"Linghu Chong's Dugu Nine Swords have grown sharper…" Alex, a master of the Dugu Nine Swords himself, could see at a glance that Linghu Chong's swordplay surpassed his own.
But he could only accept it. Linghu Chong, raised as the senior disciple of the Huashan Sect, had honed his swordsmanship since childhood, with a solid foundation and rare talent. Alex, lacking such roots and natural gifts, couldn't hope to match him.
"Linghu Chong? What are you doing?" Alex had recognized Linghu Chong instantly, and so did Ren Woxing. His brows furrowed, his eyes glinting with murderous intent as he demanded an answer.
Yet Linghu Chong, his identity laid bare, gave no reply. He stood resolute before Alex, his stance declaring his choice.
He'd masked his face to avoid burning bridges completely—after all, his bond with Ren Yingying remained.
But he couldn't stand by and watch Alex die today.
Once, bound by the notion that good and evil could never coexist, Linghu Chong had kept Alex at arm's length despite his kindness.
In Hengshan City, if Alex hadn't defeated Tian Boguang in a single move, Linghu Chong might have perished.
And when Alex traveled a thousand miles to teach him a sword technique at Huashan Sect, only to halt their duel just as Linghu Chong neared victory over his master, Linghu Chong felt the weight of that debt.
He owed Alex a debt of gratitude, unpaid until now. Saving him today would settle the score.
"Hold off Master Fang Zheng—I'll handle Ren Woxing and Zuo Lengchan," Alex said, clutching his chest, his voice steady despite the pain. He could guess Linghu Chong's motives.
Linghu Chong stayed silent, but his long sword flashed, its intricate Dugu Nine Swords weaving a deadly web around Master Fang Zheng.
Among the three masters, Alex deemed Zuo Lengchan the least threatening.
With Ren Yingying's ties to Ren Woxing, Alex chose to let Linghu Chong face Master Fang Zheng.
"Hmph, the Thousand Hands Tathagata Palm has left you crippled. I'll end you now!" Ren Woxing, though furious at Linghu Chong's interference, saw Alex's grave injuries and believed he could crush him.
Ren Woxing wasn't wrong. Master Fang Zheng's palm had rattled Alex's organs. Even with Linghu Chong easing the pressure, Alex was no match for Ren Woxing and Zuo Lengchan combined.
Without a word, Alex forced his inner energy to surge, bolting down the mountain.
Ren Woxing and Zuo Lengchan gave chase, their attacks relentless. The trio clashed in a chaotic melee, soon breaking away from the main battle into the dense forest.
As Alex's wounds worsened, his vision blurred. Under the onslaught of two top masters, he teetered on the edge of death.
But luck was with him. A cliff loomed ahead. Alex's eyes sparked with hope as he sprinted toward it.
Yet at that moment, Ren Woxing's claw shot out, seizing Alex's arm. A smug grin spread across his face. "Taste the might of my Star Absorbing Skill…"
Alex's inner strength was meager—how could he resist the Star Absorbing Skill?
In moments, over a decade's worth of inner energy was drained by Ren Woxing.
"Huh? This kid's inner strength… it's barely anything?" Ren Woxing, stunned, froze after absorbing Alex's energy.
Alex's inner strength was pitiful, not even rivaling a second-rate martial artist's, let alone Ren Woxing's own.
Seeing Alex's energy sapped, Zuo Lengchan's face lit with glee.
Without inner energy, Alex's sword-controlling qi was useless, wasn't it?
Relieved, Zuo Lengchan swung his sword at Alex's head, no longer feeling the strange resistance that had plagued him.
Alex countered, thrusting the White Dragon sword forward.
Zuo Lengchan parried, knocking the White Dragon sword skyward. His blade's momentum held, slicing toward Alex.
But Alex's hand shot out.
Zuo Lengchan froze, recognizing the gesture—sword-controlling qi? But hadn't his energy been drained?
In that split-second of shock, a piercing whistle cut the air behind him. Horror gripped Zuo Lengchan as he dodged instinctively.
Too late. Pain seared through him, and he screamed. His left arm sailed into the air, blood gushing.
Swish!
The White Dragon sword, sharp as a razor, severed Zuo Lengchan's arm before arcing back as a streak of light, slashing at Ren Woxing's arm.
Ren Woxing, stunned, yanked his hand back and leaped away.
Alex rolled, his feet surging with strength as he dashed to the cliff's edge and leaped. The White Dragon sword, a streak of light like a falling star, chased his plummeting form to the depths below.
Ren Woxing raced to the cliff's brink, peering down. Man and sword had vanished into the abyss. Confusion clouded his face.
He'd drained Alex's inner energy completely—how could he still wield his sword-controlling qi?
And Alex's inner strength, a mere decade's worth, was laughably weak. How could such meager power forge the legend of the Ghost Hand Sword Saint?
"Forget it. Secrets or not, he's a dead man, broken and fallen," Ren Woxing muttered after a pause, shaking his head and casting Alex from his thoughts.
Turning, he found Zuo Lengchan gone, only a severed arm staining the ground.
Clearly, with Alex presumed dead, Zuo Lengchan, nursing his wound, feared Ren Woxing's betrayal and fled despite the agony.
Half a month flashed by…
Half a month ago, Alex, deputy leader of the Sun Moon Sect, led a vast force to storm Shaolin Temple, only to be routed. Countless disciples fell, and the news shook the martial world.
The Sun Moon Sect's elders were nearly annihilated; only Tong Baixiong escaped alive. Over half the disciples brought to Shaolin perished or lay wounded.
The battle had crushed the Sun Moon Sect's momentum.
In the weeks since, Ren Woxing and his allies tirelessly schemed, marching toward Blackwood Cliff to seize leadership.
Ren Woxing burned with rage over Linghu Chong's interference at Shaolin.
But after heated disputes, with Ren Yingying and Xiang Wentian's pleas, Linghu Chong agreed to aid the Blackwood Cliff campaign, and Ren Woxing relented.
With the Ghost Hand Sword Saint Alex vanished after his cliff plunge, and with covert aid from Master Fang Zheng and others, Ren Woxing grew bolder in his quest for the throne.
"Leader, why would Master Fang Zheng help us? They must have their own schemes," Xiang Wentian said, unease lingering as they prepared for Blackwood Cliff tomorrow.
"Of course I know that," Ren Woxing replied, waving dismissively. "Master Fang Zheng revels in our sect's chaos, but they won't move until I claim leadership. Everything hinges on that moment."
"Alas…" Xiang Wentian sighed, hearing Ren Woxing's words.
The Shaolin battle had gutted the Sun Moon Sect's strength. More infighting now, even if Ren Woxing won, would leave the sect vulnerable to the Five Mountains Sword Sects.
"By the way, have you found Alex's body?" Ren Woxing asked, a sudden thought striking him.
"No, we've scoured the cliff's base for days. Perhaps jackals took the corpse?" Xiang Wentian shook his head.
"Well, dead or alive, Master Fang Zheng and Taoist Chongxu will guard Blackwood Cliff's base. If Alex lives, he'll come to aid Dongfang Bubai, and they'll stop him. Besides, we hold Lin Pingzhi, don't we?" Ren Woxing said, unconcerned, swiftly turning to plan tomorrow's assault with Xiang Wentian and the others.
In a quiet valley near Shaolin Temple, a ragged figure sat, tattered as a beggar, fingers weaving through the air.
A gleaming sword danced with his gestures, fluid and precise, tracing the intricate moves of the Dugu Nine Swords.
If Linghu Chong were here, he'd recognize the blade's flawless execution.
"My wounds have nearly healed. That battle cost me all my inner strength, but Magneto's ability has grown stronger," the figure murmured. "It's time to return. Ren Woxing, without inner strength, you'll face the full might of my Magneto's power."
With a flick of his finger, the White Dragon sword snapped back to its scabbard like a swallow to its nest. Alex stood, his eyes blazing with resolve.