My Enemy Became My Cultivation Companion
Chapter 159 - 139 Living Sword Kills People

Chapter 159: Chapter 139 Living Sword Kills People

The sharp chicken leg bone, as if it were a sharpened sword, unexpectedly traced out a cold gleam in midair, seemingly aimed at killing Chen Yi in one swift strike.

Before it reached his throat, the old beggar’s hand abruptly halted mid-motion.

"The Squad Leader of the Beggar Sect’s Capital City branch, an elder indeed—do you have no martial integrity?"

Chen Yi looked helpless.

The old beggar’s expression grew dark and ambiguous.

A single chopstick hovered over the old beggar’s head at his crown point. If he pushed the chicken leg bone even an inch closer to Chen Yi’s throat, the chopstick, guided by Qi, would pierce him a fraction of a second earlier.

A difference of mere fractions could lead to a world apart.

Even if the old beggar could pierce Chen Yi’s throat, timely pressure point intervention could merely result in a serious injury for Chen Yi, whereas the old beggar would lose his life instantly.

"It seems I’m trying to ambush the young master, but the young master is also ambushing me. Not only does this young lad have an elegant and handsome appearance,"

The old beggar’s voice was coarse as he said:

"Even his martial integrity is... dignified and upright."

Chen Yi responded with a faint smile and asked:

"Step back?"

"Step back."

"Step back."

The final remark came from the monk from the Western Region, who, during the standoff between the two, neither took advantage nor incited trouble.

"Then let’s each step back three paces."

With that, the old beggar pushed off with his feet, retreating two paces, while Chen Yi stepped back two and a half. Only the Western monk accurately placed himself three paces away.

The monk did not face Chen Yi and the old beggar but turned to look at Chou Gang, reciting a Buddhist chant:

"Homage to Shakyamuni Buddha, I have traveled a long way as a humble monk, seeking a particular individual. I hope Lord Chou will hand this person over."

Before Chou Gang could respond, Li Xieling interjected in surprise:

"You bald monks don’t chant Homage to Amitabha Buddha?"

"I am not a native of the Central Plains,"

The monk did not take offense at Li Xieling’s rudeness but instead advised:

"If Master Li knows remorse, you could come willingly. I assure you, as a humble monk, I would safely escort you to Puhan Temple in the Western Region."

"Escort me to Puhan Temple to be executed, is that it? Fine, fine!"

Li Xieling erupted into raucous laughter, the sound wild and grating.

Chou Gang turned toward the monk and slowly said:

"This individual is required by the Office of Ceasefire. Master, if you insist on opposing me, Chou Gang, then don’t blame the blades and swords for having no eyes."

"Then let them be blind,"

As the words fell, the monk stepped forward.

Chou Gang brandished the Horse-slaying Saber, his aura surging with each movement, the overwhelming energy rattling his sleeves.

Meanwhile, Li Xieling had scurried to an abandoned sandalwood counter, casually opened a drawer, and pulled out a jar of Daughter’s Red wine. He appeared like a detached spectator, ready to enjoy the show, rather than a coveted Joyful Sect heir.

He poured himself a full bowl of the rich wine and laughed:

"In the sect, my senior sisters and juniors were always fighting over me. Who would’ve thought that even after leaving the Joyful Sect for so long, I’m still being fought over like Jia Baoyu!"

The old beggar who had been facing off against Chen Yi sneered in response:

"Good lad, you handle crises well—quite the demeanor of a squad leader."

The old beggar didn’t look directly at Chen Yi; his attention seemed elsewhere. It seemed like an opening, but Chen Yi didn’t rush forward.

From his earlier actions, he had already sensed that the old beggar had a knack for creating illusions, fabricating vulnerabilities.

The secret transmission supposedly targeting the Western monk was actually meant to put Chen Yi fatally at risk.

Seeing Chen Yi remain motionless, the old beggar turned his head and spat, saying:

"You’ve got no sense of fun! Won’t come at me, is it because I’m an old beggar and not some rosy-cheeked maiden?"

Chen Yi stayed unmoved.

The old beggar couldn’t hold back anymore and kicked off with his feet, leaping deftly between tables, his figure ghostly as his five fingers formed claws aimed straight for Chen Yi.

The claw wind howled fiercely, sweeping teacups off nearby tables, which crashed to the ground amid cacophonous clattering.

Chen Yi finally moved. Without hesitation, he drew his blade—a clean strike slicing toward the old beggar.

As the blade flashed past, just as it reached him, the old beggar seemed prepared, turning claws into palms, bending his left leg slightly to evade the blade’s razor edge. His right palm pivoted outward, sweeping forcefully toward Chen Yi’s knife-wielding arm.

Chen Yi’s eyes narrowed slightly but did not retreat. Instead, he shifted his force point, using his hardest elbow to meet the palm strike head-on.

Bang!

A thunderous crash.

Elbow collided with palm, clothes instantly tearing apart. Despite the skin beneath being as tough as ironstone, the blow sent reverberations through him. The old beggar staggered three steps back, staring at Chen Yi with surprise.

"What kind of fist technique is that?"

Chen Yi didn’t respond directly but instead identified the old beggar’s palm technique:

"Eighteen Dragon Subduing Palms, Regretful Dragon."

"You’ve got sharp eyes."

The old beggar laughed heartily but, in the next moment, charged forward.

Both palms pushed forward together; the momentum was immense, as though a mountain was advancing. Tables and chairs on either side were swept a dozen feet away.

Chen Yi evaded the brunt, retreating repeatedly, but the old beggar pressed on relentlessly. When his twin palms reached Chen Yi, he abruptly changed his move—preemption born of foresight, seeing that Chen Yi was gripping his blade tightly.

Yet, just as the old beggar shifted moves, Chen Yi stepped forward and twisted his torso, delivering a fierce shoulder strike like an iron mountain crashing in.

The old beggar’s mastery of the Eighteen Dragon Subduing Palms allowed for swift transitions between moves, but to Chen Yi, trained in the Shangqing Heart Method with its innate time-perception advantage, the split-second gap was still exploitable. Caught off guard, the old beggar was sent flying, the Iron Mountain Strike emitting a sound akin to thunder.

The old beggar collided with and shattered countless tables and chairs before smashing into a massive wooden pillar, embedding into it several inches deep.

"Good fist technique."

The old beggar spat out a mouthful of blood and wiped his lips,

"This move—I’d guess it’s the Cangshan Fist from South Cang Mountain. Decades ago, before Great Yu destroyed Southern Qi, that school was revered in its region."

Chen Yi offered no reply.

Meanwhile, at the counter, Li Xieling seemed fully intoxicated, his eyes unfocused, watching this chaotic battle as if dazzled by a kaleidoscope.

"Good fight, a brilliant fight by all!"

Li Xieling clapped and cheered:

"All this head-bashing and bloody mayhem, who’d have thought such masters would share a fondness for Dragon Yang relationships?"

The old beggar spat vehemently, shouting:

"If it weren’t for you being the squad leader’s bastard child, do you think I’d be here saving you?"

Li Xieling seemed not to hear him. After draining his cup, his tone turned self-deprecating:

"It makes sense after all—someone like me, a stunningly handsome man, is rare in this world."

"The world’s oldest profession isn’t begging—it’s selling oneself, followed by killing others."

The old beggar burst into laughter:

"I kill, you sell yourself. What a beautiful pairing!"

Chen Yi’s expression remained impassive; he merely tilted his head slightly.

The old beggar seized the momentary distraction, advancing once more with a deadly Regretful Dragon strike. This time, his speed was faster, his force even more overwhelming, as if prepared to shatter Chen Yi into pieces.

Chen Yi swung his blade horizontally—a move as fierce as cutting wind and rain.

The blade’s light divided the scene ahead into a fine line, its power unmatched. The old beggar abruptly adapted, leaping into the air with a sinister smirk.

He knew that Chen Yi’s brief lapse was merely posturing to create an opening, but—an opening was still an opening. Even if it was bait, it was a vulnerability nonetheless. With the right strategy and skill, it could still prove fatal!

He descended with both palms like a collapsing mountain, delivering the most forceful Eighteen Dragon Subduing Palms technique—Flying Dragon in the Sky. The overwhelming downward strike was poised to reduce Chen Yi’s head to pulp.

But the sword on Chen Yi’s back suddenly flew out of its sheath.

Controlled by Qi.

Whoosh!

The old beggar’s chest cavity was pierced through, his body skewered like a candied hawthorn, his Flying Dragon in the Sky falling an inch short of Chen Yi, causing the wind from the strike to scatter Chen Yi’s hair wildly beneath his conical hat.

The old beggar’s dying gaze bore unimaginable shock, as if asking how this man could possibly have so many hidden moves!

At the critical moment, Chen Yi released the Brocade Spring Blade, sending it spinning sideways. He shifted grip to the Hou Kang Sword and unleashed a straight-line stab toward the old beggar.

The Yinzai Sword strike unleashed surging Sword Qi, its killing intent deeply concealed, impossible to anticipate in advance. This was the living blade technique from Yin Sword Mountain—when perfected, it bore no trace of killing intent or murderous aura, like the blade of an Immortal traveling silently and swiftly over great distances!

Chen Yi flung the old beggar’s corpse down, the sword trembling faintly in protest, seemingly disdainful of being used to kill—

After all, this was killing with the Living Blade.