When the pill shot straight into Qingxuan Daoist's mouth, two people visibly flinched:
One was Sect Master Wu Duantian.
The other was Chen Huaian, staring blankly at his phone.
Just moments ago, the game had prompted:
"Deliver the untainted pill to Qingxuan Daoist? Cost: 6 yuan."
Chen had clicked "Yes."
So this was what they meant by "deliver"?
So violent?!
Wouldn't that make the NPC snap?
Wasn't there a risk of suddenly triggering a Bad Ending?
Wu Duantian, meanwhile, was stunned not by the pill but by the sheer barbarism of it—
A great cultivator shoving pills down someone else's throat?
Uncultured! Absolutely explosive!
Yet… somehow, satisfyingly bold.
Even Li Qingran stood dumbfounded, a single ahoge strand sticking up on her forehead.
Qingxuan Daoist's throat bobbed as he involuntarily swallowed the pill.
Rage burned in his chest, but just as he was about to explode, the medicinal power surged through his body.
No poison.
Not even a trace.
Just as the mysterious senior had said—he hadn't cheated.
Xiao Yifeng's suffering… was entirely self-inflicted.
A complicated emotion flickered across Qingxuan's face.
His fury subsided a little.
He couldn't very well claim this pill was poisoned in front of everyone.
That would be shameless to the extreme.
And the one behind all this? Still hidden in the shadows.
If Qingxuan made a move and lost…
Well, it would be better not to show his face in Qingyun Sect ever again.
He decided to swallow his pride.
After a long pause, his stiff expression twitched a few times before he squeezed out:
"Mm. This Great Rejuvenation Pill… indeed has no poison."
"I failed to teach my disciple properly. Letting Senior witness such a joke is my shame."
"But Xiao Yifeng is exceptionally talented in the Dao of Alchemy. If he one day achieves something, perhaps he can learn under you."
Qingxuan's words were mild… but they carried a veiled warning.
Thirty years east of the river, thirty years west.
Chen Huaian caught the implication and snorted with disdain:
"By the time your disciple amounts to anything, I'll have already pay-to-win'd my Qingran baby into a Sword Immortal."
---
"No need to wait that long, Master. I'll challenge her today."
Footsteps rang out across the plaza. Everyone turned.
Lu Changtian stepped up the stone steps and stood before Li Qingran.
He slowly drew his flying sword.
A sharp, rising aura began to gather around him, locking eyes with Li Qingran like a blade.
He was the First Disciple of Chixiao Peak, late Foundation Establishment stage.
Among cultivators under thirty, this was already a heaven-blessed prodigy.
The two of them stood face to face, tension thick enough to slice with a blade.
Lu Changtian's robe flared in phantom wind.
His gaze grew colder, full of anger and scorn.
At the height of his aura, he suddenly compressed it downward—stopping at Qi Refining stage 7.
"Junior Sister. I still call you that… but I speak of the girl you used to be. Not the monster you've become."
"If not for you, Zhang Hanxiao, Yun Zimo, Xiao Yifeng—they wouldn't be lying half-dead.
Chixiao Peak wouldn't be shamed. Master wouldn't have to bow his head!"
---
"Then I will not call you Senior Brother."
Li Qingran drew her sword Su Xian. The blade tilted toward Lu Changtian.
In its reflection—eyes like frost-covered glass.
"The day I fell from the dueling platform, Lu Changtian was already dead to me."
"You hurt Little Sister. You deserved it."
"If I truly wanted to hurt Mu Baishuang, could you have stopped me?"
"I was Foundation Establishment. She was Qi Refining.
No Elders. No Sect Master. Just you and an Outer Sect Elder in Core Formation."
"And you think you could stop me?"
---
"Enough talk. Let's see if your sword's as sharp as your tongue!"
Lu Changtian charged.
Sword light whistled like winter frost.
It was Gathering Frost and Snow—Mu Baishuang's signature move.
A technique from the Lesser Formless Sword Style.
He had lowered his cultivation to match hers—Qi Refining level 7,
And copied Mu Baishuang's exact swordplay from the arena.
He wanted to prove—
Was she truly as untouchable as she claimed?
---
Li Qingran immediately saw through his intention.
She dodged the sweeping strike, flickered behind him, and stabbed toward thin air.
Lu Changtian emerged from that "empty space," his brows tightly furrowed.
A hawk-like flip let him evade the blade.
When he felt a chill rush above his scalp, he instinctively raised his sword—
A heavy force slammed down—
But vanished instantly.
He whipped his leg in a surprise strike—only for Li Qingran to float three steps back like a snowflake.
Before he could recover, her sword lunged forward—
A cascade of light.
The sixth move of the Lesser Formless Sword Style — "Rain Unending."
---
Lu Changtian's body couldn't keep up with his mind.
He didn't expect her sword to be so fast.
Even knowing every technique she had used, he could barely defend.
Rain Unending—at most forty-nine strikes.
He remembered: when sparring with her, she never exceeded thirty.
Just thirty. That's all he had to hold out—
Too late.
A streak of cold light pierced the air, fast beyond belief.
A hazy silhouette followed like thunder chasing lightning.
It was no longer a rain of strikes—but a torrential sword waterfall.
From that curtain of light, a thread of true Sword Intent shimmered—sharp and silent.
After forty-nine strokes, a final thrust came forth—
unstoppable.
Clang!
Lu Changtian's sword flew from his hand.
He dropped to his knees, stunned.
Before him stood that girl—familiar and yet wholly alien.
Su Xian's blade hovered coldly at his throat.
---
"How… how did you draw the forty-ninth strike of Rain Unending?"
"Why?!"
Li Qingran's voice was soft. Almost a sigh. Maybe even a bitter laugh.
"Lu Changtian… I always could."
"You just never had the patience…
To let me reach it."