Although Feng Xin and Mu Qing’s luck didn’t seem very good, those wild spirits and monsters didn’t really pose any danger. Xie Lian only prayed they would give up sooner rather than later and be released from their predicament. At the same time, he was thankful that he himself didn’t roll a number that called forth any horrors—that he rolled a Hua Cheng instead.
He spoke as he walked, “I rolled snake eyes earlier. Does that mean every time I roll a two, I can see you?”
As soon as he asked the question, he realized his words implied a bit too much, as if he had dearly wanted to see Hua Cheng.
But Hua Cheng replied, “No.”
Xie Lian felt a little awkward and scratched his cheek. “Oh. So that’s not it. I was wrong, then.”
Hua Cheng, walking in front of him, said, “If you want to see me, it won’t matter what you roll. I will appear.”
“…”
Xie Lian swallowed hard and forgot everything else he wanted to say. He hadn’t had the chance to dissect the meaning of those words before another voice spoke within the communication array.
“Let me!”
Not long after those words were spoken, a blinding white light slashed across the sky, and then there was the earth-shattering sound of metal cracking. Hua Cheng and Xie Lian’s path was blocked.
When the white light cooled and slowly faded away, Xie Lian finally saw what had flown in to block them: a sword.
His eyes slowly widened, and his pupils shrank.
The sword was long and slender, embedded deep in the ground on a slant. The body of the sword itself was still quivering from impact. Its blade was deep and foreboding, forged from what looked like black jade, smoother than a mirror—and if anyone were to approach, they could see their own reflection within it. The blackness was disrupted by a thin, silver-white line running vertically down the heart of the blade; it cut the blackness in half, like a ray of sweet love.
The name of this sword was Fangxin.
A figure landed in front of the sword and said, “This is your sword.”
After the death of the State Preceptor Fangxin, the sword he carried was kept by the Crown Prince of Yong’an. The one who had thrown the sword Fangxin and blocked their path was none other than Lang Qianqiu.
It would appear that though Feng Xin and Mu Qing had failed, Lang Qianqiu managed to roll the right numbers. It really couldn’t be said whether it was because of his luck or Xie Lian’s misfortune. The only thing that could be said with certainty was, of the two crown princes, Lang Qianqiu had always been the more fortunate.
Hua Cheng stood with his hands clasped behind his back. He moved slightly, but Xie Lian immediately stretched out his hand to stop him.
He said in a low voice, “Let me.”
Lang Qianqiu blocked the road, their only path through the heart of the valley. “Duel me. No matter how it ends, even if I die at your hand, I won’t ask for any reparations, and I don’t need you to ask the Emperor for banishment either.”
Anyone could tell that until his demands for this fight were satisfied, he would never rest.
After a long pause, Xie Lian finally nodded his head slowly.
“Fine.”
He took a few steps forward and approached the sword, gripped the hilt, and pulled it from the debris.
“You asked for this,” he said softly.
After hundreds of years, Fangxin had finally returned to his hands, and it moaned softly in Xie Lian’s grip. Standing close by, Hua Cheng’s eye also flashed sharply at the sound of that sword’s incessant cry.
With sword in hand, Xie Lian swung and pointed it to the ground before saying coolly, “However this duel ends, do not regret it.”
“I won’t!” Lang Qianqiu shouted.
Lang Qianqiu was so tense it felt like his head was going to split. Both his hands clutched his greatsword tightly, his eyes focused, his breath held; his sight was locked onto Fangxin—the sword that was black as jade—not daring to be careless for even a moment.
Xie Lian took a sudden step and lunged forth. Lang Qianqiu’s eyes focused, ready to strike, when his body froze. It was as if he had been suddenly trussed up, and he fell heavily to the ground.
He looked down to find that he really was bound! A snow-white silk band had come out of nowhere and wrapped around his body several times like a venomous snake!
Lang Qianqiu had been taught swordsmanship by the State Preceptor Fangxin ever since he was young, and he revered the man deeply. This was why the moment Xie Lian gripped his sword, all of his attention was on him and his movements. He never noticed the white silk band that snuck behind to ambush him. How could there be such a shameless trick up his sleeves?!