Chapter Thirty-Four: Qixian Temple

Chapter Thirty-Four: The Temple of Virtue
Chapter Five: The Tiger Leaps, The Dragon Soars—The Profound Blade and Spiritual Sword Clash for Supremacy (Part 10)

“So, who did I think it was? Turns out it’s the disciples from the Temple of Virtue!” Qingxia spoke in a mocking tone, his voice full of irony. “Tonight at midnight, we’ll be waiting here for the monks of Green Mountain Temple. Don’t let yourselves be frightened—too scared to show up! Ha ha!” The young man with the hooked nose laughed uproariously. The disciples around him from the Temple of Virtue joined in, laughter echoing in the night. A young woman nearby chuckled and said, “Sixth Brother, it’s not that the monks of Green Mountain Temple don’t dare to come—they simply can’t. Their bones must have softened; where would they find the strength to walk?” The group burst into another round of laughter.

Ye Hua listened, his heart seething with anger. Before he could step forward, Qingxia laughed and said, “Brother, do you know our Temple of Virtue on Five Peaks has one unique skill called the Golden-Faced Divine Art?” Qingyu asked curiously, “Brother, what sort of wondrous skill is that?” Qingxia replied, “The origins of this skill are rather grand.” Qingyu said, “I’ve heard of Golden Body Protection and the Primordial Golden Body arts, but never of the Golden-Faced Divine Art.”

Qingxia laughed. “Brother, you don’t understand. The Golden-Faced Divine Art is an exclusive mastery of the Temple of Virtue. This art is truly extraordinary—not only does it thicken one’s face to an absurd degree, making shamelessness a virtue, but when cultivated deeply, it renders the face impervious to blades and spears, even spirits and demons cannot invade. It is truly remarkable.” Qingyu responded, “Is this art really so powerful?” Qingxia said, “Its uses are endless. We are not disciples of the Temple of Virtue, so the secrets are hard to fathom.” Qingyu said, “With such an art, the Temple of Virtue will surely become renowned throughout the martial world, its fame lasting forever.” Qingxia replied, “Naturally. From now on, whenever we encounter disciples of the Temple of Virtue, we must be extremely cautious of this skill.” Qingyu said, “Indeed, Brother. I will remember this well.”

The two bantered like a pair of comedians, their laughter never ceasing, while Ye Hua listened with growing frustration.

The faces of the disciples from the Temple of Virtue gradually turned green with anger. By the end, the young man with the hooked nose and clear blue eyes let out a furious roar. Instantly, three streaks of white light shot from his body toward the trio. Qingxia and Qingyu, seeing their opponent strike, did not hesitate. They raised their Twin Clear Swords, releasing cold gleams that intertwined with the three streaks of white light.

With several metallic clangs, the white lights were all sent back, while the Twin Clear Swords spun through the air and returned to Qingxia and Qingyu’s hands. The two steadied themselves, seemingly victorious, having repelled the white lights. Yet in truth, after that brief encounter, both felt a jolt in their chests and a faint dizziness—the opponent’s white lights possessed some mysterious power. Each knew that if they had faced those lights alone, it would not have been so easy.

The young man with the hooked nose and blue eyes also felt a shock. No one else knew the true power of his three white lights, but he did. They were actually three snow-white daggers, each secretly coated with the Mirror Demon Sect’s exclusive western poison, capable of harming the soul invisibly. Yet today, for some reason, his opponents had not succumbed.

He snorted softly. From above his head, nine dark little forks rose, shrouded in black mist, and flew straight toward Ye Hua and his companions. Qingxia sneered, “Western Demonic Arts!” He raised his Twin Clear Swords diagonally, releasing waves of icy brilliance. In moments, a thin layer of cold air enveloped the trio, while the rest of the chill curled through the air toward the young man with the hooked nose and blue eyes.

As the cold attacked, their foe’s figure flickered and vanished from view. Qingxia, without a glance, pointed backward, sending a silver little sword shooting from his finger. A black mountain fork suddenly appeared in midair to block the silver sword. The sword flared with light, and everyone heard a lamenting cry—clearly, one of the weapons had been damaged. Looking closely, the black fork had snapped in two, falling from the sky.

The young man with the hooked nose and blue eyes reappeared in the air, his face twisted in anger. He could not fathom how his opponent had seen through his shift and broken the Phantom Ink Fork. He roared in fury.

The disciples from the Temple of Virtue all sighed inwardly. This young man hailed from the Mirror Demon Sect of the West, second only in skill to Senior Brother Wang Jun at the temple. His demonic arts were strange and unfathomable; few could match him. The nine Phantom Demon Forks could form a demonic array, formidable indeed. Yet, his attack had just been shattered by the opponents’ divine weapon.

Suspended in the air, the young man glared at Qingxia and his companions, his eyes aflame with wrath. He muttered incantations, pulled a handful of his own hair, chewed it, and spat it out once more.