Chapter 639: Bladewielder of the Wang Clan

Curiously, Zhang Lie and the ninth prince encountered no trouble on their way.

Zhang Lie was a little bored. Were the other eight princes really so easily intimidated that they didn't dare attack, as the ninth prince had suggested?

The ninth prince informed Zhang Lie, "We'll be at the capital after the next city."

Zhang Lie nodded, then glanced all around him. "Are they finally here?"

The ninth prince frowned. "What's wrong, Master?"

Zhang Lie began to laugh. "They're finally here. Three—no, four of them."

The ninth prince suddenly noticed a man in front of them blocking their path forward. He sat on an ornate chair with a greatsword in his hand. "Ninth prince, I've waited for you for too long."

"Wang Jian!"

Zhang Lie turned to the prince. "Is this man famous?"

The ninth prince's face was pale. "He's Wang Jian, the bladewielder of his generation from the Wang clan."

The Wang clan was one of the three largest clans of the capital—really, of the entire world. The Wangs were famed for their skill with the blade, the Fengs for their skill with the polearm, and the Qians for their money. The Wangs would choose a representative swordsman from each generation to serve as the clan's killer. Wang Jian, who sat before them, was precisely that man.

Wang Jian turned to Zhang Lie. "I don't know who you are, and nor do I care. The fight to become the king of the realm isn't for the likes of you. Leave—I don't want to sully my blade."

The ninth prince turned to Zhang Lie with surprising urgency. "Flee, Master! The bladewielder of the Wang clan is peerless in battle!"

Wang Jian sighed. "Ninth prince, I truly do pity you. You shouldn't have been born to royalty, or you wouldn't die here today."

Zhang Lie shouted, "Come out, all of you! Stop hiding!"

A gust of wind passed by. Leaves shook, but no person emerged from the surroundings.

Wang Jian smiled coldly. "I hardly need any support to kill the likes of you."

"Well, since you're already here, you might as well stay here." Zhang Lie leapt down from White and brought the ninth prince down from Whiter. He commanded, "White, you'll deal with the man from the south. Whiter, from the west. I'll leave the rest of them to you, Red Comet, and I'll deal with Wang Jian myself."

The three lifeforms darted off.

Wang Jian frowned. "What do you mean?"

The ninth prince seemed flummoxed. "Master, you—"

"Let's get some information out of you, first." Zhang Lie's eyes glowed with a rainbow gleam, one mirrored in Wang Jian's gaze.

"Who sent you over?"

Wang Jian replied, "I'm the Wang clan's blade."

Zhang Lie frowned. "Which prince controls you?"

"I'm the Wang clan's blade!" Suddenly, the sword in Wang Jian's hand began to resonate. His eyes flashed, and the rainbow gleam dissipated from them. Wang Jian unsheathed his sword, a pitch-black blade on which blood had congealed. The moment he drew that blade, his killing intent spiked, combining both his own killing intent and that of his blade.

Zhang Lie was rather surprised by how immense that killing intent felt. Just how many people had that blade killed?

The reason Wang Jian was able to break free from the mistmeld clam's compulsion was because of his own mental fortitude and his blade. The dual layers of killing intent over Wang Jian's body were so intense that it materialized as black smoke, as though a frightening demon were swiping its claws toward Zhang Lie.

Death to those who betray the Wang clan!

Death to those who make enemies of the Wang clan!

Death to those hostile to the Wang clan!

He was the blade of the Wangs, brainwashed to serve them and only them. He was the strongest swordsman of his generation, as well as the strongest assassin.

Wang Jian didn't dare take Zhang Lie lightly any longer. Who knew if he would break free of the next mental compulsion? He had to kill Zhang Lie in one blow.

"A sword, then?" Zhang Lie murmured to himself. "It's been a long time since anyone forced me to draw my own blade."

He hadn't needed to use one ever since entering the third realm, and even for quite a while before that.

Wang Jian's sword had ferocious killing intent, but it was indeed a good blade.

Zhang Lie stretched out his middle and index fingers, forming a blade with his hand.

Wang Jian's face turned cold. Did this opponent think the bladewielder of the Wang clan would be so easily defeated? "Don't joke with me."

The Wang clan's scions developed their bladework in the midst of battle; they refined and honed their skills with killing intent. The more enemies they slew, the stronger their skills became.

As the bladewielder of the Wang clan, Wang Jian had to have killed over ten thousand men—traitors, spies, the strong, the malicious, the weak, enemies of clan and town and kingdom.

Each man he slew grew his blade's killing intent, and he unleashed all that killing intent now. No one would be able to block the Wang bladewielder, not even the famed swordsmen of the capital.

Wang Jian, named for the blade, had been endowed with talent since his birth. At the tender age of ten, he had defeated his instructor in the sword, and he had always won any challenges from members of his generation since. How could his sword, into which he had infused all his energy and strength, be blocked by two small fingers?

The next moment, Wang Jian's face grew alarmed. When his blade touched Zhang Lie's fingers, his nascent wave of sword energy was nipped in its bud. In its place, he felt the alarming strength of Zhang Lie's [The Boundless Blade].

By then, however, it was too late for Wang Jian.

So this was a true master of the blade…?Wang Jian's eyes revealed his regret. He didn't regret provoking Zhang Lie, but rather that he clearly didn't understand the sword.

Compared to Zhang Lie's burgeoning sword energy, his own techniques were nothing. His accolades meant nothing in the face of this strength; he had wasted fifteen years of youth for naught. Nevertheless, his face was one of unadulterated joy. For a blademaster to die to such a blow was undoubtedly a high honor.

Wang Jian's body disintegrated in a flash of sword energy, leaving a long, deep scar on the ground like a gully. The black sword, filled with killing intent, clattered to the ground.

Zhang Lie glanced at the blade and tutted to himself. "Refining a blade with killing intent is hardly the correct path forward. Such a blade will strip your agency and swordsmanship."

He sighed as he looked at the ground once more, at the black fog seeping from the blade.

"Well, it's not like you can hear my words any longer."

He picked up the blade and stored it inside his potbellied-toad pouch.

The ninth prince trembled as he asked, "Master, did you really kill the bladewielder of the Wang clan?"

"Hmm? So what if I did?"

The ninth prince's eyes lit up. "Master, you're far too strong!"

"It's too early to be excited. There's still plenty of trash around to clean up," Zhang Lie advised him.

The ninth prince seemed confused. With the bladewielder of the Wang clan dead, what else was there?

Suddenly, a beam of energy rose into the air, like a glint reflected off the sun. A polearm shot out of the forest, followed quickly behind by a ray of red light...