Chapter Forty-One: Like a Fox

Li Ruoyu saw that Su Qingyi was trying to widen the distance between them and, of course, would not allow her to do so easily. The Transcendent Fist churned unceasingly as he pressed the attack, his blows fierce and ruthless—a style uniquely his own, forged through being even harsher on himself than on his enemies. Once foes, all else was irrelevant: it was either your death or mine. This was Li Ruoyu’s path as a cultivator.

“A Fist Beyond the Ages.”

With this punch, it was as if Li Ruoyu had shattered the very epochs, severing the flow of time and cutting off all retreat for the living. Since the last time Su Qingyi had besieged him, she once again found herself coughing blood under his onslaught. Of her three thousand strands of hair, some were now stained a deep black-red. Yet Su Qingyi’s gaze remained unwavering, as if she still held a hidden card, calm and immovable as a mountain.

Suddenly, her Dao transformed from tangible to ethereal, the cold moon becoming untouchable, yet its influence only grew more profound. Within this illusory moon, Li Ruoyu sensed a familiar presence.

“She’s entered the Dao.”

He had not expected Su Qingyi to have entered the Dao as well. As a contemporary prodigy of the Tianyi Sect, she was still young among cultivators, and yet, she had already crossed this threshold.

A soul-penetrating chill emanated from the cold moon, which now affected not only the body but reached deep into the spirit. The moon grew both simple and eternal, slashing toward Li Ruoyu, prompting him to grow wary. In the contest of Dao, the weak could overcome the strong—he dared not give Su Qingyi even the smallest chance. Drawing his bone sword, he infused it with his own Dao and struck at the edge of the cold moon. The blow seemed plain, yet its power was anything but; the collision between the illusory moon and Li Ruoyu’s bone sword sent shockwaves pouring into the distant mountains, which exploded apart, rocks shattering in all directions.

After that strike, Li Ruoyu pressed the attack, wielding the Dao itself against Su Qingyi. The Dao is found in simplicity—such was the truth for those, like Li Ruoyu, who had entered the Dao. Within his ordinary blows was the force to shake the world. His Dao influenced Su Qingyi, just as hers influenced him.

Li Ruoyu had long suspected Su Qingyi’s Dao was tied to emotion, and that it was directly connected to Gu Tianyi. Though he did not know what Su Qingyi and Gu Tianyi had experienced, he was almost certain of this. Thus, he had guarded himself with his own Dao from the start. He deduced this from Su Qingyi’s willingness to strike at him and from the soul-deep coldness within the illusory moon.

Li Ruoyu’s sword, imbued with his Dao, clashed continually against the illusory moon that could not be touched by the mundane. He changed his attack from ferocious assaults to a steady, methodical advance, like a master strategist gradually wearing down the enemy’s forces—this was not a lack of ruthlessness, but an acknowledgment that, in a battle of Dao, it was impossible to kill the opponent outright in a single move. Such a measured approach was necessary.

As Li Ruoyu’s attacks continued, Su Qingyi coughed blood again, her azure robes once more stained. Yet the resolute light in her eyes did not waver. With the illusory moon, she countered Li Ruoyu’s attack with a desperate, mutually destructive strike.

Su Qingyi’s ferocity, in turn, awakened the savagery Li Ruoyu had cultivated in the Abyss of Fallen Demons. Ignoring the threat of mutual destruction, he drew another sword into his other hand—a wooden sword.

This wooden sword brimmed with the power of ages. It was the mighty “Grand Chun Sword,” the lethal weapon he had claimed after slaying Meng Ningsi.

Moon and Su Qingyi became one, making her seem a true celestial maiden, untouched by mortal dust, unattainable to any ordinary being. Li Ruoyu, gazing at Su Qingyi merged with the moon, knew this was her final, desperate assault—he dared not relax his guard in the slightest.

He poured his Dao into both the bone sword and the Grand Chun Sword, then shot toward Su Qingyi within the moon, like a meteor streaking across the night sky. In this strike, Li Ruoyu held nothing back; he intended to settle everything in one blow, to cut down Su Qingyi. She, too, disregarded her own wounds, gathering all her strength for this final reckoning.

A grisly sound of blood spurting echoed from where the two clashed, prompting Jing Hong, Wang Bo, and Yu Qing to rush to the site of battle. Through the swirling dust, they saw Li Ruoyu’s bone sword piercing Su Qingyi’s heart, the blade passing clean through. The Grand Chun Sword had fallen nearby, and the hand Li Ruoyu gripped his sword with was split open at the webbing. Yet in that moment, Li Ruoyu stared blankly at the look in Su Qingyi’s eyes and the expression on her face.

“So this is the world of cultivators?” Li Ruoyu spoke as he looked at Su Qingyi.

In her gaze, he saw release—no regret. He understood now: could there ever be a lone mandarin duck? Perhaps, from the moment Su Qingyi chose to act, she had accepted her own death, determined to face it no matter the cost. A pair of lovers: one gone, the other dying by the same hand—it was a form of liberation.

Some things, even when you know the danger, must still be done. In Su Qingyi, Li Ruoyu saw a reflection of himself—a truth that deepened his sense of the sorrow and tragedy in the saying: "Once you enter the cultivation world, the depths are as boundless as the sea."

“I am a cultivator, but I am also a person,” Li Ruoyu murmured inwardly.

Looking at Su Qingyi, who was still gazing at him, Li Ruoyu felt a surge of respect. “Fate toys with us all,” he could not help but sigh.

Sometimes, to love someone does not require grand gestures or dazzling brilliance. There is a blessing in plainness. If not united in life, to share a grave is also a kind of happiness, is it not? Seeing Su Qingyi now, Li Ruoyu knew this was what lay in her heart. To die by his hand—this, to Su Qingyi, was akin to sharing the same grave.

What kind of power was this? Li Ruoyu did not understand, nor could he grasp it. Yet he saw its full force between Su Qingyi and Gu Tianyi, and it filled him with dread.

He remembered, during his studies at the Eternal Nine Sect, reading about two kinds of Dao: the Dao of Ruthlessness and the Dao of Ultimate Emotion. These were two utterly opposing paths, and the ways to cultivate them were strange indeed. The books said that if one found a Dao partner who practiced the Dao of Ultimate Emotion, it would be the greatest happiness of a lifetime; but if one’s partner walked the Dao of Ruthlessness, it would be the greatest sorrow.

Li Ruoyu had once merely read and noted these things. Now, after first experiencing the slaughter at the Vault of Heaven, and now witnessing the scene between Su Qingyi and Gu Tianyi, he felt a chill at the thought of a Dao twisted by emotion and wielded to such an extreme. It was a small power, yet one capable of shaking the heavens and the earth. Whether the Dao of Ruthlessness or of Ultimate Emotion, both were extraordinary, and anyone who could truly master such a path was sure to be terrifying beyond measure.