“Condensate Perfection. Both of you — be careful.”

Elder Chunyang mobilized his inner core and formed the sword-seal at his chest. The ink-blue Daoist robe stirred without wind. Vast astral force came out of the body — but didn’t spread. Instead it condensed in front of him, gradually forming an antique sword-shape, two palms wide and as tall as a person, hovering in the air.

Along the blade, the yin-yang fish pattern rotated slowly. Something correct and balanced and centered.

Twin-Harmony True Intent.

The Baiyu Monastery’s signature technique. A name with considerable weight even across all of Qingzhou.

They carried no physical sword. But this sword-intent was sharper than any blade Qingfeng Mountain had ever held.

“This time you’ve really gotten us into something.” Elder Qingjing gave Elder Chunyang a look.

The abbot had sent both of them down the mountain to recover the technique. They hadn’t even found Yan Xingkong yet — and had walked directly into a major demon.

“I didn’t drag you through that stone wall.” Elder Chunyang rolled his eyes.

“Fair enough.” Elder Qingjing laughed and let it go. He raised his own sword-seal — a second Twin-Harmony sword intent condensed in front of him.

They were here now. Hesitating was pointless.

Walking away from a demon unseen — that wasn’t why you came down from the mountain.

“…”

Xiao Qiangwei scanned the area. Still no sign of Shen Yi. No sign of a fight having happened nearby.

Even with all her trust in the young man, something in her chest was unsettled now.

Demons weren’t so different from people. Most were wild and unremarkable — but some had generational depth and accumulated resources, like the established great families.

The concealment array outside was a good example — seemingly simple, nothing beyond masking qi and a basic misdirection effect, easily breached. But that simplicity was actually the point. You only wasted resources on decorative effects when you could afford to.

Shen Yi had shown her the strength of a body-refinement practitioner without any disguise. He’d also shown, just as plainly, how little direct experience he had with cultivation matters.

He’d never even heard of Twin-Harmony True Intent. Let alone the more intricate and unpredictable methods demons were known to use.

Getting caught by one of those through inexperience wasn’t hard to imagine.

“Senior Xiao — the demon in front of us first, then the rest.” Elder Qingjing’s voice was measured, a subtle reminder. He was also genuinely puzzled.

If he was reading her right, this was an experienced silver-bell demon-hunter. Her nerves under pressure should be steadier than two Daoist priests who’d barely left the mountain. Why was her composure cracking?

“I know.” Xiao Qiangwei breathed in sharply, gripped her hands, and looked back into the valley. Something cold and deliberate moved into the long eyes.

Two veteran practitioners of Qingzhou’s older generation — neither of them weaker than Jiang Chengyun. With their help, even if they couldn’t overcome a Condensate Perfection demon, they wouldn’t lose badly.

All three launched toward the jade spring at the same moment.

In almost the same instant, a sharp bird-cry rose across the valley. A vast pair of blue-green wings filled the sky in front of them without warning.

An enormous shadow fell over all three.

The wings came across like a blade splitting the sky, sweeping horizontally with brutal force.

Both Daoist priests read the momentum in an instant. Light footwork on the ground and they were airborne, then both sword-seal fingers drove straight forward.

Like responding to a command, the two broad sword-intent shapes erupted with a speed that bent the air around them.

The great wings cut across the space — drove into the sheer stone face beside them as if the rock were soft.

BOOM.

A terrifying scar opened across fifty zhang of cliff. The entire upper portion toppled, and the whole valley shuddered.

In that moment, both sword-intents drove into the blue-green wing. Feathers filled the air. Metal struck something deep.

Elder Chunyang’s right hand sword-seal held before his chest, left palm locked around the right wrist, loose robe thrashing, both arms trembling slightly.

“Hard body on this demon!”

“Get inside.” Elder Qingjing had lost every trace of the mild manner. Under the white-haired, young-looking face, something fierce had surfaced.

A sharp ring of sound — and both sword intents finally pierced through. Two waves of blood ten feet high crashed outward, and what had been a jade spring turned to red mist.

“SCREE—!“

The bird-cry rang again, high and in pain.

And in that moment — a figure in a long jacket was already at the wooden buildings. Xiao Qiangwei’s eyes were cold as she dropped from above toward the white-robed old man below. That enormous wing had grown from his right arm.

Both palms drove down with concentrated astral force.

Boom.

The old woman had moved in front of him, intercepting the strike directly with her own body. She staggered back, bent frame moving several steps before barely holding.

Her face was glacial now.

“To bring this many helpers — the Thief King’s connections are impressive. I want to know what price he paid to bring you all here to die.”

“What a captivating young woman.” Kong Jing’s smile had widened. He used the sleeve of his fine feathered robe to wipe dried blood from his arm, then stepped forward to block the woman’s path.

“…”

Xiao Qiangwei steadied her breathing. The wound at her wrist was showing signs of splitting again — but the astral force in her palms held.

Any other force in Tingyang Prefecture, hearing these words, would likely have tried to explain and untangle the misunderstanding.

Neither the Division nor the Baiyu Monastery had ever developed the habit of explaining themselves to demons.

She took in the three figures in front of her in a single glance.

Condensate Perfection. Full core. And a smaller one — rough core.

Any one of these three appearing in Qingzhou would almost certainly require a Demon Suppression General personally to keep the damage limited.

With that thought, Xiao Qiangwei didn’t allow another breath of hesitation — she drove forward again.

What she hadn’t anticipated was the old man’s sweeping wing coming back with something new: along its surface, one feather had lit up with an intensely visible cyan glow.

An azure feather, hidden among the rest.

When it brightened, something invisible moved through the air — and when that wave reached the Twin-Harmony sword intents, there was almost no sound at all. The swords simply came apart and dissolved back into scattered astral force.

The old woman extended her right arm. A crimson feather appeared.

Warm red light moved — and the devastating wounds the sword-intents had driven into the old man’s wing simply closed, inside a single breath, as if they had never been.

Compared to Xiao Qiangwei—

The two Daoist priests had the stronger reaction. They watched the Twin-Harmony sword intents shatter, breathing coming faster.

When the wound that had taken everything they had to create simply healed, even the fingers at the sword-seal shook.

“Of course it is — a demon with actual inheritance—”

“HAHAHA!” Kong Jing seemed to find all of this genuinely pleasing. He reached out, one feather on each arm blazing — azure and crimson both, flickering against each other.

“Jing — move.” The old man’s voice cracked out sharp before the laughter finished.

In the same instant, a presence locked onto this location — carrying the kind of edge that cut through everything — and pulled every eye in the valley to its source.

On the cliff edge across the valley—

A man in a state of considerable disarray stood upright. Expression vacant. One hand holding the brilliant divine bow. The other hand reaching slowly for the bowstring.

The string looked like it weighed a mountain.

Yan Xingkong looked directly at Kong Jing, still and steady. His qi erupted outward across his entire frame. Both arms had tendons standing out across the skin, flesh splitting, blood running immediately to soak through the cloth.

Draw at four and a half.

He’d intended to use his leg to brace the bow arm. His right leg no longer had any feeling.

He simply gripped the bowstring with his palm instead and pulled with raw brute force, face distorting further — until the string moved a fraction more.

Hair whipping. The bow opened to a half-moon.

A brilliant white light condensed on the bow.

His eyes were on Kong Jing. The arrow pointed without hesitation at the old man.

(End of Chapter)