Capítulo 904: Chapter 533: Today’s Autumn Air Is Cutting—A Good Day for Killing (Part 4)
“What are you drawing?”
Someone was as puzzled and curious as the Purple-clothed Sword Spirit.
The young Confucian Scholar sat upright on the Dragon Coffin, holding the sword scabbard in his one arm, resting it across his knee.
“Just a random sketch, don’t mind it.”
Zhao Rong said earnestly to the disfigured old Confucian Scholar stepping out of the dark tomb corridor.
His gaze equally earnest as he looked at the latter.
He did not avert his eyes.
“You… aren’t fleeing?”
Zhao Rong remained silent.
It had been less than an hour since they parted at the Bamboo Forest Courtyard.
The one-armed young Confucian Scholar faced the disfigured old Confucian Scholar once again.
Only this time, it was in a place seemingly more fitting for death, with the former having lost an arm and a sword.
Yet the latter still held the tobacco pipe, strolling leisurely.
As if nothing had changed.
Now, in the deathly silent Great Hall, there were only these two Confucian Scholars, and no one else to intervene.
The old and the young silently faced each other.
One stood at the doorway of the tomb corridor, blocking the only exit.
One held the empty sword scabbard, sitting quietly on the Dragon Coffin in the middle of the Great Hall.
At this moment.
“Is there no path inside?”
The disfigured old Confucian Scholar calmly asked, “Or have you thought of some way to deal with me?”
He nodded slightly.
The young Confucian Scholar still did not answer.
With a silent expression, he looked at the disfigured old Confucian Scholar.
At the same time, the lone hand on his knee slightly raised the sword scabbard to his abdomen.
In front of the disfigured old Confucian Scholar, he gently shook the end of the scabbard.
Instantly, a large number of blood drops, about to fall, shook loose.
Drip… drip…
A series of blood drops hitting the coffin board echoed rapidly in the Underground Palace’s Great Hall.
Resounding again and again.
The sound of dripping blood seemed to grow ever louder…
The air inside the Great Hall suddenly became extraordinarily quiet.
Zhao Rong stared directly at Qin Jianfu, with the sword scabbard held horizontally between them, his wrist lightly trembling.
Qin Jianfu glanced at the fatigued Confucian Scholar’s calm, dark eyes, seeing he remained silent, the old man first lowered his gaze, glancing at the empty sword scabbard in Zhao Rong’s hand and his strange actions.
The original scholar sword body that Zhao Rong suddenly sent away had disappeared without a trace.
The old man then slid his gaze quickly towards the lonely white candle in the southeast corner of the Great Hall.
Its flame flickered.
Like a boat adrift in a storm at sea.
Then, the elder examined one by one the strange blood patterns on the ground, the wind-leaking Dragon Coffin corner stained with dark red blood, and the several energy channels leading from the back hall passage…
The disfigured old Confucian Scholar used Divine Sense and naked eye observation to rapidly scan the entire Underground Palace Great Hall.
Zhao Rong quietly watched this calm and extremely vigilant old man, his gripping left hand not moving an inch.
The blood, infused with Heavenly Destiny Mysterious Bird heritage, flowing over the Sword Spirit inscriptions on the scabbard, gathered at the scabbard’s end, naturally dripping down.
Having deviated from most of the Zhao family’s paths, choosing the path of a Confucian, he now lost the hand that held the pen.
The only hand left clutched the sole remaining sword scabbard tightly, facing an enemy with Spiritual Energy Cultivation surpassing by three realms.
Motionless.
“Haha, it’s pretty lively inside.”
At this moment, the disfigured old Confucian Scholar suddenly spoke, his gaze retracting from behind Zhao Rong’s shoulder.
Raising his hand, he subtly pointed a finger at the back hall passageway blocked by Zhao Rong’s body, his tone calm:
“You seem quite familiar with the layout of this Imperial Tomb, so… are they related to you? Are they your reinforcements? Or…”
The young Confucian Scholar slightly squinted, thought for a moment, then interrupted:
“Can you be a bit quicker, don’t waste words.”
His tone was very serious.
The disfigured old Confucian Scholar paused in his speech, his cloudy old eyes suddenly squinting into slits.
He stared fiercely at this composed young Confucian Scholar, whose tone carried a hint of jest, and nodded forcefully, “Alright, I’ll leave you to collect the corpse, hoping they can identify and piece it together.”
Identifying the remains to assemble an almost complete corpse.
The always calm young Confucian Scholar finally laughed, a very relieved, heartfelt laugh.
He patted the Dragon Coffin beneath him with the sword scabbard, his expression sincere:
“Please, do your best. It was too dull outside, like missing a meal.”
“Alright.”
As soon as the young Confucian Scholar finished speaking, the disfigured old Confucian Scholar slightly nodded. Just as the word escaped his lips, there suddenly came several loud ‘boom’ noises from all directions.
The entire main hall trembled a few times.
It turned out that all eight passages leading from the main hall to other parts of the Underground Palace had collapsed, blocked by massive boulders from the cave-in.
This included the tomb corridor the disfigured old Confucian Scholar had come through, and the passage behind Zhao Rong leading deeper into the back hall.
The entire Great Hall temporarily became a place of death…
Almost no way out.
Having done all this casually, Qin Jianfu didn’t even lift his dry eyelids.
He held a gray smoking pipe in one hand and kept the other behind his back, strolling forward with slow steps, while his narrow eyes closely observed the young Confucian Scholar’s expression ahead.
The exit routes of these entombed concubines were blocked; Zhao Rong didn’t turn around, nor was there any change in his expression.
He had already restrained the smile on his face, locking eyes with Qin Jianfu, who was approaching slowly.
His expression remained calm.
The two Confucian Scholars were merely ten zhang apart.
The old Confucian Scholar, who could have instantly flashed to the young scholar’s side to sever his head, walked forward on foot with slow steps instead.
Just like those times when he was still the prime minister of Great Wei before someone caused him grievous injury and the loss of his son, and he would step onto the Golden Throne Hall in the early morning court sessions.
The old man gradually approached the blood-red circle in the center of the hall.
It seemed he was roused by painful memories again, the scarred face of the old Confucian Scholar flushed red, then he glared and gritted his teeth, horrifying like a prehistoric beast that lost its offspring.
His steps were no longer slow; he made large strides forward, reaching out a withered hand towards Zhao Rong.
It seemed the next second he would proceed regardless, directly twisting off the head of that serene young Confucian Scholar on the Dragon Coffin.
Zhao Rong still did not move a single inch.
He held the sword scabbard one-third of the way up, lightly tapping the lid of the Dragon Coffin beneath him with one end of the scabbard.
He remained calm, watching Qin Jianfu press towards him.
In the Heart Lake, the Purple-clothed Sword Spirit, having roughly guessed the Sword Master’s intent, saw the old bastard outside completely ignoring the ground’s intimidating Eye-blocking Technique, about to break into the blood-red circle, and its heart immediately leapt up.
At the same time, a sense of powerlessness overwhelmed it.
Yet, in this instant, the old killing-intent-filled Confucian Scholar’s figure abruptly halted.
Stopped.
Like a nail, hammered firmly at the edge of the blood circle!
The tip of his foot was only a millimeter away from the crooked blood trace drawn by someone.
Qin Jianfu’s aggressive momentum almost instantly came to a halt.
His furious expression, too, suddenly restrained.
Instead, he wore a calm, indifferent face.
It was all just an act.
This scarred old Confucian Scholar was also trying to intimidate the one-armed young Confucian Scholar.
An old fox, a young fox.
Beside some Heart Lake, the Purple-clothed Sword Spirit sighed in relief, couldn’t help but turn to look at the hue of the Heart Lake beside it.
There was indeed the color representing the Heart Lake owner’s tension inside.
However, more than that, it was a large area of bright colors belonging solely to calm composure and focused contemplation.
Inside the Great Hall, Zhao Rong’s expression did not change in the slightest, holding the sword scabbard horizontally, still staring directly at Qin Jianfu.
As if he had just watched a boring acrobatic act, without even a smile.
Sitting on the Dragon Coffin, watching calmly.
Qin Jianfu stopped outside the circle, his eyes carefully observing the young Confucian Scholar’s expression and gaze.
Hoping to catch even a hint of fear, panic, or conspiracy.
However…he failed again.
From beginning to end, Zhao Rong’s eyes remained as calm as a still ancient well, watching him.
The eyes had never wavered a single bit, not even at the blood circle on the ground or the other strange marking within it did Zhao Rong glance at.
This was also the reason why Qin Jianfu chose to stop outside the blood-red circle at this time.
He had sacrificed and endured so much, finally reaching this point, about to complete his final revenge and enjoy Zhao Rong’s agony, so he had to be steady, couldn’t gamble and underestimate recklessly…
At this moment.
Autumn wind blew through the Great Hall from the leak in the Dragon Coffin.
Outside the central blood circle.
The scarred old Confucian Scholar took a step in place and then looked down at his feet.
He began to walk slowly around the perimeter of the blood-red circle on the ground, circling Zhao Rong once.
During this time, the old Confucian Scholar would occasionally glance at the candles in the southeast corner of the Great Hall.
Zhao Rong’s gaze remained unchanged, calmly following Qin Jianfu throughout, as if wanting to see what his next move was.
The young Confucian Scholar acted as if unaware that he was the one trapped at this moment, in a desperate situation.
Within his Heart Lake, Gui, dressed in purple, was also slightly influenced by the Sword Master, his once suspended heart relaxed a bit.
He had roughly guessed earlier the reason behind Zhao Rong drawing a blood circle and another strange marking on the ground while placing sinister candles in the southeast corner was to delay Qin Jianfu, to frighten him.
Yet Gui didn’t quite understand Zhao Rong’s next plan.
Right now, it planned to quickly ask.
But just at that moment!
Having taken seven more steps, Qin Jianfu suddenly turned his head, staring at Zhao Rong at the center of the blood circle.
Suddenly asked.
“Do you think this old man dares not?”
Zhao Rong remained silent and calm.
The next second, Qin Jianfu vanished from the spot.
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ps: I’m back, presenting a short chapter first, ahem, starting the updates~