Chapter 27: I Know Who You Are

Wang Lu kept his eyes locked on the blade in Ding Baiying’s hand.

The fact that her previous three strikes had been parried meant they were not her true killing blows. Ding Baiying’s most formidable technique was the devastating “Wind-Facing Blade,” the very one that had left Shen Lian completely dumbfounded. After Shen Lian let Beizhai go, Ding Baiying had threatened him to head outside the city. When Shen Lian attempted to resist, mistakenly believing her to be the weakest of the three, she had sliced his Xiuchun saber, the “Cloud-Dragging Blade,” clean in two.

Crunch.

Wang Lu had been guarding against exactly that. They were both seasoned foxes; both sides understood the basic techniques. It was only these signature, all-powerful maneuvers that gave each practitioner their unique edge. For Ding Baiying, it was the heavy, crushing Wind-Facing Blade; for Shen Lian, it was his desperate prayer to his father. Wang Lu had his own, but he didn't intend to reveal it yet, because the lines he had been seeing in his vision seemed to trace the trajectory of Ding Baiying’s blade.

What surprised Wang Lu was that these lines did not seem to be the work of any system; they felt more like a form of precognition, a reflex of muscle memory. In short, whenever Ding Baiying prepared to strike, he seemed to instantly know where the blade would fall and how she would best chain her next movement. Given this, Wang Lu found himself interested in continuing the dance with her.

No rush. Let’s play with her.

Clang!

Clang, clang, clang!

Ding Baiying’s attacks grew fiercer with each strike, and Wang Lu’s blocks became increasingly precise. Soon, Ding Baiying realized it too: no matter how she struck, Wang Lu seemed to know beforehand and had already assumed a defensive posture.

“Coward! Is that all you can do—just hide?!” Ding Baiying frowned and barked, her lips curling into that familiar sneer, though her eyes were clearly more guarded now.

Although Wang Lu could see the path of her blade, he remained hyper-vigilant, carefully distinguishing between strikes meant to kill him and those meant to shatter his weapon. This blade had cost him two hundred taels of silver! That was enough to buy the freedom of half a Zhou Miaotong! Which brought up a question: if one could only afford half of her, should one buy the top half or the bottom half?

“Pfft—” Wang Lu couldn't help but laugh.

One really shouldn't let their mind wander during a tense situation. But it was just like having a song suddenly pop into your head during an exam—it wasn't something one could consciously control, or at least, Wang Lu hadn't yet reached the level where he could fully command his focus.

Ding Baiying’s expression soured; she interpreted his laughter as mockery of her skill. She took a sharp breath, concentrating all her strength into her wrists. With her right palm positioned inside and over her left, she gripped the handle. The blood groove on the side of the blade shimmered with a predatory light. She curled her lip and hoisted the weapon high.

A second before, Wang Lu had just parried her strike and was pulling his blade back to the left. This time, however, Ding Baiying did not follow the conventional Qi-family saber style of using the rebound force to counterattack. Instead, she slid her blade along the edge of Wang Lu’s, forcing him to drag his weapon back until it was pressed against a pillar.

Suddenly, Ding Baiying spun around, bringing her blade down with an unstoppable, whistling force, aiming directly at Wang Lu’s trapped weapon.

Ding Chong looked at Wang Lu with a sneer. Once the Master unleashed this technique, the outcome of the battle was essentially decided. No one could keep their weapon intact against this strike. Not even among the members of the Ding school could anyone manage it.

However, the smile on Ding Chong’s face turned awkward in the next instant.

Creak.

Ding Baiying’s blade came crashing down, sealing off every path of escape for Wang Lu. Yet, halfway through the swing, a flicker of confusion crossed her eyes. Wang Lu had switched his grip to his left hand.

The blade followed a bizarre trajectory, one that defied human ergonomics. Ding Chong couldn't make sense of it, and even Ding Baiying looked nearly stunned. Ding Baiying’s ultimate strike hit nothing but air, leaving the carefully crafted brown pillar showered in wood shavings.

Wang Lu leaped backward, putting a safe distance between himself and Ding Baiying.

“Is that it?” Wang Lu looked at her and said, “If you aren't a fool, you can see that you can’t do anything to me. Even your ultimate technique is as clumsy as a pig to me—it can be neutralized with ease.”

“Let me go now, and if you ever need help in the future, I’ll lend a hand. Otherwise, we could fight until dawn and still not determine a winner.”

“It’s all passed down from the same lineage; we can’t break each other’s forms,” Wang Lu said with a raised eyebrow and a light smile.

“Passed down from the same lineage?” Ding Baiying’s eyes were cold. Suppressing her anger, she furrowed her brow and asked, “Are you Ding Xian?”

Before Wang Lu could answer, Ding Baiying dismissed the thought herself. “No! Ding Xian doesn't have such high-level skills. Heh, you are Ding Xiu.”

“A good guess, but don't guess next time.” Wang Lu hadn't expected his casual remark to lead Ding Baiying to seriously speculate on his identity. Could she really guess it? A woman who, until the very last moment, gave her life for Prince Xin, only to die at the hands of the very man she served—she was no smarter than Guo Zhen.

Of course, it was also possible that Wang Lu had prepared well. Not only had he disguised his blade by covering the pattern on the hilt with black cloth, but he had also changed into a bloodied set of swordsman’s robes. He had stripped these off a roving warrior he had accidentally killed three years ago in the imperial prison—a man who liked to use his martial arts to bully the daughters of good families.

Over these eight years, Wang Lu hadn't just been practicing the blade. He had prepared everything necessary: disguises, connections, and the cultivation of his own subordinates. Perhaps this was why he had always felt he was just one step away from greatness, yet had never been able to break through to the pinnacle of the Sinyou Saber Technique.

“Brother Ding Xiu, ever since you disappeared three years ago, we and the Master have been looking for you. I never expected the Senior Brother to have come to the capital. What a coincidence,” Ding Chong said, stepping forward with a smile, as if trying to make up for Ding Baiying’s earlier confusion.

“Hiss,” Wang Lu glanced at Ding Chong, frowning. “How is it that you, a disciple, are even more naive than your master?”

“Brother Ding Xiu, stop pretending. In the entire world, those who can use the Qi-family saber with such masterful skill can be counted on one hand. Aside from the Master and Uncle Lu, who else could it be but you?” Ding Chong said proudly.

It seemed she thought she was quite clever.

But Ding Baiying didn't object. She stared suspiciously at Wang Lu and said, “Although I don't know where you’ve been these three years, or why you intervened to save Guo Zhen, this is no time for nonsense.”

“Hand Guo Zhen over to me. Once I have returned to report my mission, I will come find you. Then you can tell me about your experiences over these years. After all, you are a product of my school. Just remember one thing: I will not harm you.”

“Heh, Master, what you say makes sense, but I have my own reasons for needing to take Guo Zhen.” Seeing that all three of them seemed to have mistaken him for Ding Xiu, Wang Lu simply accepted the identity. “And mine are certainly more important than yours.”