After Changing To The Ruthless Way The Brothers Cried And Begged For Forgiveness Chapter 478

[ … words ]

A sudden scream tore through the fog, then cut off at once.

Chu Po Tian swept his gaze around and was about to leave when a figure split the heavy mist and stepped into view. His expression darkened: he said, “It’s you. I was just about to look for you; I didn’t expect you to deliver yourself.”

He was the very man who had tried to snatch Yu Zhao’s Number Token before the Dao Debate began.

Yu Zhao’s tone was light, without a ripple, as if the giant before her did not exist at all: “A coincidence indeed, because I was looking for you too.”

Chu Po Tian gave a cold laugh: he said, “We’ll see how long you can keep that mouth hard.”

His body shuddered, then rose like a cliff lifting from the earth, swelling to a height of ten zhang. A vast shadow fell over Yu Zhao. She did not move until the instant his feet were about to slam down. Her figure flickered, and in the next heartbeat she was level with his eyes.

Chu Po Tian was shocked. There was no Spiritual Power inside the Four Quarters Realm. How had she leapt to his height?

Before he could think it through, Yu Zhao lifted an arm and, almost lazily, fanned her palm forward. The wind from her strike howled, and the air cracked with a shrill report. The crushing force landed on his face before he could react.

Bang.

“Ah!”

At the foot of the mountain, Chu Po Tian jolted awake with a hoarse yell, drenched in sweat. The first thing he did was grab at his right cheek. Only when his fingertips found whole, unbroken skin did he slump and gulp for breath.

“Senior Brother Chu, are you all right?”

Stiffly lifting his head, he found the junior brothers and sisters who normally feared him gathered round with looks of concern they could not keep from turning into poorly hidden excitement. As if remembering something, he jerked his chin up.

The sky was sliced into square panes, each playing a different scene; a scattering of the panes were gray, showing nothing. Chu Po Tian, without the slightest effort, picked out the one showing Yu Zhao. Watching the figure darting through the center of the panel, he sprang up, stabbed a finger at her, and roared with a twisted snarl: “She’s cheating! She’s using Spiritual Power inside the Four Quarters Realm!”

From first comprehension of intent to seamless use, Yu Zhao’s entire process had unfolded under everyone’s eyes. Of all people, they knew best whether she had cheated.

“Senior Brother Chu, enough—she didn’t cheat,” said one fellow disciple as he tugged at Chu Po Tian to sit; Chu shook him off with a shove.

“I know you all want to laugh at me. But I’m not the one who lost—she is! She—”

“Silence.”

A woman in a moon-white robe rose where she sat and flicked out a palm. Without so much as a grunt, Chu Po Tian’s eyes rolled back and he crumpled, senseless.

The white-robed woman withdrew her hand and bowed with an apologetic incline: she said, “My junior has no manners. I have made you all laugh.”

She wore pure white, otherworldly in bearing, as if untouched by mortal dust, yet the way she moved was swift and decisive. Even her voice was soft and melodious, pleasing to the ear.

Ancestor Sui Bian could not help glancing her way twice. The very next moment, his face flushed scarlet. Senior Qun Fang and Senior Xiu Yu had glided to either side without a sound, their slim fingers pinching mercilessly into his waist. Smiles curved their lips, but their voices were winter-cold with a dangerous edge as they asked in unison: “Is she pretty?”

A bolt of pain shot through Ancestor Sui Bian’s waist; sweat sprang cold on his back and he shook his head violently: he said, “What are you saying, I—I wasn’t looking at her.”

Senior Qun Fang gave a frosty little snort: she said, “Oh? Strange, your eyes were awfully intent just now.”

Senior Xiu Yu’s smile was gentle, her tone tender with thorns: she said, “Sui Bian, are Big Sister and I not good-looking enough, that you still have the mind to sneak looks at others?”

Pinned between the two of them, Ancestor Sui Bian had nowhere to go. With a righteous face he declared: he said, “You really misunderstand. I was looking at that brat who dared lay a hand on Yu Zhao. Absolutely nothing else.”

The two seniors traded a look, then finally let go. Senior Qun Fang sniffed: she said, “See that you know your place.”

Senior Xiu Yu smoothed the front of his robe for him with tender care: she said, “Sui Bian, do not let your eyes roam again. Next time, it will not end with a pinch.”

Ancestor Sui Bian bobbed his head like a pecking bird, [Thank heavens,] and did not dare look the white-robed woman’s way again. He turned his gaze to the right and found Old Black Daoist watching him with a wicked grin. Pain and anger flared together; in his heart he cursed Old Black Daoist for abandoning him and running off a hundred times over.

Inside the Four Quarters Realm, Du Wu Xiang coldly watched as a woman’s crown shattered under his palm. She wisped into smoke and drifted away. He felt no joy. His illusions could bewilder others, but if the one before him were Yu Zhao, he would have no chance at all. Each time he eliminated an opponent, her figure surfaced in his mind like an inescapable shadow.

Just then, a thread of music wafted from the front, distant and ethereal. At first it was like a tune behind gauze, indistinct, but it grew clearer with each breath.

“Not good.”

His body stuttered out of his control. He stepped back at once, turning his intent into an invisible membrane that sealed the air around him and cut off the strange sound. The music fell away. A woman in pale pink stood not far off, a simple pipa cradled in her arms. Her fingertips rested lightly on the strings, ready to play again at any instant.

“Du Wu Xiang lives up to his name,” she said, breath sweet as orchids, her appreciative gaze resting on him.

Du Wu Xiang was not of the Bifang Realm; he did not relax in the least. He said coolly, “Who are you?”

“This humble one is Su Qing Wan, disciple of the Heavenly Sound Pavilion,” she said.

His brow creased. His caution only heightened. Heavenly Sound Pavilion had placed third in the last Dao Debate of the Bifang Realm; their strength was nothing to dismiss. His eyes slid, almost imperceptibly, to the pipa in her arms. There was no Spiritual Power here. That instrument had to be shaped from intent. It said enough about how her comprehension matched his own. And her art was sound—formless and hard to defend. If he had not reacted fast, he would have gone the way of the woman just now.

“Fellow Daoist Du need not be so guarded,” Su Qing Wan said with a faint smile as her finger brushed a string—without the least hint of attack. “I have not come to be your enemy. I heard your Illusion Arts are unrivaled and came to ask for instruction.”

“Instruction? That tune just now did not sound like a simple visit for advice,” he said.