Suddenly, the Bloodthirsty Saber Xie Feng said coldly, "Boy, what is 'justice' in the martial world? I'll show you today!"
Wu Tong's mind flashed to the words of Confucius and Mencius—Mencius had said: "When the world has the Way, devote yourself to it; when the world has lost the Way, give your life for it. Never have I heard of one who would sacrifice the Way for the sake of another." But that is a tale for another time.
Xie Feng's figure flickered; his saber came down in a strike as fierce as a collapsing mountain and a crashing thunderbolt. With a ringing shua, Wu Tong met the blow head-on. The two clashed at close quarters, both giving their all from the very first move. Steel rang against steel, the clash resounding in the ears. With a single, testing bind, they gauged the depth of each other's inner strength.
Xie Feng sneered, roaring, "Boy, next year on this day will mark your death anniversary!" No sooner had he spoken than his body twisted, his saber sweeping toward Wu Tong's left side. His blade-work was lightning-fast—flashes of steel weaving a storm of slashes. Cold light flickered with each blow, kicking up dust all around. Yet Wu Tong countered with calm precision, steady in his defense.
In a sudden burst, Wu Tong unleashed the move Three Blades to Each Side, six cuts in quick succession—three to the left, three to the right—fast as a hurricane. The arcs of saber light sealed every avenue of Xie Feng's retreat.
Wu Tong shouted, "Bloodthirsty Saber, I'll send you on your way today—no need to thank me, just go to the Western Paradise!"
Xie Feng leapt back, saber across his chest in a defensive guard. "A white blade in, a red blade out—enough talk!" he snarled. Then his saber surged forward again with a hiss, his attacks as fierce as the wind, cutting directly at Wu Tong.
Wu Tong dared not be careless. Concentrating his mind, he switched to Summoning Clouds and Calling Rain, his saber-arc changing in an instant. The blade danced like a storm of wind and rain, flower-like bursts scattering in all directions—shifting, elusive, and unpredictable.
A flicker of surprise flashed in Xie Feng's eyes, but he steadied himself, spinning his blade into Saber Wind Pursues the Shadow. With a subtle twist of the wrist, the saber edge veered sharply. His footwork changed—sometimes heavy as a mountain, sometimes light as a breeze—his strikes chaotic yet oddly ordered.
Wu Tong, breaking down each strike, soon realized that Xie Feng's blade-work, though appearing wild, hid within it the cycles of the Five Elements. Every cut concealed variation, making it hard to predict. Though they traded blow after blow without resolution, Wu Tong could not help but admire it.
The Bloodthirsty Saber was famed for his speed; his Sixteen Frenzied Saber Strikes had carried him across the martial world for years. The style was fierce and overwhelming, the wielder's momentum like a tiger's roar. Many coveted the Crouching Dragon Blade Manual, but none dared make the first move—save Xie Feng, who was bold and arrogant enough to challenge Wu Tong directly.
Yet his overconfidence backfired. He had assumed the manual would be his for the taking. From the first exchange, however, he knew Wu Tong's skill was deep and his inner strength pure; saber-force alone would not prevail. They traded more than fifty moves, still without a clear victor.
At last Xie Feng roared, launching Peerless Saber Ferocity, a flurry of cuts crashing down like thunder, vicious beyond compare. Wu Tong instantly shifted, using the Eighth Cloud-Hand Form, No Trace of Man, his body flowing like a dragon through clouds, slipping past every strike.
When Xie Feng's blows found only empty air, shame and rage flooded him. "If you're afraid, hand over the manual and I'll spare your life!"
Wu Tong halted, turned, and smiled faintly. "Truth be told, I was only warming up. If you're the one who's afraid, leave now. The Crouching Dragon Saber in my hand is meant for cutting down the wicked."
Xie Feng's eyes burned red with fury. "Do you know who the Bloodthirsty Saber is? Now I'll kill you and take the manual!" His killing intent exploded, and his saber-arc shifted to a deadly rhythm.
Wu Tong knew the man had descended into madness. With a sigh, he swept the saber in twin arcs. "Heaven's sins may be survived; self-made sins cannot."
At once, he executed Lure to Capture, opening his stance with a faint flaw. Seeing this, Xie Feng exulted and lunged in with Breaking the Gate, thrusting straight at Wu Tong's chest.
But Wu Tong had been waiting. His inner force surged, and in a flash he unleashed Riding the Saber Like Lightning. Steel shrieked, saber-light flared—and with a single horizontal cut across the chest, a fierce wind tore through the air.
Blood sprayed. A scream ripped through the stillness, followed by a dull groan. The Bloodthirsty Saber froze where he stood, eyes wide with disbelief. A moment later, he crashed to the ground—dead.
Wu Tong stood with saber in hand, awe-inspiring, his gaze sweeping the field. Silence blanketed the land; only the wind stirred, carrying specks of dust and the scars carved in the earth by their duel. He remained still for a long moment before releasing a deep, weary sigh.
Zhao Rou, overjoyed, stepped forward. "Any other experts who wish to try their luck?" she called, her voice ringing with bold challenge. She came to stand beside Wu Tong, her eyes alight with pride and admiration.
Wu Tong gazed around, his eyes carrying a tinge of sorrow and solemn grandeur. Taking a deep breath, he said, "This battle was not my wish. Blades and swords are without feeling; the grudges of the martial world are endless. Worthy heroes, this place is not fit for lingering—if there is no other business, please take your leave." He raised his hand in a gesture of invitation, his tone steady, his presence commanding without anger.
Some in the crowd had come out of curiosity, some to fan the flames and profit from the chaos, and others with schemes to snatch advantage amid confusion. But after seeing Wu Tong slay the Bloodthirsty Saber, all were gripped by fear. None dared invite destruction upon themselves. One by one, the martial artists drifted away.
Wu Tong, seeing Xie Feng's corpse lying in the wilderness, felt uneasy. He called out, "Is there any friend of the Bloodthirsty Saber here? Please see to his remains." Two men stepped from the crowd, lifted the body onto a horse, and departed.
Heaven's law cannot be defied, Heaven's order cannot be overturned. In killing the Bloodthirsty Saber, Wu Tong had acted out of necessity—yet it was in accord with justice, nothing more than the turning of the Wheel of Heaven.
It was midday, the sun blazing in a cloudless sky. Wu Tong and Zhao Rou mounted their horses and rode away. Dust rose behind them, and before long their figures were gone. The green hills stood as before, the years as ever. The mountains and rivers remained, the sun rose and set, and the Crouching Dragon Ridge was still the Crouching Dragon Ridge. No matter how many heroes it might see through the ages, all would pass in the long river of history.