When they reached the direction from where the scream had come, the place appeared empty. Jun Qiguang observed Yao Huaijin as he walked further into the trees without saying a word. Following him, Jun Qiguang noticed a young cultivator lying on the ground, appearing to be around fourteen or fifteen years old. The boy lay there injured and unconscious.
Yao Huaijin knelt beside the unconscious boy, his movements deliberate and practised as he checked the boy's pulse. His fingers pressed gently against the boy's wrist, feeling for the faint rhythm of life. The boy's breathing was shallow but steady, indicating he was merely injured and unconscious, not gravely ill. Yao Huaijin's expression remained impassive as he assessed the situation with meticulous care.
At that moment, Jun Qiguang's senses, honed through years of experience, detected a faint but unmistakable trace of demonic energy nearby. It was subtle, almost like a whisper against the backdrop of the dense forest. Jun Qiguang's gaze shifted sharply to the source of the energy, his posture tensing in anticipation.
Yao Huaijin, too, seemed to sense the same disturbance. His head lifted slightly, his eyes narrowing as he focused on the direction from which the energy emanated. The serene quiet of the forest was abruptly shattered by a mocking, high-pitched laugh that echoed through the trees, sending a shiver through the misty air.
From the shadows of the dense foliage, a tall and striking figure emerged. He was dressed in brilliant red robes that seemed to catch and amplify what little light penetrated the gloom. The robes were adorned with intricate patterns of gold and black, their vibrant colour a stark contrast to the surrounding darkness. The figure's face was handsome, with sharp features and a confident, almost smug expression.
"Well, well, if it isn't the Sword Sage himself," the figure called out, his voice smooth and taunting. "What a delightful surprise to see you here. This truly is a small world."
The figure's presence was both imposing and flamboyant, his tone carrying a blend of mockery and familiarity.
Jun Qiguang's eyes narrowed as he immediately recognized the man stepping out from the shadows. It was Duan Bao, a notorious demonic cultivator whose reputation for treachery and cunning had made him a formidable adversary. In his past life, Jun Qiguang had targeted Duan Bao as his first major challenge to establish his own name and prowess. The ensuing battle had been gruelling, not because Duan Bao possessed overwhelming strength, but due to his relentless and insidious tactics. The fight had been a test of endurance and wits, filled with traps and deceit that had nearly overwhelmed Jun Qiguang.
Yao Huaijin, however, displayed his usual calm and unflappable demeanour. Rising from the boy's side, he brushed off the remnants of dirt from his robes with a practised, indifferent air. "He's still alive," Yao Huaijin said in a voice that was both calm and authoritative. "There's a cave not far from here. Take him there and tend to his injuries."
Jun Qiguang was just about to speak, when Duan Bao interrupted, his voice dripping with a flirtatious tone. "Yao Huaijin, how rude of you to ignore an old friend," he drawled, a sly smile curling on his lips. "Surely you haven't forgotten me already?"
Jun Qiguang had a sudden impulse to rip that bastard's mouth apart but he controlled himself. Instead, he focused on Yao Huaijin, who continued to ignore Duan Bao's taunts. "I will be back in a while," Yao Huaijin said, his gaze meeting Jun Qiguang's. There was no need for further discussion; Jun Qiguang knew that Yao Huaijin was more than capable of dealing with Duan Bao.
Reluctantly, Jun Qiguang lifted the unconscious boy and began making his way toward the cave. He wasn't the demon lord in this life, but Yao Huaijin's disciple, and he had to follow orders, even if it meant leaving behind the chance to confront Duan Bao himself.
As Jun Qiguang disappeared from sight, Duan Bao shifted his focus back to Yao Huaijin, looking him up and down with a smirk that was both appreciative and mocking. "Tsk, tsk. Such a stunning figure, but of all people, you had to be the Sword Sage," he said, his tone dripping with flirtatious sarcasm. "How truly unfortunate for me. I feel quite wronged, you know."
Yao Huaijin remained silent, his gaze cold and unyielding. Duan Bao continued, "That was your disciple just now, wasn't it? He looks quite in—"
Before he could finish, Yao Huaijin moved. In a swift, fluid motion, his sword was out.
As Yao Huaijin's sword flashed into his hand, its blade seemed to catch the dim light of the misty surroundings, radiating a sharp, silver glow. Duan Bao's smirk faltered as the Sword Sage lunged forward with the speed of a striking serpent. The first slash came at an impossible angle, swift and precise, aimed directly at Duan Bao's midsection.
Duan Bao barely managed to twist away, a flash of red from his robe fluttering in the wake of the attack. His reflexes saved him, but Yao Huaijin was relentless. The next strike was a vertical cut, followed immediately by a horizontal sweep. Each movement was fluid as if Yao Huaijin was not fighting but dancing, his sword an extension of his will.
Duan Bao raised his own weapon—a jagged, dark blade that seemed to hum with sinister energy—just in time to block the strikes. Sparks flew as the swords clashed, the sound ringing out in the eerie silence of the Eclipse Realm. Duan Bao, gritting his teeth, attempted to counter, swinging his sword with brute force, aiming to break through Yao Huaijin's flawless defence.
But Yao Huaijin was unperturbed. He parried Duan Bao's heavy blows with almost effortless grace, his expression remaining as cold and calm as ever. His footwork was light, his movements economical, allowing him to conserve energy while keeping Duan Bao on the defensive. With a quick step forward, Yao Huaijin unleashed a flurry of attacks—each strike precise, leaving no openings for Duan Bao to exploit.
Desperate, Duan Bao fell back on his cunning. He flicked his wrist, releasing a hidden blade from his sleeve that shot straight toward Yao Huaijin's heart. It was a trick that had caught many opponents off guard in the past, but Yao Huaijin was already moving. His sword blurred as he deflected the hidden blade with a swift, upward slash, sending it spinning harmlessly into the trees.
Undeterred, Duan Bao conjured a wave of black smoke, infused with demonic energy, that surged toward Yao Huaijin like a living entity. The smoke twisted and writhed, attempting to engulf Yao Huaijin and obscure his vision. But Yao Huaijin remained steady, his sword glowing brighter as he slashed through the smoke. The demonic energy dissipated under the purifying force of his blade, clearing the air around them.
Duan Bao cursed under his breath. He knew he couldn't match Yao Huaijin in a direct confrontation, so he resorted to another one of his infamous tricks. With a quick hand seal, he summoned a horde of shadowy figures—illusory clones of himself that surrounded Yao Huaijin from all sides. Each clone moved independently, mimicking Duan Bao's real form perfectly, making it impossible to tell which one was the true threat.
But Yao Huaijin remained unfazed. His eyes narrowed slightly as he observed the movements of the clones. Then, in a burst of speed, he moved. His sword lashed out in a wide arc, the silver light cutting through the clones like they were mere shadows. The real Duan Bao barely managed to leap back, his illusion shattered.
Seeing his tricks failing one after another, Duan Bao's frustration mounted. He unleashed a barrage of dark energy, aiming to overwhelm Yao Huaijin. The ground beneath them cracked as Duan Bao's power surged, dark tendrils of energy shooting out in every direction. Yao Huaijin dodged and deflected with unparalleled skill, each movement as fluid as water. He stepped forward, closing the distance between them in a heartbeat.
His sword slashed through the air with deadly precision, poised to end the fight. But just before the final blow could land, Duan Bao, ever the cunning trickster, tossed a vial to the ground. A thick, black smoke exploded around them, shrouding Yao Huaijin in darkness.
From within the swirling mist, Duan Bao's voice echoed, carrying a flirtatious tone that contrasted sharply with the tension of the battle. "Yao Huaijin," he called out, his voice smooth and teasing, "It's such a pity we have to part ways so soon. But don't worry—You and I are fated to meet again."
As the smoke began to clear, Yao Huaijin stood alone, his sword still glowing faintly. Duan Bao had disappeared into the shadows, leaving behind only his voice and the lingering traces of his demonic energy.
Yao Huaijin's expression remained impassive, though a flicker of cold disdain passed through his eyes at Duan Bao's words. With a practised motion, he sheathed his sword, the silver light fading as the blade returned to its scabbard.
With a final glance at the now-empty battlefield, he turned and headed back toward the cave where Jun Qiguang had carried the injured cultivator.
Small Theatre:
Duan Bao: I only wanted to say that your disciple looks interesting. Was there any need to be so violent? This time I've truly been wronged.