At this moment, Cao Zhengchun was still immersed in the certainty of his imminent success. By the time he reacted, the spearhead was already right before his eyes.
Shock rippled through his mind.
“This kid was struck by the Soul-Pursuing Needles—how can he still be alive?”
“And how could he possibly have the strength left to thrust such a ferocious spear?”
What shocked him the most was that the young spearman had not even made a motion to channel his internal energy and force out the poison.
The lethal poison on those five silver needles was like an ox sinking into the sea, failing to provoke even the slightest reaction in his body!
The thought flashed through his mind for only an instant before the spearhead arrived before him.
In his haste, Cao Zhengchun mobilized all the power he had cultivated throughout his life. His hands transformed into a dense, impenetrable blur of claw shadows before him, attempting to parry the strike.
But Chen Zui’s spear was simply too fast, too fierce.
Add to that the loss of initiative caused by his shaken mind, the ghost-like spearhead tore straight through the layered claw shadows, plunging deep into his right shoulder.
Pfft—
Cao Zhengchun shuddered violently.
Looking down at the red-tasseled spear piercing his right shoulder, the expression on his face warped from disbelief into twisted fury.
At the same time, a dark, frigid, and eerie aura surged into his body along the spear shaft.
It was the venom from the poisonous needles—a toxin he had thought neutralized long ago. Now, it had rebounded with several times the ferocity, running rampant through his meridians.
His expression warped drastically. He hastily channeled his internal power in an attempt to purge the poison from his body.
Yet the moment his internal energy came into contact with the venom, it was swallowed whole.
Instead of quelling it, this only fueled the toxic force, driving it straight along his meridians toward his heart.
“This is the poison I refined myself! What did you do?!”
Cao Zhengchun shrieked in fury, his piercing voice cutting through the curtain of rain.
True terror finally dawned across his face as a faint purplish-black hue crept onto his lips.
That was the telltale sign of toxin invading the heart.
Chen Zui pulled back the spear. Blood blossomed from the wound as he watched Cao Zhengchun stagger backward with a cold gaze.
In truth, he had done nothing at all.
While Immune to Ten Thousand Poisons granted immunity to toxins, it also automatically reflected the poison back into the attacker's body with a hundredfold potency. This was a rule intrinsic to the Trait itself.
He did not even need to lift a finger.
Cao Zhengchun stumbled back three steps before barely regaining his footing. Blood gushed from the wound on his right shoulder, dyeing half of his dark purple python robe into a deep, bruised purple.
Yet he could not care less about the spear wound at this moment. The rampant poison raging through his meridians was ten times more lethal than any puncture.
Tapping several fingers in rapid succession to seal the acupoints around his heart, he retrieved a porcelain bottle from his bosom, poured out a crimson pill, and swallowed it whole.
“If I do not kill you today, my name is not Cao Zhengchun!”
After swallowing the pill, his composure stabilized slightly, but his bright black eyes were already bloodshot with madness.
An aura far more vast and overwhelming than before erupted from his body.
In that instant, the torrential rain within dozens of zhang was completely shattered by this blast of energy!
The bluestone slabs beneath his feet cracked inch by inch, wisps of purplish-black qi seeping from the fissures—the unmistakable sign of pushing his Wind-Riding Realm internal energy to its absolute limit.
He no longer cared about the Academy, nor did he care about the First Prince or the Second Prince.
Right now, he had only one thought:
To kill the young spearman who had subjected him to such extraordinary humiliation!
For him, a Wind-Riding Realm Martial Arts Grandmaster, to be wounded to such an extent by a Mountain-Viewing Realm spearman!
How could he possibly accept this?!
Chen Zui tightened his grip on his spear. The black qi coiling around the shaft churned relentlessly as he prepared for an all-out battle.
He could tell that Cao Zhengchun was genuinely enraged. A full-powered strike from a Wind-Riding Realm Grandmaster would certainly not be easy to withstand.
Just as the two were about to clash once more...
A strand of sword intent descended out of nowhere.
That sword intent came without the slightest warning.
It did not shoot from outside the mountain gate, nor did it fly from deep within the Academy. Instead, it plummeted straight down from high above the heavens, like a ray of pure light leaking through a rift in the sky.
Silent and soundless, yet everywhere at once.
The sword intent landed on the bluestone ground between Chen Zui and Cao Zhengchun. There was no explosion, no deafening roar, and not even a single pebble was kicked up.
It merely carved a cun-deep sword mark into the hard bluestone.
Three chi and seven cun in length, no wider than a finger, its edges were as smooth as a mirror, looking less like a mark carved by sword aura and more like a primordial cleft that had existed since the dawn of creation.
With the descent of this one sword, all sounds fell still.
The torrential downpour came to an abrupt halt.
It was not the kind of clearing that followed a storm; rather, the raindrops filling the sky seemed to be seized simultaneously by an invisible hand, suspended motionless in midair.
Tens of thousands of raindrops hovered in absolute stillness, each reflecting a faint glimmer of sword light.
Cao Zhengchun shuddered, his half-gathered internal energy dispersing uncontrollably under the sheer pressure of this single sword strike.
He looked up toward the horizon, his expression turning so dark it seemed water might drip from it.
A slender figure descended from the air.
In robes as white as snow, with long hair flowing loosely over his shoulders, an ancient sword with a pitch-black scabbard hung at his waist.
His steps were neither fast nor slow. Walking across the waterlogged bluestone, he did not stir up a single splash of water, as if even the puddles on the ground were making way for him.
Liu Yinsheng.
Sword Saint Liu.
He stopped before the sword mark, glanced down at the furrow on the ground, then looked up at Cao Zhengchun.
His face bore no expression whatsoever.
“Eunuch Cao.”
His voice was not loud, yet it carried an undeniable authority.
“This is Qingya Academy, not the capital. Making a move here means following the rules.”
The wound on Cao Zhengchun’s right shoulder was still gushing blood. Although the purplish hue on his lips had faded somewhat, his face remained shockingly pale.
He gritted his teeth, his voice squeezing through the gaps.
“Liu Yinsheng, you intend to meddle in this matter as well?”
Liu Yinsheng did not answer. He merely cast another glance at the sword mark on the ground before raising his eyes to meet Cao Zhengchun’s gaze calmly.
“This sword mark is the rule I leave behind. If anyone wishes to fight again, try stepping across this sword mark first.”
Cao Zhengchun glared fixedly at Liu Yinsheng, his bright black eyes churning with boundless fury and deep wariness.
The eunuchs behind him had long since retreated beyond the mountain gate. Every one of them was pale-faced, not daring to let out even a breath.
After several breaths of silence, Cao Zhengchun suddenly laughed.
That smile looked exceptionally sinister in the rain, but in the end, he reeled in the crimson-purple soft whip in his hand and slowly straightened his posture.
“Good. Very good. I will remember what transpired today.”
He turned and walked toward the mountain gate. When he reached the sword mark, his footsteps paused slightly. In the end, he chose not to step across it, instead skirting around the mark to walk along the adjacent bluestone.
The blood from his right shoulder dripped from his fingertips onto the ground, blooming into dark red flower after flower in the puddles.
Several eunuchs rushed forward to bandage him, but he shoved them aside.
Stopping outside the mountain gate, he looked back at Chen Zui standing upright with his spear, then at the snow-white-robed Liu Yinsheng, and finally turned his gaze onto Lu Chenzhou.
“Mountain Lord Lu, the ink I presented today—I hope the Academy preserves it well. When the day comes to seal and shutter the Academy, I will come to retrieve it in person.”
Having said his piece, he ducked into the vermilion sedan chair without looking back.
The honor guard set off in a panicked retreat through the rain. While they had arrived with grand and overbearing momentum, they now departed in utter disarray, unable to even maintain their formation.
Before the curtain of the sedan chair fell, Chen Zui caught sight of Cao Zhengchun clutching his right shoulder. His dark purple python robe was completely soaked through with blood and rainwater, clinging loosely to his frame and making him look just like a drenched chicken.
No, a drenched capon.
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