Chapter 132: Ten Moves Approaching

Such two individuals were capable of doing anything, but above all, they were likely driven by revenge. Whether it was twenty years ago or just over three years past, once hatred took root, it became exceedingly difficult to look away. Even the closest friends and brothers, bound by love and rivalry, were countless in the martial world’s history. At this moment, a sudden unease stirred within Shen Chengbi’s heart, as a terrifying thought vividly emerged in his mind, prompting an involuntary mutter of alarm.

They said he was the shadow of Shen Wansan. When together, perhaps neither feared the other, but apart, such prowess diminished greatly. Han Tan’s Yi was one thing, but a forsaken disciple from Mount Qilian was hardly formidable. He had already experienced this three years prior. But Shui Lianhua was different—she was a peerless figure in the martial world. The title of “demon” was not one bestowed lightly; otherwise, the infamous battle of the Three Wolves would never have unfolded. The Four Great Sects had even lost Shao Donghua. Judging by the current situation, she had yet to be slain. Her abilities were far beyond ordinary reach.

“No, I must hurry to the manor lord’s side—lingering here with that wretched old man would only bring trouble to the lord!” This was Shen Chengbi’s sole thought. Whether out of loyalty to the family name or a desire to repay past kindness, this young man had only this plan in mind. With a fierce flick of the folding fan in his hand, a surge of energy erupted, as if all his spiritual power had been unleashed at once. Though still a step behind Dongfang Mingyue, this sudden full-force strike was no trifling matter. In an instant, a crushing, overwhelming pressure seemed to sweep forth. Even without considering how the old man felt, the long sword he pointed sideways trembled violently, emitting sharp, clear sounds under the strain.

Retreat was the wisest choice. Though Dongfang Mingyue’s mind wrestled with hesitation, his battle-hardened body acted without hesitation. The fan’s arc swept wide, and with a sudden push of his toes, he leapt back a full three meters. No matter how strong one’s spiritual power, it could only extend a few meters. His retreat placed him beyond the strike’s reach. As he landed, a gentle breeze stirred his silver-streaked hair, lending him a fleeting elegance.

“Well, young man, your heart is restless. Seems my words have some effect. If you could calm yourself, even if I could defeat you, it would take great effort. But if you remain like this, there’s no need to prolong this battle. They say one should not easily be moved by emotion, yet you, a scholar, have been poisoned deeply by your books,” Dongfang Mingyue mused, a faint smile twitching at his lips—perhaps a mix of admiration and mockery. Regardless, it was no ill omen for him. His swordplay sharpened, his blade striking straight, and a faint glint of cold light flickered—clearly, he intended to fight seriously now.

Shen Chengbi understood this well. Martial artists most feared agitation, yet this full strike was unavoidable. As he saw Dongfang Mingyue retreat, he shouted fiercely, a seeming desperate howl meant to confuse. Seizing the moment, he spun swiftly, infusing his feet with spiritual energy and leapt forward several meters. Now separated by more than ten meters, his sudden movement left Dongfang Mingyue momentarily stunned, too slow to react in time.

Shen Biji inherited the true teachings of Shen Wansan; his footwork was already profound, rivaling even the master himself. This sudden burst of energy made him like a sprinting leopard, vanishing swiftly into the dark night, leaving Dongfang Mingyue standing awkwardly behind. He neither pursued nor could catch him. Quietly, he murmured, “So this is your plan. Run if you will—I lack the strength to chase, nor do I wish to. My goal has been achieved. I hope the timing is just right, Shui Lianhua. Don’t disappoint me. Better yet, let this boy witness the old ghost Shen die by your hand. Then Lord Wang’s arrangement will unfold perfectly.”

When a man fought with all his might, his explosive power was not to be underestimated. Like Shen Chengbi now, he never imagined possessing such ability. Each step was fluid and seamless, every movement a single breath in execution, without discomfort. When his footwork reached its peak, even a blade of grass or a fallen leaf seemed to offer support for his leaps. Soon, he had passed beyond the gates of Mingyue Manor, heading straight towards the pitch-black back mountain.

Whether anyone followed was easily sensed by his skills. Naturally, such exertion brought inevitable fatigue. As Dongfang Mingyue did not pursue, Shen Chengbi allowed himself a brief rest to regulate the surging spiritual energy within. The intense burst left his meridians nearly beyond control, but he dared not pause long. Every moment wasted increased the danger Shen Wansan faced. Yet, at this moment, his worry was perhaps unfounded; Shen Wansan seemed to hold a firm advantage.

Close combat was the domain of men, and Shen Wansan excelled therein. Across all the land, few could gain any edge against him. Every strike and move was exquisitely precise; his spiritual power was applied with perfect measure. He still held back somewhat; his aim was victory, not killing. Had he unleashed his full strength, the Butterfly Blossom would have long since become a spirit under his palm. Yet he could not afford to hold back too much—eight of the ten moves had passed, and if he could not subdue her in the remaining two, it would be a disgrace to his status.

For a man like Shen Wansan, many things could be lost, even life itself, but never face. With this resolve, his final two moves were all the more earnest. In the brief pause, the Butterfly Blossom could clearly feel the intensification of spiritual energy on his palms. So close, the oppressive force was overwhelming, making her body tremble with the urge to retreat. She had to concentrate fully; the current situation allowed no carelessness. Above all, she wished to test whether she could survive ten moves against this legendary figure and dispel the regret left by the Infinite Master in years past.

With a fleeting pause, Shen Wansan surged forward again. Compared to before, his speed was markedly faster. Even if she could cope with this, the next moment brought confusion and disarray. One became three, three multiplied to nine, and nine blossomed into myriad forms—all in an instant. The Butterfly Blossom saw Shen Wansan’s figure scatter in all directions. Wherever her eyes fell, it seemed he was present—real and illusion indistinguishable. If she thought one was real, it was false; if she deemed one false, it might become real the next second.

In the vast martial world, many could conjure phantom weapons through sheer speed, but those were controlled by wrists and were flexible. A man, however, was a bulkier form, even moving swiftly was difficult, let alone achieving such illusions. The Four Great Sect leaders were considered legends in the Central Plains, with Shen Wansan at the pinnacle. This spectacle proved his fame no exaggeration; any who doubted should remain silent now.

This placed the Butterfly Blossom in great difficulty. With her skill, guarding all directions simultaneously was impossible, yet she had to defend every angle. Luck was a luxury she could not afford. She understood better than anyone the severe test this all-out defense posed to both body and mind. Whether she could endure remained uncertain in her heart.