Martial artists excelled in combat; Daoists excelled in esoteric arts.
Generally speaking, it was difficult for a Daoist to defeat a martial artist of the same rank in frontal combat.
And whether a martial artist had a weapon in hand made an enormous difference.
Though Zhou Wuji was eager to exact vengeance and vent his fury, and harbored considerable confidence in his swordsmanship, he was unwilling to take reckless risks.
If Zhang Wuding had a sword in hand, Zhou Wuji might well have had no choice but to rely on a Yin Thunder Bead to dispatch him.
Zhang Wuding was completely oblivious that Zhou Wuji was watching from the sidelines. He was delivering an impassioned speech to the gathered junior disciples and servants.
"Our master was murdered by a treacherous disciple! Before the Arctic Celestial Emperor, I swear that I will slay Zhou Wuji to avenge our master!"
With that, he pointed at the crowd before him. "You are all witnesses!"
"Witnesses to what? To you twisting black and white, betraying your master, and destroying our lineage?" A voice drifted from behind Zhang Wuding.
Zhang Wuding flared with rage. At a moment like this, someone dared to step forward and provoke him?
Yet a moment later, he realized something was amiss. The voice was exceedingly familiar—it was Zhou Wuji!
The assembled disciples and servants saw Zhou Wuji as well. Under the glow of the oil lamps, Zhou Wuji's expression was as calm as still water, betraying neither joy nor anger.
For reasons unknown, they felt this expression bore a strange resemblance to the statue of the Arctic Celestial Emperor towering above—both carrying an unfathomable depth.
Shock rippled through everyone. Zhou Wuji had slain his master and betrayed the sect—how did he dare return? Moreover, Zhou Wuji looked drastically different from usual, bizarre in every way!
Zhang Wuding whirled around in a hurry. When his eyes fell upon Zhou Wuji, he was equally stunned.
How did Zhou Wuji have the nerve to come out?!
Zhang Wuding had previously looked down on Zhou Wuji. Lacking in both martial arts and Daoist magic, with a tepid, mild-mannered temperament, he was utterly mediocre in both conduct and skill.
Had it not been for Li Yiyuan's favoritism, Zhou Wuji would never have had the chance to be Canglong Temple's Second Senior Brother.
It was precisely this persistent contempt that had prompted him to ally with Fang Wuzhen without hesitation to get rid of Zhou Wuji.
Yet at the critical moment, Zhou Wuji had taught him a lesson.
That bizarre burst of flames was one thing, but the truly formidable part was Zhou Wuji's swift, decisive counterattack, executed without the slightest hesitation.
Because of that, Zhang Wuding had revised his assessment of Zhou Wuji. This fellow was not to be underestimated!
It was unlikely Zhou Wuji had rushed out in anger merely to plead his case. So what was he after?
Could he have found some tremendously powerful magical artifact among Li Yiyuan's belongings? Yet Zhou Wuji could not ingest yuanqi; without it, no artifact could display its might.
Did he think he could kill him solely by relying on the sharpness of the Seven Stars Sword? That was nothing short of a pipe dream!
Though Zhang Wuding longed to smash Zhou Wuji's skull in with a single punch, unable to fathom what Zhou Wuji was planning, he refrained from acting rashly.
Everyone present, whether an official disciple or an odd-job servant, hailed from Siming County. Who would dare disobey him?
With superior numbers on his side, there was even less need for him to take a hasty gamble.
Seeing the mercurial changes in Zhang Wuding's expression and noting that he hadn't recklessly charged forward, Zhou Wuji deduced that Zhang Wuding did not want to risk it.
Having cultivated together for years, Zhou Wuji understood Zhang Wuding and Fang Wuzhen quite well.
After all, he had awakened past-life wisdom and possessed a mature mind.
In his view, Zhang Wuding was confident and overbearing, yet lacked quick wits. Fang Wuzhen was quick-witted, yet lacked patience.
It was precisely because Zhang Wuding was supremely confident in his Iron Tiger Fist that, even at an extraordinary juncture like this, he did not wear a sword at his hip.
Fang Wuzhen, by contrast, always liked to carry a sword with him.
Everything followed a pattern.
Having advanced to Rank Eight Qi Ingestion, Zhou Wuji's mental power had surged dramatically; he now had the leeway to calmly contemplate such details.
The opposing side had numbers; he could not give Zhang Wuding the chance to rally them.
Zhou Wuji shouted, "With the Arctic Celestial Emperor above as witness, look upon this disciple today as I slay the treacherous disciples Zhang Wuding and Fang Wuzhen for the murder of our master!"
As a Daoist cultivator, Li Yiyuan had violated the precepts and provoked Yin Thunder, dying in an utterly disgraceful manner.
If word got out, his master's lifelong reputation would be ruined.
Now that Zhang Wuding and Fang Wuzhen had stepped forward, Li Yiyuan's death could be pinned squarely on their heads.
In doing so, his master's reputation would be preserved, and he would have a justifiable reason to deal with the pair!
Zhou Wuji unsheathed his sword. The divine aperture between his brows contracted and expanded in rhythm, channeling the stellar power of Tian Shu throughout his body.
Empowered by qi, his body became light, nimble, and brimming with explosive force.
His forward advance was as light as the wind and as graceful as drifting clouds—the very technique he executed was the Flowing Cloud Sword from the Xiaoxiang Sword.
Flowing clouds appeared slow yet moved faster than a galloping horse, for they relied on the shifting currents of the wind.
The Xiaoxiang Sword was a sword art Li Yiyuan had created himself, its forms subtle and full of intricate variations; none of the other disciples knew it.
Looking at it now, Zhou Wuji realized the Xiaoxiang Sword possessed a complete framework and profound conception—it truly was an exceptional sword art.
Coupled with Tian Shu True Qi, it appeared all the more marvelous.
In the blink of an eye, the Seven Stars Sword in Zhou Wuji's hand was thrust directly before Zhang Wuding.
Zhang Wuding discovered that Zhou Wuji's speed was extraordinary beyond measure, and his complexion changed drastically.
In just this short span of time, how had Zhou Wuji suddenly become so formidable?!
The Seven Stars Sword was already upon him, gleaming with cold light. It was too late for Zhang Wuding to retreat.
Steeling his resolve, he spurred his Iron Tiger Fist, bending his ten fingers into tiger claws and clawing straight toward the Seven Stars Sword.
Years of cultivation had honed his tiger claws into hard, vicious weapons; snatching ordinary blades barehanded would not harm them.
Yet the Seven Stars Sword was no ordinary blade. Though Zhang Wuding's claws appeared ferocious, he did not dare truly seize it.
His Fierce Tiger Descends the Mountain was a feint. His true lethal strike was the Tiger Roar Thunder Sound surging from his lungs.
When a tiger roars across the forest, its voice echoes like thunder, striking terror into a hundred beasts—what majestic might!
The Tiger Roar Thunder Sound of the Iron Tiger Fist used the lungs to generate force and expel breath like thunder. Normally, it was a method for tempering the internal organs, but in battle, the thunder sound could directly strike an enemy.
Fast as the Seven Stars Sword was, it could not outpace the Tiger Roar Thunder Sound.
Zhang Wuding's chest expanded and suddenly contracted. Opening his mouth, he unleashed a thunderous tiger roar, the exhaled sound wave hurtling toward Zhou Wuji's face like an invisible iron hammer.
The Tiger Roar Thunder Sound was exceptionally tyrannical; it could churn the blood of a martial artist of the same rank and make them stagger.
For a lowly Rank Nine Daoist acolyte like Zhou Wuji, the Tiger Roar Thunder Sound could deafen both his ears directly, and being blasted dead on the spot would hardly be surprising.
Zhou Wuji could not see the sound wave, yet through the divine aperture between his brows, he could sense the flow of the world's yuanqi.
Though Zhang Wuding had not mastered qi, the Tiger Roar Thunder Sound he unleashed left distinct wave-like traces across the endless sea of yuanqi.
Sensing the shift of the Tiger Roar Thunder Sound a step ahead, Zhou Wuji tilted his head and narrowed his eyes at once, while circulating his qi inward to guard his divine aperture and protect his breath apertures.
This did not mean he could truly seal all seven apertures—he had only just mastered qi and was still far from such an exquisite realm.
However, Zhang Wuding's Tiger Roar Thunder Sound was not of a particularly high level either. Pulling his qi inward for defense was enough.
The thunderous roar crashed against him, causing the flesh of Zhou Wuji's face to quiver and loose strands of hair to whip back, yet it could not shake his divine aperture or rattle his consciousness.
Throughout the grand hall, the oil lamps shook violently under the blast of the acoustic wave, their flames flickering between bright and dim.
The crowd standing behind Zhang Wuding turned pale with fright; many even went weak in the knees and slumped to the ground...
Fang Wuzhen, who had intended to rush in and help, was left dazed, dizzy, and frozen where he stood by the reverberation.
Facing the Tiger Roar Thunder Sound head-on, Zhou Wuji merely swayed slightly. Instantly steadying his breath, he thrust his sword straight forward.
Zhang Wuding had never expected Zhou Wuji to withstand the Tiger Roar Thunder Sound. Seeing the gleaming cold blade bearing down, he could only twist his body to evade as best he could while snapping both hands toward the blade like tiger claws.
Zhou Wuji concentrated his qi into his swordsmanship. Flowing Cloud Sword shifted into Descending Goose Sword—the fastest thrusting technique of the Xiaoxiang Sword.
The blade abruptly accelerated, turning into a streak of flowing cold light that drove straight into Zhang Wuding's throat.
The Seven Stars Sword was extraordinarily sharp; even if Zhang Wuding's flesh and bone were remarkably tough and solid, before the Seven Stars Sword they were no different from tofu.
The snow-bright blade smoothly parted skin and muscle, severed the cervical vertebrae, and pierced clean through Zhang Wuding's throat. Then, with an upward jerk of the blade, it tore open more than half his neck.
Blood showered forth like rain along with the sword's path, splattering all over the face of Fang Wuzhen, who stood diagonally behind Zhang Wuding... leaving his terrified expression looking all the more wretched...
Chapter 5