed on the group by the shore.

The disciples of the Northern Yard felt their scalps prickle and a cold sweat run down their spines.

At last, they understood the terror of a third-rank demon beast—almost impossible to destroy!

As the beast struggled to break free, Xue Ziyi shifted her sword seal again, pouring out her spiritual energy without reserve.

Sizzle! Sizzle! Sizzle!

The crackle of gathered electricity exploded along the bank! Her thirty-six swords fanned out in formation, arcs of lightning dancing at each tip.

A moment later, the currents merged into a single bolt, thundering down on the frozen python.

At the sight of the lightning, the new disciples’ eyes went wide in shock, hearts trembling with awe at the might of a Foundation Establishment cultivator.

To condense frost with a sword, to call thunder with a blade—this was true power!

When the lightning faded, a great swath of the python’s scales was charred and smoking, flesh torn and bloody—the beast was finally gravely wounded.

Xue Ziyi, barely able to stand, was gasping for breath, her spiritual energy nearly exhausted.

The Golden Flood Python no longer attacked, choosing instead to retreat into the river and flee downstream.

No matter how cunning, a third-rank demon beast could not match the intellect of humankind. If the python had realized Xue Ziyi was spent, it would not have fled, but counterattacked. In that case, she might have survived, but few other disciples would have lived.

Seeing the monster escape, Xue Ziyi let out a long breath. At last, they had survived the ordeal.

Remembering the Sword Stone in her hand, she turned to Yun Que in surprise. “Wasn’t the Sword Stone pawned to the Sword Palace treasury? How did it end up with you, junior brother?”

“I redeemed it from the treasury for you last night, using some silver notes,” Yun Que replied, having already prepared his answer.

“The treasury accepts silver notes? How much did you use?” Xue Ziyi was even more baffled; the upright elders of the sect never seemed to care for money.

“Not much, just under one hundred million taels,” Yun Que replied lightly.

“My thanks, junior brother. Remember what I owe you—I’ll pay you back in full someday,” said Xue Ziyi, recognizing that Yun Que didn’t wish to elaborate, and feeling deeply grateful. Without the Sword Stone, there was no telling whether the new disciples could have been saved.

Though Yun Que hadn’t fought, he had been the pivotal figure in this crisis.

Ma Yong was stunned. “Less than a hundred million taels? Old Niu, what does a hundred million look like?”

Niu Butsai shook his head. “Don’t ask me—I can’t even write that many zeros.”

Though Yun Que had not raised a hand, he had witnessed every detail of Xue Ziyi’s battle, gaining new insight into the way of the sword and profiting greatly from the experience. He especially coveted Xue Ziyi’s swordsmanship.

His late uncle’s teachings were subtle and reserved, nurturing sword intent within but lacking actual techniques—like inner cultivation. The senior sister’s swordsmanship, by contrast, had established forms and seals, powerful and traceable—like external skills.

To become a true master, one must cultivate both inner and outer strength.

With this in mind, Yun Que resolved to seek out his senior sister’s sword art when the opportunity arose. As he was pondering this, he felt a violent stir within his sea of consciousness.

At first, he thought it was his late uncle, but soon realized the agitation came from the Blind Serpent.

Since its soul had been captured and confined in his mind, the Blind Serpent had never dared act out—save, perhaps, for a few beatings. Now, however, it was clearly restless for some reason.

Yun Que was untroubled; with his uncle’s presence and the River of Swords within his consciousness, the serpent could never escape.

What puzzled him was the strong sense of anticipation emanating from the Blind Serpent, as if a starving beggar had suddenly seen a feast.

Reaching out with his soul, Yun Que instantly understood—the Blind Serpent wanted to devour the Golden Flood Python.

He hesitated, then decided to grant the serpent’s wish. After all, during the battle against the tree demon in Misty Mountain, the Blind Serpent had been a great help. Whether it had done so under duress or for other reasons, Yun Que owed it a favor—he would repay that debt now.

Making an excuse to look for Luo Xiaoyu, Yun Que slipped away from the crowd. Once out of sight, he mounted his sword and flew low along the river in pursuit.

By the riverbank, in a small grove, Luo Xiaoyu flexed her right hand, bandaged so thoroughly it resembled a rice dumpling, and nodded with satisfaction. “Not bad at all—my handiwork keeps improving.”

Indeed, her wrapping was impressive, though rather too thorough; a minor scratch now looked like a broken hand.

Glancing around to be sure she was alone, Luo Xiaoyu stealthily dug a hole and hastily buried the silver pomfret that had bitten her.

Once silvery, the fish was now entirely black, as if poisoned.

Just as she finished, the sound of someone slicing through the air startled her. She ducked behind a tree, then peered out curiously.

She caught sight of Yun Que flying off on his sword.

“Huh! How can Senior Brother Yun fly?”

She rubbed her eyes, trying to see more clearly, but he was already gone.

“Maybe I’m dizzy from blood loss,” she muttered, leaving the woods with a resolve to rest properly once she returned—no more staying up late to mix medicines.