Chapter 68: Fragment 6 This isn't an ordinary yakuji, it's a Xiao! ...
The principle of controlling a sword with spiritual energy is very similar to that of refining a weapon. Imagine I have a sword, constantly refined by my spiritual energy. Over time, it will develop a sword spirit, freeing me to strike the enemy without needing to grasp it. However, another situation is even more difficult. For example, if I can use spiritual energy to activate a weapon I see without refining it, this is also called controlling a sword.
I don’t know what method Song Wen used.
Meng Caiyun dodged the sword energy by somersaulting several times, then raised his peach wood sword to confront the Wentian Sword in mid-air. The two swords collided, sparks flew, and clanging sounds were heard, the sound gradually increasing in speed.
"Why is he fighting with a sword?" Wang Tianfu leaned over the railing, his mouth hanging open. "Song Wen seems quite free."
Seeing Meng Caiyun losing ground, everyone stretched their necks to watch the situation on the field, and their eyes secretly turned to Meng Chengyin and Master Song on the judges' panel.
Not only Song Wen and Meng Caiyun were competing with each other, in fact, Miaoxuan Temple and Taiqing Palace had also been secretly wrestling for a long time. This time it seemed that Song Wen had the upper hand, and Master Song had a hard time suppressing the corners of his mouth.
"Xiao Song has made great progress." Bai Jingze commented fairly.
Abbot Song replied arrogantly, "It's just that I haven't neglected my cultivation. It's nothing."
Wang Suqing said, "Caiyun is very good, he has the style of my senior brother in his youth."
Meng Chengyin was flattered: "You're too kind."
The two men fought hand-to-hand on the stage, their figures moving like phantoms. The atmosphere became increasingly tense, and Song Wen's spiritual power was slowly becoming unsustainable.
He clenched his back teeth, a cold look flashed in his eyes. When he saw Meng Caiyun avoiding the Wentian Sword and coming towards him, he knew that the outcome was about to be revealed. So he decided to burn his boats and used up his last bit of spiritual power to control the sword. However, there was nothing in front of him, so it was easy for him to be taken advantage of.
So the following scene appeared: Song Wen retreated, Meng Caiyun held the sword to meet him, and when the tip of the sword was about to touch the opponent's neck, the Wentian Sword happened to appear on her vest.
At the critical moment, Song Wen knew that the sword would pierce his chest, but he still showed no mercy and swung his hand ruthlessly - but the horrifying scene he expected did not happen. A slight and imperceptible click was heard, and at the same time, Meng Caiyun also put the tip of the sword against Song Wen's neck.
"How could this be!" Song Wen was shocked.
But seeing a pair of Imperial Spirit Scissors quietly fall into Meng Caiyun's other hand, she replied with a smile: "Of course the trump card must be used last."
Song asked: "I clearly..."
"There's no sword spirit in the Heaven-Wen Sword. You're using spiritual power to control the sword," Meng Caiyun weighed the scissors. "So there must be a spiritual connection between you two. It's hard to find, but I think it's not difficult to sever."
Song Wen laughed at himself, "She's right, I'm still no match for you..."
In a moment, he regained his previous cold and arrogant expression, retracted the Sword of Heaven, and flew off the stage.
Meng Caiyun jumped down, watched Song Wen's back disappear in the crowd, and looked at his hands with some disappointment.
Meng Zhao was quick to notice something: "What's wrong?"
Meng Caiyun shook his head: "No, it might be because I was hit by a few sword energies just now, and I feel a little numb."
"Is it serious?" Meng Zhao's face was full of worry.
Meng Caiyun smiled and said, "It's not that vulnerable at all."
Meng Caiyun dismissed Meng Zhao's concern with a few words, turned around, unscrewed a bottle of water and drank it, but he always felt that something was not right.
She rubbed her arms subconsciously, and suddenly an idea came to her mind. She rolled up her sleeves to her forearms and looked at the black tattoo lines - it seemed that it was not an illusion. The line had become shorter since she came back from Lubo Mountain last time.
The origin of this tattoo of three black lines is quite mysterious.
When she was a child, she got into trouble due to her playful nature and her life was in danger. Meng Chengyin gathered several extraordinary people and finally came up with a solution: to use runes imbued with spiritual energy to seal her three souls, thus preventing her from being separated from her spirit. The traces left by the ritual later became these three black line tattoos, which cannot be washed off. However, Meng Chengyin said that keeping them would be a talisman, able to turn misfortune into good fortune.
How could this thing get shorter?
Meng Caiyun was a little confused.
"Next match, Wuchen vs. Dingwei!"
Ying Zhiwei looked at his bamboo sticks and carefully placed his backpack on the stone table next to him.
The radio inside clicked and turned off the sound by itself. The antenna trembled, and the voice pattern on the screen formed a nervous emoticon: "Sister, you have to be careful!"
"I know, don't worry!" Ying Zhi smiled and patted the iron shell. "I've already told Third Master in person that if we rank ahead of Ying Siqian this time, Second Uncle will return the things my parents 'entrusted him to keep' to us."
Radio: ">_< What if they cheat?"
"Hmph, I have a backup plan too," Ying Zhiwei stood up immediately when he saw someone coming over: "I'm leaving first!"
The people who came were Ying Siqian and Ying Simeng, brother and sister from the second house.
Ying Zhiwei, who had been living under someone else's roof since childhood, had always had a bad relationship with these two people. At this moment, she just nodded politely and walked towards the chess table.
"What are you so proud of?" Ying Simeng muttered, turning around and holding Ying Siqian's arm. "Brother, do you think the Third Master will really agree to return the things to her?"
Ying Siqian smoothed his meticulously sprayed hair back and said arrogantly, "What are you afraid of? Do you really think she'll rank ahead of me? Haha."
"I just happened to overhear her chatting with Ying Zhixu, and it seemed like she had taken in a very powerful servant ghost!" Ying Simeng said coquettishly: "Brother, can you help me catch another servant ghost someday? That Lan family sorcerer just now was so annoying, my two servant ghosts couldn't beat him at all!"
Ying Siqian ruffled her hair and said, "Who told you to slack off every day?" Finally, he looked back at the stage and said, "A powerful servant ghost? Humph, I must be kidding. My dad didn't teach her any real tricks."
On the other side, a tall and strong man appeared on the stage, with messy hair, unshaven beard, and a somewhat unkempt appearance. His eyes were half-open, as if he had just woken up.
"Haha, it's the grandson of Master Ruan," Ying Siqian gloated, "My careless cousin is in trouble. I don't think she can even make it through the first round."
"Master Ruan, are you talking about Ruan Mengxiu?" Ying Simeng asked excitedly, "Did he come today? Rumor has it that he lit a candle for his dead wife and that they came in and out together. I want to see if it's true."
Ying Siqian teased, "He usually doesn't come to watch the show, and even if you see him, don't get close to him."
Ying Simeng was surprised: "Why?"
Ying Siqian sneered, "He's a weirdo. He'll gouge out the eyes of anyone who looks at his wife for even a second."
Ying Simeng covered his mouth with an "ah" and dared not speak anymore.
Ruan Meng yawned and ruffled his already messy hair. "How old is that little girl over there?"
Ying Zhiwei was stunned for a moment: "Me? I'm almost a senior in high school."
"I'll try not to delay your exam," Ruan Meng threw a lighter from his arms, "You're not left-handed, are you?"
Ying Zhiwei took a half step back and looked at him cautiously: "No."
The other party laughed vaguely: "Then just keep one right hand." As he spoke, the lighter emitted sparks and was thrown upward in an arc. At the same time, a layer of mud and sand fell from the dome, and with it came several ugly zombies. Their skin was dark blue and their shape was like mud. Fire suddenly lit up in their dark eye sockets. They roared and pounced towards Ying Zhiwei.
Although Ying Zhiwei was not good at fighting, she was quite agile. Facing these terrifying but slightly slow-moving corpses, she was still able to dodge.
The people in the audience all showed expressions of pity, having already decided the outcome of this competition in their hearts: "She stopped moving, is she admitting defeat?"
"Hey, why is she taking out her phone?"
"Wait, is she on the phone—on the phone?"
Ying Siqian frowned, "Hey! If you can't beat me, just admit defeat! Don't mess around and embarrass our Ying family."
"That's right," Ying Simeng muttered, "We can't call for help, so why would we call?"
"I didn't call for help," Ying Zhiwei said confidently, putting the phone back. "I was calling my servant ghosts!"
"What on earth do you want to do, Ying Zhiwei?" Ying Siqian said with a gloomy face, "With your summoning skills, can you..."
On the judges' stage, the Zhu Meng Wuyue suddenly froze, their expressions uncertain. Simultaneously, a violent gust of wind swept in from the cave, raising a puff of black mist onto the stage. Third Master Ying, watching from the VIP area, looked up in astonishment, his hazy, aged demeanor fading. His gaze, like lightning, pierced the black mist, and he trembled as he took a few steps forward. Suddenly, a crackling sound echoed from the mist, and Ruan Meng retreated in shock, finally kneeling with a look of astonishment, unaware of the blood trickling from his nose.
Everything happened in a flash. When the thick fog dissipated, the arrogant corpses were pinned to the ground by a folding mop, with their heads caught in it. The young woman pulled the dehydration gear at the right time, and with a "bang", their heads exploded.
The whole place fell into an eerie silence.
"Is this... a yoke ghost??"
The discussion broke out in an uproar, and everyone turned their eyes to the stage, filled with suspicion, curiosity, doubt, fear and other complicated emotions.
Wang Suqing clapped his hands, and the wind from his palm struck the stone chime, like the sound of a gong: "Everyone, be quiet!"
Bai Jingze was surprised and doubtful, frowning and asking, "Master Lingsu, what do you think?"
"The martial arts competition is still going on," Wang Suqing's voice echoed throughout the dojo, "Please be patient and watch the battle calmly."
Master Ying San's expression was distorted, and he kept repeating "I can't be wrong": "This is not an ordinary servant ghost, it's a Xiao, this is that Xiao!"
Lan Qianhuang slammed the table and stood up, his tone somewhat aggressive: "Master Lingsu, they have come to our door, are we just going to sit there and wait for death?"
Wang Suqing smiled and said, "If she really came to your door, would you still be sitting here safely?"
Lan Qianhuang was speechless for a moment. Wang Suqing knocked on the stone chime again and said, "The competition continues."
Ruan Meng on the stage finally came to his senses. After a while, he sighed helplessly and raised his hands: "I give up."
"How is it possible..." Ying Siqian's face was pale, staring at the scene in disbelief: "She, who on earth is she?"
He refused to give up and shouted at Ruan Meng, who was about to step down, "Ruan! Are you scared? I just destroyed one of your zombies, right? Why are you so cowardly?"
Ruan Meng picked up his coat and dusted it off. Suddenly, someone started to anger him. He was stunned for a moment, turned around, and laughed: "Yeah, I'm a coward. If you can do it, go ahead."
Damn it, even though he didn’t know where this woman came from, nor did he know if she was the “Xiao” that everyone on the forum had speculated about, but… only a fool would continue to fight in this obviously moth-to-flame competition.
Long Zhu lifted the mop and easily put it on his shoulder, his expression relaxed: "Next."
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