“What are you afraid of?” Li Changqing sneered coldly, a hint of mockery and contempt on his face. “When has something your master set out to do ever failed?”
As he spoke, his tone softened as he looked at his disciple: “Don’t worry. Once I kill this cursed star and eliminate this major threat for His Highness, I’ll take you with me to change our names and identities.”
This was no difficulty for Li Changqing.
He’d done it many times before—use a scapegoat, make sure the corpse was unrecognizable, and then escape like a cicada shedding its shell.
This trick had never failed him.
When traveling outside, what did identity matter? He could be whoever he wanted to be.
The young disciple sniffled and, seeing his master’s confidence, could only hold back his fear and nod tearfully: “Master… please be careful!”
Careful? For what?
Li Changqing wasn’t unaware that Qi Yuan could kill.
His Highness had mentioned it in his letter.
But he hadn’t taken it seriously.
Just a woman—how deadly could she be, no matter how wild?
Even among trained deathsworn, men were still stronger than women.
Female Daoists could never rival male Daoists.
Qi Yuan might have some skill, sure. But in the past, she’d only dealt with ordinary people.
Now, she was facing him. That meant her time was up.
The storm winds howled, blowing a tree in the courtyard side to side. Fat raindrops whipped through the wind, pelting anyone caught outside, enough to make anyone shiver.
But Li Changqing didn’t care at all. In the sound of the storm, he circled to the second floor and creaked open the door.
The room was silent.
As it should be—he had already instructed his disciple to drug the food in the kitchen. By now, the Qi family’s people should be sleeping like pigs.
A flash of lightning from outside illuminated the bed, its curtains drawn. Li Changqing smirked and stepped forward, yanking the curtains open.
On the bed, the blanket was folded neatly. The sheets were smooth—untouched.
No one was in the bed.
Li Changqing’s brows furrowed. He immediately lit his fire striker and spun around.
And at that exact moment—he saw a face suddenly appear right in front of him.
A face, upside down, hanging from the ceiling beam, looking down at him.
The eyes were terrifyingly close—close enough for Li Changqing to see the mockery in them.
Qi Yuan smiled faintly at him and said softly, “Daoist Li, were you looking for me?”
She hadn’t eaten the food!
That was Li Changqing’s first thought. Without hesitation, he hurled the fire striker at her.
Qi Yuan, legs hooked over the beam, exerted force and flipped herself upright in a flash.
In just that one moment, Li Changqing realized—he had completely underestimated her.
This woman really had skills!
But things had come this far. It was too late to regret his misjudgment—and no point.
He stared coldly at Qi Yuan on the beam, and suddenly raised his hand, hurling a volley of hidden weapons at her.
Qi Yuan flipped and leapt down from the beam.
In that instant, Li Changqing drew the sword strapped to his back and charged at her.
His swordsmanship had been honed from childhood. The sword itself was finely forged and had accompanied him for years, taking countless lives.
Tonight, it would do so again.
But this time, his sword did not cut as easily as before.
Qi Yuan drew the soft sword at her waist and parried. Several times, Li Changqing’s blade nearly struck her, yet each time she dodged just in time. Every move he thought would land, she always found a way to block.
After several failed strikes, he was growing anxious. He reached for his waist.
But in that moment, Qi Yuan launched a swift kick at his sword hilt. With a sharp upward flick, the blade flew from his grip.
He staggered back a step but had already touched the object at his waist.
He was about to act when Qi Yuan delivered a rapid series of kicks, slamming hard into his chest.
A searing pain exploded across his chest.
Only now did he finally understand—why Qi Yuan had told her guards to rest and not stand watch outside.
It wasn’t because she was naive or didn’t understand danger.
It was because—she didn’t need them.
She was a blade herself.
Clutching his chest, Li Changqing reached for the second sword on his back.
But it was too late.
Qi Yuan gave him no chance. At that exact moment, her soft sword was already at his throat.
Rain blew in through the open door, forming puddles on the floor.
In the midst of wind and lightning, Li Changqing finally saw Qi Yuan’s face clearly.
The girl he had always dismissed—turned out to be such a fearsome opponent.
He stared coldly at her. “So… you knew all along I was coming to kill you? This whole trip, you were baiting me step by step?”
Qi Yuan gave a slight smile. “Yep. And Daoist Li, you were very cooperative. I hardly had to lift a finger—you bit the bait all by yourself.”
Li Changqing couldn’t tell whether he felt more angry or more regretful.
He gritted his teeth, eyes locked on her, and sneered, “You think you’ve won?”
“Looks that way,” Qi Yuan smiled calmly.
But suddenly, Li Changqing pulled out something from his sleeve— A firearm.
Just like the one Pu Wuyong once wielded.
Now, Li Changqing had one too.
Qi Yuan gave a soft snort. In the same instant, her soft sword swept upward in a sharp slash.
In the quiet of the night, a scream tore through the air—piercing, shrill.
In the next room, the disciple froze at the sound, then jolted— That voice… was Master’s?!
It was Master’s voice!
Li Changqing had no chance to use the firearm.
The arm holding the fire striker had already been severed by Qi Yuan.
Her expression didn’t change. She stared coldly at the groaning Li Changqing and stepped hard on his face.
“This world has no shortcuts. If you try to take one, karma will find you eventually. Aren’t you a cultivator? How can you not understand that basic truth?”
Li Changqing lay paralyzed under her foot, completely humiliated. His eyes reddened with fury as he roared, “You think I’m lying?! You were meant to die young! You really are a cursed star!”
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