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Chapter 36: Chapter 37 Wan Diao

Du Yunlong couldn't bring himself to meet her gaze, her disillusionment too much to bear. "Miss Wang, you should rest. I'll go fetch some water."

As he left the temple, Du Yunlong realized with a sinking feeling that he had nothing with which to carry the water—no pot, no bucket. He knelt by the pool, scooping up the cool, clear water with his hands, but his mind was clouded, turbulent. Something didn't feel right, as though he'd made a terrible mistake.

Maybe he owed Wang Zihan an apology. After all, she'd shared her deepest secrets with him, and he'd given her nothing in return. Was he being too heartless? As these thoughts swirled in his mind, a voice suddenly shattered the stillness.

"Du Yunlong!" A furious roar echoed across the mountains. "You killed Xiao Shui, and now you'll know what it's like to lose someone you care about!"

The voice belonged to Ma Qianjun, his words heavy with murderous intent. "I'm here alone, Du Yunlong. If you don't come out and face me, I'll kill that old bastard Yu Changkong right now!"

A familiar scream pierced the air. Du Yunlong's heart clenched. He couldn't afford to hesitate any longer. Like an arrow loosed from a bow, he sprinted toward the sound, gripping his sword and knife tightly, ready for battle.

He reached the grassy slope in moments, bursting through the underbrush with his blade drawn—but Ma Qianjun wasn't there. Instead, the lifeless body of Yu Changkong lay before him, bloodied and broken.

"Damn it!" Du Yunlong cursed under his breath. "That bastard lured me away!"

A cold laugh echoed from the direction of the temple. "Du Yunlong! Now you know how it feels to lose someone! But this isn't over—not by a long shot. I'm waiting for you in the temple. Come and face your despair! Xiao Shui, I'm coming for you..."

Ma Qianjun's tone had shifted, from murderous to mournful. But Du Yunlong didn't have time to wonder what it meant. Kneeling by Yu Changkong's body, he pressed his fingers to the old man's neck, only to feel the chill of death. His heart ached with a profound sorrow, the weight of his failure pressing down on him.

Uncle Changkong was gone. Just like Ma Qianjun said, he now knew the agony of losing someone dear. No amount of logic or strategy could numb the pain that tore through him.

A low moan of pain reached his ears, snapping him out of his grief. It was Wang Zihan. Ma Qianjun had her.

"Du Yunlong! You can run, but if you do, I'll crush Wang Zihan's neck with my bare hands!" Ma Qianjun's voice rang out from the temple again, laced with dark amusement. "Let's see how you handle losing her too!"

Du Yunlong wiped away the tears stinging his eyes, his mind clearing as the cold wind whipped through the mountains. He murmured to himself, "I don't leave debts unpaid—not to others, not to myself. Wang Zihan's life is more important than mine. I have to get her to Yuanzhou safely."

Without another word, he sprinted back toward the temple, his resolve unshaken. It didn't matter if Ma Qianjun had an army waiting for him—nothing would stop him from saving Wang Zihan.

As the temple loomed before him, bathed in the last rays of the setting sun, Du Yunlong spotted Ma Qianjun standing before the statue of the Celestial Maiden, his hand wrapped tightly around Wang Zihan's slender neck. Seeing Du Yunlong, Ma Qianjun's lips twisted into a savage grin.

"Du Yunlong, how does it feel? Does it hurt? If you had taken any longer, I would've crushed this woman's throat," Ma Qianjun sneered, his grip tightening.

Wang Zihan dangled helplessly in his grasp, gasping for breath, her face paling as she struggled. Du Yunlong's heart surged with fury. "Let her go! Come after me instead!"

Ma Qianjun's laugh was cold, his voice dripping with malice. "Oh, don't worry. I'm coming for you. But first, allow me to introduce myself. I am Ma Qianjun, a man of forty-seven."

Du Yunlong gritted his teeth, his sword at the ready. He had heard Ma Qianjun's name more times than he could count, but this was the first time they'd faced each other like this. "Du Yunlong, twenty-four. Miss Wang's protector. If you're a man, let her go!"

Ma Qianjun's face darkened, his fingers tightening around Wang Zihan's collar. "I can smell Xiao Shui's blood on you. It was you, wasn't it? You killed him. For that, I will make you suffer."

"Xiao Shui?" Du Yunlong muttered under his breath. It took him a moment to understand. He had absorbed Xiao Shui's essence with the Extreme Yuan Radiance Thunder Refinement, using his blood for his cultivation. No wonder Ma Qianjun had recognized the scent immediately.

Ma Qianjun's voice softened with a twisted tenderness. "Yes, Xiao Shui. Now you'll feel the wrath of a man who's lost everything."

"Let Wang Zihan go," Du Yunlong demanded, his voice calm but firm. "Let's settle this like men."

He knew that Ma Qianjun had spent years honing his strength at the Yuanlong stage. Though Ma Qianjun had been stuck at this level, Du Yunlong wasn't far behind, but he had his own advantages—his mastery of both martial arts and Daoist techniques, along with the Tears of Heaven Sword.

"This fight will be between us," Du Yunlong said, readying himself. "No tricks. Just fists."

Ma Qianjun grinned, his murderous intent palpable. "Fine by me. Men settle things with their fists." He hauled Wang Zihan higher into the air, her body limp in his grasp. "But first, toss your weapons aside. Or I'll snap her neck!"

With a casual flick of his wrist, Ma Qianjun punched the ground, shattering the stone tiles beneath him into dust. Du Yunlong's breath caught. Those stones were solid as steel—he knew because he'd brought them here himself from the depths of the Falling Star Mountains.

"Thunderous force," Du Yunlong whispered to himself. This fight was going to be brutal.

Liu Suiyun instantly recognized that Ma Qianjun's punch bore the essence of the Ten Thousand-Jin Stage—a feat that seemed impossible.

The cultivation path was clear: above the Yuanlong Stage was the renowned Across-the-Mountain Stage, where practitioners could strike from a distance, wounding enemies without touching them. Above that was the Dragon Scale Stage, where one's external defenses were so refined that even blades couldn't scratch them. And beyond that—Ten Thousand-Jin Stage. As the name suggested, it returned to a stage where raw, overwhelming strength ruled. The power of this stage was said to be so immense that practitioners could split mountains and shatter boulders with ease. Legends even told of same-level cultivators being obliterated by a single punch.

Yet Ma Qianjun was merely at the Yuanlong Stage. How could his punch feel so overwhelmingly powerful? The force of the blow shattered a thick slate into dozens of even fragments. If that force landed on Gu Yinghua, the delicate woman would be obliterated. Even Liu Suiyun, with all his skill, knew that such a strike might reduce him to dust.

But Liu Suiyun quickly deduced the reason behind Ma Qianjun's sudden surge in strength: Xuan Shui Lord.

Ma Qianjun ignored Liu Suiyun's realization. "Throw your weapons over here," Ma Qianjun demanded coldly. "If you don't, you know exactly what will happen when I slam this fist into Miss Gu. Drop your weapons, and we'll settle this like men—with our fists."

Liu Suiyun didn't trust him. While Ma Qianjun's Thunderous Force had indeed surpassed three stages, it was clearly an imitation, far from the true essence of the Ten Thousand-Jin Stage. Still, without his sword, the Tears of Heaven, Liu Suiyun knew that facing Ma Qianjun in a duel would be nearly impossible. He understood too well that Ma Qianjun was no man of honor, no gentleman who kept his word.

"Throw your weapons," Ma Qianjun sneered, tightening his grip on Gu Yinghua. "I'll release this girl, and then you'll see what it's like to face a furious old man! I'll smash you into the wall and beat you to death. If you don't comply, I'll crush her with a single punch. You already know how much force I'm packing."

Gu Yinghua writhed desperately, managing to choke out a weak plea, "Go... run... don't... worry... about me. It's... a trap!"

Liu Suiyun's eyes burned with fury, but Ma Qianjun seemed utterly unfazed. He funneled every ounce of his newfound strength into his hand, a cruel smile playing on his lips. "Throw your weapons, or she's dead meat. Three... two..."

Liu Suiyun's brows furrowed tightly. Reluctantly, he tossed aside his cherished sword and blade. The clatter of metal echoed within the Tian Nü Temple, leaving only Ma Qianjun's triumphant, wild laughter in its wake.

"Did you really think I would keep my promise?" Ma Qianjun sneered mockingly.