Darius's eyes gleamed with a cold, sinister light as he sized up the young woman before him. A sneer tugged at his lips."This little girl—what could she possibly do? Even if she's trained from the cradle, what strength could she have?"
He spoke with mocking ease, his deep voice dripping with contempt."Girl, you'd best mind yourself. This man before you is a prince of the Western Regions. I'd advise you kindly—think twice. You could do worse than to become his princess."
Ling Xian'er arched an elegant brow, her almond eyes flashing with anger. A frosty smile curved her lips."No! That man's nothing but a lecherous beast reborn. If someone must become his princess, perhaps you should volunteer!"
A ripple of laughter spread through the crowd.Darius's face turned crimson with fury; his breath came hot as his eyes bulged like bronze bells."Little wretch! Don't mistake my patience for weakness!"
But Ling Xian'er's tone only sharpened, her face a mask of calm defiance."No means no! Since fate has sent me a beast, it's perfect—because what I'm best at… is slaying beasts like you!"
Darius barked a laugh, the sound booming like thunder."Then don't blame me for what happens next!"
With a guttural shout, he dropped his shoulder, gathering power in his legs. The earth trembled as he kicked off, charging forward like a tiger breaking from its cage. His palms cut the air with hurricane force, dust swirling from the ground before his strikes even landed.
But Ling Xian'er was the picture of serenity—still as a lake, then swift as lightning. She shifted lightly, her steps airy as drifting willows, gliding just beyond his reach. In a blur of motion, her eyes flashed and—crack!—her palm shot forward, landing squarely against his chest!
Darius staggered backward, shock flooding his face. His breath caught, heat surging up his throat."How… how can this girl's strength be so deep?"
He steadied himself, growling through clenched teeth."Impressive, girl—but don't get cocky. Darius hasn't even begun to fight!"
Ling Xian'er gave a chilly smile. "Then stop talking. Show me what you've got."
With a low snarl, Darius sprang forward again, his form blurring, palms whipping in a storm of strikes. His power tore through the air like a tempest, forcing the onlookers to shield their faces.
"Good! Come, then!" Ling Xian'er called, her voice like a silver bell in the chaos. She flowed around him, light and unpredictable, dodging each attack with dancer's grace. Darius's strikes hit only empty air.
Frustration twisted his features. He suddenly changed tactics—his open palms curved into claws, fingers hooked like steel talons, lunging for her chest!
But Ling Xian'er had already read his move. She spun backward, sleeves fluttering like wings. A burst of hidden power surged from her wrists—gentle as silk, yet fierce as a blade. Her palms met his with explosive force.
Bang! Bang! Bang!Three collisions echoed in rapid succession. Air currents exploded outward, kicking up sand and grit.
Darius was forced back again and again, disbelief creeping into his eyes."Impossible… I can't even touch her!"
Before he could recover, Ling Xian'er's waist twisted, her body sliding close in one fluid motion. Her palms flickered like butterflies darting through flowers, striking at a series of pressure points along his spine and chest—Shenzhu, Zhiyang, Lingtai, Shendao!
Darius reeled, retreating in panic, but Ling Xian'er pressed forward relentlessly, sealing every escape route.Cold sweat trickled down his neck."She knows acupuncture strikes?!"
With a desperate roar, he gathered all his strength and unleashed his strongest technique—"Autumn Water Goose Wing!"His twin palms carved through the air, the wind around him screaming as waves of force surged toward her.
Ling Xian'er's lips curled slightly."Good technique—but I'll return the courtesy!"
Her body spun in midair, sleeves whirling like ripples upon a lake. Her feet touched down softly, and her counterstrike came like flowing water—subtle yet unstoppable. Her palm, gentle to the eye, concealed a force that could shatter stone.
PAH!A deafening crack resounded.
Darius froze where he stood, eyes wide with disbelief. He looked down—his abdomen glowed faintly red, the mark of her strike burning into his flesh. A surge of internal heat welled up—he coughed, and a gush of dark blood spilled from his mouth.
He stumbled, staggered backward, then collapsed to the ground with a heavy thud.Silence fell over the road.
The crowd stood dumbstruck. The mighty Darius, the Western Regions' fiercest warrior, had fallen—to a single strike from a young woman!
"She—she felled him with one palm?" someone gasped.
Ling Xian'er lowered her hand, her sleeves drifting back into place. She smiled faintly, her poise serene as ever. "Being a lecher," she said coolly, "isn't such an easy job after all."
The onlookers murmured in awe. Even Wu Tong and Chen Hao, the Capital Escort Bureau's chief, exchanged glances of admiration.
Darius groaned weakly, coughing blood. His comrades rushed to lift him up. Ling Xian'er brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, her voice bright and mocking."Anyone else care to try their luck?"
At that very moment, the rhythmic pounding of hooves echoed through the dust. A group of riders approached swiftly—Wu Tong and his companions had arrived.
"Prince Danba," Wu Tong called out in a ringing voice, "we meet again! I advise you not to bring ruin upon yourself. Release those women, and we'll call this done."
Prince Danba's face drained of color. He knew Wu Tong's reputation—and his strength. If the man interfered now, the tide would surely turn against him. But the ten noblewomen were too precious a prize to abandon. He swallowed his fear, forcing a cold sneer.
"Wu Tong, you dogged ghost! This has nothing to do with you—stay out of my affairs!"
Wu Tong stood tall, arms folded behind his back, eyes sharp as steel."Nothing to do with me? I happen to be an old friend of Chief Chen. And more importantly—if these women willingly go with you, I'll say no more. But if you take them by force…" His gaze hardened. "Then Wu Tong will intervene."
Rage flickered across Danba's face."Don't think the Western Regions lack warriors!" he barked. Turning, he shouted, "Desert Twin Blades! This man meddles too often—show him the might of Western steel!"
Two figures shot forward like shadows, sand swirling around them. Dressed in black fighting garb, curved sabers at their waists, they moved in perfect sync—the infamous brothers Aimai-ti and Aimai-di, the Desert Twin Blades. Their names alone had long struck fear across the western deserts.
Wu Tong smiled faintly, reaching for his Crouching Dragon Saber, ready to fight——but a clear, spirited voice rang out:
"Brother Tong, leave these ones to me! I'd like to test the Crouching Dragon Saber Style myself today!"
All eyes turned. It was Zhao Rou.
She stood poised in her battle garb, confidence shining in her eyes. With a leap, she landed lightly before the two brothers, movements as fluid as a swallow in flight.
Wu Tong chuckled, handing her the saber."Very well—but leave them breathing."
Zhao Rou accepted the weapon with a twist of her wrist. The blade shimmered coldly in the sunlight like a dragon stirring from slumber. She smiled faintly."Gentlemen… shall we begin?"
The Desert Twin Blades exchanged wary glances. This woman's agility unsettled them."We always fight as one," Aimai-ti said coldly. "If you wish to face us, don't speak of honor or fairness."
Zhao Rou's laughter was like silver bells. "Two against one? All the better—no need for mercy!"
Before the words had faded, she was already in motion. The Crouching Dragon Saber flashed like a silver arc, slicing toward Aimai-ti.
He dodged, his own blade coming up with a metallic clang! Sparks burst into the air—but his brother had already circled behind, striking toward Zhao Rou's back!
Sensing danger, Zhao Rou pivoted gracefully, body spinning midair. Her saber swept around in a perfect curve, dissolving the attack like ripples on water. The air shimmered with her movement as she pressed forward, each strike weaving into the next—fluid, elegant, yet carrying the weight of thunder.
The brothers' eyes widened. Her style was unpredictable—now fierce, now soft—each strike shifting rhythm and angle, as if alive.
Zhao Rou surged in, blade gleaming like a dragon's spine, thrusting for Aimai-ti's shoulder. He parried in panic—only for her wrist to tremble, reversing direction mid-strike. The saber curved backward like a coiled serpent—and with blinding speed, it slashed toward Aimai-di's waist!