Chapter 30: Crushing Defeat

The moment he thrust his sword, Zuo Lishan understood—his mind was in turmoil.

“The Peak’s Inquiry” was the mightiest stroke of the Mount Tai Sword Technique, yet it was not a move that seized the initiative, but one designed as a countermove.

He could not accept the reality that Li Miao had so effortlessly broken his sword, nor was he willing or able to believe it. His emotions clouded his judgment, compelling him to unleash this sword once more, as if to prove something—to prove that Zuo Lishan was no frog at the bottom of a well, no self-deluded joke.

A sharp crack—

The blade snapped again. This time, Li Miao reversed his grip and flung the broken sword back.

A thin shard of iron sliced past Zuo Lishan’s cheek, severing a few strands of hair and leaving a trail of fresh blood across his face.

He staggered back, wiping his face with his hand. Raising his palm to his eyes, he stared at the crimson blood smeared there.

For a long moment, his voice came out hoarse: “Who, exactly, are you?”

Li Miao shrugged. “Master Zuo, you’ve already asked me that three times today.”

“You can’t possibly be that Captain of the Four Seasons!”

Zuo Lishan fixed his gaze on Li Miao’s face. “He’s thirty-five. Only thirty-five!”

“I have trained in martial arts since childhood—my talent, my foundation, my comprehension—there are few in this world who can compare! I have toiled day and night, never once letting up! Only at thirty-eight have I reached my current level!”

“How can you possibly be only thirty-five?”

“Yes, yes—an ageless face, invulnerable to harm!”

“I never imagined there would be such a monster lurking in the Embroidered Uniform Guard!” A look of sudden realization dawned on Zuo Lishan, and he came to his own conclusion.

The more accomplished one is in their own field, the harder it is to accept something beyond their understanding.

A man’s temperament is shaped by his experiences. It was Zuo Lishan’s years of maneuvering and strife that forged his domineering, ferocious, and prideful swordsmanship. He could not, and would not, accept that someone younger had achieved a realm he might never reach in his lifetime.

Once he accepted that reality, the mindset sustaining his sword technique would collapse. At best, he would suffer inner turmoil and regression in his cultivation; at worst, the sword intent he’d crafted would lose its foundation, reducing him to nothing more than a practitioner of the basic Mount Tai Sword Technique.

Then, his status as a supreme master would slip back to that of a first-rate fighter.

“I thought, with the force and spirit of your sword intent, your mind would be just as resilient. Turns out it’s nothing but a castle in the air,” Li Miao said.

“Believe it or not, that’s not what you should be thinking about now.”

“What you should be thinking about is—how you’re going to survive today.”

With that, Li Miao rose and strode toward Zuo Lishan.

“Master!” Fei Junxuan shouted, forming his fingers into a sword and lunging at Li Miao.

Swish!

Before he could approach, Mei Qinghe forced him back with a single stroke, blood spurting from his arm as it fell limp at his side.

“Master!” Fei Junxuan gritted his teeth, clutching his wound and called out again.

Zuo Lishan snapped back to his senses—of course, now was not the time for idle thoughts.

The pressing matter was how to survive at this man’s hands.

Escape was impossible. The moment he turned to flee, his back would be exposed, and death would come even swifter!

Zuo Lishan was no novice to the world of martial arts; he had faced life and death before. He knew what he had to do.

When faced with mortal peril, one must seize life from the jaws of death—embrace death to survive!

With his mind made up, Zuo Lishan immediately banished distracting thoughts. Gripping the broken sword in his hand, he slashed toward Li Miao!

This stroke was full of feints and hidden variations.

Li Miao chuckled. “That’s more like it.”

He reached out to seize the blade as before, but grasped only empty air.

Zuo Lishan changed tactics mid-strike, his broken sword arcing around Li Miao’s palm and suddenly plunging downward toward Li Miao’s groin.

“Tsk!”

Li Miao twisted aside, blocking the blow with his forearm. His clothing tore, but his skin bore no mark.

Martial arts were designed to kill; the throat, groin, eyes, and the back of the head were vulnerable points difficult for even the most rigorous training to protect. By targeting these, Zuo Lishan aimed to break through Li Miao’s defenses.

In a life-or-death struggle, anything goes. Li Miao made no comment, but a trace of displeasure crossed his face.

For Zuo Lishan, that displeasure spelled disaster.

Swish!

Li Miao’s fingers formed a claw, striking at Zuo Lishan’s nape with speed almost too fast to perceive.

This move was none other than Wang Hai’s signature technique, “Shedding the Leaves.” Used by Li Miao, should it land, it would mean a shattered skull and instant death.

Zuo Lishan was bent low, attacking Li Miao’s lower body, his head down. Suddenly, he heard the chilling whistle of wind as the attack came for his nape.

Against Li Miao, his sword was as brittle as a pastry—incapable of blocking or parrying. There was no time to evade; he was trapped.

In that instant, Zuo Lishan twisted his wrist, spinning the broken sword in his hand so that the hilt fell into his tiger’s mouth grip.

He thrust upward toward Li Miao’s palm—not with the blade, but with the hilt.

No matter how finely forged, a sword’s blade was thin and sharp, while the Mount Tai Sword Technique valued weight and stability. Thus, Fei Junxuan’s sword had a hilt forged from a single piece of wrought iron.

If your iron-body skill lets you snap blades barehanded, then I’ll block your palm with this iron hilt!

Let’s see you try to break it now!

Mei Qinghe sighed softly; Li Miao merely smiled.

Without changing his move, Li Miao allowed the hilt to strike his palm, then closed his fingers around it.

A harsh, grating shriek rang out as Li Miao’s fingertips sank deep into the wrought iron hilt. With a twist—

Snap!

The hilt broke clean in two!

Zuo Lishan dropped the sword and rolled away, his right hand trembling, blood streaming down. When he looked again, only three fingers remained.

As he thrust with the hilt, Li Miao’s claw had crushed his thumb and index finger, along with the web of flesh between them, fusing them into the iron.

Clang—

Li Miao flicked the mangled iron aside. Flesh and metal had melded together.

Zuo Lishan’s right hand was ruined.

His face betrayed no emotion. With his mutilated right hand shaking, he picked up the blade Li Miao had broken earlier and passed it to his left.

Once more, he charged at Li Miao!

With his left hand, he aimed the sword straight for Li Miao’s throat!

Li Miao seized the blade with his right hand and crushed it instantly.

At that moment, Zuo Lishan raised his maimed right hand, three fingers together, and stabbed for Li Miao’s eyes.

Li Miao caught Zuo Lishan’s right hand with his left and squeezed.

He crushed Zuo Lishan’s right hand, breaking it clean off at the wrist!

Expressionless, Zuo Lishan swung the stump of his right arm at Li Miao’s face.

A spray of blood lashed toward Li Miao’s eyes.

Li Miao raised his sleeve to shield himself.

When he lowered his arm, the space before him was empty.

Blood dotted the floor, trailing toward the door.

Zuo Lishan, sacrificing his dominant hand, had severed his own limb to survive—and at last, he escaped with his life.