Chapter 209: Severing Shadow, Buried Truths
Up above the Ironpine clearing, hidden in the early evening clouds, a young woman with long black hair and crystalline blue eyes observed the battle's conclusion with intense focus and calculation. She was seated on a massive eagle whose ivory beak and emerald feathers gleamed like polished jade under the fading sunlight.
Lu Ruyi. And Qiongqi.
"That move—"
Lu Ruyi's eyes widened, snapping out of her analytical focus and into her own world of thought. For the first time since the match began, she couldn't comprehend what she was seeing. The Severing Shadow had eluded her entirely.
'How did he achieve such perfect form?' Her brows furrowed deeply. She was certain Su Tianhao had utilised Sword Sense and Sword Will—both of which she understood intimately. But there was a hidden concept buried beneath the technique, a complexity she couldn't quite place her finger on.
Killing Sword Sense.
This was what Lu Ruyi was missing. According to the description Su Tianhao had received from his inherited memories, Killing Sword Sense was a profound evolution of ordinary Sword Sense—forged at the intersection of instinct and intent. It fused the practitioner's perception of the sword with killing intent so thoroughly refined that every swing, no matter how calm or subtle, carried the essence of death. Movements became sharper, more precise—not merely to strike, but to sever all opposition, resistance, and life itself.
Su Tianhao had perfected this concept during his days of training after comprehending Sword Will. That advancement was what led to his mastery of the fourth form of the Shadow-Splitting Flash. According to the Nine Heavens Sword Scripture, every technique within it progressed in tandem with the user's Sword Dao comprehension—so the development had been only natural.
Down in the clearing, Su Tianhao stood calm and utterly detached from the world around him. The disciples watched him in wide-eyed awe, jaw-dropping shock, fist-clenching disbelief, and something closer to reverence. None of it reached him. At that moment, he was merely physically present while his mind had drifted back to the days that followed Shadowfang's destruction.
He had woken the morning after the wolf battle amidst a field of mutant grey wolf corpses—mutilated, battered, the earth around him carved apart from the violence of his own grief and fury. That morning, he had devoured the essence of every corpse, drawing himself closer to the 8th level of the Martial Adept Realm. With Shadowfang gone, he had spent the full day constructing wooden swords and reinforcing them with inscription arrays—a poor substitute, but it served. The day that followed had been a reckoning. A slaughter in Shadowfang's name. And by the end of it, he had broken through to the 8th level.
The days after that had been transformative in a quieter way. The killing continued, methodical rather than furious, and five days later he had reached Peak-stage Martial Adept Realm. His Killing Sword Sense was perfected—and with it, the fourth form unlocked. His bloodlust, finally satiated, gave way to deeper work. The remaining days were spent sharpening Sword Will to a finer edge and achieving Small Success in Dragon Burst through sustained training.
Twelve days in total after the loss of Shadowfang. Of everything he had gained in that time, the fourth form of the Shadow-Splitting Flash remained his greatest achievement. It meant he had reached Perfection in the technique—a threshold he had long been building toward without knowing exactly when it would come.
He could still feel the words settling in his mind the moment they appeared.
---
Shadow-Splitting Flash — Fourth Form: Severing Shadow
The pinnacle of the Shadow-Splitting Flash—and its most absolute expression. Where the first three forms refine speed, illusion, and killing precision outwardly, the Fourth Form abandons outward expression entirely. There is no flare of spiritual energy. No disturbance in the air. No sound of displacement. Only the aftermath.
Upon activation, the practitioner compresses their spiritual energy inward—flooding every fibre of muscle and bone to the cellular level simultaneously, multiplying speed, strength, defence, perception, and vitality fivefold in a single flash. The blade does not gleam. It does not announce itself. It simply arrives—and is already gone.
To comprehend Severing Shadow, one must have fully mastered both Sword Sense and Killing Sword Sense. Only a swordsman who has refined their intent to absolute silence can sustain the inward compression without it collapsing. The slightest leak of killing intent before the final instant breaks the technique entirely.
Only by mastering Severing Shadow can one be said to have reached Perfection in the Shadow-Splitting Flash.
At this stage, a practitioner moves beyond the logic of realm difference. The technique guarantees blood—so long as the blade makes contact, the cut will land, regardless of the opponent's defence or reinforcement. However, Severing Shadow can only be used once every thirty minutes. Forcing a second activation before that window closes risks severe internal backlash. Forcing a third risks death.
A blade this absolute demands a wielder this patient.
---
'Shadow-Splitting Flash in its truest form,' Su Tianhao thought, his lips curling slightly.
"Yo! Brother!"
A voice cut through the silence like a stone through still water—shattering his thoughts completely and pulling him back to the present.
"What are you thinking about? You just won. Shouldn't you be celebrating?"
Su Tianhao recognised the voice before he even turned.
Torin.
He looked up at the seven-foot giant with a raised eyebrow. "I am your brother now?"
"Heh!" Torin raised his chin, bones cracking with every movement. "Where I come from, warriors who preserve our dignity and earn our respect are taken in as brothers!"
"Oh?" Su Tianhao's interest sharpened. 'Could this be the secluded tribe Senior Sister mentioned?'
He looked at Torin directly. "Are you a rune master? Or do you perhaps come from a tribe of rune masters?"
Torin's expression shifted immediately. He stepped forward, placed a hand on Su Tianhao's shoulder, and leaned down to his ear level.
"I myself am an inscription master—though still low-levelled," he said honestly, his voice barely above a whisper. "The inscriptions on my body were drawn by my grandfather. As for my tribe—I am sorry, Brother, but that is not mine to share."
Su Tianhao's lips curved upward. "Don't worry about it. Just make sure my cottage is ready."
"Sure! Sure!"
Torin laughed and brought his hand down on Su Tianhao's shoulder—the kind of weight that would have buckled most ordinary Martial Adepts.
Still laughing, he turned to the Outer Court Disciples still frozen at the tree line.
"Listen up!" His voice thundered across the clearing. "I have forfeited my cottage to my brother—so I need a new one. Rush back to your cottages now. I'll be coming to challenge you shortly."
Several faces went pale on the spot. The weaker disciples among them exhaled with quiet relief. The stronger ones were already moving—slipping back through the tree line with a speed that had nothing to do with dignity and everything to do with self-preservation. A few of them were praying openly under their breath, hoping the Rampaging Warlord won't come for them.
"Hehe."
Torin grinned with deep satisfaction, one hand resting on his halberd—now contracted back to its standard nine feet—the other planted on his hip, body glistening with sweat.
"I'll go pack my things," he said. "I hope we fight often in the future."
Su Tianhao nodded.
He turned to find Su Mei already approaching with a smile on her face. But her eyes held a complicated glint she couldn't quite mask.
Su Tianhao caught it. Torin caught it too. He glanced between the two with furrowed brows—then, without a word, stepped back.
"I'll leave you two to talk. The house will be empty when you arrive—I don't have much to store anyway." He shrugged, casually flexing the spatial ring on his finger as he turned and disappeared into the distance.
Su Tianhao watched him go. Then he turned back to Su Mei.
"Congratulations, junior brother," she said. "You are now the new king of the Stonehaven Grove." Her voice carried the right weight. Her eyes didn't.
"What's wrong, Senior Sister?" Su Tianhao asked. The clearing had emptied. Evening was settling over the Ironpine Woods, the light between the trees going amber and low. He wanted to address this before they parted for the night.
"It's nothing," Su Mei said quickly, her gaze sliding away.
"Mei'er."
Su Tianhao's voice was quiet. He reached up and gently turned her face toward his, his hand resting lightly beneath her chin until her brown eyes met his gold ones.
Su Mei flinched. Her eyes went bright with tears that refused to fall. It had been years since anyone had called her by that name. Only her father ever used it.
"I—" She opened her mouth. Nothing came out. She tried to turn away. Su Tianhao held her gaze.
In that moment she looked nothing like a 7th level Martial Core Realm expert. Nothing like the famous Echoing Blade. Just a young woman carrying something heavy that she had been carrying alone for a long time.
Su Tianhao's golden eyes held only patience and genuine concern. Waiting. Not pressing.
She closed her eyes, took a slow breath, and removed his hand from her chin. When she opened them again, something had settled in her expression—a quiet resolve that hadn't been there before.
'I can't keep pretending nothing happened. If he doesn't want to see me again after this, then so be it.'
Su Tianhao noticed the shift immediately. He leaned back and waited.
"I feel guilty," Su Mei said at last. "Seven years I didn't return home. Seven years I didn't check on you. When I heard you awakened with zero measurable talent last year, it broke something in me—and I still didn't come. Worse, I stopped sending the monthly letters. I simply didn't know what to say."
Her voice cracked. The tears held—barely. "Seeing you now, changed and different and standing here like this... I couldn't help but feel proud. But I know I don't deserve that pride. And you—you accepted me like nothing happened, like I didn't wrong you. I should be grateful. But it only made the guilt heavier."
The tears came then, quiet and steady. "I'm sorry, junior brother. Truly. I didn't stand by your side during your darkest days—after vowing to protect you. After promising to be your family. I don't know if I even deserve your friendship anymore."
Su Tianhao was inwardly moved by the intensity and raw emotions in her voice. He didn't show it. He placed a steady hand on her shoulder and spoke calmly.
"I promise I'm not angry with you. I'm certain you had your reasons—"
"That doesn't change what happened!" Su Mei cut across him.
Su Tianhao leaned back and crossed his arms. His expression shifted—still calm, but honest now in a way that hadn't been there before. "Then tell me what happened. Help me understand. Why did you stay away for seven years? Even Su Chang—scoundrel that he is—still came back regularly on festivals."
His voice came out louder than he intended. He wasn't angry at her. He had long since outgrown that anger. But he hadn't outgrown the disappointment, and he wasn't going to pretend otherwise.
Su Mei heard it—and something in her visibly relaxed. Su Tianhao was finally letting it show. He was asking. That alone meant more than any reassurance could have.
She exhaled slowly. "You're right. I had my reasons."
"Which are?"
Her voice dropped. "Seven years ago, when I first joined the Qingyun Sect, I encountered a young master from the Zhu Clan—Zhu Yong. He proposed to me the first time he laid eyes on me. When I refused, he simply smiled and came back. Over and over again. He shunned any man who got close to me. Eventually it became an obsession that the entire Outer Court knew about—and because of it, I could never pursue any relationship without it being intercepted."
"The Zhu Clan," Su Tianhao repeated slowly. "I haven't heard of them."
"They are a rapidly rising third-rated force based in Dawnspire City. The City Lord holds the title, but the Zhu Clan holds the true influence—built on martial prowess, extraordinary talent, and consistent strength. Although it hasn't been confirmed, many believe there is a hidden power sponsoring their rise. In a few years they could reach second-rated status."
Su Tianhao's frown deepened slightly. "This clan is not as simple as it appears."
"It's not," Su Mei agreed, reading his expression. "And they have been a thorn in my side ever since. Zhu Yong is not simply a young master—he is the clan heir. Seven-star talent. Currently ranked first in the Azure Cloud Ranking and sitting at Peak Martial Core Realm. Most believe he is holding his breakthrough to the Martial Soul Realm deliberately, to remain eligible for the Three Great Sect Competition—which is only a few months away. It only accepts Outer Court Disciples."
"I see," Su Tianhao said. "But this still doesn't explain seven years of absence."
"I'm getting there," Su Mei steadied herself. "Seven years ago, when Zhu Yong finally accepted that his own efforts were futile, he contacted his family. The Zhu Clan sent formal representatives to request my hand in marriage. I refused immediately and told my father. He turned them away. One without hesitation and returned their gifts, with the Patriarch's full approval. The Zhu family is strong, but so are we. They could apply pressure, but they couldn't start a war without cause."
Her fists tightened at her sides. "It should have ended there. But the Second Elder went behind everyone's backs and met with the Zhu representatives privately. He told them the Su family accepted. He was the Patriarch's younger brother—they believed him. The gifts changed hands. With that single act, he had sold me to the Zhu Clan without anyone's knowledge or consent."
Su Tianhao's composure cracked.
His eyes blazed. "Su Liang did what?"