Be the Invincible God of Sword Again

C25 – Miss Lend Me Your Sword!

The abrupt turn of events had everyone’s eyes widening in astonishment.

No one had anticipated that Liu Xingchang, the least noticeable among them, harbored depths greater than anyone could have imagined.

The Liu Family’s subordinate, tasked with the role of executioner and a bona fide Seventh Rank Cultivator, was bested by Liu Xingchang in a single move. What did this imply?

Hu Geqing, who had shut her eyes in terror, now reopened them, staring at Liu Xingchang standing beside her in disbelief. She couldn’t fathom that she had been rescued by him.

Moments before, she had been ridiculing Liu Xingchang, yet in the next, he had saved her life.

In that instant, Hu Geqing’s emotions were a tumultuous mix, akin to a bottle of mixed flavors being spilled.

Hu Gewan, too, gazed at Liu Xingchang with astonishment, not having expected him to be a Cultivator as well.

Just who was Liu Xingchang? And why had he appeared downstream of the Great Swallow River?

Hu Sanlang, with a look of surprise, wiped his eyes and remarked, “Was I mistaken? Is this fellow truly a Cultivator? Could it be that he lay in the road on purpose, pursuing my sister?”

The Second Elder’s eyebrows lifted in delight at this unexpected turn of events, his gaze upon Liu Xingchang now tinged with curiosity.

At this juncture, Liu Changqing, having turned to face the scene, squinted his eyes and inquired, “Did I underestimate you?”

Liu Xingchang maintained his innocuous smile, responding, “It appears you did.”

Liu Changqing gestured towards his fallen subordinate, observing, “He is a Seventh Rank Cultivator. Despite your surprise attack, defeating him in one stroke suggests your level is far from ordinary.”

Liu Xingchang grinned, allowing his cultivation aura to emanate freely.

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Liu Changqing’s eyebrows shot up as he acknowledged, “An Eighth Rank Cultivator. Indeed, I misjudged you.”

After a brief pause, Liu Changqing proposed, “Linghu Gewan mentioned you were the drowning man she rescued. You belong neither to the Linghu Clan nor to the Bewitching Demon Sect… A cultivator of the Eighth Rank at such a young age, your talent is extraordinary. If you agree to join our Liu Family, I will not only spare your life but will also welcome you as an honored guest. What do you say?”

Liu Xingchang smiled and remarked, “Turning left means death, while turning right could lead to soaring success. Even a fool knows which way to choose.”

Liu Changqing agreed, “Absolutely correct.”

Liu Xingchang chuckled and added, “Sadly, that’s true for others. For me, turning left might not spell doom, and turning right doesn’t guarantee ascension to the heights of success.”

Liu Changqing laughed, “It pains me to think of extinguishing the life of a genius like you, but there are many things in this world that one must do, even if reluctantly.”

As he finished speaking, Liu Changqing stepped back, making way for the old man in linen to step forward.

The old man radiated the formidable presence of a First Level Spirit Mastery Cultivator.

For a Cultivator with First Level Spirit Mastery, killing an Eighth Grade Cultivator was a trivial task.

To onlookers, Liu Xingchang’s decision seemed foolish.

The linen-clad elder advanced, his approach reminiscent of a grim reaper closing in.

Suddenly, Liu Xingchang lifted his right palm and said, “Hold on!”

The elder raised an eyebrow, “Have you made up your mind? Do you wish to join the Liu Family?”

Without responding, Liu Xingchang walked over to Hu Gewan and helped her to her feet, saying, “Miss Hu, I have a favor to ask of you.”

Upon hearing this, Hu Geqing burst out in anger, “Liu Xingchang! You spineless traitor! You appeared so valiant before, and I was prepared to apologize to you if we survived. Now you’re groveling for mercy? Are you trying to join the Liu Family and asking my sister to pardon you?”

Hu Gewan sighed deeply and said, “We saved your life, and you’ve saved Geqing’s life in return. We owe you nothing. If you wish to join the Liu Family, I won’t bear any resentment, and you certainly don’t need to seek my forgiveness.”

The Hu sisters weren’t necessarily of this opinion; it was simply that the disparity in strength was too vast. Liu Xingchang had no intimate ties with the Linghu Clan, so choosing self-preservation was the mark of a wise person.

Liu Xingchang offered a faint smile, choosing not to respond, but instead slowly unfurled his dry and elongated right palm.

Hu Gewan was taken aback and inquired, “What are you doing?”

With a chuckle, Liu Xingchang explained, “It seems my sword was swept away by the river while I was adrift, so I would like to borrow yours.”

His request left everyone momentarily speechless.

Incredulously, Hu Gewan asked, “Are you truly willing to forfeit this opportunity to survive?”

“Do I look like I’m joking?” Liu Xingchang replied with a laugh.

Hu Gewan, her brow furrowed, pressed, “You stand no chance against them. Why throw your life away?”

Liu Xingchang remained silent, only to repeat his request, “Miss, may I borrow your sword?”

After a moment of hesitation, Hu Gewan reluctantly handed over her sword to Liu Xingchang.

Despite the profound wisdom etched into her mind from books, and the countless perspectives that urged her to convince Liu Xingchang not to squander his life, Hu Gewan was ultimately a woman. A woman who longs for the men she encounters to be true heroes, not cowards seeking glory at the expense of others. Her temperament overcame her logic, leading her to entrust the sword to Liu Xingchang.

As Liu Xingchang grasped the sword, there was a palpable shift in the air—his demeanor transformed.

​Without the sword, Liu Xingchang resembled a refined scholar, his manner cultured and courteous, his face perpetually graced with a radiant smile that hinted at a rich inner world of poetry and learning.

However, the moment he took hold of the sword, his presence became something else entirely.

Liu Xingchang was like an unsheathed blade, a three-foot-long sword of pure resolve, fierce, commanding, and unapologetically brilliant.

Hu Gewan could sense this profound transformation and even noticed a change in Liu Xingchang’s gaze—it had become as piercing as the sword he now wielded, as keen as the eyes of a hawk.

​Having turned to face the old man in the linen robe, Liu Xingchang said calmly, “Please, make your move.”

There was an unmistakable edge to his voice now.

The old man in linen sensed the shift as well but quickly composed himself. As a cultivator at the first level of Spirit Mastery, he should not be intimidated by an eighth-grade Cultivator.

The elderly man clad in linen was not fond of the sensation he was experiencing, and he was determined to rid himself of it. Without uttering a second word, he lunged forward, thrusting his sword at Liu Xingchang.

Both combatants wielded swords.

His blade sliced through the air with impressive speed, yet, regrettably for him… Liu Xingchang’s blade was swifter!

In a mere moment, Liu Xingchang converted all 90 of his Spirit Mark Runes into the attribute of speed.

Liu Xingchang’s sword was already swift, but with the boost from the 90 speed-enhanced Spirit Mark Runes, his strike was unbelievably rapid.

“Clang!”

Liu Xingchang’s sword grazed past the linen-clad man’s, the forceful breeze of the swing causing the latter’s blade to vibrate with a resonant shudder, quivering in response.

The man’s face paled as he scrambled to channel his Spiritual Energy in an attempt to regain control of his sword. But by the time he had a firm grasp once more, it was all too late.

The point of Liu Xingchang’s sword was already gently touching his throat.

A sudden chill of realization soaked the man’s back with cold sweat.

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