Today, The Villain Couple is Settling Scores Again

But what is the Dao?

Runes have patterns, sword techniques have movements—these can be practiced and learned.

But the Dao is something elusive, almost mystical. It seems it’s not something you can grasp through mere effort.

After her conversation with Fang Quan, Jian Huan went to the kitchen to find Shen Jizhi: “How did you comprehend your sword intent?”

The young man was filleting a fish, the blade slicing cleanly through its belly. Hearing her question, he glanced up: “I have sword intent?”

Jian Huan’s lips twitched: “…Master said you do.”

Shen Jizhi’s slender fingers dug into the fish’s belly, pulling out the innards: “Oh? What kind of sword intent?”

“Master said your sword intent is ‘frugal,’” Jian Huan clarified, emphasizing, “Not my ‘Jian,’ but the ‘frugal’ as in saving.”

Shen Jizhi: “…”

In the illusion, the evening sun burned fiercely.

Jian Huan tilted her head: “When did you first use this ‘frugal’ fighting style?”

Shen Jizhi carefully cut the fish into nearly identical slices, pondering for a moment before replying: “There was a time when I was running errands for Drunken Red Pavilion—”

Jian Huan gasped: “Isn’t Drunken Red Pavilion a brothel…?”

And the most famous one in Approaching Immortal City, at that!

Her interruption earned her a cold glance from Shen Jizhi: “Don’t want to hear it?”

Jian Huan quickly shook her head: “No, no, please continue.”

Shen Jizhi scoffed lightly and went on: “That month, I’d just gotten my pay, but I was cornered in an alley by a group of people demanding I hand over the money. There were quite a few of them, and I hadn’t eaten yet, so I was low on energy. I had to use my sword techniques sparingly. After that, I fought that way—it saved on Fasting Pills.”

Jian Huan was silent for a moment before asking: “How old were you then? Didn’t your previous master take care of you?”

“I’d just joined the sect,” Shen Jizhi replied indifferently, as if talking about someone else’s life. “My previous master was severely injured and in seclusion. He couldn’t even take care of himself.”

…

Memories flashed through her mind.

In the Danxiang realm, mountains collapsed one after another.

Blood dripped from Jian Huan’s lips, staining her white disciple robes red.

She grew shorter, her back hunched like an old woman.

Jian Huan knelt on one knee, refusing to let the other leg touch the ground.

After that conversation, Jian Huan had tried to emulate Shen Jizhi’s frugal sword intent.

She thought they were similar—practical and thrifty, or, less charitably, stingy.

But her imitation only earned her a scolding from Fang Quan.

And she truly couldn’t replicate Shen Jizhi’s sword intent.

His ‘frugality’ was built on a disregard for his own life and the lives of others.

He fought like a cold, calculating machine—ruthless and indifferent to life.

But what about her?

Her master had said that everyone’s Dao lies within their own heart. It’s just a matter of whether you can discover it, and when.

So, what was her Dao?

Jian Huan searched her heart.

She knew she couldn’t hold on much longer.

She was at her limit.

The smartest thing to do would be to shout, “I surrender!”

Niu Zizhao was at the Golden Core Stage, while she was still at the Foundation Establishment Stage.

Losing to him was expected—it wasn’t shameful. She had already held out this long, which was impressive.

If she surrendered, the match would end, and she wouldn’t have to endure this crushing pressure anymore.

Losing 100,000 spirit coins would sting, but it was better than losing her life.

She already had over 100,000 spirit stones to her name, and she could earn more. So why couldn’t she bring herself to say, “I surrender”?

It was like back in the modern world.

Late at night in the office, she’d sit at her desk, revising her designs over and over.

Her work was already good enough—her colleagues said so, and her boss would be satisfied.

But Jian Huan wasn’t satisfied. She felt she could do better.

She wasn’t content to remain an ordinary employee her whole life. If she only ever did “good enough,” she’d stay an employee forever.

But she wanted to climb the ranks—become a team leader, a manager. She wanted to earn more in the same amount of time, to reach greater heights and see a broader world.

She could say, “I surrender,” and tell herself there would be more opportunities later, that she didn’t need to push herself to the brink now.

But would those future opportunities be any less painful? Any less dangerous? Any less life-threatening?

If she played it safe every time, avoiding risks and giving up at the first sign of hardship, she’d never truly seize those opportunities.

One mountain would always be higher than the last. If she couldn’t climb this one, what made her think she could conquer the next?

Under the weight of countless mountains, Jian Huan didn’t want to surrender.

She had a vague feeling that if she gave up now, the pain and danger would end, but she might also lose the chance to reach a higher realm.

The mountains continued to collapse, their rocky walls piling up higher than her legs, her waist, her shoulders, her head.

She clung to her nearly depleted spiritual shield, crouched in the darkness beneath the mountains, with no light in sight.

Outside the arena, Dao Xuan’s hand twitched within his sleeve, ready to intervene the moment Jian Huan’s shield failed.

Inside the arena, Jian Huan’s lips curved into a faint smile as she closed her eyes.

She felt it.

She felt her Dao.

Like a seed buried in the earth, she wanted to break through the soil, to sprout, to grow taller, to bloom into a future filled with vibrant colors.

It was a Dao of upward growth, of boundless vitality.

The traces of last night’s spring rain still lingered.

On the peach tree beside the arena, a few raindrops clung to the soft pink petals, yet the flowers continued to bloom with all their might.

The ground was dotted with faint green sprouts—young weeds that had grown just a little taller after the rain.

In the sky, the dark clouds began to part, revealing a sliver of golden light.

But for some reason, the clouds gathered once more.

A faint pressure filled the arena, unsettling the younger disciples.

The Golden Core Stage cultivators and above, however, sensed something.

“This… is the sign of a Golden Core tribulation,” someone murmured in the crowd, and all eyes turned to the stage.

Niu Zizhao was already at the Golden Core Stage.

This faint hint of a Golden Core tribulation could only belong to Jian Huan.

“She… she’s actually touched the Golden Core Stage…” The disciple who had mocked Jian Huan for relying on petty tricks paled, his lips trembling as he fell silent.

A thunderous boom echoed!

Within Niu Zizhao’s Danxiang realm, Jian Huan opened her eyes, a faint green light flickering in her gaze.

She felt the vitality of all things, and Niu Zizhao’s mountains became an illusion in her eyes.

Because these mountains, and all life upon them, were fake.

The Danxiang no longer deceived her. She saw Niu Zizhao.

Niu Zizhao stood to the southeast, controlling his Danxiang, crushing Jian Huan’s spiritual shield, which she had reinforced with her blood.

The shield cracked in places, and sharp rocks infused with sword intent pierced through. Some were blocked by the defensive talismans on her body, while others cut into her flesh.n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

Jian Huan coughed up blood but remained in her kneeling position.

She continued to resist the weight of the mountains, but her other hand hung loosely at her side.

With a finger as her sword, she traced a small sword technique.

This strike carried no killing intent.

It was like the grass by the roadside or the flowers on the branches, swaying gently in the breeze. But when it reached Niu Zizhao, it suddenly erupted into a whirlwind of sword energy.

The sword wind, swift as lightning, swept Niu Zizhao off his feet and hurled him out of the arena without giving him a chance to react.

With a loud thud, Niu Zizhao’s body landed outside the arena.

His boots scraped across the rain-dampened ground, leaving two trails.

Niu Zizhao quickly steadied himself and instinctively tried to re-enter the arena, but a elder stopped him, reminding him: “You’ve left the arena.”

Niu Zizhao froze, then looked back at the stage.

The girl’s white robes were now stained with blood.

Her lips were pale, and she knelt on one knee, her sword propping her up. She looked on the verge of collapse.

Niu Zizhao glanced down at himself.

His clothes were still neat, and he was barely injured. He still had strength left, but he had been pushed out of the arena.

And she was still standing on the stage.

After a moment, Niu Zizhao shook his head with a bitter smile.

No matter what, he had lost. He had been outmatched.

From the moment he eagerly sought to impress the sect leader and peak masters by hastily revealing his Danxiang, he had forgotten the essence of the Yue Mountain Sword.

The mountains stand eternal, and the Yue Mountain Sword draws its power from them, embodying a path of steadfastness. He should not have rushed.

The elder soared on his sword, hovering mid-air, and solemnly declared to the crowd, "The victor of this battle is Jian Huan, a first-year talisman cultivator!"

The crowd erupted in astonishment!

Jiang Mian leaped up in the midst of the throng, her face flushed with excitement, "She won! Jian Huan won! Our first-year talisman cultivator, Jian Huan, won!!"

"This... this can't be... Brother Niu actually... actually lost..." Someone muttered in disbelief.

"Truly unexpected. You have to admit, Jian Huan is really something!"

"But—" someone pointed to the sky where the dark clouds had dispersed, "why did the thunder tribulation disappear?"

"That's normal. Jian Huan's cultivation level is still unstable, fluctuating between the Foundation Establishment and Golden Core stages. She's dropped back to Foundation Establishment for now," explained an inner sect senior sister. "Only those prodigies with single spiritual roots can immediately undergo the Golden Core tribulation upon sensing the Golden Core stage. Jian Huan has dual spiritual roots; it's not so easy for her. She'll likely need to go into seclusion to continue her cultivation and truly face the thunder tribulation before steadily advancing to the Golden Core stage."

The clamor from the crowd buzzed in Jian Huan's ears like the chirping of thousands of sparrows.

She felt terrible, her head throbbing, her vision blurring.

For a moment, the noise seemed to fade, as if separated from her by an entire world. She could barely hear anything clearly, not even the elder's words.

Jian Huan bit her tongue hard, using the pain to stay alert.

She wanted to confirm if she had truly won.

The proper thing to do would have been to look at the elder.

But she didn't.

Instead, her eyes instinctively searched the sea of black-clad figures for one person.

The young man in white with a wooden hairpin stood out strikingly in the crowd.

It didn't take long for Jian Huan to find him.

The boy had features like an ink painting, with an exceptional bone structure that made him particularly radiant among the masses.

He was also quite tall, and rather inconsiderately stood in the front row, blocking the view of those behind him, causing many to crane their necks and stand on tiptoes.

Their eyes met, and Jian Huan's pale lips moved slightly. She wanted to ask him, "Shen Jizhi, did I win?"

But it seemed she didn't have the strength to speak.

Yet, at that moment, Shen Jizhi seemed to understand her unspoken question. Across the expanse of the arena, he mouthed clearly and deliberately, "You. Won."

Jian Huan understood. A faint smile touched her lips, and she allowed herself to collapse into unconsciousness, just as a senior sister from Medicine King Peak rushed forward to catch her.