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Chapter 81: A Sword to the Tang Code

Translator: EndlessFantasy Translation Editor: EndlessFantasy Translation

Within Changan City, a mid-sized inn stood in the middle of a quiet alley. The crowd was rather sparse on that alley.

However, the inn’s business was booming—it was famous for the plum wine they served.

At that moment, there were two silhouettes seated in the inn. They faced each other in the window seat, admiring the yellow blossoms in the autumn rain. The table before them had peanuts and marinated chicken feet.

The duo ate and drank merrily.

Cui Cheng ordered the plum wine for Lu Taixuan. Lu Taixuan took a sip and groaned.

“This old inn’s plum wine is the best. Old Cui, when was the last time we drank together? Sixteen years ago?”

Lu Taixuan’s eyes were squinty as he spoke through a mild haze of inebriation.

Cui Cheng picked up a peanut with his chopsticks and ate it with a smile. “Back then, Wen Ting was still the Scholarly Sword Master who took Changan by storm, Martial Arts King Jiang had yet to marry Lady Pei. Changan’s waters were less murky then.”

Lu Taixuan’s eyes were cloudy as he reminisced. Unfortunately, at his cultivation state, it was difficult to achieve a state of total intoxication.

Cui Cheng lowered his wine cup and said, “Let’s not talk about the past. I hear the third prince personally left the palace and set course for Qiuling Demon Portal’s hunting grounds.”

“The third prince is a rambunctious man whose actions are often impulsive and erratic. It is his nature and the simplicity makes him predictable. The eldest prince is an overthinker and his thoughts can’t be deciphered.

“The second prince... Well, I won’t say anything. The fourth prince died young. And then there’s the last princess who thinks the whole world is out to get her...

“The Emperor wants to cultivate an heir who can shake the heavens and earth. Among the three princes, the eldest prince is the best choice but the third prince does have a sizable following,” Lu Taixuan said with a smile.

Under the inn’s shelter, the two elders discussed the young men and women of royal blood.

Headmaster Cui said lightly, “There’s no need to drag an innocent boy into the feud between the third prince and the Jiang family.”

Lu Taixuan swirled his wine cup and stared out into the autumn rain. “The boy has shown outstanding promise... Otherwise, he would never have been dragged into the storm.

“The boy threatens Li Yuanzhen’s place as this year’s grand champion. Naturally, the third prince would interfere. The grand champion is not merely an honorary title, you know this well, Old Cui.”

The weary lines on Cui Cheng’s face deepened. There were things he wished to say but he remained silent.

Silence filled their corner.

As they sipped their wine, the rain doubled its efforts outside.

...

Outside Qiuling Demon Portal, among the black clouds, Chao Xiaojian stood with his hands folded at his back—white robe, white hair and white beard swaying in the wind. An ordinary three-foot-long sword hovered beside him.

The winds and rain parted before him.

Like everyone, he was shocked when he found out the third prince and Nan Yehuo had paid a personal visit to Qiuling Demon Portal. The third prince’s impulsiveness outranked his own?

More importantly, Chao Xiaojian was surprised to learn the old Nan Yehuo had left his mountain for a child who had not even realize his sword intent.

All because Fang Lang managed to draw the Blooming Lotus Sword left behind by their reverent sect leader?

How deep was the psychological scar left by the sect leader?

Frankly, Chao Xiaojian had much admiration for Fang Lang.

The boy’s passion for sword mastery was out of this world.

Finally, his hard work and dedication paid off. After a core mutation, Fang Lang held a commendable purple core.

Calluses lined the boy’s hands, proof of his diligent sword training. Why would Chao Xiaojian not admire such a disciple of the sword?

Despite his feelings, Chao Xiaojian could not reach Qiuling Demon Portal at that moment.

Before him, two figures stood in silence. Beneath their feet, gray clouds gathered and rain poured down in buckets.

Frustration clawed at Chao Xiaojian but he let out a lazy drawl.

“The headmaster of Changan Academy and the principal of the Imperial Academy... Men of the eldest prince and the second prince, respectively... I see the princes want an all-out war to break out between the third prince and the Jiang family.”

Chao Xiaojian’s white robes fluttered, revealing his torso and abdomen. He toyed with the sword in hand and said with a sigh, “You dare stand in my way. Your identities mean nothing to my sword.”

He had a feeling there would be resistance but the involvement of the eldest prince and the second prince took him by surprise.

The waters of Changan City were murky beyond salvation.

The Sword Guild was so much better. With his senior gone, Chao Xiaojian was the boss there!

If only Fang Lang had joined the Sword Guild, all this could have been avoided.

Chao Xiaojian grinned at the two men—his love for theater never waned.

The two men overlapped their palms and made the scene twist. The sky and earth were bending under the area’s spell, trapping Chao Xiaojian within.

Chao Xiaojian smiled.

He lifted his hand and flicked the sword before him.

At that moment, the blade ray rippled within the spell area.

...

The power of bloodlines should not be underestimated in the Tang Dynasty.

The ancestors of the rare bloodlines had taken a leap to alter their own blood in order to grant the next generation immense power.

In the Tang Dynasty, the most powerful bloodline was none other than the Tang Dynasty’s royal family.

Li Liangcheng was the Emperor’s third son. He had pure royal blood in his veins and he was proud of it. The man was fearless and impulsive, and his behavior was permitted solely because of his royal bloodline.

However, at that moment, Li Liancheng’s prized bloodline was failing him.

He was able to pressure Wen Ting but not the green-robed teen.

His aura also had no effect on the elegant mirage summoned from the Blooming Lotus Sword.

The figure who captivated the eldest prince and frightened the second prince—Xuanyuan Taihua!

The name slipped from Li Liancheng’s teeth.

Whoosh!

Blood splattered everywhere.

Nan Yehuo gritted his teeth as his arm was cut down. It was a clean cut and blood flowed without any signs of stopping.

Nan Yehuo was like a leaf swept away by the sword intent of the Blooming Lotus Sword.

Did that woman store her spiritual sense inside the sword?!

Fang Lang was able to trigger the spiritual sense?!

Darkness crept into Nan Yehuo’s heart.

He was a ninth-class, yet he could not summon the guts to face the spiritual sense.

Had he fallen behind?

Did she surpass the ninth class?

Nan Yehuo glared at the blurry figure—the energy she exuded was faint but Nan Yehuo found himself unable to raise his sword in her presence. Then, a frightening aura spread through his body like a drop of ink in water.

Hum.

The energy in Nan Yehuo exploded. The fallen arm hit the ground and disturbed the soil.

The fiery red sword levitated and charged forward like a flaming serpent.

It twisted and turned in the air, snapping its jaws at Xuanyuan Taihua.

The slender figure gently waved her sword. Beneath the horse carriage, the rain puddles formed a lotus flower that bloomed.

Nan Yehuo’s other arm held his sword and blocked the intense sword intent’s attack. His muscles trembled with the effort.

He was flung faraway by the huge force that struck the carriage.

Gouges were formed in the mud as the blade energy of the lotus flower tore a path.

At the end of the path was the one-armed Nan Yehuo who held his sword. The red robe he wore was filled with cuts from the blade energy.

Only the third prince and the dashing figure were left on the horse carriage.

Li Liancheng’s flowy white robe tugged at his body. His gold-tinted hair was disheveled in the wind.

The golden eyes exuded an aura of nobility. He stared at the white silhouette and the Blooming Lotus Sword.

In all honesty, behind those golden eyes was barely concealed fear.

It was the first time he had felt such intense pressure from a person who was not the Emperor.

“All belong to the Emperor! The Tang Dynasty is ruled by the Li family!

“The empire submits to the Tang Code! Every spiritual sense and soul must abide by the Tang Code.

“By law, any who spill royal blood will be persecuted without mercy! It is inescapable!”

The third prince stood before the white-robed figure’s imposing presence atop the horse carriage.

The royal blood in his veins allowed him to withstand the spiritual sense of the Tang Dynasty’s First Sword.

“You dare kill me?”

The third prince knew the figure before him was the remnant of a spiritual sense and not the actual person.

Regardless, his golden eyes flashed with a glint of brash theatrics.

Li Liancheng carried on with his thuggish behavior, ignoring the fact that the Tang Dynasty’s First Sword was able to give off an aura as imposing as his father.

He was willing to bet she would not make a move.

Below the horse carriage, 30 meters away, Wen Ting was breathing heavily. Flashes of pain crossed his eyes.

The royal blood’s imposing pressure...

The veins on Wen Ting’s sword hand were distended as he gritted his teeth.

The curve of his sword was like his once-crooked spine.

Just as the third prince had said, ‘All belong to the Emperor.’

Wen Ting’s blade feared the royal’s blood. Spilling royal blood would mean breaking the Tang Code that governed the empire, summoning the wrath of the otherwise peaceful sky.

Whatever gods, masters or immortals would be squashed!

Ten years ago, Wen Ting’s back was bent by the eldest prince, Li Tianlin. Wen Ting had spent ten years coming to terms with the past—would the third prince make him relive his punishment?

A battle of wills took place in his mind.

He was helpless and at a loss.

Suddenly, the green-robed teen beside him took a step forward, making a splash in the rain puddle. Fang Lang drew the Obsidian Sword.

The immense pressure from the third prince did not seem to affect the teen.

When the teen heard the third prince’s words, he grinned. After a few tentative steps, Fang Lang picked up speed.

The murky rainwater rose into a wave.

The teen swung his ink-black sword as he ran into the storm.

The image of a sword-handling teen reflected in Wen Ting’s eyes.

In a flash, the teen’s landing kicked up the puddles on the ground.

With a twist of his body, he leaped forward. He was aiming for the horse carriage that ferried the most revered bloodline in the Tang Dynasty—he was going for the third prince Li Liancheng.

The Obsidian Sword acted as a high jump pole—the darkness it exuded was icy cool.

“Stop!” Wen Ting shouted as his pupils constricted.

The teen did not hear or he feigned deafness.

If blood was spilled, the laws of the Tang Dynasty would descend upon Fang Lang. A bullseye would be drawn on Fang Lang’s back.

He would be branded a criminal and sentenced to eternal damnation!

The heavy hand of the Tang Code would break the second-class Fang Lang’s spiritual sense and grind his soul into dust.

Wen Ting’s shout was quickly masked by the rumbling storm.

He watched as Fang Lang jumped onto the horse carriage. The boy’s eyes were firmly locked onto the pair of royal golden eyes.

The imposing aura of the third prince would crush Fang Lang’s spine!

Fang Lang tightened his grip on the Obsidian Sword. A light flickered across the blade like a blaze igniting the grass plains.

“The Tang Code applies to all spiritual senses and souls? Well, I’m not afraid!

“She can’t but I will!”

‘If you want me killed, why can’t I kill you too?’ thought Fang Lang.

‘Just because you’re royalty? The Tang Code and laws can go f*ck themselves!’

Fang Lang struck out his blade, like a sword to the Tang Code.

Clank!

A golden shield appeared before Li Liancheng—it was the bloodline’s defense ability.

Fang Lang was not deterred. He continued his relentless attack, causing ripples to form across the shield.

Behind the shield, Li Liancheng watched the boy’s struggle with mockery in his eyes.

Soon, the mockery died down.

A sigh echoed through the area. “Little one, why the trouble?”

As soon as the words ceased, Xuanyuan Taihua’s white mirage waved the Blooming Lotus Sword. A lotus bud appeared in the air, awaiting for its cue to bloom.

Taihua’s Lotus Blade!

The technique tore apart certain connections.

Li Liancheng’s eyes narrowed.

Suddenly, the third prince’s body shuddered. His face paled and the gold tint in his eyes faded.

Xuanyuan Taihua’s silhouette disappeared in the form of a white light after dispelling the third prince’s bloodline ability.

The Blooming Lotus Sword clattered onto the horse carriage.

Fang Lang made another thrust.

Crack!

The golden shield shattered!

Golden rays shot out as the shield fell to pieces like a broken mirror.

Then...

Fang Lang headbutted the dumbfounded Li Liancheng whose bloodline connection was severed.

The ink-black sword found its way to Li Liancheng’s chest.

A small rune appeared, protecting the third prince’s heart.

It was difficult to untangle, as it should be.

Fang Lang was expressionless as he switched targets—the sword came down on Li Liancheng’s abdomen.

‘The runes can’t protect all of you!

‘Even if I can’t kill you, I’ll make sure to scar you!

‘Never bled before, right?’

The Obsidian Sword was thrust forward and pulled back.

One strike.

Two strikes.

Three strikes.

Each stab found flesh.

Golden liquid splattered onto Fang Lang’s green robe, decorating him with unusual golden flowers.