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INE Chapter 113: Peach Blossoms
🕑 Added 2025-06-24 08:22:33 +0000 UTCMei Lixue hadn't seen how Ji Rong performed the sword move. In the brief moment of a flicker, she had already struck several times.
The first move was the "Thunderous Lightning" from Silent Mountains Sword Art.
This sword, she dedicated to Old Master Yan, thanking him for giving her such a fine divine sword.
The moonlight reflected off the Samsara beads, casting shimmering ripples like silver tassels hanging from the sky.
Spiritual energy gently swept across the Bodhi beads, leaving a delicate web of cracks on their surface.
Mei Lixue didn’t catch the details of the move, but Kongji did. Seeing it clearly only made him more astonished.
With Ji Rong’s cultivation at the beginning stages of the Stepping on the Moon realm, she had only struck once, yet nearly shattered the Samsara beads.
Having lived for centuries, Kongji had never heard of such an anomaly.
Looking at Ji Rong’s sword stance, Kongji suddenly thought of someone.
If it were that person, everything would make sense.
The second strike, Ji Rong chose the third move from Silent Mountains and Rivers, "Nirvana."
This sword technique was a tribute to Yue Qianqiu, and also to herself for those years of leveling up beyond reason.
When Ji Rong struck, a purple mist began to rise from the horizon.
In the midst of the mountains, a faint sound of a phoenix’s cry echoed.
Mei Lixue watched as a Phoenix flew from the horizon, its body glowing with a radiance.
At first, one appeared, then five, then ten.
Hundreds of phoenixes flew from all directions, circling and soaring around Ji Rong.
Passersby on the ground heard the phoenix’s cry and stopped to look up.
One exclaimed, "Good heavens, is this the Hundred Birds Worshipping the Phoenix?"
"I think I saw a few people standing in the sky, with many lotus petals. It must be immortals arriving!"
Others rebutted, "Nonsense, there are no immortals in the world. It must be supreme martial artists fighting in the sky."
A scholar took out a piece of paper and, watching the divine birds dance in the sky, began composing poetry.
His heart raced as he wrote and laughed aloud, "Whether they are immortals or great masters, I just hope to see such a scene more often!"
On the mountain peak of the Divine Sect.
Feng He sat in a quiet room, playing a game of chess by himself, contemplating his moves.
But when he finished a game and looked out the window, he noticed the Phoenix that usually rested at the Divine Sect had flown away.
Normally, he wouldn't care about the birds, thinking they simply rested on the Chinese parasol trees because the sect’s spiritual energy was abundant.
But now, the Phoenix was flying with a long, mournful cry, leaving the Divine Sect.
This scene was truly bizarre.
Feng He furrowed his brow and stepped out of the room, intending to investigate, only to find someone standing at the entrance of the sect.
The person was carrying a peachwood sword, their clothes still damp with unbrushed dew.
Their eyes shone brightly like the dew, their expression calm and peaceful, though their words were anything but.
"Master Feng, I am Jiang Fei. I’ve come here today to challenge you to a duel."
Feng He looked toward the direction where the Phoenix had flown, seemingly towards the vicinity of Xuanji City.
His brow furrowed deeper, suspecting something had happened with the Saintess.
He then turned to Jiang Fei, expressionless, and said, "Sorry, I’m not available right now."
Every year, so many people wanted to challenge him. If he were to face them all, even a thousand clones wouldn’t be enough.
But Jiang Fei remained where she stood, unmoving, as if she had no intention of leaving.
She looked at Feng He and smiled. "I’m here to fight you, regardless of whether or not you’re free."
Her implication was clear, she didn’t like him, and she had come specifically to pick a fight.
Hearing this, Feng He’s frown deepened.
He realized that over the past few years, his frown had become far more frequent. When he frowned, it usually meant confusion or helplessness.
And at this moment, it was mostly confusion.
Perhaps in a few decades, Jiang Fei could truly challenge him, but right now, for her to seek him out for a duel was nothing short of courting death.
Feng He was known for his straightforwardness, so he shook his head and said, "I don’t want to kill you."
While this may sound arrogant, when it came from Feng He, it was not an exaggeration.
After all, if he truly wanted to kill Jiang Fei, it would take but a flick of his finger.
Most people hearing such words would likely turn away in frustration.
But Jiang Fei was no ordinary person.
She was Jiang Fei, and so she smiled slightly, saying to Feng He, "Master Feng, whether you want to kill me or not has nothing to do with me coming here to fight you."
"So now, I’m going to draw my sword. Prepare yourself."
The Phoenix circled around the petals, its wings shimmering with an ethereal glow. Kongji's face had already turned pale.
One strike had summoned hundreds of phoenixes, a spectacle in itself. But what truly stunned him was the phoenix that appeared inside the golden bell.
Over a hundred Phoenixes circled around that phoenix, crying out in unison.
Their feathers gleamed with iridescence, but compared to the phoenix inside the golden bell, they seemed dim and lifeless.
Clouds of mist swirled around the phoenix, wrapping it in a faint golden glow.
The phoenix’s wings were formed from the very essence of stars.
Its eyes, cold and indifferent, looked down upon the world like a deity, gazing down on all beings.
The moment Mei Lixue laid eyes on the phoenix, a trace of fear rose in her heart.
She had never felt this way before, but at this moment, the fear was unmistakably real.
For this phoenix didn’t seem like a summoned celestial beast, but more like... a god itself.
The phoenix exhaled flames, spreading vibrant colors across the sky.
The Samsara Beads couldn’t bear such pressure and shattered halfway.
Gu Baiyi watched the scene unfold, but he wasn’t surprised.
If Junior Sister had the strength of a Sword Saint at this moment, it wouldn’t just be the beads that shattered, but the mountains and rivers themselves.
The third strike was Ji Rong’s self-created sword technique.
It had no name, but had appeared a century ago.
At that time, she was still Yue Qianqiu, the sect leader of the Wanjian Sect.
One day, Mei He returned to the sect from Chang’an with several jars of fine wine. At the time, the disciples were still young and didn't know how to use spiritual energy to sober up, so they all passed out in the courtyard.
Gong Yu, drunk, lightly tugged at her sleeve and asked, “Master, why are there so many kinds of flowers on Bixue Peak, but rarely any peach blossoms?”
Chu Changli, seeing this, mimicked Gong Yu and grabbed her sleeve, asking in a muffled voice, “Yes, Master, why is that?”
The other two disciples sat aside, watching the moon rise from the water, falling into contemplation: Is it that the Master doesn’t like peach blossoms?
At that time, Yue Qianqiu thought to herself, "Why so many questions?"
It was simply because peach blossoms were popular and costly, so the sect had planted fewer of them due to budget constraints.
But seeing her disciples drunk to the point of collapse, unable to even help themselves, she pretended to be deep and asked, “Do you all like peach blossoms?”
“Like them." Gong Yu answered first.
She was always the first to respond to Yue Qianqiu’s questions, though her voice was often so soft it was barely heard, drowned out by Chu Changli and Bai Yushuang.
The other disciples nodded in agreement, “Of course, we like them.”
Yue Qianqiu looked at their bright eyes, her inner desire to show off bubbling up, but she maintained a calm and indifferent demeanor, though it seemed forced, as she said:
“Then, I’ll bring a shower of peach blossoms down for you.”
The disciples were puzzled. They had never known that peach blossoms could fall from the sky.
Then, they watched as Yue Qianqiu drew the Qingshuang Sword and lightly, ever so lightly, made a sword gesture.
They could tell that this was not a technique from any sect.
It was a move Yue Qianqiu had never copied from any book, because the techniques in the books were nowhere near as beautiful and gentle as this one.
It was a grand and gentle rain, like a ceremony, like a pilgrimage.
The entire mountain was covered with peach blossom petals.
Yue Qianqiu stood amidst the scattered petals, her robes billowing in the wind. She turned around, smiling at her disciples, “Isn’t it beautiful?”
