Chapter 62: Chapter 61 pt2
At the base of the Azure Sword Sect, the noise was deafening.
Patriarch Iron-Bone stood atop a massive, armored siege-beast. He was a mountain of a man, covered in thick bronze armor, holding a massive spiked club. Behind him, three thousand disciples cheered and banged their weapons against their shields.
"Cowards!" Patriarch Iron-Bone roared, his voice amplified by Qi to echo up the mountain. "Zhao! You spineless rat! You hide behind your ancestor’s array while the real sects bleed! Open the gates and hand over the loot, or I will level this peak to the ground!"
The semi-transparent blue barrier of the grand array rippled slightly under the blows of the siege-beasts.
Suddenly, a small gap appeared in the rolling mist behind the barrier.
Patriarch Iron-Bone grinned, hefting his club. "Ah! They finally surrender! Look closely, men! Let us see what pathetic elder they sent to beg for mercy!"
The mist parted, but no elder stepped forward.
Instead, a single, terrified fox maid with fluffy ears and a twitching tail walked up to the edge of the barrier. She didn’t speak. She didn’t bow.
Su Mei simply raised her trembling hands and unfolded a piece of cheap rice paper, pressing it flat against the inside of the blue barrier for the Patriarch to see.
Written in thick, sloppy green herbal ink was a single word.
Scram.
Patriarch Iron-Bone burst into a booming, mocking laugh. "A piece of paper?! A maid and a piece of paper?! Is this the mighty Azure—"
His laughter stopped abruptly.
He locked eyes with the green ink.
In that exact fraction of a second, Patriarch Iron-Bone’s vision violently shifted. The blue barrier, the fox maid, and the mountain completely vanished.
He wasn’t standing on his siege-beast anymore. He was standing at the edge of a bottomless, pitch-black abyss. And looking up at him from the darkness was a pair of ancient, terrifying eyes that felt as heavy as the sky itself. A suffocating, absolute killing intent crashed down onto his mind like an executioner’s blade.
The intent didn’t carry physical force, but the psychological pressure was so unimaginably vast that the Patriarch’s Late Core Formation Dao heart instantly, violently cracked.
"AGH!"
Patriarch Iron-Bone let out a bloodcurdling scream of pure, primal terror.
He dropped his massive spiked club. He stumbled backward, completely losing his balance, and fell off the back of his massive siege-beast. He hit the dirt hard, violently coughing up a massive mouthful of heart-blood.
His three thousand disciples completely froze, the cheering dying instantly in their throats. They stared in absolute shock as their invincible, iron-boned leader scrambled backward in the dirt like a frightened child.
"P-Patriarch?!" a senior elder gasped, rushing forward to help him up.
"Don’t look at it!" Iron-Bone shrieked, covering his eyes, his entire massive body trembling uncontrollably. "It’s a monster! A taboo existence! The abyss is awake! Retreat! RETREAT NOW!"
Without waiting for his army, the massive Patriarch turned and ran down the mountain path as fast as his legs could carry him, completely abandoning his siege-beasts, his weapons, and his dignity.
Panic is highly contagious. Seeing their leader absolutely shattered by a single piece of paper held by a maid, the three thousand disciples didn’t hesitate. They dropped their banners, turned around, and fled into the forest, screaming in terror.
In less than a minute, the base of the mountain was completely silent.
Su Mei stood behind the barrier, holding the piece of paper. She blinked, her fox ears twitching in utter confusion.
She looked at the empty dirt path, then looked at the wobbly green character painted in ginseng soup.
"What... what just happened?" she whispered to herself.
Back in the master courtyard, Yan Shuo let out a soft, satisfied sigh.
He casually tossed the cloud-silk brush onto the table. It had required extreme mental focus to condense his ancient intent without letting his Qi flare, but it had worked perfectly.
Sect Master Zhao, who had watched the entire scene through a scrying mirror, was currently kneeling on the floor, weeping with absolute, religious reverence.
"A single word!" Zhao sobbed, banging his head against the floorboards. "You shattered a Late Core Formation Grandmaster with a single word written in medicinal soup! Lord Yan’s divine might is truly without peer! The Heavens themselves must bow!"
"You are too loud, Sect Master," Yan Shuo said lazily. "Please take the scrying mirror and leave. I need to get back to my hobby."
Zhao scrambled to his feet, bowed ten more times, and practically floated out of the courtyard, high on the absolute supremacy of his hidden backer.
The courtyard doors clicked shut.
Tantai Zhi had not moved. She was staring at Yan Shuo, her golden eyes completely blown wide.
The sheer, domineering arrogance he had just displayed, defeating an army without even standing up from his cushion, protecting his own healing process with absolute perfection, struck the absolute core of her yandere heart.
She crawled across the grass, ignoring the table entirely, and threw her arms around his neck, practically climbing into his lap.
"Husband," Tantai Zhi breathed, her voice incredibly soft, filled with a terrifying, obsessive level of worship. "You are magnificent. You are the most incredible man in the mortal realm."
She peppered his face with fierce, adoring kisses, completely ruining his dignified, ancient sovereign posture.
Yan Shuo couldn’t help but laugh, wrapping his arms around her waist to keep her from knocking over the inkstone. The soft-rice lifestyle had its drawbacks, but moments like this made the glowing paper porridge almost entirely worth it.
"I am glad you liked the painting, Wife," Yan Shuo smiled warmly against her hair.
"I loved it!" she beamed, pulling back to look into his eyes. "In fact, I am going to buy a hundred more brushes! You can write decrees to all the sects! We can conquer the continent via mail!"
Yan Shuo’s smile froze.
Conquering the continent via mail?
"Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Zhi’er," Yan Shuo muttered, instantly regretting showing off. "My wrist is feeling a bit tired..."
