Chapter 8: Still Burning with the Cock’s Heat Inside Her, the Ice-Cold Pavilion Mistress Clamped Her Thighs and Slaughtered Five to Protect Her Son

Xue Ning did not move.

The ice-blue longsword in her hand never lifted.

She simply stood there in silence, her right hand flipping over as her fingertips rapidly formed seals.

With each movement, strands of dark blue formation patterns spread out silently from her as if cracks were crawling across a sheet of ice.

The scar-faced man’s eyes went wide.

He knew that opening stance too well.

That was the very move Lin Mubai had used when he launched his desperate counterattack just now.

But Lin Mubai had only barely conjured a few phantom shadows, while Xue Ning now...

The scar-faced man looked up, and a prickling numbness ran across his scalp.

The entire sky was already completely obscured by a dense mass of sword phantoms.

Not far away, on the stone steps, Sikong Lin’s gaze fell on the sword shadows filling the heavens.

"The seventeenth rule of the Sword Pavilion."

Xue Ning’s voice carried not the slightest warmth, as if it had come straight from the depths of the nine hells.

The ice-blue longsword in her hand tilted slightly, the point aimed directly at Elder Zhao.

"Those who collude with outside enemies."

The sword tip shifted again, locking onto Elder Li.

"Those who betray their sect."

"Die."

The instant the words fell, the entire greenstone square began to tremble violently.

Above everyone’s heads, the sword phantoms converged at high speed and condensed into five giant swords, each over ten zhang wide.

Their tips pointed downward, their chill biting, as they slowly rotated.

Each one was locked precisely onto a target.

All five Core Formation cultivators erupted at once.

Bursts of spiritual energy shot into the sky, blade light, fan shadows, and axe gleams intertwining as they tried to hold up a sliver of hope overhead.

Then five sword-force strikes descended with a buzzing roar.

Boom!

The earth-shaking blast tore through the air.

The greenstone beneath the scar-faced man’s feet instantly turned to dust, and his raised arms emitted a crisp cracking of broken bones.

The Joyful Union Sect elder let out a muffled groan as the prized folding fan in his hand filled with spiderweb cracks.

The sword-light shields of Elders Zhao and Li shattered the moment they touched the giant swords.

The two of them were sent flying like broken kites, spitting out mouthfuls of blood in midair before crashing hard into the ruins, their lives and deaths unknown.

The worst off was the Valley Master of Mad Lion Valley.

His proud protective spiritual barrier shattered inch by inch the instant it met the sword force, and the defense of his flesh was torn open right after it.

Sword light pierced clean through him.

A mountain wind swept past.

A straight line of blood split open from the center of that towering body down to the bottom of its chest.

The whole man dropped soundlessly to the ground, his life completely snuffed out.

The Valley Master of Mad Lion Valley was dead!

At the edge of the field.

"Go find some spiritual liquid and feed it to him. He should wake up any moment now," Shen Qingyun said in an even tone.

A Sword Pavilion disciple took Lin Mubai from Shen Qingyun’s hands. "Yes, Superior Shen."

The instant the Valley Master fell.

"Scatter and run!" someone roared in panic.

The crowd exploded at the cry, fleeing in every direction like rats.

But Xue Ning’s figure faded where she stood, a bizarre movement technique she had comprehended through ten years of sitting motionless in a wheelchair, grasping the limits of a mere inch of space.

In the next instant, before the afterimage had even dispersed, her true body was already pressed against Elder Li’s back.

She never even swung her sword.

Five blurry afterimages passed straight through Elder Li’s body at an impossible angle and speed.

Elder Li’s eyes flew wide. A rattling sound came from his throat, and then his life was cut off.

When Elder Zhao saw that, terror cracked his guts and he forced himself to flash several dozen meters away with the last of his strength.

But Xue Ning was too fast.

In just a few flickers, she had caught up to Elder Zhao.

Again, five afterimages passed through his body.

Dead.

The remaining scar-faced man and the Joyful Union Sect elder were drenched in cold sweat as they desperately drove their spiritual energy to flee.

Xue Ning did not let them get far.

Her body blurred into another afterimage.

Swoosh.

Swoosh.

A string of high-frequency flashes followed.

The scar-faced man and the Joyful Union Sect elder did not even have time to scream before they met the same end.

On the square, every enemy at the upper levels was wiped out.

Only a few petty lackeys remained, so frightened they knelt on the ground, trembling all over.

They had won.

After a brief silence, cheers of relief and survival burst out across the Sword Pavilion.

Xue Ning stood in a pool of blood, her chest rising and falling slightly.

Repeatedly unleashing her ultimate technique had left her breath a little ragged.

The hem of her moon-white dress fluttered softly in the wind.

No one noticed that this pavilion lord, who looked like a banished immortal descending from heaven, was right now biting hard into her lower lip, her legs trembling uncontrollably beneath the cover of her skirt.

Every time she used that phantom-step technique, the instant eruption of spiritual energy tugged at the dark green spiritual force deep inside her pussy.

With every movement, that searing white, milky fluid mixed with spiritual energy, rubbing and grinding madly against her sensitive inner walls.

More than once, she had nearly collapsed from that sudden shiver running through her body.

That ache and numb tingling were almost enough to swallow her reason whole.

She could only desperately clench herself tight, enduring it as hard as she could so that the muddy fluid would not run down her thighs.

It was too humiliating.

Xue Ning took a deep breath, trying to calm the strange turmoil inside her.

However, before the disciples’ cheers could even spread, they were caught in their throats by an invisible force.

Something changed.

The clear sky above suddenly darkened.

A nauseating stench of blood, mixed with some cloying, fragrant sweetness, instantly enveloped the entire greenstone square.

"Heh-heh-heh..."

A bone-chilling cackle echoed through the air.

Ripples like disturbed water spread across the sky.

An old man in a dark red robe appeared out of thin air.

He looked like a withered tree, his eye sockets sunken, a rotten aura of death swirling around him.

But the instant he appeared, a terrifying pressure far beyond the Great Circle of Core Formation crashed down on everyone’s shoulders like Mount Tai.

Nascent Soul stage!

Xue Ning’s expression changed drastically. Her face, already faintly pale from holding herself back, now lost all color.

The old man paid no heed to the shock below.

His thin fingers grasped at the air.

From the corpses of the Core Formation cultivators who had just died, several semi-transparent phantoms floated out.

They were their souls.

The old man opened a mouth like a black hole and sucked hard.

The souls let out silent, agonized screams before being swallowed down into his belly in one gulp.

The old man closed his eyes, a look of extreme satisfaction, even perverse delight, spreading across his face.

As the souls were refined, the aura that had once seemed unstable and floating around him visibly solidified several notches.

"The old ancestor of the Joyful Union Sect..."

Cold sweat seeped into Xue Ning’s palm around the hilt of her sword.

This old monster had long been rumored to be nearing the end of his lifespan and in seclusion on the brink of death. She had never expected that, in order to prolong his life, he would have already fallen to the evil path of swallowing the souls of fellow cultivators alive.

That meant everyone present today, in his eyes, was nothing more than nourishment for his survival.

Slowly, the old man opened his eyes, and his murky gaze fell on Xue Ning.

"This old man has not emerged from seclusion for decades, and yet I never expected this broken-down Sword Pavilion to still be hiding such a figure."

He looked Xue Ning up and down, his gaze lingering for a moment on her proud figure, and a lewd smile curled at the corner of his mouth.

"She’s actually quite a bit stronger than that useless predecessor. It’s just that your hand is a little too ruthless."

Xue Ning suppressed the fury in her heart with great effort.

It was clearly the three sects who had joined forces to storm their gates and annihilate the Sword Pavilion to the last person, yet in this old monster’s mouth it somehow became her being too ruthless.

But facing a Nascent Soul cultivator, she knew this was absolutely not the time to win a war of words.

Xue Ning stepped back half a pace without a sound, shielding Lin Mubai behind her.

"May I ask what brings you here, sir?"

"Quite the sharp tongue you have," the old man said with a cold laugh, his thin fingers toying with a strand of red silk pulled from who-knew-where.

"This old man won’t beat around the bush with you. Hand over the Sword Pavilion’s inheritance, and I’ll spare your lives."

Xue Ning’s heart sank.

The scene of this old monster swallowing souls alive was still vivid before her eyes. Not a single word from such a vile cultivator could be trusted.

Once the inheritance was handed over, everyone here would likely become his nourishment for prolonging his life.

"I’m afraid the Sword Pavilion’s inheritance isn’t something you’re fit to enjoy," Xue Ning said, forcing herself to stay calm as she searched for a way out.

"Oh?" The old man lifted his eyelids slightly, as if he had taken some interest.

Xue Ning forced herself to remain calm. "The Sword Pavilion inheritance can only be obtained by someone of the sect’s own bloodline, or by one whose sword-heart is perfectly clear. You are not a sword cultivator. Forcing it will only bring backlash."

Her words were half true and half false, an attempt to make him drop the idea.

The square fell into a deathly silence.

The old man said nothing, only staring fixedly at Xue Ning with those cold eyes, as if weighing the truth of her words.

Then, at that moment.

"Ma..."

A weak call broke the suffocating stalemate.

Lin Mubai, still unconscious, slowly woke and instinctively called out once.

The old man’s gaze was instantly drawn over.

A greedy light suddenly burst into his murky eyes.

"This brat..." The old man licked his shriveled lips.

Though he did not know who the boy was, the boy’s special body was plain as day to a Nascent Soul old monster.

Xue Ning’s heart skipped a beat, and she instinctively tightened her grip on her longsword.

"He should satisfy the conditions you mentioned, shouldn’t he?" There was an ominous excitement in the old man’s voice.

Xue Ning did not answer, but the caution in her eyes was already answer enough.

"Heh-heh-heh..."

The old man let out that eerie laughter again, laughing so hard his whole body trembled.

"Since I can’t just take it directly, then I’ll use another method."

He pointed his withered finger at Lin Mubai, his tone icy and sinister.

"Let this boy receive the inheritance."

The words had only just fallen when Xue Ning’s slender, trembling legs steadied.

She stepped forward half a pace, completely shielding Lin Mubai behind her.

The tip of her sword pointed straight at the old man in the air.

"If you have your eye on the inheritance," she said in a voice not loud, but clear as a blade scraping across ice, "you can try and see whether my sword agrees."

Not far away, Shen Qingyun stood with his hands behind his back, his expression calm.

Sikong Lin’s lazy, indifferent eyes slowly narrowed.