Chapter 465: The Death of Yan Xingning (Part 1) [Happy First Anniversary]
"Senior brother?"
Zheng Qiao's eyes fell on the young man walking slowly towards him. His face showed a hint of surprise, but his heart was filled with high vigilance. An ominous premonition filled his chest. He thought no one in the world could make him fear or tense; clearly, he had overestimated himself.
Yan An walked to the center of the palace.
The two brothers looked at each other from a distance of three or four zhang.
An inexplicably somber atmosphere spread.
"It's rare to hear you call me 'Senior Brother' again."
Zheng Qiao calmed her inner unease.
He said seriously, "What are you saying, Senior Brother? We are like lips and teeth, inseparable yet also prone to disagreement! Even if we, as fellow disciples, have some disagreements, it doesn't affect our past friendship. Once you are my senior brother, you will always be my senior brother. But why have you come here today?"
Yan An said, "I've come to kill you."
Three simple words, devoid of any murderous intent, so bland it was as if they were saying, "Let's have a drink together today," that one might initially suspect Yan An was joking. Zheng Qiao, however, couldn't laugh. His face darkened: "Kill me?"
Zheng Qiao was already very beautiful.
That kind of handsome, feminine beauty, combined with a stunningly beautiful appearance that transcends gender, and a face with a touch of natural mockery and meanness.
Such a beauty is beyond compare; to describe her as "unparalleled in her beauty" would be an understatement. In terms of looks alone, there are probably few in the world who can rival her. Her naturally expressive eyes are filled with an incredible depth, and even her anger and rage are captivating.
Zheng Qiao asked again, "Are you going to kill me?"
He then questioned her again.
"Yan Xingning, are you going to kill me?"
Yan An did not answer the three questions.
Seeing his attitude, Zheng Qiao felt bored. The vulnerability and shock of his earlier betrayal vanished, replaced by a barely concealed scorn that seemed ready to burst forth. He sneered, "Senior brother, don't you think you're being incredibly hypocritical? You were the one who said you'd come down the mountain to assist me, and you're also the one who said you'd kill me. What, you think you can change your mind so easily?"
Yan An said, "No, it has always been the same."
As for what exactly constitutes "consistency," the brothers can spend plenty of time explaining it on their way to the underworld.
Zheng Qiao's voice rose several decibels: "Not at all?"
It also carries a hint of sharpness.
Yan An did not answer, but drew his sword from his waist. Zheng Qiao subconsciously took a half step back when he saw this. There was no other reason than that the sword looked too familiar. It was the sharp blade that Yan An's deceased father loved most. It had added a lot of psychological shadow to Zheng Qiao's study time, and it was a headache for students.
Zheng Qiao also grabbed the sword from beside the table.
With a whoosh, the sharp blade was drawn.
Then he asked, "Where is your sword?"
Yan An said indifferently, "It's over."
Zheng Qiao: "..."
Swords are considered the king of all blades, holding extraordinary significance for scholars, second only to calligraphy in importance. Preparations were typically made with the help of teachers or elders in the family, a process that took an extremely long time, from gathering the finest forging materials to forging and shaping.
His deceased father treated Zheng Qiao as his own son and, knowing his awkward position, took on the matter himself. Therefore, his sword and Yan An's sword were from the same source and forged. It is hoped that these two fellow disciples can maintain a harmonious relationship, support each other, and uphold the principles of gentlemanly conduct.
Both gentlemen's swords met the same fate.
Zheng Qiao personally broke his sword—because after he was humiliated by the old king of Xin, his former classmates and friends changed their friendly and refined demeanor, pointing fingers at him and hurling insults, calling him a sycophant who had bewitched the king. Their hypocrisy was utterly repulsive.
Yan An himself broke his sword, for the expectations it was imbued with from its very creation had long been distorted, making destruction preferable. He handed the broken sword to his wife, entrusting her to find a swordsmith to reforge it and pass it on to their daughter.
Today, I can only bring my deceased father's sword.
It can be considered——
It's time to clean house.
The cold blade exuded a deathly chill, its tip aimed directly at Zheng Qiao's throat. A flash of cold light, and in the blink of an eye, the distance between them had closed to three or four zhang. Zheng Qiao sensed the faint yet unwavering killing intent in the air and knew that Yan An was determined.
He raised his sword to parry.
With a crisp clang.
A tremendous force struck his hand, forcing him backward. His back hit the table, but he decisively used a sword technique to deflect the force, spinning to dodge. Those naturally affectionate eyes were now filled with killing intent; for the first time, Zheng Qiao no longer concealed his murderous intent in front of Yan An.
He tried to activate his inner energy in his dantian, but was surprised to find that there was no response.
Quietly, as if Wenxin had never appeared.
As for the Imperial Seal, it has vanished without a trace.
"Yan Xingning, you're serious!"
Zheng Qiao couldn't hold back and started cursing.
Given the situation and the unusually quiet atmosphere in the hall, he was certain that this space was no longer the present world.
Unable to invoke the literary heart or activate the trump card, the National Seal, although the restriction applies to both sides—as evidenced by the fact that Yan An has not shown any fluctuation of literary energy since his appearance—Zheng Qiao is clearly at a greater disadvantage as both are "forbidden moves."
Although he had a talent for swordsmanship, his teacher had limited energy, so his swordsmanship was taught by Yan An himself. In recent years, he had lived a life of ease and comfort, racking his brains to fight with others, and rarely drew his sword to practice, basically leaving it hanging to collect dust.
Yan An's swordsmanship is indeed excellent. He hasn't slacked off over the years, even if he didn't train as hard as in the dead of winter or the sweltering heat of summer. In a pure swordsmanship contest, he might actually be defeated by this senior brother! Seeing the sword tip sticking to him again, Zheng Qiao flipped his wrist, and the blade of his longsword blocked the thrusting blade. He heard the sword groaning as if it couldn't bear the weight, and with his strength failing, he was forced into a corner.
Yan An's hand holding the sword was frighteningly steady.
Their moves are always aimed at the vital points.
However, he understood Zheng Qiao's swordsmanship style, and Zheng Qiao understood his as well. The sword flashed and rang out, its cold light appearing particularly eerie in this space.
Although Zheng Qiao was in grave danger and in a sorry state, he was still alive and wouldn't die. Since becoming the ruler of Geng Kingdom, he had never been in such a sorry state.
He was momentarily distracted, and the blade pierced straight into his shoulder, the blood spreading into a bewitching and dazzling red flower.
The next sword strike will be fatal.
Zheng Qiao gritted her teeth and caught the sword with her bare hands.
Whoosh—
Blood splattered, specks dotting Yan An's profile.
Tear—
That's the sound of a sword blade slicing through brocade and fine clothing.
Most of the sleeve was on the ground.
That's exactly what "severing ties and cutting off all ties" means.
Yan An paused for only a moment, then without hesitation, swung his sword at Zheng Qiao with even greater force. Zheng Qiao, seeing the torn sleeve, her disheveled face contorted with deep disgust, followed by even greater rage: "Yan Xingning! This is outrageous!"
They fought for several dozen more moves.
Zheng Qiao's hair was disheveled, and her injuries had multiplied, with crimson blood almost staining her white robes a glaring red.
The anger that had fueled his desperate fight turned into fear as his disadvantage intensified; his heart pounded wildly in his chest as if it would be pierced and stop beating at any moment. He mustered all his strength and thrust forward, seemingly intent on taking Yan An down with him.
That is impossible.
At the critical moment of life and death, Zheng Qiao was shocked to realize that she was far less open-minded than she thought, and that she cherished her life more than she had expected.
The sword suddenly shifted, feinting an attack.
But the results were minimal.
With a snap, the sword slipped from his hand.
Zheng Qiao was thrown back by the immense force, staggering back several steps before losing her balance and tumbling down the steps outside the hall. A dizzying sensation accompanied by excruciating pain followed as she rolled dozens of times before finally tumbling down dozens of steps, landing with a final impact that made her see stars.
The blood from the wound stained the ground.
The dizziness from blood loss left him unable to support himself with his hands, but his gaze was resolute. He gritted his teeth and struggled to his feet, staggering forward with each step. He knew without looking back that death was closing in on him, like maggots clinging to his bones.
At this moment, he keenly noticed that the surrounding environment had changed compared to before, as if it were all covered with a thin layer of fog.
A surge of joy welled up in my heart.
He didn't know what method Yan An used to create this eerie space, but he was certain that—to be so domineering as to sever the literary heart and even the national seal, he must have paid an extremely heavy price, possibly even Yan An's own life!
This also means that this situation won't last long.
As long as the game drags on until the time runs out, the outcome will be decided.
"Senior brother—"
In the blink of an eye, a thousand thoughts flashed through my mind.
Zheng Qiao had only taken a couple of steps when he stumbled and fell to the ground. He turned around and looked up to see Yan An leaping down from the top of the steps. In just a few breaths, Yan An's appearance had changed drastically.
Her once black hair was now half gray.
His once youthful face now bore the deep lines of time, and his figure was no longer as upright as before. Even more strangely, Zheng Qiao's counterattack only managed to save his own life, failing to inflict any external injuries on Yan An. Yet, glaring bloodstains had appeared on the latter's body at some unknown time…
Every position matches Zheng Qiao's body perfectly.
"Senior brother—"
Zheng Qiao used her hands to push herself back.
Although he was still covered in dust and dirt, it did not diminish his appearance at all; in fact, it added a touch of brokenness and fragility to his demeanor.
"We are brothers, why has it come to this?"
"Why has it come to this!"
His eyes were clear, just as they had been back then.
Hehe, this time last year, I started serializing "Retreat the Emperor".
What does this tell us?
This means Tangmei is one year old.
Haha, I originally wanted to give Yan'an a bento box today, but I overestimated myself.
This is so difficult to write!
(End of this chapter)
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