Chapter 46: Night Raid
Mount Tai Sect, the rear mountain, midnight.
Zuo Lishan walked along the narrow path; the glove he wore on his right hand during the day was now removed, exposing pitch-black, claw-like nails gripping his sword hilt tightly. His thumb kept stroking the hilt.
Beneath his clothes, living things slithered, leaving winding marks across the fabric.
He licked his parched lips, feeling his vital energy stir restlessly, blood boiling with excitement, and couldn't help but reveal a ferocious grin.
Since earning the title “Sword of the Mountain” at the Five Mountains Alliance meeting at twenty-five, he hadn't felt this way in over a decade.
Excitement, elation, an uncontrollable thrill.
Li Miao was right, and Zuo Lishan knew it well: the foundation of his swordsmanship was nothing but “pride.”
Pride forged from defeating fellow disciples, slaying evil demons of the Western Regions, challenging assassin organizations single-handedly, and overcoming masters of the Five Mountains.
Yet, his swordsmanship had stagnated for years.
No matter how hard he trained, rising before dawn, braving winter’s chill and summer’s heat, never relaxing for a single day—still, not an inch of progress.
He understood the reason: he needed an opponent, one he could defeat, who would give him that pride anew.
At his peak, only a handful across the realm could face him, all leaders of powerful factions or honored guests. To challenge them rashly, win or lose, would disrupt his plans to unite the Five Mountains.
His swordsmanship was a swordsmanship forged in victory. But now, no one remained for him to defeat.
Tonight, he would conquer his last opponent.
“Li Miao...”
Zuo Lishan mouthed the name, savoring it.
He even felt a sudden urge—should he let Li Miao go?
He had crossed the summit, climbed to a peak no one else had reached. If he killed his only witness, how dull would the martial world be for him after tonight?
If he killed the commander of the Embroidered Guards, the Mount Tai Sect would hardly survive. But with his skill, he could roam the world freely; why worry about a tiny Mount Tai Sect?
Yet Zuo Lishan shook his head, dismissing the thought.
Mount Tai Sect was unimportant, as were the Five Mountains Sword Sects. What mattered was trading the Five Mountains Sword Sects with the Ming Cult for more parasites.
The Ming Cult’s parasites were insufficient, unable to transform his entire body, leaving him vulnerable. If Li Miao escaped, before the Five Mountains Alliance convened, the Embroidered Guards would march upon him, and he’d have no leverage left to trade with the Ming Cult.
He had to kill Li Miao.
Zuo Lishan felt a trace of sorrow.
Moments later, he arrived at the door of that private residence.
---
With a creak—
Zuo Lishan pushed open the door and saw Li Miao standing in the courtyard, hands behind his back, calmly observing a tree. Moonlight spilled through the branches, casting shifting shadows on the ground.
“Lord Li.”
Zuo Lishan did not hasten to draw his sword; he stepped forward, greeting Li Miao like a friend meeting for an appointment.
“Sect Leader Zuo, you’re here.”
Li Miao didn’t turn, replying casually.
“What are you looking at, Lord Li?”
“Oh,” Li Miao said, “just considering which branch would be best to whip you with.”
“You—!”
That single sentence shattered the mood and atmosphere Zuo Lishan had been cultivating—the sense of masters meeting, mutual respect, and after tonight, never again finding a worthy opponent.
“Once I defeat you, I’ll dig out that tongue of yours,” Zuo Lishan said angrily, drawing his sword.
Li Miao reached up, snapped off a branch about a foot long, stripped its leaves, tapped it against his palm, and nodded in satisfaction.
Then he smiled at Zuo Lishan, saying, “That’s more like it, Sect Leader Zuo.”
“You’re here for revenge and to silence me; don’t pretend it’s mutual respect, as if I invited you to admire the moon together.”
“Anyone unaware might think you favored me intimately.”
Zuo Lishan sneered, “Do you think I am still the man I once was?”
“I have crossed the summit; in future legends, my name will stand alongside Master Sanfeng and Patriarch Bodhidharma.”
“I don’t know how you’ve reached this realm, but after tonight—there will be only one invincible man in the world: me.”
Li Miao seemed unable to hold back laughter, letting out a faint sound.
“So you took the Ming Cult’s techniques and parasites, snuck up the mountain, and now think you’ve made it?”
“Sect Leader Zuo, if the summit were so easily crossed, there wouldn’t have been only Ji Tianrui for decades. If his technique were so effective, the Ming Cult would have been filled with summit masters and grandmasters long ago; why would they need to recruit you?”
“Master Sanfeng and Patriarch Bodhidharma didn’t come so cheaply.”
“Well, tonight I’ll teach you another lesson. The tuition will be the Five Mountains Sword Sects you’ve been obsessing over.”
“Come.”
Li Miao beckoned Zuo Lishan with his palm.
---
Zuo Lishan glared at Li Miao, grinning ferociously. “Fine!”
“Tonight, let’s settle life and death, and see who is truly the arrogant fool!”
In a flash, he thrust his sword forward!
Once again, the move: “How Stands the Great Mountain?”
The sword shot out, vital energy surging, producing a shrill wail. The sword wind shook the courtyard branches, sending leaves tumbling.
As if the heavens were collapsing!
In an instant, it reached Li Miao’s chest!
Li Miao’s arm traced a phantom in the air, the branch struck the weakest point of Zuo Lishan’s sword force, dispersing its power mid-air!
“Swallow Returns to the Sun!” Zuo Lishan frowned. “Hua Mountain Sword Technique... Are you an Embroidered Guard, or an exceptional predecessor of the Hua Mountain Sect?”
Li Miao laughed, “We’ve only just begun. Try again and you’ll see for yourself.”
Zuo Lishan immediately shut his mouth. Although his temperament had grown erratic after practicing forbidden arts, his tongue was still that of Mount Tai Sect’s leader.
When it came to provoking others, he was no match for Li Miao—a lesson he’d already learned at noon.
He advanced again, employing the “Five Doctor Sword,” a set of ancient moves with hidden intricacies, five continuous strikes, perfect for probing.
Yet Li Miao’s figure darted and twisted, power flowing as he wished, the branch weaving phantoms in the air, repeatedly striking the weakest points on Zuo Lishan’s sword, breaking the five moves and scattering his stance.
Step, step, step—
Zuo Lishan retreated several paces, staring in astonishment and shouting, “Who are you, really?”
“‘Heavy Sword Subduing the Ox,’ ‘Thousand Changes Mist of Heng Mountain Thirteen Forms,’ ‘Heaven and Earth Crane Soaring,’ ‘Swallow Returns to the Sun,’ and our Mount Tai Sect’s ‘Stone Pass Turning Horse’!”
“You countered my five sword moves with one from each of the Five Mountains Sects!?”
“What kind of forbidden art do you practice!?”
For Zuo Lishan, who raised parasites in his own body, to call someone else’s skill forbidden—only Li Miao could provoke that.
Among top masters, using a technique mismatched with one’s temperament would create obvious flaws for the opponent to exploit.
Yet the Five Mountains Sword Sects are spread across the realm, each with distinct methods and philosophies. How could Li Miao wield all their sword arts so masterfully? How could he counter Zuo Lishan’s self-created sword style?
What kind of temperament did he possess, to fit any sword technique inside?