The Platinum Bishop Salas and his forty-two Spirit Masters — all slain.
Thus, the Heaven Dou sub-temple of the Spirit Hall was wiped from existence.
As the dust settled,
Li Zhexian sheathed his Qinglian Sword,
and with a sharp pulse of Spirit Power,
the blood and dirt clinging to his white robe
dissolved into mist and drifted away.
His torn sleeves fluttered.
Then, as if nothing had happened,
he sat back down at the noodle stall table,
tapped his chopsticks gently against the rim of his bowl, and said—
"The noodles are getting cold, everyone—"
"Let's keep eating."
Yu Tianheng swallowed hard.
Feng Buyu's black silk scarf stirred though there was no wind.
Around the table, none of Zhexian's friends dared make a sound.
Gulp—
In that deathly silence,
the sound of someone swallowing echoed painfully loud.
Every gaze was drawn — unwillingly, irresistibly —
to that blood-stained, white-robed youth calmly eating noodles again.
A Spirit King… had slain a Spirit Douluo.
Even if, as Li Zhexian had said, Salas's vitality was already waning—
He was still a true Spirit Douluo-level powerhouse!
Such a feat—
Not only unprecedented, but likely never to be repeated in the entire history of the continent.
"Our thanks to Lord Sword Wine for his aid!"
The guard captain clasped his fists and bowed deeply, his voice trembling with awe.
Li Zhexian smiled and returned the gesture politely.
The guards immediately split into two teams:
— One dashed back to the palace to report.
— The other summoned the Ministry of Works to repair the ruined street,
fearful of disturbing Lord Sword Wine and his companions' mood.
Amid the wreckage of the street,
the passersby and onlookers still stood frozen,
minds trapped in the echo of that cataclysmic battle.
Then—
Bang!
A sharp crack of the storyteller's gavel on wood
snapped the crowd from their trance like thunder from a clear sky.
"Esteemed listeners, calm yourselves, calm yourselves!"
The storyteller flicked open his folding fan, tapping it twice against the table.
Then, with a deep bow toward the youth in white still seated at the noodle stall, he called out across the square:
"What can one say of such a battle?"
"Can it not be called 'unprecedented and unrepeatable'?"
"This old man dares not speak lightly—
but as you have seen with your own eyes,
Lord Sword Wine's sword might surpasses even the tales I tell by a full three parts!"
He took a sip of tea—
And put his cup down with a solid thud.
"Worry not, dear listeners. The danger has passed,
and a new chapter has already been written."
"Now then, back to our story—"
"Last we left off…"
The man was a master of his craft.
With just a few sentences,
he dispelled the lingering fear in the crowd,
and with the metallic scent of blood still in the air,
his story now sounded all the more gripping.
Within moments,
cheers and applause rose again.
...
At Zhexian's table,
the mood gradually eased as well.
Laughter returned,
chopsticks lifted,
and the group resumed eating.
Nearby food vendors began sending over their own dishes in tribute.
Li Zhexian tried to refuse, but their insistence left him no choice but to accept,
Paying each one fairly.
Before long, the table was filled with an array of snacks and delicacies—
His second feast since leaving Fragrant Pavilion.
Even without wine, the food, paired with the rhythm of the storyteller's voice,
Carried a taste of true wanderer's life.
Amid the warmth and laughter—
A figure with a long blade on his back quietly slipped into the far corner of the stall.
"Hey, Brother Xiaotian!"
Yu Tianheng, Feng Buyu, Huo Wushuang, and Yu Feng all rushed over in an instant.
"Why are you hiding over here?"
"Pfft—!"
Feng Xiaotian, halfway through his noodles,
choked and sprayed them everywhere.
"I… I just wanted some peace and quiet…"
"Ha!"
Yu Tianheng and Feng Buyu each grabbed an arm,
lifting him bodily from his seat and dragging him toward Li Zhexian's table.
"My bowl—"
"Here you go, Brother Xiaotian!"
Huo Wushuang cheerfully slid the half-finished bowl in front of him.
Their eyes sparkled with mischief.
One by one, they stood, grinning—
Leaving only Li Zhexian and Feng Xiaotian seated side by side.
Feng Xiaotian lowered his head,
chopsticks moving furiously as he focused on his noodles,
pretending nothing at all was happening.
"Brother Xiaotian, eat slowly."
Li Zhexian leaned back in his chair, relaxed and at ease,
while Qian Renxue, standing behind him, gently gathered the loose strands of his hair.
He picked up a clove of garlic between his fingers,
smiling as he dropped it into Feng Xiaotian's bowl.
"Here — eat it with this. That's the real flavor."
"Pffft—!"
Finally, someone couldn't hold it in anymore and burst out laughing.
To see the usually bold and brash Feng Xiaotian looking so flustered —
this was a first for everyone present.
"Damn it!"
Feng Xiaotian slammed his chopsticks on the table,
glaring furiously at Yu Tianheng, Feng Buyu, and the others.
"What the hell are you all trying to do?!"
Yu Tianheng's eyes lit up:
"Yes! That's the spirit! You'll need that kind of fire if you're going to challenge Zhexian!"
Feng Xiaotian's spark of anger instantly deflated.
"Brother Tianheng, what are you talking about?!"
Huo Wushuang frowned:
"Aren't you being unfair to Brother Xiaotian? How could he possibly face Zhexian after what we just saw? He'd be lucky to draw his blade before losing!"
Feng Xiaotian clenched his fists, lips parting as if to protest—
"Enough! I can't stand this!"
Feng Buyu snatched the blade off Feng Xiaotian's back and slammed it down on the table.
"Brother Wushuang, what do you mean by that?
I, Feng Buyu, cannot agree with such words!"
"Do you think Brother Xiaotian is afraid of Zhexian?!"
"Listen well!"
"Brother Xiaotian is a man of the blade —
once the knife is drawn, there is no regret! What's there to fear?!"
Feng Buyu's voice grew louder and louder, his face turning red with passion.
Feng Xiaotian hurriedly stood up and grabbed his arm.
"Hey, hey! Buyu, don't do this!"
Feng Buyu straightened the black scarf that had gone askew in his excitement,
his tone brimming with righteous indignation.
"And who are you all looking down on, huh?!"
"Brother Xiaotian, listen to me — just have a duel with Zhexian and get it over with!"
Feng Xiaotian gritted his teeth.
"Fine! If you say so, I'll do it!"
He turned, bowed slightly toward Zhexian, and declared loudly—
"Brother Zhexian, I, Feng Xiaotian, boldly request a match with you!"
The moment those words left his mouth,
everyone realized how quickly the group had talked him into it.
The noodle stall filled with muffled snickers,
barely restrained laughter trembling on every lip.
Even Li Zhexian couldn't help but laugh.
Ah, his one honest, gullible brother —
today he'd truly been talked into a corner.
...
After that day,
Peace finally returned for a time.
Li Zhexian and his friends roamed the bustling streets of Heaven Dou,
then wandered through the mountains beyond the city,
enjoying carefree days of laughter and leisure.
Until one evening—
When they returned from a day's adventure—
The moon was already high in the sky.
After escorting each of his companions back to their inns,
Li Zhexian walked alone beneath the silver light,
heading leisurely toward his small courtyard.
The further he went,
the fewer people he saw.
Then—
He stopped.
Zheng—!
Invisible swords of qi formed in the air around him,
cold and keen.
In the next instant—
His figure vanished from where he stood.
And reappeared several paces away.
"Who's there?!"
Zhexian's sword brows tightened sharply as his voice rang out.
The hovering sword qis shot forward as streaks of deadly light,
shooting straight into the dark alley beside the road.
A white shadow flashed like lightning —
Zhexian followed the trail of sword qi,
his movement faster than the eye could follow,
lunging toward the source of the darkness.
At the last moment,
his palm flared with a dark red glow —
the Qinglian Sword already in his grasp.
The narrow alley erupted in cold brilliance,
sword qi slicing the air like ice.
With a sweeping strike,
a ribbon of sword light tore through the night,
cleaving straight toward the faint figure ahead.
Clang—!
The sharp sound of clashing metal erupted, and powerful qi scattered in all directions.
Then came a calm, aged voice with a trace of laughter:
"Little friend Zhexian—such refined movement, such swift swordsmanship."
From the shadows,
an elderly man in a simple gray robe
walked slowly into the moonlight.
"Zhexian, my young friend… have you been well?"