Ten Thousand Swords Piercing the Heart (2)
“Senior Sister, Liang Jingxuan harbors ulterior motives toward you,” Lin Qianshuang warned, her voice sharp. “He’s too cunning to ever surrender the antidote.”
Xiao Lanle hesitated, one hand supporting her father Xiao Shen’s limp form while the other clung stubbornly to Lin Qianshuang’s sleeve, refusing to release her.
From his seat atop the sect leader’s dais, Liang Jingxuan glared at the two women, irritation darkening his features. His ex-lover—Xiao Lanle—was staring at his first love with a gaze that prickled his instincts. Both would belong to him eventually, he told himself. He could indulge their petty quarrels, but this… this intimate tugging, the unspoken tension simmering between them—it stoked a relentless heat in his chest.
Jealousy coiled like a serpent within him. Lin Qianshuang, his treasured first love, had never shown him such tenderness. Yet here she was, fretting over Xiao Lanle—a woman he’d long discarded—even sticking with her during her birthday celebration, as intending to offer solace he could not.
The more he watched, the more Xiao Lanle’s presence grated. Once, he’d have knelt to pamper a beauty of her caliber.
Shing! The Purple Heavenly Sword tore free from its scabbard in a burst of violet light, slamming into the ground between the two women.
Lin Qianshuang had anticipated Liang Jingxuan’s intervention. She’d initially intended to leave Xiao Shen alive but mind-broken, yet seeing him lurch toward Xiao Lanle with murderous intent—and fearing his delirium might expose old secrets—she resolved to let Liang Jingxuan’s blade tie up loose ends.
A tendril of demonic energy snaked from her palm, intercepting the baleful aura of the Purple Heavenly Sword.
In one fluid motion, Lin Qianshuang swept Xiao Lanle into her arms and sidestepped the strike. Xiao Shen crumpled under the sword’s residual force, his eyes wild and bulging as they locked onto Xiao Lanle. With a final resurgence of clarity, his sealed mute acupoint ruptured, unleashing a guttural rasp: “Give…the Glazed Temple Gem…give it to me!”
Years of waiting, atrocities committed, even tolerating Xiao Lanle—his useless pawn—all for the gem’s promise of immortality and dominion over the cultivation world. Now Liang Jingxuan, this upstart, had snatched his ambition away.
Before Xiao Lanle could register her father’s decay, Lin Qianshuang’s demonic qi seeped into the Purple Heavenly Sword. Azure light flickered across her dusk-toned irises as she addressed the blade’s spirit.
Senior, she mused coldly, you preached righteousness yet ended as a blunt tool wielded by the ‘wicked demon cultivator’ you despised. Had you bowed to me then, your fate would’ve been far kinder.
Provoked, the Purple Heavenly Sword Spirit roared in the resonant timbre of blades clashing, “How dare a petty demon cultivator like you question this immortal’s actions? Even reduced to a demonic blade, I’d still crush you a thousandfold—watch me flatten your insolent corpse!”
Lin Qianshuang’s gaze flickered with disdain. Face reality, Senior, she mocked silently. With me here, you’ll never ascend to the Upper Realm again.
The sword spirit seethed. Its blade flared with lethal radiance as it slashed toward her, showering crystalline light that forced onlookers to shield their eyes. Feigning terror, Lin Qianshuang shoved Xiao Lanle aside and flicked a wisp of demonic qi against the descending weapon.
Deflected with a pulse of dark energy, the Purple Heavenly Sword’s strike veered wildly. Its edge sliced through Xiao Shen’s arm instead. He shrieked, his limb cleaved clean through before thudding to the ground. More retaliatory sword-light rebounded—flickers of deadly silver—slicing toward his remaining limbs. Flesh and bone ruptured into grisly clumps, splattering the earth with gory sludge.
Xiao Shen twisted his mangled torso, severed arm flailing grotesquely as he crawled—a gory mess of flesh stripped of the sect leader’s imposing dignity. The poison had reduced him to a rabid creature, snarling through froth-stained lips as he scrabbled toward Xiao Lanle.
“Le’er!” he rasped, pupils shrunk to pins of madness. “Your life—I gave it! Now yield your Golden Core…! Obey me, child! Give me your life!”
A primal dread surged within Xiao Lanle as she retreated. The father she’d revered—paragon of virtue, pillar of righteous alliances—now writhed before her like a vengeful specter clawing toward its prey.
His dantian had withered. Toxins saturated arteries and marrow, rotting the man into this snarling grotesque. White hair clung to parchment skin, skeletal fingers grasping as hunger glinted in sunken eyes. The poison’s delirium erased reason: all he knew was survival demanded her death.
Xiao Lanle stifled the terror clawing at her heart, inching forward with tear-blurred eyes as she whispered, “Father, I’ll fetch Liang Jingxuan’s medicine at once. Stay still—let me staunch the bleeding first.”
The elders flanking them turned away, their synchronized headshakes heavy with grim resignation.
Xiao Shen’s clouded vision wavered as his daughter approached. Against the ruined canvas of his sight, another specter resolved—a woman whose face mirrored hers. “Lin Suwen…” he gasped, rotting breath rattling. “Have you come…to drag me to hell…?”
A violent shake of his head scattered the hallucination. Madness reignited in his sunken eyes as he fixated on Xiao Lanle, howling, “The Glazed Temple Gem is mine! None shall steal it—none!”
Lin Qianshuang, still evading the Purple Heavenly Sword’s phantasmal strikes, tensed at his words. Her form blurred into shadow as she merged with the sword’s lingering aura—and struck. A thread of cursed qi, sharp as a serpent’s fang, lanced through Xiao Shen’s throat.
Xiao Lanle crouched, trembling hands extended—then froze. Her father’s body arched in a grotesque spasm. White-eyed and gargling blood, he collapsed, crimson torrents surging from his neck. Death claimed him between one choked breath and the next.
“Daddy… Daddy…!”
Xiao Lanle’s voice fractured. Her hands flew to her mouth, tears streaming unimpeded as her gaze fixed vacantly ahead. Losing him had hollowed her mind to silence.
Lin Qianshuang bit her lip, watching Xiao Lanle kneel rigidly before Xiao Shen’s corpse—a soul adrift in agony. She didn’t feel any better. She’d manipulated Liang Jingxuan’s Purple Heavenly Sword, stoking its fury to kill Xiao Shen through proxy. Even now, she feigned compassion, comforting the one she’d robbed of a father. A borrowed blade wielded with shameful calculation.
If Xiao Lanle ever discovered how deeply Lin Qianshuang’s schemes had rooted—how the ruin of Penglai Immortal Sect and her father’s death traced back to her—hatred would fester irrevocably.
Lin Qianshuang released a tremulous breath. She’d never lied to herself: she cared for Xiao Lanle. Why else court her friendship so ardently? And yet—here was the bitter truth. From the moment she’d first read of Xiao Lanle in the original tale, this spirited young master of Penglai had been her unwitting white moonlight. Even now, tangled in her own deception, Lin Qianshuang’s affection lingered, tender and guilt-ridden. A paradox, this indulgence—how deftly she excused her betrayal, even as it poisoned them both.
Letting the bitterness take root wasn’t pointless.
Taking blame for Mu Weiyin had been her deliberate choice from the start. If severing ties through calculated deceit—using guilt over falsities to orchestrate Mu Weiyin’s matchmaking—eased her conscience, then so be it.
Lin Qianshuang cast aside the turmoil churning within her without hesitation. She glanced at the favorability interface, where Mu Weiyin’s profile displayed a task two-thirds complete. Ten percent gained at last—hard-won progress.
The Purple Heavenly Sword seized her momentary distraction. Its blade surged toward her chest in a vengeful arc, unrelenting.
“You’ve nowhere left to run, brat!”
The sword’s spirit snarled, clanging violently, but halted mid-air under its master’s silent command—fury radiating from its frozen edge like coiled lightning.
Liang Jingxuan withdrew the Purple Heavenly Sword from Lin Qianshuang’s chest, his blade-sharp gaze fixed on her. He adjusted the unruly strands of hair curling at his temple—an oddly meticulous gesture—and murmured, “Shuang’er, I’ve scared you.”
Lin Qianshuang had already retreated to a safe distance, her almond eyes wide with feigned terror. She stared pointedly at the flickering blade, her voice trembling with reproach. “Jingxuan, that sword nearly shredded me. How can you let a weapon that defies its master go unpunished? What if it betrays you next time?”
“It was an accident,” Liang Jingxuan insisted, tightening his grip on the hilt. “Purple Heavenly Sword is loyal, Shuang’er—a sentient artifact of immense value.”
“Master!” the sword spirit crackled, its voice metallic with rage. “She’s manipulating you! This viper—”
Lin Qianshuang let tears glisten in her lashes. With deliberate slowness, she revealed the shallow cut on her forearm—a wound tinged with sword qi—and turned away, her shoulders shaking. “What am I to you, Jingxuan? You abandoned me in the Beast-Slaying Array… threw me into the crocodile pool to save your own skin. If you loved me, would your natal spirit sword dare strike me? Even Junior Sister Xiao warned me—your promises are worthless.”
She stared at the ground, her face a mask of frost, her voice fractured and hurt, “This is the last time I’ll bleed for you. We’re done. Don’t seek me out. Don’t speak my name.”
Liang Jingxuan watched Lin Qianshuang turn to leave, his chest constricting as if gutted, pain stealing his breath. He yanked her back into his arms, crushing her against him. “Shuang’er—you’re my fated wife. Let others flee, but you cannot abandon me. I’ve sworn to love only you. I was wrong before—please, forgive me!”
Lin Qianshuang slapped him hard across the face, shoving free. Her gaze burned toward the voluptuous female demon cultivator lingering on the steps. “Only me?” she sneered. “Then explain her. You cling to that temptress like a starved hound, yet imagine me gullible enough to believe your lies? If your devotion is genuine—” Her voice sharpened, glacial. “—prove it. Slit her throat.”
She whirled, finger stabbing toward Xiao Lanle. “And what of your precious junior sister? She adored you, yet you slaughtered her father and discarded her like refuse!” Her laughter bit like winter frost. “Such tenderness from the mighty Liang Jingxuan.”
Liang Jingxuan’s eyes flickered to the demon cultivator. A waste, he thought, resentment tightening his jaw. She’d make a peerless Cauldron—her magic core ripe for harvesting. Far too valuable to discard.
Lin Qianshuang tore her wrist from his grasp. Tears spilled silently as she bit her lip raw. “I see now,” she whispered, each word a shard of ice. “I deluded myself, believing I meant something.”
She turned away with calculated indifference, stealing a glance at Xiao Lanle. The girl knelt hunched over Xiao Shen’s corpse, her vacant eyes locked on some distant corner.
“Don’t just stand there,” Liang Jingxuan barked at the frozen disciples as Lin Qianshuang strode toward the exit. “That’s your Sect Leader’s wife! Block her path—now!”
Lin Qianshuang staggered when the disciples closed ranks, her palms striking their chests in a theatrical show of frailty. “Out of my sight!” she hissed, venom lacing the tremor in her voice.
A smirk twitched at Liang Jingxuan’s lips—her jealousy amused him. Feigning remorse, he seized the Purple Heavenly Sword and hurled it to the ground, stomping its gleaming blade. “Shuang’er,” he coaxed, gripping her shoulders as the weapon’s groan echoed through the hall, “I’ve disciplined it. Will this soothe your anger?”
Her lashes lowered, fixing on the desecrated sword. Azure light flickered in her irises like a smothered flame.
Senior, she pleaded silently to the blade’s spirit, Look at the wretch you serve. For a woman’s whim, he tramples your pride. Why chain yourself to this coward? Seek a lord worthy of your edge.
“Pretentious viper!” The Purple Heavenly Sword’s spirit seethed, its voice crackling with crystallized rage. “Cease this farce! Were it not for your schemes, Liang Jingxuan would never have embraced the demonic path—you venomous serpent!”
Lin Qianshuang tilted her chin, moonlight glinting off the cold amusement in her eyes. “By all means, strike again. Let us witness whom your honorable master chooses to shield.”
The sword spirit roared, surging toward her with torrential spiritual energy sharp enough to cleave mountains. Lin Qianshuang sidestepped fluidly, pivoting behind Liang Jingxuan as though seeking refuge. A corona of Superior Purple Lightning Fire erupted from the man’s palm—not to defend her, but to preserve himself. Yet in that reflexive gesture, the flames coiled protectively around them both.
The sword spirit’s scream pierced the air as the blaze consumed it. Its scabbard shuddered awake, the six-pointed spiritual seal igniting to wrench the blade back. Chains of light spun from the constellation etched into the sheath, ensnaring the scorched sword in a chrysalis of flickering runes. The sealing array hissed as it clamped shut, quenching the flames.
When Liang Jingxuan pried the weapon from its prison moments later, all luminescence had bled from the metal. He stared at the dormant blade—now indistinguishable from any common spirit sword—and stifled a curse. A fatal miscalculation.
The Immortal Binding Lock snaked through the palace entrance. Liang Jingxuan had just crouched to retrieve his sword when the enchanted bindings coiled around him with relentless force. As he summoned Superior Purple Lightning Fire to incinerate the restraints, an oppressive spiritual pressure slammed into him, freezing his limbs mid-motion. Sweat drenched his back. Nearby, the demonic creatures flanking the elder’s seats shuddered under the same pressure, cowering into quivering husks.
Disciples parted like reeds as a path unfurled at the hall’s threshold.
Tianshu City Lord Mu Weiyin glided into view, regal in dark violet damask robes that cascaded like liquid night. A translucent veil concealed her features save for the six-petal spiritual seal glowing crimson on her brow. Delicate wisteria filigree clasped her slender waist, while silver hairpins studded with pearl blossoms caught the light beneath her coiled tresses. Ribbons draped like moonlit mist over her shoulders, their delicate beads chiming faintly—a vision of imperial elegance that compelled even Liang Jingxuan to tear his gaze from Lin Qianshuang.
Who is this? The system never mentioned such a character!
Yet the City Lord appeared indifferent to his presence. Instead, she bent gracefully to lift Xiao Lanle from the floor, offering a silk handkerchief to blot the girl’s tear-streaked cheeks. Her lips brushed the younger woman’s ear in a murmured confidence.
Xiao Lanle’s vacant stare sharpened. She cast one lingering, unreadable glance at Lin Qianshuang before leaning into Mu Weiyin’s embrace. Rising onto her toes, she whispered something equally intimate in return—a gesture that curled the City Lord’s painted mouth into a faint, approving smile. Mu Weiyin listened, her gaze shifting to meet Lin Qianshuang’s.
Bound on the floor, Liang Jingxuan stared in disbelief as Xiao Lanle and the unearthly beauty clung to each other with startling intimacy—behaving for all the world like lovers reunited. It was a sight so jarring he might as well have witnessed a corpse rise from its grave.
[Master,] the system chirped, [this young lady is one of your designated harem targets: Mu Weiyin, the Tianshu City Lord.]
Liang Jingxuan’s mind stuttered. The Tianshu City Lord? Wasn’t she supposed to be some snot-nosed brat? The ethereal woman before him, robes whispering like midnight and spiritual seal burning crimson at her brow, bore no resemblance to the child ruler the legends described. Worse still, her hand now lingered possessively at Xiao Lanle’s waist—a familiarity that defied both logic and the system’s prior intel.
The Son of Destiny system chimed again, frostier this time. [Target Mu Weiyin’s affections are already claimed. Host may not deploy King’s Aura to overwrite existing bonds.]
Horror prickled Liang Jingxuan’s spine as Mu Weiyin cupped Xiao Lanle’s face and pressed a kiss to her cheek. The City Lord’s lips lingered near the younger woman’s ear, murmuring words too soft for others to catch.
Junior Sister Xiao Lanle must be formidable indeed—to secure the allegiance of Tianshu City’s Lord, no less. And the Lord herself harbors proclivity for the same sex?[^1]
Liang Jingxuan’s mind reeled. Why did every conquest target the system designated either entwine themselves with others or cling to preexisting lovers?
Around them, soldiers of Tianshu City had sealed Penglai Immortal Sect’s perimeter, captured demons now thrashing within enchanted cages. With a rustle of silk, Mu Weiyin stepped before Lin Qianshuang, her presence suffused with an otherworldly fragrance.
“You’ve served well, Jieyu.”
Lin Qianshuang knelt half-prostrate on the ground in a posture of deference, her gaze carefully averted from Xiao Lanle standing beside Mu Weiyin.
The Tianshu City Lord spoke with glacial detachment, “Your care for this City Lord’s wife has been indispensable. I shall convey her gratitude.”
[1]: Literally: 有磨镜之癖 (mirror-grinding tendencies) is an ancient euphemism for female homosexuality or lesbian tendencies, because intimacy between women is likened to “grinding” against a mirror. I’ll leave you to deduce why.