**Chapter 4: Blood Oath**
Jian Wushuang arrived at the courtyard where he and Jian Meng'er usually practiced swordsmanship.
If it were any other day, Jian Meng'er would surely have been waiting here long before he arrived. But today, when Jian Wushuang entered the courtyard, Jian Meng'er was nowhere to be seen. Only Jian Lan, dressed in a black robe with his hands clasped behind his back, stood quietly awaiting him.
An ominous premonition immediately rose in Jian Wushuang's heart.
"Uncle Lan." Jian Wushuang called out as he always did.
"So you've come?" Jian Lan turned around. The gentleness that had once graced his face was completely gone, replaced by stern coldness. "You should already know what happened. Today, the Family Head personally appointed Meng'er as the new Master of the Sword Pavilion. Once the Sword Marquis Token Competition concludes, the inauguration ceremony will be held. And the token that represents the authority of the Sword Pavilion's Master—it should be in your possession."
Jian Wushuang froze.
The token representing the Master of the Sword Pavilion was none other than the number one killing sword of the Sword Marquis Manor—the Three Slaughters Sword!
The Three Slaughters Sword had been sent back through an intermediary not long after his father left on his travels. He had kept it safe for these four years—it was the long sword strapped to his back at this very moment.
"Hand it over," Jian Lan said.
Jian Wushuang's entire body trembled. Gritting his teeth, he stared at Jian Lan and said in a low voice, "I want to see Meng'er!"
"With Meng'er's status, do you think you can simply demand an audience with her?" Jian Lan sneered coldly.
"If I don't see Meng'er, I will never hand over the Three Slaughters Sword," Jian Wushuang said firmly.
Even now, a sliver of hope still lingered in his heart—hope that all of this was Jian Lan's doing, and that Jian Meng'er had been left with no choice...
"How dare you." Jian Lan barked lowly, on the verge of anger.
"Father." A stunningly beautiful girl in snow-white robes, Jian Meng'er, slowly walked out from within the residence.
"Meng'er." Jian Wushuang immediately looked over. But with just a single glance, the last sliver of hope in his heart vanished into nothing. He noticed it—he noticed the coldness in the depths of Jian Meng'er's eyes, that absolute heartlessness.
In that instant, Jian Wushuang understood. Jian Meng'er had not been forced into today's affair at all.
"You've been deceiving me all along?" Jian Wushuang stared at Jian Meng'er and asked.
"Deceiving you? No." Jian Meng'er shook her head. "I never promised you anything. And even though you taught me swordsmanship—yes, I was the one who asked you to teach me, but I never forced you. What existed between us was always a transaction. I kept you company for four years, and in return, you taught me the sword. Perfectly fair!"
"So it was all just a transaction?" Jian Wushuang laughed bitterly, then asked, "You should know that the Three Slaughters Sword was sent back by my father after he left on his travels. It may be my only clue in finding out where he is!"
"I know," Jian Meng'er nodded.
"You also know that my greatest wish in this life is to one day take the Three Slaughters Sword in hand, succeed my father, and reclaim the Sword Pavilion!" Jian Wushuang pressed on.
"I know that too," Jian Meng'er nodded again. "But a wish is just a wish. For you, that wish will never come true in this lifetime. After all, at the end of the day, you're nothing but a piece of trash who can't even condense spiritual power."
"Trash?" A trace of self-mockery rose uncontrollably in Jian Wushuang's heart.
Just this very morning, he had cultivated the Great Heavenly Creation Art and finally condensed spiritual power, becoming a genuine martial practitioner. The very first thing he wanted to do was share this news with Jian Meng'er. But who could have imagined that in her eyes, he had been nothing but trash from beginning to end? A pathetic wretch who couldn't even condense spiritual power?
"Jian Wushuang, it's come to this, so stop clinging. The more you cling, the more cowardly you look. If you're truly unwilling to accept this, then use your own strength to challenge me openly and honorably. In this world, everything is decided by the fist. You are weak, so you were used and deceived—who can you blame?" Jian Meng'er said coldly.
"So that's how it is? In the end, it's because I'm too weak?" Jian Wushuang smiled faintly, but that smile looked utterly desolate no matter how one looked at it. "So all along, I've been a fool!"
"Hahaha, what an idiot! An absolutely hopeless idiot!"
"I'm the biggest fool under heaven!"
"How laughable!"
Jian Wushuang roared, his expression bordering on madness.
Jian Lan and Jian Meng'er watched quietly from the side, without a shred of pity in their eyes.
His words, though heartless, were the truth.
This world had always been one where the strong devoured the weak!
Jian Wushuang laughed mournfully, and at the same time, his entire mind felt as if it had been blasted by hundreds of millions of thunders all at once. His face twisted, his gaze grew incomparably complicated—first disbelief, then a blank bewilderment, and then fury, bordering on outright madness.
But after only a brief moment, Jian Wushuang's laughter abruptly stopped. He raised his head once more, and his gaze gradually returned to calm.
Jian Lan and Jian Meng'er both noticed this transformation within those brief moments, and both were utterly astonished.
What they didn't know was just what an earth-shattering change had taken place in Jian Wushuang's heart within those few short moments.
His former innocence and naivety had vanished without a trace. In that single instant, Jian Wushuang seemed to have endured decades of hardship.
Drawing a deep breath, Jian Wushuang looked at Jian Meng'er once more. There was not a trace of his former tenderness in his eyes—only a chill that froze to the very bone. Jian Meng'er, who was now the object of his stare, couldn't help but shiver inside.
What frigid eyes these were!
Like a venomous snake staring at its prey.
"Jian Meng'er, you're right. Only the weak play the victim and beg for others' sympathy, while the strong let their strength speak for them. In that case..." Jian Wushuang's voice was ice-cold. Behind him, the Three Slaughters Sword left its sheath with a faint ring of blade-song.
Chi!
The sharp blade suddenly sliced a bloody gash across Jian Wushuang's palm... His blood-stained hand clenched tightly, sending a piercing pain through him. Jian Wushuang's face was ferocious as he stared at Jian Meng'er.
"Two months from now, on the day of the Sword Marquis Token Competition—the day you take over as Master of the Sword Pavilion—I will fight you!"
"I will let everyone know that the Sword Pavilion... belongs to the Sword Pavilion forever. It was my father's Sword Pavilion, and it is my Sword Pavilion. No one—no matter who—will ever lay a finger on it!"
"Whoever dares touch it, I will cut them down!"
Blood trickled slowly down his arm and dripped to the ground, and in this moment, Jian Wushuang's words rang out with iron conviction.
"As for this Three Slaughters Sword, hmph..." Jian Wushuang glanced at the killing sword in his hand and gave a cold laugh. "You want it? Take it!"
Jian Wushuang tossed the Three Slaughters Sword to Jian Meng'er, then turned and strode away. Just as he was about to step out of the courtyard, his footsteps halted, and he spat out those calm yet childish words with cold finality.
"Two months from now, I will come for you!"
Jian Meng'er's brows knitted slightly as she stared, somewhat astonished, at Jian Wushuang's gradually disappearing figure—that back of his seemed somehow lonely and desolate. The Three Slaughters Sword gripped tightly in her hand suddenly felt as heavy as a thousand catties...
"Hmph, he's nothing but a piece of trash who can't even condense spiritual power, and he wants to challenge you in two months, Meng'er? He'd better figure out how to become a real martial practitioner within two months first," Jian Lan said dismissively from the side.
Jian Meng'er's brows immediately smoothed out.
That's right—a piece of trash who still hadn't condensed spiritual power to this day, challenging her to a duel in two months?
It was nothing short of a joke!
...
PS: As the new book begins, I will maintain three chapters per day for now—one chapter at noon, and two chapters simultaneously at eight in the evening. Once the new book period ends, I'll immediately ramp up and increase the update speed to around four or five chapters per day. Additionally, I have properly completed three works including *Rebirth: I Am a Divine Beast*. My reputation is my guarantee: no missed updates, no delayed updates, no abandoned books, no rushed endings. Furthermore, this book will be no less than four million words upon completion. Please read and follow with confidence!