She certainly knew this was the method to break the situation!
But she had planned to test it herself, pretending to accidentally discover the technique! She had prepared herself to get injured!
Why! Why did Ming Jia push her away! Why did Ming Jia become the one injured!
Clearly… clearly she could have avoided injury, clearly she could have revealed the solution earlier…
Why is it always like this! She doesn’t want to harm Ming Jia, yet Ming Jia always ends up injured because of her!
Jun Mo Yao felt furious both in her heart and mind, unsure whether she was angry with herself or with others.
In her rage, she hacked at these disgusting vines as if venting her frustration.
Ming Jia noticed Jun Mo Yao’s unusual behavior but assumed she might simply find the vines too annoying and wanted to resolve them quickly.
Drawing the Bright Moon Sword, the sword hummed once more. Ming Jia lightly flicked the blade, her gaze sharpening.
A sword cultivator is as sharp and unyielding as the Bright Moon Sword itself. Like chopping cabbage, her movements followed her will, concise and agile, without any superfluous action, resembling a chapter of slaughter.
In less than the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, the area within sight was cleared, only piles of vines on the ground remaining to show their former arrogance.
Jun Mo Yao gazed deeply at Ming Jia.
This was the first time she had seen Ming Jia truly take action.
Across both her past and present life, she could not find anyone who surpassed Ming Jia in sword technique.
Clean and decisive, killing intent fully displayed, combat as natural as breathing.
When not drawing her sword, Ming Jia resembled a gentle, leisurely fisherman, exuding an air of relaxed ease.
But once Ming Jia drew her sword, no one dared stand opposite her. Even sword techniques devoid of spiritual power seemed like the surge of thousands of troops.
One person, one sword—an insurmountable mountain.
Ming Jia shook the Bright Moon Sword; the top-tier spiritual sword bore no trace of battle. Like a noble gentleman, warm and humble, it was impossible to discern the earlier slaughter.
She frowned, cutting a piece of cloth from her dress without hesitation, carefully wiping the blade, even forgetting to check her own wound.
The vines on the ground gradually dissipated, and the cracks vanished.
A door appeared before the two, likely the entrance to the next stage.
Jun Mo Yao silently walked to Ming Jia’s side, looking at the wound on her waist. Though it had stopped bleeding, the large patch of red made her eyes ache.
“Don’t worry; sword cultivators always get injured.” Ming Jia offered a reassuring smile, showing no sign of pain on her face.
Unable to open the Storage Pouch now meant no healing medicine, leaving Jun Mo Yao feeling deeply unsettled.
“Master, perhaps I should go through the later stages alone…”
“Is my dear disciple going to abandon me?” Ming Jia put on a sorrowful expression. “I’m truly useless; Mo Yao must fear I’ll drag her down.”
Jun Mo Yao shook her head vigorously. “No! Master got injured because of me!”
“As long as Mo Yao doesn’t dislike her teacher.” Ming Jia resumed her smiling expression, returning the Bright Moon Sword to its sheath with a backhand motion.
Jun Mo Yao actually felt somewhat puzzled.
As a sword cultivator, when faced with such an unclear and potentially dangerous situation, Ming Jia didn’t keep her sword unsheathed at all times. Instead, she only drew it when she needed to use it. Wouldn’t that be dangerous when facing emergencies, leaving no time to react?
Although she had doubts in her mind, Jun Mo Yao didn’t voice them. After all, in her eyes, she wasn’t qualified to ask Ming Jia such in-depth questions.
“Let’s go, to the next level. We need to hurry!”
Ming Jia tightened her belt and directly pulled Jun Mo Yao toward the next level.
After opening the door, Ming Jia found herself separated from Jun Mo Yao.
She was in a room with unclear boundaries. Behind her was a chair, and in front of her was a stone table. Directly above the stone table was a faint glowing orb, its brightness only enough to illuminate the table and chair before her.
Ming Jia clearly felt herself confined within this small space, forbidden from moving around freely.
“Good disciple?”
She tentatively called out but received no response.
It seemed Jun Mo Yao was indeed not in the same space as her.
“The Great Dao is simple, opportunities are encountered but not sought…”
A voice of indistinguishable gender echoed in the space.
“…The path of a Xiu Shi (Cultivator) is one of contention. Only one winner from each group will advance to the next level in this trial. The rules are as follows: There are 16 totems in front of you. The totems on the cloud orb will light up one after another. The totem that lights up for you will be the pattern of your opponent, and vice versa. Both sides must light up the 16 totems in order based on the other’s descriptions. The one with the shorter time wins. If any mistakes are made along the way, both sides must start over.”
Ming Jia was the least willing to use her brain. After the long description of the rules, she felt somewhat dizzy and overwhelmed.
But before she could digest the information, the cloud orb flickered, and a totem immediately appeared.
Ming Jia quickly began describing it, “It’s a spiritual beast, somewhat resembling a Bifang, with auspicious cloud patterns on its body.”
As soon as she finished speaking, the opponent’s description drifted over faintly. Perhaps due to the distance, the voice was distorted, making it impossible to tell whether it was male or female.
“…A small Lingzhi, with four leaves.”
Ming Jia quickly scanned her board but found no totem matching the opponent’s description.
The pattern on the cloud orb above her head remained unchanged, indicating the opponent hadn’t found the corresponding totem either.
There must be something she hadn’t noticed…
Ming Jia carefully observed the board, not missing a single detail.
Suddenly, on the spiritual beast totem in the second position of the third row, she saw the Lingzhi pattern described by her opponent.
Could it be that the totem appearing on the cloud orb was only a partial pattern?
After thinking for a few seconds, Ming Jia directly pressed the totem.
After all, it was only the first one. The cost of trial and error was low, and starting over wouldn’t matter.
The totem lit up, emitting a soft glow. It seemed she was correct.
However, the opponent didn’t send a description, so Ming Jia wasn’t entirely sure.
Fortunately, she didn’t have to wait long. The cloud orb above her flickered and changed to the next totem.
“…Irregular colored blocks with pointed corners, arranged in repeating groups of three.”
This time, the opponent transmitted the information first.
Ming Jia also spoke, “A pattern similar to a thunder talisman, with square ripples.”
Perhaps because both descriptions were accurate, as Ming Jia pressed the totem, the opponent’s totem above her head also changed.
Time passed minute by minute. As their tacit understanding increased, the speed at which they lit up the totems grew faster and faster.
In the blink of an eye, they arrived at the last two totems. As long as this totem was pressed, the next one wouldn’t need to be described—pressing it directly would allow them to pass the level.
Watching the shifting totem overhead, Ming Jia did not describe it immediately.
It seemed that the second level was a bit too simple.