Chen Ping himself was skilled in swordsmanship, and with the Dragon-Slaying Sword, a divine weapon, he was naturally curious about a city of sword cultivators like this.
“Let’s go take a look,” Chen Ping suggested.
Nan Batian glanced at Sword Saint City’s towering walls, his brows furrowing almost imperceptibly. He shook his head, “I’ll stay outside and wait for you.”
“Hm?” Chen Ping paused, turning to him, “Why? Is something wrong with Sword Saint City?”
Nan Batian’s eyes flickered, avoiding Chen Ping’s gaze as he mumbled, “Nothing, just… not used to the city’s rules. You go in and gather information. I’ll keep watch outside, it’s safer that way.”
His aura seemed tense, clearly more than just discomfort with rules.
Chen Ping, seeing he didn’t want to elaborate, didn’t press further.
Having spent so much time together, he knew Nan Batian, though outwardly brash, was meticulous. If he chose to stay outside, he had his reasons.
Perhaps he’d had some trouble in Sword Saint City before, or there was someone inside he didn’t want to face.
“Alright.”
Chen Ping nodded, “We’ll come out as soon as possible. Be careful out here.”
“Don’t worry.”
Nan Batian grinned, showing his white teeth, “Even if an Eighth Grade Earth Immortal shows up, if I can’t beat them, I can still run.”
Chen Ping said no more, leading Hu Mazi toward the city gate.
At the gate, Hu Mazi’s attention was caught by the scene atop the gate towers.
On either side stood a figure.
To the left was a swordsman in green robes, his face stern, a sword strapped to his back, eyes half-closed as if in meditation.
To the right was a woman in white, her figure graceful, holding a sword angled toward the ground, her gaze ethereal, like an immortal untouched by worldly matters.
The two stood motionless, facing each other from a distance, like statues.
“What are these two doing? Standing there as punishment?”
Hu Mazi scratched his head, muttering, “They’ve got the pose down, but standing still like that, aren’t they tired?”
Chen Ping narrowed his eyes, his gaze lingering on the pair.
He could sense an invisible sharpness clashing between them.
The green-robed swordsman radiated a domineering, fierce sword intent, like an unsheathed blade ready to cleave through anything.
The white-robed woman’s sword intent was gentle as water, yet resilient, seemingly soft but capable of neutralizing any attack.
“They’re duelling with their swords,” Chen Ping said slowly.
“Duelling?” Hu Mazi was baffled, “They’re not even moving!”
“It’s a contest of sword intent.”
Chen Ping explained, “They’re competing in their understanding of the way of the sword and their control over power. It’s more dangerous than a physical fight. If one’s sword intent breaks, at best their resolve wavers, at worst their cultivation is ruined.”
Hu Mazi finally understood, clicking his tongue, “Blimey, duelling without moving? The people of Sword Saint City are something else.”
Chen Ping turned his attention away, ready to enter the city with Hu Mazi, when a piercing beastly roar rang out.
“Get out of the way! All of you, move!”
A young man in brocade robes rode a lion-like beast with three eyes, charging toward the city gate.
The beast was massive, its four hooves kicking up clouds of dust as it thundered forward. Pedestrians screamed and scattered, desperate to avoid being trampled.
As the beast bore down on Chen Ping, Hu Mazi instinctively tried to pull him aside, but Chen Ping held his hand firmly.
Standing his ground, Chen Ping’s expression remained calm. He neither dodged nor retreated, simply watching the charging beast and the brocade-robed man.
“Courting death!”
The young man, seeing Chen Ping block his path, flashed a vicious glint in his eyes. Instead of slowing, he patted the beast’s head, “Run him down!”
The beast, as if understanding, opened its gaping maw, baring sharp fangs, and charged straight at Chen Ping.
