Chapter 48: At the Summit

"You've finally come around."

Li Miao smiled and said, "It's not that you can't see the truth—you're simply afraid to believe it."

Zuo Lishan remained silent, offering no reply.

Li Miao paid it no mind and continued, "Legend has it that centuries ago, there was a reclusive sect known as the 'Wanderer's Sect.' Within it, there existed a martial art called the 'Lesser Formless Skill.'"

"With this art, so long as one knows the forms of other techniques, one can imitate the supreme skills of others—even surpassing the originals."

"Until today, I suppose Master Zuo would have thought this mere rumor?"

Still, Zuo Lishan gave no response. His right hand once again gripped his sword hilt.

That pitch-black right hand could hardly be called a 'hand' anymore; it was more like a monstrous claw, the index finger displaced, the hilt wedged between index and middle fingers, three above and two below, locking the sword in a death grip.

Even the steel-crafted hilt bore the dents of his grip.

His wrist seemed to stretch, almost boneless, and the long sword trembled slightly beneath his sleeve.

Li Miao pretended not to notice and went on, "Of course, such martial arts do not truly exist, but the so-called Wanderer's Sect, and that person who mastered the skills of all other sects, must have existed."

"It's just that so few ever reach such heights. Ordinary folk of the martial world can't comprehend it, so rumors twist the truth, inventing these strange tales."

"A martial art is nothing more than forms, inner strength, and the training of sinew and bone. A technique is just energy, force, and routine."

"To go beyond mastery is merely to take these elements one step further."

"Take Ji Tianrui, for instance—his inner strength is vast as the sea, every movement like a landslide, impossible to withstand."

"As for me—my force and inner strength are as one, following my will, unbound by convention. Any martial art is at my fingertips. That predecessor of the Wanderer's Sect was likely much the same."

"But you, Master Zuo... You patch your flesh with dark arts, replace your veins with parasites. Not only have you shortened your life, but you can never progress further."

"You've gained brute strength and hardiness—nothing more."

"Enough!" Zuo Lishan growled.

His teeth clenched, and yellow-green pus seeped from the corners of his eyes. "Fine. Fine. Fine."

"By martial skill, I am defeated."

"But to decide life and death... you may not be the victor!"

"That look of assured triumph—you'll regret it! I'll tear that smug face apart with my own hands!"

Before the words had faded, Zuo Lishan sprang forward, his wrist snapping, the sword whipping through the air like a lash, its tip aimed straight at Li Miao.

Li Miao stepped in, countering attack with attack, his fingers stabbing toward Zuo Lishan's heart.

But Zuo Lishan seemed deaf to all, caring for nothing but swinging his sword wildly, as if determined to die together with Li Miao.

Finger and sword closed upon their targets—the fingertip but an inch from Zuo Lishan’s heart, the sword hovering above Li Miao’s head.

"Sigh."

Li Miao breathed out, sidestepping the sword, withdrawing his hand with resignation.

Zuo Lishan thrust again at Li Miao’s chest, forcing back the clawed hand that had reached his ear.

His eyes lit up, and he laughed raucously, "Yes, yes! It was my own obsession!"

"You fear death too! Even with your inner strength and iron body, you dare not meet my blade at a vital point!"

"If we trade wounds, I can bear it—but you will surely die!"

"Come on! Come on! Come on!"

Cackling with madness, Zuo Lishan whipped his sword about in a frenzy; even the heavy flagstones at his feet shattered at the slightest touch, exploding into rubble.

Blood for blood! Wounds for life!

"Bright moon in a cloudless sky!"

"Turning to strike at the stone pass!"

"Crane alights at a clear spring!"

"Seven stars fall through the long sky!"

The essence of the Mount Tai Sword Art rained down as if it cost nothing, Zuo Lishan abandoning all defense, launching a relentless assault on Li Miao’s vital points.

You strike at my head, I strike at your groin! You target my eyes, I go for your chest!

Blood blossomed across Zuo Lishan's body. His techniques were far from the depth of Li Miao's; abandoning all defense, within a few exchanges Li Miao had twisted his left wrist, torn off his right ear, and scraped away flesh from his chest.

But he seemed oblivious, laughing maniacally, pressing his attack on the frowning Li Miao.

Within the small courtyard, trees fell and stones split as if a storm had swept through; even the massive stone table was smashed to dust, the small tree reduced to flying splinters before toppling over with a crash.

The Huashan disciples hiding in nearby rooms trembled, silent, terrified of being drawn into the fray.

Moments later, the courtyard finally fell quiet.

Zuo Lishan leaned on his sword, drooling, a few insects tumbling from his collar, writhing briefly before falling still.

He gasped for breath, looking across at Li Miao.

Li Miao raised his arm—a long, narrow sword wound ran along his right forearm. Though not deep, blood seeped steadily from it.

Zuo Lishan laughed, wild and triumphant. "Ha ha ha ha ha!"

"You can be hurt! You can die! So much for your vaunted mastery!"

"You’ve won today, but if you’re not afraid to die, come after me! I’ll see this through to the end!"

With that, he vanished over the courtyard wall, his figure disappearing in an instant.

Li Miao did not give chase, but stood quietly, watching Zuo Lishan leave.

The courtyard was silent.

After a moment, Mei Qinghe pushed open the door, hurrying to Li Miao’s side, worry etched across her face. "My lord, you’re wounded..."

"I have some medicine—let me—"

"Ah." Li Miao chuckled, raising a hand to stop her, then turned and sat on the railing.

"Little Mei, didn’t I tell you tonight we were putting on a play for him? Why take it so seriously?"

"Hurt me? Him?"

With that, Li Miao swept his hand across the wound. Blood rose, energy surged—and the cut vanished as if it had never been.

"Ha—"

Li Miao stretched, exhaling deeply. "Acting with a madman is exhausting. He laughs so much, I worry his spit will get on me; even in combat, I have to dodge his saliva."

Mei Qinghe hesitated at his side, then spoke softly, "My lord, you..."

Li Miao glanced at her and smiled, "Life is but a play, Little Mei."

"Did I judge the measure just right?"

"If I’d shown any more strength, Master Zuo would’ve fled down the mountain tonight. Any less, and he’d come back for another round tomorrow night. At my age, I can’t handle these madmen wearing me out—I need my sleep!"

Mei Qinghe understood at last.

"Well then—" Li Miao rose and walked toward his bedchamber. "After tonight’s spectacle, Master Zuo should know his own limits. We should be able to get some rest for the next few days."

"The Ming Cult wants the Five Mountains Sword Alliance; if he calls for help, it’ll be at the Alliance gathering."

"Let’s rest—the preparations are nearly complete. Once Wang Hai and Xiao Si arrive with their men, our mission will be finished."

"Honestly, leaving those two together worries me—without me watching, who knows how many people they’ll kill..."

"One’s ruthless, one’s venomous..."

At this, Li Miao glanced at Mei Qinghe, "And then there’s one bumbling beast."

He sighed.

"None of you give me any peace..."

"When will I finally be able to work from home... Ah—time for bed."