Chapter Twenty-One: The Unrivaled Spirit of War

Everyone in the northern district was stunned by the sudden appearance of the woman, just as the man in the red robe had been. His face was filled with panic—not because he sensed overwhelming power in her, but because even seeing her with his own eyes, a profound sense of unreality welled up within him, as if she should not exist in this world at all.

“You—” The red-robed man opened his mouth to explain, but no words came. In the last moment of his life, the descending crimson light was all he could see.

The warrior goddess slowly withdrew her spear, gazing down upon everything in the northern district that still held a breath of life. Expressionless, she approached Chen Hongxu without a word.

Su Daji and the others were bewildered, lost and unsure of what to do; some even prostrated themselves, their faces revealing recognition—did they know the warrior goddess?

“Spirit of the Blade?” Chen Hongxu’s voice was hoarse, his expression complex. Though he could still discern traces of her old form, her bearing had changed completely. She was no longer the mischievous, tooth-picking female spirit he once knew.

The Spirit of the Blade did not reply. When she looked into Chen Hongxu’s eyes, the coldness she showed the others was absent. She gave a silent nod in response.

Chen Hongxu struggled to his feet, finding it difficult. The crimson sword he had thrown was, of course, the transformed Blade Embryo, and without its healing force within him, enduring hundreds of shattered strikes had been too much for his body.

The Spirit of the Blade reached out, placing her hand firmly on his shoulder and forcing him back to the ground. She quickly leaned over, and to the surprise of all, kissed him.

Chen Hongxu’s mind went blank. As her tongue slipped into his mouth, it felt like a spiritual serpent weaving in and out, leaving his own tongue tingling and electrified.

The scene was so provocative that everyone quickly averted their gaze, not daring to watch, as though their fear of the Spirit of the Blade had reached its peak.

Su Xiaoxiao stared at the place in midair where the red-robed man had been obliterated, her brows furrowed, sensing something—but it no longer mattered. She inexplicably smiled.

A moment passed.

Chen Hongxu snapped back to himself, shoving away the Spirit of the Blade, who now pressed atop him—her thigh seemingly ready to entwine his own. He grumbled angrily, “What are you doing?”

Despite her formidable strength, the Spirit of the Blade was easily pushed aside, tumbling to the ground. She pursed her lips and gently said, “I’m healing you, of course.”

“Huh?” Chen Hongxu was stunned. His battered body, like a broken bellows, had indeed been restored during that intimate moment—though in his earlier haze, he hadn't noticed.

The Spirit of the Blade saw his embarrassment, and an involuntary smile danced at her lips, so dazzling it was almost impossible to look at her directly.

“You could have chosen another method. If Xue Xi finds out, she’ll be furious with you,” Chen Hongxu muttered under his breath, a shameless scoundrel complaining after profiting.

“Xue Xi?” The Spirit of the Blade pondered a moment before calmly saying, “I don't mind sharing you with her for a hundred years.”

“Are you mad?” Chen Hongxu leapt up, lively as ever, and stared into her eyes. “How can you say such things?”

“Why not? I’m no longer the Spirit of the Blade who always followed your lead. Here, I remembered some things, made some decisions. Falling for you wasn’t something I could control. Spirits like me are destined to coexist with their hosts—you wouldn’t want to know what I’ve given up.” Her voice suddenly turned cold.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Spirit of the Blade. I made you toil and bear grievances before, but don’t play around with this,” Chen Hongxu tried to persuade her with his clumsy words.

“You don’t understand.” She mysteriously raised her hand, pointing at the still-twisting fissure. “I came from there, and I’ll take you back. I tolerated Xue Xi being with you because mortals live no more than a hundred years, but you are destined to share immortality with me.”

“You don’t believe me?” Seeing Chen Hongxu frozen like a statue, the Spirit of the Blade smiled alluringly, soared into the air, and looked down upon the crowd with cold, arrogant eyes.

To the Spirit of the Blade, whose smile was reserved only for Chen Hongxu, the crowd responded with awe, reverence, and bewilderment at her identity.

Su Daji stood atop the temple, recalling the scene where this woman tore through the barrier, slaughtered her foes, then instructed the survivors. She was the first to prostrate herself, trembling in respect. “Your might is boundless, my lord.”

“Your might is boundless, my lord.”

“Your might is boundless…”

Voices merged into a single chorus, rising straight to the heavens.

“I refuse to submit.” Fan Caobao, whose heart belonged to Xue Xi, could not accept the Spirit’s wild claims. He stood defiant, glaring at her in the sky, quickly drawing a short blade from his calf and carving symbols into his arm, blood streaming.

The metallic sound rang discordantly, drawing bewildered glances from all.

“I refuse as well. Just a spirit lost to her nature, and I chased her a thousand miles.” An old monk in yellow robes, baring yellowed teeth, slowly entered the scene.

“And me…” Su Xiaoxiao, stubborn, wrinkled her nose and smiled. “I don’t want three women serving one man.”

“What’s the point? Count me in too!” Su Ning forced a bitter smile, tied “Cold Star” at his waist, and stepped forward.

“Ignorant!” The Spirit of the Blade’s face was cold, her spear spinning to blossom into four spectral flowers, each pointing at one of them.

Silent pressure, as if the sky were collapsing, sent four blazing lotus flowers drifting toward them.

“Roar—” Fan Caobao was the first to resist. He tossed aside the short blade, clenched his fists, and the demonizing talisman he had just carved glowed golden, mingling with blood until the light enveloped him.

In an instant, the golden light faded; Fan Caobao’s hair bristled, and he wielded a staff that seemed neither iron nor wood, his eyes burning red as he charged at a lotus.

“A peerless inheritor of the Monkey lineage—Great Sage Equal to Heaven?” Su Xiaoxiao mused, secretly impressed by Fan Caobao’s hidden depths. Her face was conflicted as she softly whispered to Chen Hongxu, “I hope you’ll forgive me someday.”

She made no attempt to shield herself, unwilling even to unleash her serpent essence. Barefoot, she leapt to meet another lotus.

The old monk showed no impressive display; he simply sat cross-legged, grasped his prayer beads, shut his eyes, and chanted unknown sutras.

Su Ning glanced at Su Xiaoxiao’s death-bound posture, his eyes bloodshot, and roared. The sword at his waist, “Cold Star,” surged with power. Stepping upon the blade, he became like a legendary swordsman, a streak of light flying toward Su Xiaoxiao.

The Spirit of the Blade’s eyes brimmed with indifference, gazing down at those she deemed less than ants, curling her lips in disdain. “Detonate—”

The four lotus flowers suddenly expanded, their contained spiritual energy beyond terrifying.

Fan Caobao and the old monk simultaneously raised shields, while Su Xiaoxiao faced the lotus without protection, indifferent and unwavering.

“Boom!” A deafening explosion—the four lotuses burst like thunder, the shockwave knocking even distant, prostrate Su Daji and her companions into coughing blood.

Zhang Shufang, still trying to open the fissure, was struck by the blast, her yin-yang diagram instinctively returning to her body for protection. All her efforts seemed to have come to nothing.

But at the heart of the blast, the four suffered even worse. Fan Caobao’s body was covered in bleeding cracks, like a man lashed a thousand times, sprawled on the ground, gasping.

The old monk, aghast, his robe and bamboo hat blown apart, lay prone, muttering in shock, “Emperor?”

Su Xiaoxiao, caught at the very eye of the storm and without any shield, could not escape death. She was thrown far, sliding a hundred meters before coming to a stop, her face strangely smiling.

“No!” Su Ning’s shirt was also torn to shreds, but his mind was only on Su Xiaoxiao’s safety, heedless of his own wounds.

He rushed to her side, mind shattered. The usually gentle expression on his face was now streaked with tears.

Su Xiaoxiao gazed wordlessly at Su Ning and sighed, “I had my own plans. This time, we’re finally done. I never thought our parting wouldn’t be marked by healing your eyes, but by fulfilling the cursed vow of a bad end.”

Su Ning cried like a child, memories of their first meeting suddenly surfacing.

“You’re so foolish. If you ever become powerful, I’ll think about letting you stay by my side.”

“I’m not an ordinary girl, so stop bringing me flowers every day.”

“Love should be declared loudly, you know?”

“Su Ning, you idiot, you actually listened to your master and blinded yourself. You really don’t know what you’ve got. I’ll heal your eyes, but after that, we’ll have nothing more to do with each other…”

Su Ning, sobbing, tried to lift Su Xiaoxiao, but she weakly raised her hand to stop him.

“What’s your backup plan?” Su Ning asked gently, unconcerned.

“Give my essence to Chen Hongxu, and don’t worry about anything else,” Su Xiaoxiao smiled. With those words, her breath faded.

A light shone from her chest and abdomen, and a pearl, wrapped around a small green snake, floated up.

Su Ning seized the pearl, sighed, and slowly rose. Staring at the exalted Spirit of the Blade, he stepped into the air, his form appearing in the distant sky. Beneath his feet, “Cold Star” broke apart piece by piece.

“One step to the throne!” The old monk stared in astonishment at Su Ning’s back, exclaiming incredulously, “Such brilliance, destined to fall here. What a pity, what a lament…”

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