Chapter 423: Don't Touch My Friends
Mo Shui swung her blade again, the swirling blade energy even more formidable than before.
Yet the old nun caught the blade with both hands, her golden Buddha statue body remaining completely still.
"Still too weak! Let take a closer look?" The old nun's neck stretched like a giraffe's as she leaned in, tilting her head at an impossible angle to examine Mo Shui up and down. "Tsk tsk, your late-stage Divine Transformation cultivation is fake, forcibly boosted and still deteriorating. Your actual cultivation is only at Nascent Soul, isn't it? This blade is quite interesting—it's the source of your power."
Mo Shui didn't respond, gritting her teeth as she tried to pull the demonic blade back, but it was stuck as if wedged in stone.
[Girl, put so strength into it!]
The demonic blade's voice howled in her mind.
[Pull out quickly! This old nun's hands stink!]
"You want your blade back so badly? Here you go~" The old nun grinned, revealing rows of tiny sharp teeth.
The Buddha statue's hands suddenly released, and as Mo Shui stumbled off-balance, its massive stone arm lifted like a mountain and smashed down.
In a flash, Mo Shui sidestepped, her black hair whipping back from the rushing wind.
BOOM—! The stone fist shattered the ground, debris flying as cracks spiderwebbed outward.
Mo Shui staggered back dozens of yards before barely steadying herself.
[Stop fighting, just run!]
The Abyss Soul Blade nagged: [You're burning out—you only have minutes left!]
"No." Mo Shui glanced at the unconscious Li Qingran, her gaze hardening. "Li Qingran is my friend. How can I watch her die?"
[Is it worth throwing your life away?]
"What do you know, you stupid blade..." Mo Shui's eyes darkened.
She had endured enough of a rootless, wandering life—enough of kind gazes suddenly turning hostile.
Before, she had lived like a walking corpse.
Until she t Li Qingran. Until she entered the Sword Pavilion.
Here, no one looked at her with suspicion. No prejudice, no misunderstandings.
The Sword Pavilion disciples even shared cola and spicy strips with her—not out of fear for the Sword Pavilion Patriarch's authority, but genuine acceptance.
The recognition and sincerity in their eyes couldn't be faked.
For that acceptance, she would fight to the end.
If forced back into that sunless existence, she'd rather die!
Demonic energy boiled as a cold glint flashed in Mo Shui's eyes.
The Abyss Soul Blade tilted toward the ground, black flas flickering to life as she stepped forward.
Her pace quickened—almost instantly, she appeared before the old nun.
SWISH SWISH SWISH—!
The blade left seven afterimages in the air, seven slashes in succession.
Her movents blurred, only black light visible. Every strike aid precisely at the Buddha statue's eyes, throat, heart—all vital points.
Sparks flew as blade t stone, each cut sinking deep. The golden statue trembled, but only shallow marks remained, golden powder scattering like dust.
"Persistent little rat! Scram!"
The old nun grew increasingly irritated by the relentless barrage.
The Buddha statue's hands slowly pressed together, golden light swirling around it—then suddenly parted, fingertips erupting with blinding radiance.
BOOM—! An invisible shockwave surged forth like a tsunami.
Mo Shui's pupils contracted sharply as she crossed her arms defensively.
The next instant, overwhelming force struck—the impact sent her flying uncontrollably, her back slamming hard into a stone pillar by the lotus pond.
Shakily, Mo Shui pushed herself up using the blade, blood trickling from her lips, her demonic energy thinning further.
Before she could steady herself, the old nun seized the opening to attack.
The Buddha statue's golden light flashed like a loosed arrow as it closed the distance, one palm thrusting out with the force of wind and thunder.
The palm strike howled, space fracturing under its power.
Mo Shui had no ti to dodge—only to raise her blade in a desperate block.
Ti seed to freeze for a heartbeat.
The Abyss Soul Blade dented inward under the stone palm's might before crashing into her chest.
CRACK—
The sound of ribs snapping was unmistakable.
Both blade and wielder were sent flying, tumbling into the dust motionless.
"Tsk. Even a demon cultivator can't take a hit."
The old nun shook her head, turning toward Li Qingran and the eight flood dragons.
TAP—!
A pebble bounced off the old nun's head, making her pause mid-step.
She turned to see a blood-soaked figure sprawled on the ground, arm still extended from throwing the stone.
The feeble motion seed to cost her dearly—violent coughs wracked her body as crimson pooled beneath her.
"Don't... *cough*... touch... my friend..."
"Tsk." An inexplicable fury surged in the old nun's heart. In a flash, she lunged forward and kicked.
THUD—!
A dull shockwave erupted.
Mo Shui rolled across the ground until she hit the lotus pond's edge, leaving a trail of blood.
She lay still for seconds before pushing up on trembling arms, one hand reaching weakly for another pebble.
Before her fingers could close around it, the old nun's foot descended.
BOOM!
The ground cratered.
Mo Shui was embedded halfway into the earth, bloody froth bubbling from her mouth as she rasped hoarsely:
"Don't..."
"Shut up!" The old nun scowled, lifting the Buddha statue's foot again—this ti aid squarely at the defenseless body below.
One stomp would shatter it beyond recognition.
She had planned to kill Li Qingran and the eight flood dragons first.
The demonic blade intrigued her—she'd intended to spare Mo Shui for interrogation.
But now? Unnecessary.
Just an ant. Crush it and be done.
TAP—!
Another pebble struck the back of her head.
Her foot froze mid-descent.
"WHO?!"
This was unbearable—if you're going to ambush soone, do it properly! What's with the pebbles?!
Hardly damaging, but deeply insulting. Was it because she controlled stone constructs?!
The old nun whirled around—
—and the very air seed to solidify.
A hundred yards away, a swordsman stood upon a lotus leaf, the surface undisturbed beneath his weight.
Cloaked in black as dark as ink, his hair whiter than snow, he hovered above the water.
His face was indistinct, as if veiled in mist, but the cold severity in his faintly visible brow was unmistakable.
At his waist hung a black-scaled sword—sheathed, yet its killing intent already pierced to the bone.
"Which True Martial Holy Land elder are you?!"
The old nun frowned, wary now.
His silent appearance alone spoke volus about his strength.
The swordsman didn't answer, rely lifting his gaze slightly.
When his eyes swept over her, the air itself seed to split.
The old nun's breath caught—an invisible blade already at her throat.
A chill shot through her skull.
She barely managed to duck.
SQUELCH—!
Twin bursts of blood mist exploded from her eye sockets, mixed with shattered eyeballs.
Horror gripped the old nun's heart.
He'd destroyed her eyes with just a glance?!
Had she been a fraction slower, her head would have been severed instead!
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