The sword’s edge was icy.
It grazed his skin.
Ye Qiu’s body stiffened.
Or perhaps, he felt fear.
With his current skills, even a master like Long Qi from the Forbidden City couldn’t catch him off guard and hold a blade to his throat in an instant.
Though he didn’t yet know who this was, Ye Qiu was certain: this was a supreme expert.
“Who are you?”
Ye Qiu took a quiet breath, calming himself, then asked evenly.
No response came from behind.
But Ye Qiu’s sharp senses caught a faint, pleasant whiff of orchid fragrance in the air.
A woman attacked me?
His shock deepened.
Among the women he knew, Da Dong’s goddess Qian Shanxue was the best with a sword, yet this woman’s swordsmanship clearly outclassed her.
Who was she?
Curiosity surged in Ye Qiu’s mind.
“Who are you?” he asked again.
Still no answer.
“Wushen Sect? Or a Dragon List master?”
As he spoke, Ye Qiu subtly twisted his neck, trying to glimpse his assailant.
“Don’t move! One more twitch, and I’ll pierce your throat!”
A crisp, cold voice rang out behind him, melodic like melting snow.
A woman, confirmed!
Ye Qiu ignored her warning, turning fully around.
When he saw her face, his heart jolted, a flash of awe in his eyes.
She was tall, clad in a plain long dress, with delicate brows, phoenix eyes, flawless skin, and a crystalline complexion. Her demeanor was poised and serene, exuding an air of refined nobility.
She looked around thirty, yet her skin rivaled an eighteen-year-old’s in smoothness.
Pity, though…
Her figure was too flat.
So young, yet sporting an “airport.”
Her crystal longsword rested against Ye Qiu’s neck, her face impassive as she said, “You dared turn around—aren’t you afraid I’ll kill you?”
Ye Qiu smiled, “If you wanted me dead, you could’ve stabbed my throat with that first move, but you didn’t. That means you don’t want to kill me, right, beautiful sister?”
Sister?
Her sword hand trembled slightly at the term.
“Beautiful sister, what’s your name?” Ye Qiu kept up his smile, one he thought charming.
Everyone loves beauty—men don’t dodge a pretty woman’s questions, and women don’t shun a handsome man’s inquiries.
Unbeknownst to him, his grin sparked disgust in her eyes.
“You’re wrong. I came to Suhang for one reason: to kill you.”
Swish!
As she spoke, her wrist flicked, the sword slicing across Ye Qiu’s neck.
Sparks flew.
Huh?
Her willow brows arched, surprised the blade didn’t cut his skin.
“Beautiful sister, we’ve never met—why do you want me dead?”
His smile persisted, though it grew colder.
Her move had ignited his anger.
If he were ordinary, that slash would’ve killed him.
She wasn’t lying—she meant to end him.
Ye Qiu held back, wanting to know why.
“One reason: you deserve to die!”
With that, she struck again, her sword aiming for his brow.
“Hmph, don’t think I’ll go easy because you’re a woman,” Ye Qiu snorted, smashing a fist into the sword tip.
Clang!
Her blade bent under his punch but didn’t break.
Ye Qiu was taken aback.
That fist could snap an iron sword, yet her crystal blade, likely mixed with some extraordinary material, held tough.
What shocked him more: his seventy-percent strike didn’t push her back. She pressed forward, slashing three times—swift and fierce.
Ye Qiu dodged the first two with lightning speed, barely.
The third grazed his scalp, severing a few hairs, cold sweat breaking out.
Her strength was terrifying, on par with Master Changmei.
In speed, she outstripped Changmei by miles.
Who was she?
Could she be *that* woman from the Dragon List?
Ye Qiu recalled the fifth-ranked Dragon List master, a mysterious woman from the Murong family.
“No grudge between us—why kill me?”
He dodged her blade, retreating a few steps to widen the gap, then asked.
“When you’re dead, I’ll tell you why!”
She tapped the ground lightly, soaring toward him, sword thrusting at his throat.
Ye Qiu’s temper flared.
This woman was unreasonable, every move a kill shot—anyone would snap, let alone a martial master like him.
He charged, sidestepping her sword, his fist roaring out.
Using the Nine-Turn Dragon Art, a faint golden glow coated his fist.
She sensed the power, dodging instead of clashing, flipping gracefully midair like a dancer.
Landing at a distance, she stabbed at his fist again.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Three punches met three strikes, sparks flying each time.
“Try this one,” Ye Qiu said, channeling eighty percent of his strength into his right arm, unleashing a ferocious blow.
But then, she sheathed her sword, extending a jade-white hand, meeting his fist with a palm strike.
Boom!
Both crashed from the air.
Ye Qiu stumbled back four or five steps to steady himself, looking up to see her unshaken, her shoulder merely twitching.
What?
Ye Qiu’s eyes widened in disbelief.
That eighty-percent punch could overwhelm Changmei without his Five Thunder Arts, yet this woman took it head-on, unmoved, calm as ever.
Terrifying!
Ye Qiu shed his casual air, staring at her warily, a heavy pressure settling in his chest.
It felt like facing Long Qi in the capital.
He knew he’d met his match!
