Chapter 285: Rainy Night, Overpass, Chu Tianjiao, Jun Yan

The asphalt surface of the elevated bridge violently trembled from the terrifying collision, as if it were about to collapse at any moment, yet no one took a single step back.

The next instant, the girl's skirt fluttered as she gave her wrist a subtle twist. Her flame longsword, like a nimble serpent, flicked aside the defense of that cursed blade, and a dazzling crimson sword light slashed diagonally downward with searing heat.

This was a basic technique from the Wind Capital Youth Palace swordsmanship.

Chu Tianjiao had carved this move into his muscle memory over the past twenty years.

Yet the sword light this girl unleashed—whether in speed, power, or that overwhelming pressure that seemed capable of cutting through anything—far surpassed the limits of what this technique was originally designed to achieve.

The sword light in Chu Tianjiao's eyes seemed to be boiling.

At the moment the blade was about to strike him, his body blurred into afterimages. His footwork crossed with extreme agility as he sidestepped and slid away. The cursed blade in his hand traced a silver-white arc through the air as he reversed into a classic thrust from fencing, shooting straight for the girl's throat like a meteor.

The girl neither dodged nor avoided. She spun the longsword in her hand into a dazzling flourish before her, adopting a defensive stance that resembled an elegant sword dance.

SHRRREEEK!!

The flame blade scraped along the edge of the cursed blade as they slid past each other. The two surges of curse power erupted and crackled outward like boiling oil, sparks bursting in the night like fireworks.

Chu Tianjiao stared with complete focus at the cherry-haired girl who seemed to have replicated his own swordsmanship, his entire body trembling with excitement.

—Was she deliberately fighting him using the very same swordsmanship?

—Just how profound must one's mastery of the blade be to accomplish such a feat?

In the old days, when Chu Tianjiao had been searching for the supernatural, he had made a habit of challenging sword halls far and wide, yet he had also continuously studied the swordsmanship of various schools and styles.

Later, he had melted all that he had learned into a single furnace, eventually compiling the Wind Capital Youth Palace swordsmanship. As such, this style carried traces of many other sword traditions.

How could anyone possibly master it just by looking at it once?!

The next instant, the girl's assault came again. The flame longsword carved a fierce angular line through midair, its blade carrying suffocating heat, descending from above toward Chu Tianjiao's crown like the heavy, crushing Tōboku strike of Japanese swordsmanship.

BOOM!!

Without a moment's hesitation, Chu Tianjiao raised his cursed blade horizontally to block, forcibly dispersing the force of the blow before lunging forward once more.

The cursed artifact in his hand trembled slightly, as if urging him to switch to other techniques. Yet it seemed to be infected by the will surging up within him, and it too grew excited, emitting a low hum.

—This isn't so bad after all?

—No, this is absolutely wonderful!

The next instant, a storm of flashing blades and clashing steel erupted between them.

Two colossal surges of curse power exploded at the moment of impact with blinding radiance, and that thrill of excitement and shuddering exhilaration seemed to cleave through the chaotic haze of his mind as well.

…...

He vaguely remembered someone telling him this.

[Your wife is that beautiful, your daughter is that well-behaved, your career is thriving, you've got money and all sorts of connections, and you can fight like a beast yourself.]

[Everyone envies you to no end, yet you still go stirring up all sorts of trouble every day.]

[What more could you possibly be unsatisfied with?]

He had heard words like these many times over the years.

CLANG!!

The reinforced surface of the elevated bridge was as fragile as tofu beneath their feet, letting out strained groans as gravel and muddy water sprayed in every direction.

The cherry-haired girl's oppressive presence seemed to escalate another level, her flame-like sword light so dense it crashed forward like ocean waves.

Her blade was like a fiendishly difficult examination question, forcing Chu Tianjiao to pour every ounce of his spirit and curse power into solving it.

And yet, somehow.

The more focused and exhilarated he became, the more something seemed to flow out from the murky depths of his heart.

—Yes, he had pondered this question before too.

If he had any regrets, there were truly none to speak of. Everything was blissful and perfect.

But why, on that night, when he had received a warning from his friend in the police department and had even witnessed cases of gruesome deaths… did he still choose to venture out alone in pursuit of those so-called "P Incidents"?

And so, in a dim alleyway, he had been struck by a sudden ambush, losing consciousness without any chance to fight back.

The remaining memories were as hazy as a film reel.

The drugs forcibly injected into the back of his neck, the [Memories] poured in through strange vials, and that longsword that had burrowed into his palm like a parasite—all of it had ultimately transformed him into a sword demon driven by nothing but battle lust.

The clashing swords scattered countless sparks, shrieking like vengeful spirits as they broke the sound barrier. The waves of curse power from the two combatants roiled like a scorching river of stars.

And in that moment, the drizzle finally came crashing down from the heavy clouds, quickly turning into a torrential downpour.

Not all of the freezing rain was evaporated by the flames. A drop or two struck the face of Chu Tianjiao as he swung his blade at high speed, yet it did not distract him in the slightest—it only brought a hint of cool clarity.

CRAAAASH!!

He unleashed a blinding arc of sword light, churning a curtain of rain through the flames. He failed to land a hit on the cherry-haired girl's dreamlike, ethereal figure, but he sliced through the elevated bridge beneath their feet as easily as cutting tofu.

The sheer weight of the structure made it inevitably begin to tilt and collapse, letting out a teeth-grinding screech of straining metal.

The two figures continued to advance through the smoke, steam, and torrential rain—moving upward, leaping and clashing all the while.

The curse power in Chu Tianjiao's eyes stretched into thin trails of light.

Yes, so why was he still unsatisfied? Why risk his life chasing that so-called ethereal supernatural?

The fuse had been simple.

His most proud disciple, that black-haired youth.

He was so young, yet his mastery of the sword had already surpassed that of his own master.

Resentment, jealousy…

It might sound somewhat base to admit, but he could not deny that such feelings had indeed taken root in the depths of his heart.

But it was not envy of the youth's talent.

What he envied was the rock-solid heart that the young man possessed—that dao-seeking heart relentlessly pursuing the supernatural.

There had once been a time when he, too, had possessed such unwavering conviction, clinging to ideas that seemed absurd and foolish to ordinary eyes, refusing to turn back until he had battered down the very wall before him.

But besides setbacks and time, there was another thing that could grind away a person's dreams.

And that was happiness that came all too easily.

WHOOSH!!

The cherry-haired girl suddenly unleashed an ocean of flames.

The searing wave crashed head-on into Chu Tianjiao, engulfing him in an instant.

Yet his sword light burst through the wave in a flash. He then spun it in a windmill-like rotation, silver light weaving through the flames. Every droplet of scattered fire was a tiny ember, yet he parted and guided them all with his blade, scattering them in every direction and vaporizing a gap through the raging storm.

The movement to nullify that attack was a little slow. The chitinous armor across Chu Tianjiao's body inevitably bore scorched marks, yet the light in his eyes only grew brighter, his expression radiant.

The stiff corners of the middle-aged man's mouth had unknowingly curled up into a clearly visible arc.

He once again transformed into a beam of sword light, like a knight charging toward a windmill.

—A warm family, a peaceful happiness… like a soft yet tenacious net, binding him firmly in place.

At forty years old, one might still be considered in one's prime by ordinary standards, but in truth, the decline had already inevitably begun.

He had to admit that he was growing old. The image of himself chasing the supernatural in his memories was already beginning to blur, and he no longer possessed that same courage to pursue his dreams.

But he didn't want that.