Chapter Sixty-Eight: The Divine Palace—A Contest Between Unequal Steeds

As he spoke, he reached out his thick arm once more, dragging Ling Yan’s frail body behind him to shield her. Gazing at the figure before her—not especially tall or imposing, yet radiating unwavering resolve—Ling Yan’s tender heart was suddenly stirred by a mysterious affection, deepening her determination to share life and death with Bai Mu.

“Good, very good!” Even Shen Que, their enemy, could not help but voice his admiration at such a scene. “I’ll give you that, boy—you’ve got some backbone. Even at the brink of life and death, you know how to cherish beauty. Since you’re so loyal and sentimental, I’ll go easy on you. I promise not to take your life on the spot.”

“Shen Que!”

“Why waste words with this wretch?” Tian Qian barked impatiently from behind. “Get on with it!”

“Then, let’s begin,” Bai Mu replied with perfunctory politeness. He casually flicked his wrist, bringing the Azure Dragon Sword to rest before his chest, while at the same time, he carefully assessed the formidable opponent before him.

This man named Shen Que was not unattractive—his honest, square face bore three long, jet-black whiskers, which fluttered with a hint of elegance in the rising breeze. His black hair was bound at the crown with a jade-green hairpiece. Dressed in a flowing white robe that swept the ground, he looked particularly spirited; overall, his bearing was quite impressive.

Yet what puzzled Bai Mu most was the man’s cultivation. By rights, since he was a close friend of the Sword Immortal Xuan Yuan, their skills should have been on par. Yet, after close scrutiny, Bai Mu could not discern the depth of Shen Que’s abilities. There was only one explanation: Shen Que’s cultivation far surpassed his own, making it impossible to gauge at a glance.

“Boy, take this!” Shen Que suddenly roared from five meters away. His massive sword swept through the air, descending toward Bai Mu’s head in a path so erratic it seemed to defy all logic.

With the wild dance of Shen Que’s sword, the air around Bai Mu abruptly condensed into a barely perceptible vortex, swirling at great speed to entrap him, the pressure tightening with every heartbeat.

Damn it. Bai Mu’s heart pounded in terror as he hastily channeled eighty percent of his spiritual power to break free of the vortex’s grip. Fortunately, it was merely a swirl of ordinary air stirred by sword energy, and as soon as it clashed with the aura surrounding Bai Mu, it was instantly torn to shreds and dissipated without a trace.

Freed, Bai Mu immediately raised the Azure Dragon Sword in a defensive stance, blindly parrying the massive blade that came crashing toward him. In that instant when their swords nearly collided, Shen Que—who had appeared so earnest and honest—suddenly curled his lips into a sly smile. At the critical moment, he twisted in midair with a sudden 180-degree turn, pulling his body back over three feet, deftly avoiding a direct clash of weapons.

Landing lightly, he wasted no time. Seizing the moment as Bai Mu hesitated, he unleashed six swift strikes, sending six formless blasts of sword energy hurtling toward Bai Mu’s head, abdomen, and thighs.

“What a cunning scoundrel!” Bai Mu, his own attack missing, found himself frozen for an instant, cursing inwardly. But anger aside, he knew he had to face Shen Que’s sword energy head-on.

This time, Shen Que had unleashed six strikes in quick succession, faster than even the Sword Immortal Xuan Yuan, and with equal force. In terms of swordsmanship, Shen Que might even surpass him. In the blink of an eye, the six streaks of sword energy bore down on Bai Mu, promising to tear him limb from limb.

Every pore on his body could sense the killing intent woven into the sword energy, stunning him so thoroughly that he momentarily forgot even to counterattack.

“Boy, use the ‘Sword of Intent’ on the energy above your head—you’ll be able to evade the sixfold attack!” The mysterious voice from the Void Cauldron sounded once again at Bai Mu’s moment of helplessness, as timely and life-saving as rain after a long drought.

With this guidance, Bai Mu immediately poured all his strength into his blade, even merging his consciousness with the Azure Dragon Sword, and with unstoppable force, he struck at the sword energy descending toward his head.

In less than a second, the two tremendous forces collided. The piercing screech of clashing sword energy made Bai Mu’s eardrums ache and his mind reel. Yet, to his relief, the sword energy above was not particularly strong. The instant it touched the Azure Dragon Sword’s aura, it crumbled like a routed army, completely disintegrating.

It was like a game of chess: Shen Que had used six lesser pieces to attack Bai Mu’s strongest, but only one of those six was a true threat—the rest were mere feints. Yet Bai Mu was not deceived; he targeted the most powerful of the six, using his own superior piece to crush it, and the illusion was broken.

Though Shen Que’s strategy was meticulous, he was up against Bai Mu, who harbored within him a wily, master-level presence. No matter how skilled Shen Que was, with such guidance, he could only accept defeat for the moment.

With the mysterious figure’s help, Bai Mu narrowly evaded the six sword blasts, and quickly arrived at an assessment of Shen Que’s strength. Though he still could not see through Shen Que’s cultivation, it seemed only marginally superior to Xuan Yuan’s. To defeat Bai Mu, he would need more.

Having scored a victory, Bai Mu’s confidence soared. Without waiting for Shen Que to strike again, he leapt skyward like a white crane, sword in hand, diving headfirst toward Shen Que’s crown.

If that fierce strike, infused with ancient Azure Dragon sword energy, landed, Shen Que’s skull would surely shatter on the spot, making him the second casualty for the Void Temple at the Sword Pavilion of Floating Jade Mountain.

Yet Shen Que was not so easily bested. As an experienced and capable second-generation disciple, he would not be so easily routed. Seeing Bai Mu’s forceful attack—lacking in technique but brimming with power—Shen Que dared not meet it head-on.

In haste, he rolled along the ground, tumbling through mud and grass as he retreated three feet, barely dodging the lethal blow. But his white robes were now smeared with dirt, making him look utterly ridiculous.