169: Chapter 169 But who exactly is her master?

Wang Yuyan's expression was solemn as she tapped her toes lightly on the ground. Her figure was like willow catkins in the wind, flickering dozens of Zhang away in an instant, narrowly avoiding the strike.

Xiaoyaozi's pupils constricted slightly. He immediately took a step forward and met the giant golden palm with a single palm of his own, forcefully shattering it.

"You insist on interfering?" Murong Longcheng's eyes were gloomy. "Have you forgotten that you are no match for me?"

"Brother Murong, I share a karmic bond with this girl.

We are both people in the twilight of our lives; it is time to let go of our grievances."

"She killed a descendant of my Bloodline!"

Murong Longcheng's voice was low, laced with suppressed fury.

"You are still alive; it is not too late to continue your lineage.

As for descendants separated by over a dozen generations, meeting such a calamity is simply their fate. You cannot blame others," Xiaoyaozi said indifferently.

As soon as these words were spoken, Murong Longcheng's face suddenly turned cold.

"What a sharp tongue! Since you insist on taking on this Karma, then do not blame me for disregarding our old friendship!"

"Brother Murong, you cannot kill me," Xiaoyaozi shook his head with a light laugh.

Although his cultivation was not as deep as his opponent's, his movements were agile and he excelled at kiting tactics. Murong Longcheng had plenty of ferocity but lacked flexibility, and for a time, he could do nothing to him.

Wang Yuyan took the opportunity to recall her Flying Sword. It circled around her, floating quietly in mid-air as she stood on the back of the Great Ming Vermilion Bird, silently watching the battle.

In an instant, the two had already clashed fiercely for several rounds.

Under the crisscrossing currents of Qi, the entire low mountain trembled violently. Rocks crumbled and cliff faces were leveled, as if a section had been cleanly sliced off by a sharp blade.

"Little girl, leave quickly!" Xiaoyaozi's voice quietly entered her ears.

Wang Yuyan's heart tightened, realizing she would only be a burden here. She was just about to withdraw.

Just as she moved, a cold sentence came from behind her:

"You still have a mother in Gusu, don't you? She's the only one left at home..."

His tone was no longer peaceful; every word was like an icicle piercing to the bone.

Wang Yuyan stopped abruptly and turned to glare at him.

She saw Murong Longcheng force Xiaoyaozi back with a palm strike. His entire body ignited with fierce golden flames, looking like a Buddha descending to the world, yet carrying a monstrous killing intent as he lunged forward, vowing to kill her under his palm.

At this critical moment, a silver light tore through the sky.

Amidst a thunderous explosion, Murong Longcheng let out a muffled groan and retreated rapidly.

One of his arms was severed cleanly at the elbow. The severed limb flew several Zhang away, still burning with golden flames.

Only then did everyone see clearly that the silver light was actually a silver-white longsword. Its cold light was chilling as it hung quietly in front of Wang Yuyan.

It was precisely the cangfeng sword.

After Cangfeng performed the Sword Kinesis Technique, its speed far exceeded Su Rui's form when riding the Roc.

At this moment, the silver-glinting longsword hovered before Wang Yuyan, vibrating slightly and emitting a clear, melodious ring that echoed through the mountain forest like a whisper.

"Is Master here?"

Although Wang Yuyan had never seen this sword, she could feel the powerful aura contained within it and sensed that it was clearly protecting her.

Her heart stirred, and she immediately thought of Su Rui.

Murong Longcheng stared at the cangfeng sword blocking the young girl, his face gloomy.

How violent was that strike just now? Even with his Golden Bell Shield trained to the Transcendent level, it hadn't been able to block it in the slightest, yet this sword had neutralized it with such ease.

...

With the situation unclear, Murong Longcheng swept his sleeve, and the severed arm on the ground immediately flew up into his palm.

He gave Wang Yuyan a cold sweep of his eyes, said nothing, and turned to leave.

Xiaoyaozi was also stunned by the scene before him.

He did indeed cherish Wang Yuyan's talent, but when it came to risking his life to stop Murong Longcheng, he ultimately couldn't make that decision.

Therefore, when he struck just now, he had actually held back.

But things were different now—he knew that there was another expert backing this young girl.

The skill of controlling a sword from a distance alone was enough to make him wary.

"What... sword technique is this?"

Xiaoyaozi looked at the motionless silver-white longsword and couldn't help but ask.

"Perhaps Master has come to my rescue!"

Wang Yuyan answered, then looked up at the old man and added another question.

"Eh? How do you know about my Master?"

"Because my maternal grandparents were both members of the Xiaoyao School."

Wang Yuyan explained frankly.

Xiaoyaozi was startled upon hearing this, and his gaze suddenly softened.

"Then are you a descendant of Wuyazi?"

"Exactly."

Wang Yuyan nodded in response.

The corners of Xiaoyaozi's mouth lifted, revealing a hint of a smile.

"How is the Xiaoyao School doing now? I haven't stepped out of this place for many years."

"I can't say for sure. I've never met my maternal grandfather and the others; my mother only mentioned some past events."

"So that's how it is."

Xiaoyaozi sighed lightly, then his expression turned solemn: "This is no place to linger.

There is an old monk hidden in a cave in the back mountains of the Shaolin Temple who has lived for who knows how many years. Plus, that Murong Longcheng likely has some connection to him.

It is better for us to leave as soon as possible."

"No."

Wang Yuyan shook her head, her eyes fixed on the quietly floating cangfeng sword. "My Master will definitely come. I have to wait for him."

"Who is your Master?" Xiaoyaozi was stunned.

"The Master who taught me martial arts. He opened a martial arts hall in North Separation Snow Moon City."

Wang Yuyan's tone was firm.

"A martial arts hall? Snow Moon City? Northern Li?"

Xiaoyaozi froze for a moment, his expression becoming strange.

The distance between the two places was more than ten thousand Li!

"Your Master is nearby?"

"No, Northern Li is at war; he might be involved in the conflict."

"So you're saying... your Master is in Northern Li, yet he can send a sword here?"

Xiaoyaozi was almost speechless.

How was that possible!

Such a method was something even his Master, White Robe Su, couldn't achieve! In his heart, White Robe Su was the true Peak of the martial Dao, unrivaled in the world.

Even though he himself was over a hundred years old, he still felt the gap between him and his Master back then was like an insurmountable chasm.

But even White Robe Su could not cross thousands of mountains and rivers to save someone in peril by controlling a sword with his will.

This was no longer a Jianghu legend; it was nearly a divine miracle.

However, the silver-white longsword before him continued to float quietly, its sword chime unending and its cold glint daunting.

When he approached slightly, the sword tip immediately locked onto his throat with a grim killing intent, making him afraid to move recklessly.

"Young lady, you say your Master will come, but this is within the borders of the Great Song.

Even if he can control a sword from a thousand Li away, if his true body comes, even with peerless Qinggong, it would take several days and nights."

Xiaoyaozi advised patiently, only hoping she could temporarily avoid the brunt of the danger.

The existence in that ancient cave in the Shaolin Temple's back mountain was unfathomable.

The reason Murong Longcheng dared to plot the restoration of his kingdom was likely due to the support of that old monster behind him.

There must be a connection between the two.

Otherwise, with the Murong clan's current strength, if they only wanted to occupy a region, they might succeed; why would they need to risk universal condemnation?

"No, Master will definitely come back."

Wang Yuyan shook her head again, her tone resolute.

Xiaoyaozi was momentarily helpless.

Looking at her now, it didn't feel like he was facing a strange Junior, but rather like he was concerned for one of his own descendants.

"Senior, are you from the 'Xiaoyao Yufeng' lineage?"

Wang Yuyan suddenly asked.

"Hmm? You know that name?"

Xiaoyaozi's brow furrowed, his face full of astonishment.

Although the Xiaoyao School was founded by him and the Cultivation Technique was also called Xiaoyao Yufeng, he had never revealed his origins to anyone; even his Personal Disciples did not know.

"Do you... also have a Senior Brother?"

Wang Yuyan asked another question.

Xiaoyaozi's pupils shrank as he stared straight at her, his voice trembling slightly:

"These things... where did you hear them from?"

"Naturally, my Master told me. White Robe Su, Li Changsheng, and Ji Hubian—you must have heard these names, right?"

Upon hearing these familiar names, Xiaoyaozi's heart was instantly jolted.

It seemed the other party truly knew his origins; it was definitely not nonsense.

But just who was her Master? These hidden past events could not possibly be known so clearly unless one had personally lived through that era.

Could it be a descendant of an old friend from back then, or some hidden expert?

"Li Changsheng has also joined Master's sect now, but he is currently the City Lord of Snow Moon City," Wang Yuyan said softly.

Xiaoyaozi nodded slightly, and a flash of inspiration suddenly hit him—if his Senior Brother had become the Master's Disciple, wouldn't he himself have invisibly dropped a generation in rank? At this thought, he was momentarily speechless, not knowing whether to laugh or cry.

However, being able to hear news of Li Changsheng was ultimately a good thing.

Back then, after finishing his apprenticeship, he had hurried back to the Great Song to found the Xiaoyao School. After taking in a few Disciples, he had concentrated on researching the martial Dao and never stepped foot in his old home again.

Since then, he had almost lost contact with his fellow Disciples.

But he knew well that Li Changsheng's talent far exceeded his own, and having read immortal scriptures, he would certainly not age easily.

Hearing what Wang Yuyan said now, it was indeed as expected.

Just as he wanted to ask for more details, Wang Yuyan shook her head gently.

She had only occasionally overheard the conversation between Su Rui and Li Changsheng; her knowledge was limited.

However, since she and Li Changsheng were now from the same sect, and Xiaoyaozi was Li Changsheng's Junior Brother, they could be considered to have some connection.

"No need to worry. Master will arrive in a while, and everything will come to light."

"Fine, this old man would like to see just what kind of person your unfathomable Master is," Xiaoyaozi nodded in response.

He had heard a bit about that mysterious old man deep within Shaolin.

When he had investigated the matter in his early years, he had quietly scouted the area, only to be heavily injured by a sharp finger wind, nearly losing his life.

Fortunately, the opponent did not pursue him, allowing him to narrowly escape.

Now, this place was less than a hundred Li from Shaolin.

If Murong Longcheng returned, that secluded person might also appear.

For now, he only hoped that the extraordinary Master Wang Yuyan spoke of would arrive as soon as possible.

...

Murong Longcheng's face was pale. Although he had timely stopped the bleeding from his severed arm, the injury was heavy, and it still throbbed with pain as he moved.

With his cultivation, he might be able to reattach the limb, but the process would be long and not necessarily without future complications.

Thinking of this, he quickened his pace. His figure was like a gust of wind, leaving a long trail through the mountain forest.

The little novice monk guarding the gate of the Shaolin Temple only felt a yellow shadow flash before his eyes. By the time he looked closely, there was nothing there.

"In broad daylight, could I have seen a ghost?" A young monk froze in place.

"Nonsense!" An older monk nearby scolded. "Our Shaolin is a pure Buddhist land; how could evil spirits be allowed to cause trouble? The relief shift is coming soon. Hurry and follow me to the dining hall; I heard there are meat dishes today."

The little monk's eyes lit up at the news, instantly throwing the previous anomaly to the back of his mind.

Meat was hard to come by. Martial artists needed strong bodies, especially for Shaolin martial arts.

Meat nourished the muscles and bones and had always been a special provision for the martial monks; the rest of the monks had no chance to enjoy it.