109 The First Figh (2/2)
It was a disguise of going forward.
Forward to kill him.
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A ringing sound was heard!
Ning Que twisted his body and wielded the podao to hack away the dim sword light that was stabbing him from behind, after which he fell down from the air.
The first time of their encounter, a grain-sized gap appeared at the edge of the podao, and a tiny break was found at the upper part of his old clothing. However, his expression outside the gauze mask was still of no fear. His legs stuck to the ground like two nails and his hands clasped the long handle of the podao. Meanwhile, he slightly lowered his head, observing the surroundings with vigilance.
Suddenly, the Podao in his hand turned upward, leaving a stain of blood on his left shoulder, which meanwhile helped him escape that light of sword attacking from the right. The subtle vibration he felt from his hand confirmed that his blade had at least touched the flying sword.
Ning Que still moderately lowered his head, staring silently at Yan Suqing, who was sitting in the chair a few paces off and listening attentively to occasionally murmuring buzzes around the small lakeside house in darkness. What he wanted was to determine the direction of the flying sword.
He made a stride forward.
A falling leaf outside the courtyard was split into two pieces by an intangible power.
He flopped down backward like a mountain, and the dim shadow of sword darted to the sky, scraping his shoulder.
He beat the ground by his right hand and tightened his waist and belly to stand up again. Then he interchanged his feet like a flash of lightning and the dim shadow of sword sharply stabbed into the cracks between slates ahead of his feet, which buzzed and flew away soon after and then disappeared.
His position at present was three steps behind the previous one.
A small oil lamp on the right of the tea table sent forth a light glow. In a stone chair beside sat Yan Suqing, who showed a half-smile.
The distance between the two was just a few paces, yet the darkness of this few paces was so insurmountable.
Because nobody knew the position of that dim shadow of sword in the darkness.
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Clenching the long knife handle, he stably stomped on the slate, evading the gaps and protrusions, to ensure that he could borrow the entire power of the earth anytime he needed. Ning Que stared at the Tea Specialist like a statue, with no fear in his eyes but only calmness and focus.
It was the first time in his life to fight against a cultivator all by himself, and he knew he had little chance to win. Normally, he would feel afraid because he was clear that he was likely to usher in death tonight.
However, having been tortured by death many times, Ning Que was quite clear that fear was the most useless state of mind to have in such a situation. His only choice was to transfer his fear and nervousness into excitement in order to survive a fatal condition.
The flying sword flashed with a buzz toward him, so he waved his knife and hacked down. Even if nothing was hit, he could still avoid being hurt in crucial points of his body based on his fighting instinct fostered in battlefields and his strong ability of body control during key moments.
The tinkling sword, as quickly as a flying knife and as white as snow, left numerous dense wounds in his body with its shadow. Then, blood infiltrated his underwear, exuded through his old robe, and started to drip on the surface of his body, which made him a bloody man.
But Ning Que, whose feet remained nailed to the slate, still clasped his podao with his hands, staring at the strong cultivator in the chair with no expression in his eyes. He showed no panic, nor fear, and was even without any frenzy from a desperate situation.
”A soldier from the Frontier Fortress?”
Yan Suqing gradually withdrew his smile, and looking at the bloody lad close in front of him, he calmly said, ”The continuous 14 swords does not directly kill you, but only leave you some small wounds. Only the frontier soldiers have this physical instinct. But mind you, even if the wounds are very small and the blood flows slowly, you are still gonna to die if it doesn't stop.”
”I know, so I have to find a chance to chop off your head before I lose all my blood,” Ning Que answered.
”You won't have such a chance.” Yan Suqing shook his head toward Ning Que with sympathy.
At that point, the water on the small charcoal furnace finally began to bubble up, with hot mist spurting out from the mouth of the kettle.
The Tea Specialist lifted up the kettle with his left hand to pour water into the coarse teacup. Looking at those tea leaves floating up and down in the boiling water, he lowered his head and said, ”I will enjoy my morning tea now. Then, the game is over.”
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(Another chapter is under composition.) (To be continued... If you like this novel, we welcome you to go to qidian.com to give recommended votes and a monthly pass. Your support is my greatest motivation.)