Chapter Sixty-Nine: A New Lesson Learned

"Competing with me for speed?" A hint of mockery flashed in Xiao Nan's eyes.

The Four Seasons Sword Technique was designed for agility and swiftness, and ever since he had achieved a fundamental breakthrough in strength and constitution, his sword had become faster than ever, reaching its very limit. At the sound of the sword's whistle, the blade was already at Wu Gang's throat.

The sword followed his will; no matter how the opponent tried to dodge, with his mind illuminating every movement, he always struck first. Speed did not mean lack of power. What appeared to be a simple basic sword thrust in a bow stance was actually the harmonious unification of his entire body's energy and spirit.

As the sword tip emerged, his spirit rippled like water, reflecting every corner of the room. Every detail, every movement, was revealed without omission. At his side, the young man in the white suit lunged with a short sword, and the woman on the sofa, posing seductively, was already reaching for a pistol hidden under the table, poised to fire—every attack flashed through his mind.

"Try to keep up with my speed first," he murmured.

A cold gleam flashed.

Compared to the earlier battle in the bookstore, this time Xiao Nan felt little resistance on the blade. Wu Gang's bodily defenses were two levels weaker than Xiong Man's, while Xiao Nan's strength had more than doubled, and his speed nearly so.

The result was clear.

In that deadly exchange of blade and sword, Wu Gang lost. Xiao Nan's sword pierced Wu Gang's throat as disbelief colored the man's eyes.

Before the blood could fully spurt, Xiao Nan's left palm formed a hollow, his five fingers delicate as orchids, lightly pinching both sides of the blade that had struck his shoulder. His arm bulged with veins as he skillfully dissipated the force.

It appeared effortless as he caught Wu Gang's fierce "Tiger's Roar Blade," seizing the weapon. He had calculated that once anyone's throat was pierced, they would no longer have the strength to support their blade's momentum.

This stroke seemed risky, but in truth, it was as steadfast as a mountain.

He drew his sword, tilted his head aside, swung the blade, and then thrust again.

A gunshot thundered.

The bullet seared past his temple, but he had already moved, dodging in advance.

The woman on the sofa gasped, her mouth agape in shock. Before she could react, a gust whipped past her; the blade spun like a wheel, slicing across her neck.

How had he avoided it? How did he know she would fire?

Her head flew.

Her question would never be answered. Those who had not reached the state of "sitting and forgetting" in spiritual cultivation could never grasp the true mystery here. Moreover, Xiao Nan had, in addition to his spiritual prowess, the keen senses bestowed by the Bronze Mirror. Her malice burned like a torch—obvious to him. Simply by her presence among Wu Gang and the others, discussing matters on the sofa, he would never overlook her.

In the face of death, men and women are no different; hesitation is a luxury. Many heroes who upheld principles and refused to kill the weak ended up dying inexplicably at the hands of fragile women.

After killing and casting aside the blade, Xiao Nan did not pause. He reversed his wrist and thrust again.

The sword tip behind him scattered a shower of fine, radiant sparks.

His form spun, swirling into a chaos of shadows.

A series of crisp clangs echoed in the room, silver light flashing in all directions, a thread of green tracing a web of intersecting lines.

The young man in the white suit leapt and crouched, becoming a streak of light, attacking from all angles without blind spots.

Only the whistling of wind filled the room; shadows flickered, indistinct. The short sword in his hand shimmered green, but only a single line of green light could be seen.

Yet, no matter how swift his movements or fierce his attacks, he was ultimately blocked by the dense, storm-like swordplay, unable to break through.

"What a fast sword!"

The refined youth in the white suit still had enough composure to voice his admiration.

Xiao Nan had no idea what relationship this man had with Wu Gang, or what deals and promises lay between them. Nor did he care; from the moment he entered the room, he never underestimated his opponent.

Indeed, this fellow was stronger than Wu Gang, and his techniques were peculiarly unique.

In all his lives, Xiao Nan had never seen such swift movement techniques.

The short sword's maneuvers were not particularly strange, nor was the faintly sweet poison on the blade unusual; in life-and-death combat, anything goes.

But this man seemed to defy gravity, moving across sofa, table, walls, even the ceiling lamp, using every surface to propel himself, up and down, side to side, his body agile as a cat.

Hardly human.

His attacks were straightforward, targeting vital points: heart, throat, eyes, temples... Combined with his nimble form, the threat was immense.

Clearly, this world was deep and unpredictable; without real combat experience, one could never know what strange opponents might appear.

But he was not without means.

"Only speed, without skill—you can neither save nor harm anyone."

After exchanging dozens of blows, Xiao Nan discerned his opponent's style, understanding it well. No longer wishing to prolong the fight, he chuckled lightly, and his swordplay shifted.

Where once he matched speed with speed, now he countered speed with slowness.

Perhaps "slowness" was not quite right; it was more a weaving of a net.

The Four Seasons Sword Technique's "Jade Threads Entwined" focused on threads—on winding and weaving.

The sword light transformed into silken strands, relying on skill, not force, as delicate and pervasive as spring rain nurturing all things, weaving a vast net around him.

The poisoned sword, thrust forward, met resistance as if sinking into a quagmire. The room was silent, no longer echoing the clash of blades, only heavy breathing and the rush of air from their movements.

"Not good."

The young man in the white suit paled. He found himself unable to exert force, his body drawn inexorably toward Xiao Nan's blade, like a moth to flame.

A single misstep, and his chest was slashed twice, fabric torn, droplets of blood splattering.

Had he not dodged so quickly, he would have been gutted.

Drawn in, entangled...

And the speed was hardly lacking.

"If this continues, I'll die here."

Anxiety flickered in the youth's eyes, a green light shining within. Suddenly, he let out a fierce roar.

"Die!"

In an instant, countless fine white hairs sprouted from his head and face, his nose bulged into a spherical shape, and the green in his eyes intensified.

As his sleeves burst open, his short sword shrieked and shot forth.

With a wild howl, his white-clad form somersaulted in mid-air, a streak of light twisting like a serpent, descending from above to strike Xiao Nan's back.

"Thrown sword... tail attack."

"Damn..."

Xiao Nan's gaze sharpened. This was a beastman—a wildling. He had fought for so long without realizing it.

Not every beastman reeks of musk. Xiao Nan felt he had learned something new.

He had only sensed a fresh, grassy aroma, thinking the man's scent was not unpleasant.

Turns out it was perfume—such a clever way to conceal one's identity, truly admirable.

Wu Gang secretly meeting with beastmen, colluding in private—he deserved death.