Chapter Sixty-Six: Peril at My Back

Chapter Sixty-Six: Crisis Behind

Shen An did not speak; instead, he simply looked at him.

Master Yan said, “Before the match, I would like to—”

He hadn’t finished his sentence when, all of a sudden, a black iron blade appeared in Shen An’s hand.

The blade was as dark as ink, emanating a chilling, deep cold. Shen An gripped the hilt and, without warning, slashed forward.

Instantly, the blade, which was over a meter long, erupted in brilliant light, a faint illusion shimmering around it.

The blade’s edge seemed to stretch endlessly, the light of the blade sweeping across the air.

With a swift motion, a streak of icy brilliance shot out from the blade.

In the blink of an eye, the cold light appeared before Master Yan, who stared in shock at the sudden apparition.

Everything happened in a heartbeat. Master Yan had never expected Shen An to strike first; his face changed dramatically as he hurriedly drew his sword to parry.

His sword had barely cleared its sheath, just in time to defend—

But then, the sword energy before him vanished without a trace, as if nothing had ever happened.

Master Yan stared in disbelief at the spot where the sword energy had disappeared, his face flushing red in an instant.

“Master Yan, what do you think of my blade?” Shen An fixed his gaze on him, his expression sincere, though a hint of disdain flickered in his eyes. “That was just a jest, Master Yan. Surely you won’t take offense?”

This was no joke—it was outright humiliation. Shen An had forced Master Yan into disgrace before everyone’s eyes.

The onlookers watched in silence, but it was clear to all that Master Yan had lost face. He’d misjudged the distance of Shen An’s blade energy and been made a fool before him.

Master Yan’s face was ashen, knowing he’d lost the upper hand; his tone grew harsh. “Fine, fine. So young, yet so cunning. It seems I underestimated you.”

His eyes bored into Shen An, nearly aflame with rage.

“Underestimated me? In truth, I overestimated you,” Shen An replied, not even bothering to look at him.

“You killed my disciple. I had hoped you would come and beg forgiveness yourself, but instead, you remain shameless, showing no sign of remorse. Shen An, today I will hold nothing back.”

With a metallic ring, his treasured sword left its scabbard.

At the same instant, Shen An leveled his own blade.

In a flash, the two clashed.

The square had been completely sealed; no one was allowed in, so they could fight without restraint.

Shen An and Master Yan, blade against sword, battled fiercely.

It had to be said—Master Yan truly possessed some skill. His swordsmanship was sharp and fierce; years of cultivation had honed his techniques to perfection. His mastery of the sword surpassed Shen An’s at present.

But with his blade, Shen An held his own, matching Master Yan blow for blow.

“I have trained for years—how could a mere upstart like you compare to me?”

As the fight continued, Master Yan gradually regained some confidence.

He could see the flaws in Shen An’s technique and pressed hard, intent on taking him down.

But Shen An was fast—whenever Master Yan attacked a perceived weakness, Shen An anticipated and blocked it.

“Boy, you’re quick, but a contest is not won by speed alone.”

Shen An said nothing.

A cold glint flashed in Master Yan’s eyes.

“Now!” He suddenly accelerated, his sword darting like a snake, breaking through Shen An’s guard and thrusting straight for his chest.

Shen An’s expression changed as he saw Master Yan’s triumphant smile.

“Hahaha, Shen An, let’s see you survive this!” Master Yan’s face twisted, lips curled in a victorious sneer, certain of Shen An’s doom.

Suddenly, a hand blocked his sword.

Master Yan froze—no matter how he pushed, his sword would not move forward an inch.

He glanced down and saw Shen An’s hand.

Two fingers, steady as iron, were pinching the blade.

“Is that all you’ve got?” Shen An shook his head, visibly disappointed.

Master Yan’s face shifted from shade to shade. He hadn’t expected Shen An’s strength to be so overwhelming—just two fingers had rendered his sword useless.

But even as he watched Shen An’s actions, a sly smile flickered in Master Yan’s heart. His hand brushed a hidden button on the sword’s hilt.

With a snap!

The sword Shen An was gripping didn’t move, but Master Yan’s hand flicked, and suddenly a slender blade sprang forth.

Shen An’s brow furrowed as the thin sword shot toward his face.

He released the sword and leapt back.

He moved with lightning speed, retreating rapidly, but Master Yan pursued relentlessly, the blade always at Shen An’s throat.

The watching experts gasped in astonishment.

“It’s a twin-blade sword—a hidden blade within the sword. Master Yan’s move is truly impossible to guard against.”

“Indeed, I would never have dodged that. If I hadn’t seen it today, I never would have believed it.”

“Despicable,” said Mu Linqiu coldly.

On the field, Shen An kept retreating.

He knew he could kill his opponent outright, but he did not wish to do so.

Many here already knew of his strength—strength displayed when he killed Chen Hailong.

Now, killing Chen Hailong would have been trivial for Shen An.

Yet he sensed an inexplicable danger lurking in this place.

Shen An dared not be careless; until the end, he could not expose his full power.

“Shen An, is running all you can do?” Master Yan was growing anxious, his patience wearing thin.

Even with the twin-blade sword, he hadn’t touched Shen An, and his fear of Shen An only deepened.

“Damn it, damn it—how is he so formidable?” Master Yan could not understand. Shen An was barely in his twenties, the elemental force had only recently appeared—how could he be so powerful? It was beyond comprehension.

“I can’t wait any longer. If this continues, I’ll lose for sure.”

Master Yan realized the gap between them, and a bitter smile crept onto his face.

“Perish together—if not me, then who? This move can no longer be hidden,” he thought to himself.

A sudden glint of coldness flashed in Master Yan’s eyes.

“Shen An, prepare to die.”

As the words fell, Shen An’s heart tightened, but then a smile appeared on his lips.

“Can’t wait any longer, can you? Your killing blow?” Shen An muttered, drawing a circle in the air with his black iron blade, his gaze fixed on his opponent.

Suddenly, Master Yan struck.

This sword carried unstoppable momentum, a resolute spirit, and a willingness to die.

As Master Yan attacked, Shen An’s eyes narrowed.

He, too, raised his blade and stomped hard on the ground.

With a hum and a buzz, the earth sank an inch beneath his foot as he charged forward.

Shen An meant to kill Master Yan before he could land his blow. He saw that this move would end in mutual destruction; Master Yan had left him no choice but to risk everything. Only by eliminating him first would the deadly move be broken.

Suddenly!

As Shen An rushed forward, a powerful sense of danger surged from behind.

Shen An’s heart was seized by dread.