Struggle

“Fair immortal, upon hearing that you have rid the outskirts of the city of the harmful Bu Luo weeds, the City Lord is moved to tears with gratitude and wishes to invite you to the City Lord’s Manor for a discussion.”

Several guards hurried over from within the city, stopping before Hansu. Though their words were unfailingly polite, they subtly surrounded her, making it clear that she was expected to come with them, one way or another.

Hansu released the last clump of Bu Luo from her hands, gently brushed the dust from her somewhat disheveled dress, and after tidying herself, followed the guards with a calm, open smile.

Before leaving, she turned to the crowd who had gathered to watch her weed the fields, nodding and waving with a pleasant expression.

Seeing her so cooperative, the guards exchanged glances and, maintaining their courteous demeanor, led the way. Still, they kept her encircled in a four-cornered formation as they headed toward the City Lord’s Manor.

Hansu appeared not to notice their caution, remaining utterly at ease, her manner so relaxed it left the guards somewhat baffled.

This city was called Willowshade, governed by a demon cultivator of the Transformation stage. Yet no one could say what his true form was—likely some unremarkable beast who, through a twist of fate, attained transformation and intelligence and thereafter refused to reveal his original body.

Beyond these facts, Hansu also knew that the City Lord was a friend of Zihuan Shan’s ancestor, a cultivator at the Transformation stage.

So when she was brought to the manor and saw Zihuan Shan waiting, her face full of self-satisfaction, Hansu betrayed not the slightest hint of surprise.

“You guessed it was me?” Zihuan Shan had been anticipating Hansu’s shock, but met only a faint smile, leaving her with a sense of defeat.

“Was it so hard to deduce? The Bu Luo here and the methods used by the demon cultivators who hunted me down the other day are exactly the same. What are the odds of such a coincidence in the world?”

Though surrounded by danger, Hansu showed no sign of fear. She even took the initiative to find a chair and seat herself, turning the tables entirely. This left Zihuan Shan, still standing, feeling the imbalance keenly. Yet if she sat as well, it would rob her of her authority—leaving her awkward and indecisive.

Watching from the sidelines, Lu Tanxian could not help but feel a wave of disdain. Hansu had always seemed so pliant, like a bun to be kneaded at will. Yet before Zihuan Shan, why did her presence seem so commanding? Or perhaps Zihuan Shan’s own power was lacking—unable to handle even such a slip of a girl, wasting all her fine background!

“Hiding behind the screen, is that you, Nephew Lu? Why not come out so we can catch up?” Hansu’s soft, sweet voice called unexpectedly, leaving Lu Tanxian with an unaccountable pang of guilt.

“Well, imagine meeting you again here in the Sea of the Lords, Aunt. We truly are fated.” From behind the curtain emerged a young beauty of about eighteen, draped in cherry-pink gauze, a yellow skirt trailing to the floor, her glossy black hair styled in a playful cloud bun—an ethereal vision, none other than Lu Tanxian.

Lu Tanxian was slightly taken aback at the sight of Hansu. It had been some time since they last met, and the once-scrawny girl had blossomed, her figure now full and graceful. Most striking of all was her creamy, flawless complexion, as smooth as jade, enough to win anyone’s favor. No wonder Zihuan Shan regarded her as a formidable rival.

Hansu could not help but smile. “We three are indeed fated. But I must confess, I don’t understand—what grudge have I with you, Sister Zihuan, that you seek my death?” As she spoke, her gaze swept over them, sharp enough that Zihuan Shan’s heart gave a jolt.

Lu Tanxian thought to herself, “So even the meek can be dangerous when pushed too far. I heard she destroyed hundreds of Bu Luo plants the City Lord painstakingly cultivated. To come here alone to demand an explanation, showing no concern for her own safety—she must have some powerful backing. Could it be the great demon my brother spoke of recruiting? I did hear she recently met that demon. How will this end?”

Zihuan Shan, not as familiar with Hansu, did not feel as Lu Tanxian did. She found Hansu much different from what she’d been told and was already regretting this reckless provocation. But the die was cast—she had sent assassins, and though they failed, with Hansu’s ruthlessness in destroying the Bu Luo, there was no mending fences now. She might as well finish it here and now.

“All because you shamelessly seduced Brother Ji!” Her delicate brows arched, eyes wide with venom as she shouted.

Though she had suspected as much, hearing it confirmed still brought Hansu a wave of helplessness.

“When did I ever seduce him? Besides, you’re a genius with a thunder spiritual root. Instead of striving for progress, you waste your effort pining after a man. Don’t you feel you’ve let down your years of hard work, your master, and your sect’s cultivation of you?”

“What genius? Without you, I would be! Why did you have to appear? It’s all your fault! And you dare lecture me—are you here to show off? Who knew you could be so malicious at such a young age!”

Watching her flushed face and hysterical outburst, Hansu realized, “So this is why you want me dead.”

Zihuan Shan was momentarily speechless, then shouted even louder, “You’re spouting nonsense! It’s because you seduced Brother Ji!” With that, she flew into a rage, unleashing sixteen bolts of lightning at Hansu.

Her reaction only confirmed Hansu’s deduction.

Zihuan Shan had once been the most celebrated female cultivator in the sect—a rare mutated thunder spiritual root, taken by the clan’s Transforming Ancestor to train in seclusion. She stayed there for decades, but her fame only grew, making her the foremost of the “Five Beauties.”

She had often complained to Lu Tanxian about the tedium of closed cultivation, the lack of social interaction, but none of those miseries compared to the joy of her reputation.

But then, a young girl appeared, her spiritual roots even rarer—dual ice and fire, just like the sect’s founder. At first, with no suitable techniques, it barely mattered. She was no better than an average single-root cultivator. But then she somehow acquired a method even more advanced than the founder’s, causing her to advance rapidly—reportedly with several moments of enlightenment.

Who in the sect still remembered the unseen thunder-root prodigy Zihuan Shan, secluded in training? All talk was of the dual-root Hansu—her kingly aura, her bright future, her popularity, her next possible enlightenment...

Zihuan Shan threw herself into cultivation, desperate to prove herself not inferior to this upstart. But she always fell just short, that tiny margin allowing Hansu to form her core first—at only forty-three years old.

Now, being called a genius felt like mockery. Those words marked both her brightest past and its abrupt end. That was why she had rushed out of seclusion; her ancestor, though aware she had overused pills in her haste, loved her too much to refuse her.

She was eager to make her mark, to win the sect’s admiration. She managed it—the Core Formation ceremony she held with Ji Yan was grand indeed, her name and achievements remembered by all. But then Hansu reappeared, and the man she loved showed her unusual favor, stoking her jealousy and malice.

At last, she found an opportunity—asking the City Lord, her ancestor’s friend, to send assassins after Hansu. But they failed.

Today, hearing that a female cultivator had nearly destroyed all the Bu Luo the City Lord secretly grew to train killers, her heart pounded. Since Hansu had come knocking, why not settle matters here? She had the City Lord send Ji Yan away, then lured Hansu in.

The technique Zihuan Shan practiced was also of the highest grade.

Sixty years ago, she could only summon a single bolt. Now, she could unleash sixteen in succession. These bolts, charged with immense power, swept through the manor, disrupting the spiritual energy and warping space, despite the formidable barriers in place.

Yet Hansu betrayed no fear—this was precisely what she wanted! Her recent battle with the serpent demon had depleted much of the golden lightning within her, and she had been worrying about replenishing it with heavenly thunder.

Zihuan Shan’s purple lightning was not as potent as gold, but it would serve.

Hansu was about to stand her ground when she remembered how the golden lightning had caught the serpent demon off guard before. Drawing her blade, Suwei, she activated the transformation scroll’s illusion. Zihuan Shan and Lu Tanxian saw the scene shift—the splendid hall became a barren wasteland.

Their opponent was no longer Hansu, but Ji Yan.

The sixteen bolts struck “Ji Yan.” He did not dodge, only smiled faintly. As the lightning touched him, it seemed to recoil in terror, struggling to escape. Soon, a flash of gold appeared—it was subdued and vanished into his body, silent.

Was this truly Ji Yan? His appearance and techniques were identical—what was happening?

Whenever Ji Yan was involved, Zihuan Shan’s composure deserted her. She hesitated, unsure what to do, when the illusory Ji Yan spoke: “Sister Zihuan, why did you attack Sister Jiang?”

Zihuan Shan looked up in panic and saw Hansu, pitiful and tearful, hiding behind Ji Yan. She was torn between hatred—wanting to kill her on the spot—and fear of displeasing Ji Yan.

As she wavered, Hansu stuck out her tongue at her, slashed with her long blade, and left a long gash across Zihuan Shan’s body. Zihuan Shan’s first reaction was to look to Ji Yan, but he was utterly unmoved, as though he hadn’t seen Hansu’s action at all. Her heart broke, eyes reddened, and she summoned all her strength to release sixteen more bolts of thunder.

This time, the attack bypassed Ji Yan and went straight for Hansu.

The illusory Ji Yan shifted, absorbing all sixteen bolts into himself.

Zihuan Shan spat a mouthful of blood, her eyes full of tears as she stared motionless at Ji Yan, pain gripping her heart.

Hansu’s sword flashed again and again—though she avoided fatal wounds, she left Zihuan Shan’s body covered in cuts. The pain in her flesh could not compare to the agony in her heart.

With a final shout, Zihuan Shan unleashed two bolts of blood lightning.

These were different from her previous purple lightning. The purple could be absorbed by another thunder-root cultivator like Ji Yan—but the blood lightning could not.

The method for evolving blood lightning was a secret art; the caster needed not only a thunder spiritual root but also had to nourish the “lightning spirit” with their own flesh and blood.

If it struck, it would drain most of the victim’s life essence in an instant. But the caster would also suffer—it was a technique of mutual destruction.

The moment Zihuan Shan used it, Hansu knew she couldn’t afford to be struck. But blood lightning was much faster than purple, nearly impossible to dodge. Without time to maintain both illusions, Ji Yan vanished. At the critical moment, Hansu contorted her body in a way no ordinary cultivator could, narrowly avoiding the attack. One bolt grazed her shoulder, draining enough blood to nearly make her faint.

Blinded by rage, Zihuan Shan, unaware the Ji Yan illusion had vanished and her own spiritual power nearly exhausted, was about to rush in and brawl like a common street shrew when Lu Tanxian seized her. “That wasn’t Uncle Ji—it was an illusion! Wake up, this is all an illusion!”

Awakened, Zihuan Shan looked around in confusion while Lu Tanxian seized the chance to feed her pills, clearing her mind again. But her hatred for Hansu only deepened. Powerless, she snapped, “Go and kill her for me!”

Lu Tanxian’s face darkened. “Aunt Zihuan, I’m not strong enough to wound someone above my level. If you don’t want us both to die here, drop the barrier and let’s escape together.”

“Go kill her! I have a sword talisman—just activate it with your spiritual power!” Zihuan Shan raved, shoving a sword talisman into Lu Tanxian’s hands.

The talisman was extraordinary, at least the work of a Nascent Soul sword cultivator; its sword intent was so sharp it leaked even from the sealed paper. Feeling some confidence, Lu Tanxian was about to advance but turned back. “Aunt Zihuan, I’ll kill her for you—but I want that necklace around your neck.”

Desperate, Zihuan Shan tore off her water-blue, cloud-patterned necklace—worn for decades—and threw it to Lu Tanxian. “Hurry!”

Only then did Lu Tanxian smile, storing the necklace away and charging at Hansu with the sword talisman in hand.

Author’s note: Um... I tend to be a bit blindly optimistic, so even though I said I’d start wrapping things up, don’t think the story will end in just a few more chapters... Well... there’s still a ways to go...