Internal Conflict

The sword light pointed straight at Bai Cen's throat. Zixiao stared intently at him—or more accurately, at the translucent sword pill in his hand.

As Zixiao took another step forward, the sword glow radiating from him intensified. Merely having the blade pointed at him, Bai Cen felt the crushing pressure of the profound sword qi. He took a small step back, swallowing hard before finally snapping out of his post-tribulation shock.

Feeling ignored, a hint of impatience and irritation flickered across Zixiao's face. “Hurry up. Hand it over.” His eyes burned with unvarnished desire. He could feel the irresistible pull this item had on his very state of existence.

“Senior Brother!” A figure as swift as a drifting cloud flashed to Bai Cen's side. It was Qingwei. Looking from afar, Qingwei had only seen Zixiao holding a sword to Bai Cen's throat. No matter how great the conflict, one should never draw a sword against a fellow sect member! Anxious, Qingwei rushed forward to stop him.

But the moment he arrived at Bai Cen's side, Qingwei felt his own sword cultivation stir, yearning for something. He shifted his gaze, his eyes landing on the source of this agitation—the pill, which carried a scent that felt incredibly familiar.

It was the aura of the Glass Sword Heart, along with a trace of... a soul.

The Glass Sword Heart... and a soul? Qingwei went entirely rigid, a sudden chill rushing up his spine straight to his brain.

He spoke in a trembling voice filled with doubt, fear, anger, and utter disbelief.

“Bai Cen... You... You refined her into a pill?”

Bai Cen took a step back. What the hell? Wasn't this guy here to break up the fight? Why is he acting like he's interrogating me now? Could it be because this pill was refined using his disciple's core component, sparking some twisted sense of possessiveness? Reaching this conclusion, a wave of disdain washed over Bai Cen. He usually seemed like such a decent guy; who knew he was actually this sick?

Keeping his expression neutral, he sent a divine sense transmission to Qingwei: “Save my life, and the pill is yours.” Rather than giving it to Zixiao, it was better to give it to Qingwei in exchange for his own life. Besides, Bai Cen didn't practice the sword anyway, so consuming it would be useless to him. His original goal had only been to see the pill's effects.

He could always refine another one in the future if he wanted. He still had several portions of the Glass Sword Heart left anyway. The only issue was that he had run out of Madame Shen of the Jiang Clan's soul. Tsk, that's going to be tricky.

With a smile on his face, he looked toward Qingwei, only to be met with a cascade of sword light that resembled a pouring galaxy.

Qingwei's anguished roar, thick with grief and fury, echoed in his ears.

“Give me back my disciple's life!”

What is he doing?!

Bai Cen was utterly dumbfounded. What in the world was going on? Wasn't this guy here to stop the fight? What the hell was he doing?! The lethal sword light was already upon him.

Bai Cen dodged frantically, but the sword qi still sliced him to ribbons. He was covered in blood. Qingwei's sword qi had left at least seven deep gashes across his body, the deepest one tearing diagonally from his left shoulder down to his right ribs, completely soaking his robes in crimson.

He gasped for air, a sweet, metallic taste of rust welling up in his throat with every breath he took.

Damn it, he cursed inwardly. He was caught between a rock and a hard place now. He had to find a gap between those two terrifying swordsmen that would allow him to escape alive. He looked toward Zixiao.

“Zixiao,” he squeezed the words out through the blood and his ragged breaths, “I can give you the pill.”

He paused, making sure Zixiao's gaze remained fixed on him. “On the condition that you let me leave here alive.”

“If I kill you, the pill will still be mine.”

Bai Cen grit his teeth. This guy didn't care about the sect rules at all—though Bai Cen was hardly in a position to judge. “If you dare touch me, I'll destroy the pill! At worst, we both go down together!”

Zixiao raised an eyebrow. “Tsk.” He didn't care what Bai Cen was thinking, nor did he care about Qingwei's thoughts. As long as he got the pill, it didn't matter. It was just that the process had become slightly more troublesome. He spat out a single word to Bai Cen:

“Fine.”

Bai Cen let out a soft sigh of relief upon hearing Zixiao's response, his racing heart settling slightly. At the very least, he had secured another chance to survive.

A sword light sliced diagonally from behind him. It was... Qingwei's sword, Fuyao.

“I want you dead!” Qingwei roared in absolute fury. “Azure Cloud Sword Art! Third Form, Whale-Bearing Strike!”

A tsunami-like wave of sword qi swept from behind, shrieking against the air like the low groan of a giant whale in the deep ocean.

Clang! A purple barrier of sword light enveloped both Zixiao and Bai Cen. Bai Cen slumped to the ground, his heart pounding in terror. If Zixiao had been even two seconds slower to react, Bai Cen would have been reduced to a puddle of mush.

“Zixiao, you're protecting him?” Qingwei's voice came from behind. He no longer addressed him as Senior Brother, speaking instead in an incredibly heavy tone he had never used before. “Do you even know what that is?”

Zixiao stopped in his tracks. He didn't look back. “It's just a pill.”

“Whose pill is it?”

“A pill refined by Bai Cen.” He didn't want to waste time explaining. “Get out of the way,” he said.

“The Glass Sword Heart,” Qingwei said. “It is my disciple's sword heart.”

Zixiao didn't answer, but his footsteps halted. Fuyao had not been lowered; it continued to tremble, carrying the sword's resolve to join its master in madness. Qingwei gripped his sword, staring at Zixiao's back as he waited for him to turn around.

“There is a soul inside,” Qingwei's voice rose slightly. “It's Jiang Ci's soul!”

Zixiao slowly turned around. He looked at Qingwei, his gaze landing on him as if truly seeing him for the first time. “So what? I said, get lost!”

“And so—” Qingwei raised his sword by half an inch. “The pill in your hand was refined from my disciple's sword heart and soul. You have no right to take it.”

“I have it,” Zixiao said, his voice flat and devoid of emotion. “Therefore, it is mine.”

Qingwei did not reply. It was clear that a battle was inevitable. His heart grew cold as his master's dying words echoed in his ears:

“The two of you must support each other and make our Sword Sect strong!”

Bitterly realizing that his past promise could no longer be kept, Qingwei gripped Fuyao tightly. “Then, let us fight!”

The pressure of a peak Void Refinement cultivator burst forth. Zixiao stopped holding back as well, unleashing surges of purple light and wild, flying sword qi that tore the refining chamber completely to shreds.

Bai Cen frantically stuffed medicine into his mouth, looking for any opportunity to escape, but there was simply no way out. Watching the two unleash their world-shattering might, he thought to himself, Isn't it just a fucking pill? I can just refine another one! Can you two stop fighting?!

The continuous clashes of sword light were his only answer. As azure light and purple haze intertwined before his eyes, he let out a heavy sigh.

“What misery...”