Book 15: Chapter 87
Ling Jialan would’ve stolen every man’s heart at Nine Heavens at night if it wasn’t for her emotionless visage. She had the appearance and nonchalant attitude to charm any man, yet her sword at her sash stole the limelight. As contradictory as it sounded, it was her silent character that broke the silence of the venue. They could all sense that she was ready to draw her weapon at the drop of a hat.
The first person to draw his sword on Ling Jialan wasn’t the first to go down; many had already gone down prior. The sounds of her victims dropping didn’t ruin her rhythmic steps. She continued until the floor was covered in men, taking them all out without needing to unsheathe her sword.
Once she inspected the entire interior, Ling Jialan returned to the spot she started at. “Answer me: who were the people who lodged here? Where have they gone?”
Resistance followed fear, which preceded a silver flash in the night. Ling Jialan wasn’t a bloodthirsty individual. She would’ve preferred to have carried a wooden sword in the pugilistic world if there wasn’t a stipulation for her to carry her signature sword as Cloud Sanctuary’s master. Wooden swords were lighter, and carrying a wooden sword would’ve eliminated a lot of avoidable problems. She wasn’t limited by the material of her sword because anyone who had mastered Flying Thrust was capable of inflicting harm with just a tree branch using it. She couldn’t stand the smell of blood. Every time she cut someone, she felt she couldn’t wash the blood off, which would bother her nose for days. The second concern she had regarding bloodshed was growing accustomed to it.
Ling Jialan didn’t agree with the ideology that swordplay was about inflicting harm despite the majority believing the two were part and parcel; they saw swordplay as a means to determining who was superior. In reality, there were no absolutes in swordplay just as there were no absolutes in any other part of life. For her, swordplay was a bank to save her from drowning in the ocean. If bloodshed was inevitable, she hoped to minimise the amount she had to shed. This was one of those inevitable circumstances. She had come to terms with the fact that she was going to have to make choices she didn’t want to make in the pugilistic world, but she no longer wished to revise the lesson.
Although she drew her sword slowly, there was no hesitation. A hesitant swordsman – or swordswoman – wasn’t going to earn anyone’s respect. Using ‘Servant Yao’, Ling Jialan increased the fear collected in the silent night.
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It took Ling Jialan no longer than fifteen minutes from her arrival to do what she had to do and leave. She didn’t seem rushed, but she was extremely fast.
Ming Feizhen’s medical skills deserved adulation. The majority of her problem was the poisoning, so once it was resolved, the injuries left to recovery from were as minor as those suffered from a trip. Although Bu Xusan and Ling Jialan engaged in a physical war, it was the poison on him that defeated her, so he only needed to open a small wound for that purpose. By extension, she felt she recovered from the moment she dipped into Ming Feizhen’s tub.