Qinglong’s expression changed drastically, and he was furious. Back in the day, Aoki Youxue had been a woman who rivaled any man, with a strong competitive drive for martial arts—otherwise she wouldn’t have left the island nation and traveled through various countries challenging different masters.
In his estimation, if Aoki Youxue hadn’t died, her cultivation should at least have reached the Xiantian Gangjin level by now—perhaps even slightly stronger than his own. So how could it be… that she had lost all her martial arts?
Aoki Youxue, however, was much calmer. She reached up with both hands and gently stroked Qinglong’s cheeks, her eyes full of tenderness as she said, “It’s fine. Being able to see you again—my cultivation doesn’t matter to me anymore.”
Qinglong also reached out and pressed her wrist, his eyes full of pity: “How could it not matter! Your greatest wish back then was to pursue the pinnacle of martial arts, hoping that one day you could break through the shackles and see what realm lies beyond Xiantian. Without your cultivation, how will you fulfill those wishes?”
Aoki Youxue smiled—a smile like a blooming flower, more beautiful and moving than the cherry blossoms in full bloom at the foot of Mount Fuji. There was no trace of sadness in it; instead, she said brightly, “Aren’t I with you now? Your cultivation is even more dazzling than before—having you explore is enough.”
The two of them, whose combined ages exceeded eighty, clung tightly to each other with boundless affection—looking exactly like a couple from a Qiong Yao drama, sweet enough to make people cringe. They really did resemble Xiaolongnü and Yang Guo reuniting after sixteen years.
Jiang Fei, watching from the side, felt goosebumps all over.
These old folks… really know how to play.
Earlier, watching Qinglong approach with a wooden stick, looking all calm and cool—who could have imagined he had such a deeply affectionate side that was so out of character?
The whole vibe was completely different!
But while this scene was a bit too cringeworthy in Jiang Fei’s eyes, to some people it was glaringly painful—unbearable to watch.
For example, Yagyu Munenori, who had always loved Aoki Youxue and had never let go. He had come here today, risking his life, precisely to see Aoki Youxue.
Now, after all the hardships, Aoki Youxue had finally appeared—but from beginning to end, she hadn’t even glanced at him!
Could there be anything more tragic than this?
This man, renowned in the outside world and representing the pinnacle of the island nation’s contemporary swordsmanship, felt utterly bitter and desolate inside.
Yet this contemporary sword master was, after all, a man of cultivation. No matter how much he suffered inside, he didn’t become twisted with jealousy or madly rush forward to make a scene. The two of them were clearly in love at this moment—if he charged up there full of resentment, he would only bring humiliation upon himself.
He sighed, suppressed the melancholy in his heart, and turned his gaze away, refusing to look at this scene that caused him such sorrow.
Yagyu Munenori could endure it—could force himself not to be jealous, not to resent, not to make a fuss—but that didn’t mean everyone else could maintain such a good mindset.
For example, Tsukahara Bokuden—white-haired yet youthful-faced, the kind of old man who “lives forever and becomes a thief.”
This founding patriarch of the Shinto-ryu, a “Sword Saint”-level figure whom the outside world believed had been dead for years, now watched Qinglong and Aoki Youxue tightly embracing, intimate and affectionate—and his eyes instantly turned bloodshot. His old face was about to twist into a rag.
His fists clenched tight, his beard bristling, his hair almost standing on end. After holding back for a long while, he finally couldn’t take it anymore and roared in a hoarse, low voice: “You two—separate!”
At this moment, Tsukahara Bokuden had completely forgotten how extraordinary Qinglong’s spear technique was, and whether his own strength could withstand that stunning, brilliant thrust.
As the founding patriarch and Sword Saint of a swordsmanship school, his head had been clouded by rage—he had lost all reason.
“Hm?” Qinglong tilted his head slightly, looking at Tsukahara Bokuden who dared to disturb his joyful reunion with Youxue, a flash of killing intent in his eyes.
This guy was someone he had always wanted to kill. Even now that he knew Aoki Youxue wasn’t dead and they had been reunited after many trials, he still wanted to kill this old bastard.
If not for him, why would he and Youxue have had to be separated for so many years, suffering so much longing?
“I said—separate!”
Seeing that Qinglong and Aoki Youxue were still holding each other and his words had no effect, Tsukahara Bokuden could hold back no longer. The Xiantian Gangjin within him erupted with a roar, converging into a broad sword aura that slashed furiously toward Qinglong.
With Qinglong’s strength, he naturally wasn’t afraid. His right hand formed a claw and drew inward—the wooden staff-spear he had thrown to the ground earlier was instantly pulled up into his palm, and he swept it forward fiercely.
Boom!
Tsukahara Bokuden’s sword aura was shattered.
“Tsukahara Bokuden, do you think this is still the old days? With me and Youxue together, you think you can still stop us?” Qinglong snorted coldly. If this guy didn’t wise up soon, he really wouldn’t hold back anymore.
As he thought this, another idea suddenly popped into Qinglong’s mind.
Aoki Youxue’s cultivation wouldn’t just disappear for no reason. Even if something went wrong in her training, at worst it would stagnate—it wouldn’t be completely destroyed. The only possibility for her current condition was that someone had destroyed it.
And Aoki Youxue had been living at Mount Fuji all these years, almost never going out. So the only one who could have destroyed her cultivation was that old monster Tsukahara Bokuden.
But why would this old monster destroy Aoki Youxue’s cultivation?
Hadn’t this old bastard always valued Aoki Youxue highly, treating her as the only suitable heir to inherit his legacy? In order for Aoki Youxue to focus single-mindedly on swordsmanship and carry forward the Shinto-ryu he had created, he had even firmly forbidden her from being with him.
Logically, this old bastard would never destroy Aoki Youxue’s cultivation, right?
Qinglong was utterly baffled.
His eyes narrowed slightly as he stared at Tsukahara Bokuden’s completely twisted face, and at the same time asked softly the Aoki Youxue in his arms: “Youxue, was your cultivation destroyed by this old fellow? It could only be him—only he has the ability to destroy your cultivation, right?”
Hearing Qinglong ask this question, a flicker of panic appeared in Aoki Youxue’s eyes. Who knew what she was thinking—she, who had been gazing at Qinglong with such deep affection, suddenly began to avoid his eyes, as if she didn’t dare look at him anymore.
“No… it wasn’t. I was supposed to die back then. Later, by some stroke of luck, I survived—but the price was losing all my cultivation. The meridians in my body can no longer cultivate internal energy. It wasn’t destroyed by anyone.” Aoki Youxue explained in a low voice.
Qinglong frowned. He didn’t know exactly what had happened, but he trusted Aoki Youxue, so he calmed down a bit and suppressed the killing intent in his heart.
Looking at Tsukahara Bokuden, he delivered what amounted to an ultimatum: “Tsukahara Bokuden, you’re no match for me now. For the sake of you being Youxue’s master, I can let go of the grievances of the past. I’ll spare your life. But don’t be ungrateful—today, Youxue is definitely leaving with me. If you try to stop us again, don’t blame me for being rude!”
Tsukahara Bokuden’s expression didn’t change in the slightest at these words.
The fury in his eyes grew to its maximum at this moment, and he said, word by word: “I said—separate!”
Having said that, he held nothing back. His aged body burst forth with extraordinary energy at this moment, charging at Qinglong like an enraged bull.
Qinglong’s expression turned serious. Facing Tsukahara Bokuden’s all-out attack, he didn’t dare be careless. His body suddenly shot backward, carrying Aoki Youxue far away, dodging Tsukahara Bokuden’s attack.
His strength was indeed higher than Tsukahara Bokuden’s, but Tsukahara Bokuden was still a Xiantian master—the power of his attacks couldn’t be underestimated. No one could be so arrogant as to casually take them head-on.
After placing the now completely powerless Aoki Youxue in a safe spot, Qinglong once again took up his wooden staff-spear and charged toward Tsukahara Bokuden to meet his attack.
“Qinglong—” Aoki Youxue’s expression turned anxious at the sight, wanting to stop him.
But without her cultivation, how could she keep up with Qinglong’s speed? She couldn’t hold him back.
“Tsukahara Bokuden, I’ve made myself clear to you—since you’re seeking death, I’ll grant it to you!”
Qinglong swung his wooden staff-spear. With a “tearing” sound, it was like a great python spiraling forward, the spear tip like a snake’s tongue, making a “whooshing” sound in the air—piercing to the ear.
Boom, boom, boom…
Tsukahara Bokuden’s sky-full sword aura was shattered in just a few moves by Qinglong’s spear. Then Qinglong twisted his waist, and the wooden staff-spear in his hand followed with a visible curve, then swung out fiercely again—landing with a “crack” on Tsukahara Bokuden’s body.
Crack!
Tsukahara Bokuden’s body didn’t fly out, but he was knocked more than ten meters to the left before stabilizing. His body trembled, his throat tasted sweet, and a surge of blood rushed upward—he nearly spat blood, but forcibly suppressed it.
It was precisely because they were both Xiantian masters, with Xiantian Gangjin protecting their bodies. If a Danjin master had taken this spear strike from Qinglong, it would definitely have been a narrow escape.
Even so, Tsukahara Bokuden still didn’t give up because of the gap in strength between them. Almost without hesitation, he swung his sword and charged forward again, in a posture of fighting Qinglong to the death, determined to cut Qinglong down with his blade—a fight to the bitter end.
Jiang Fei frowned again, feeling somewhat anxious.
What was this old bastard doing? Wasn’t this just seeking death!
Even if you want to die, can’t you let me absorb your internal energy first before you do? Seeing Qinglong and your beautiful disciple hugging and cuddling—do you really have to be this angry, your eyes all red?
As he thought about it, Jiang Fei’s eyebrows suddenly shot up, and he froze.
“Wait… something seems off here! This old bastard’s concern for his beautiful disciple goes beyond the proper bounds—it’s broken through the normal teacher-student relationship, hasn’t it?”
“This doesn’t look like a master toward his disciple at all—it’s clearly like a husband who’s caught his wife with another man, burning with jealous rage!”
Once this thought took hold, it wouldn’t let go. Jiang Fei glanced at the expressions and demeanor between Tsukahara Bokuden and Aoki Youxue, and thought back to events from years ago—and the more he thought about it, the more convinced he became that his deduction was correct.
This teacher-student pair… didn’t seem to have an ordinary teacher-student relationship.
They were more like Yang Guo and Xiaolongnü—they had become lovers!
But the difference was, although Yang Guo and Xiaolongnü had a certain age gap, it was still within acceptable bounds—not nearly as outrageous as the gap between these two. Aoki Youxue still looked so young, like a mature young woman, but Tsukahara Bokuden, that old bastard, was already white-haired and in his eighties!
If this pair had a teacher-student romance, it would be way too jarring.
And… it seemed Aoki Youxue didn’t love Tsukahara Bokuden the way Xiaolongnü loved Yang Guo. The one she loved in her heart was still Qinglong.
“If this really is what I suspect, then this whole thing is rather sordid,” Jiang Fei thought.
As if to verify Jiang Fei’s conjecture, the two soon clashed again. Tsukahara Bokuden, though at a disadvantage, displayed extraordinary fearlessness and refused to retreat.
Moreover, during the fight, he roared furiously: “Youxue is mine! She belongs to me alone! None of you can take her away! Whoever dares to take her—dies!”
“…”
The moment these words came out, everyone instantly felt something was very wrong.
This was practically the tone of a domineering CEO talking to his secretary!
Even the Lion King, Yagyu Munenori, Olivia, and the others realized something was off—Tsukahara Bokuden was acting excessively, or rather, far too excessively.
What did he mean, “Youxue is yours alone”?
Was he trying to possess her, to monopolize her?
Qinglong, in the middle of battle, also paled—he understood the deeper meaning in Tsukahara Bokuden’s words.
“What did you say?!” Qinglong roared.
“Don’t even think about taking my Youxue away! No one is allowed!” Tsukahara Bokuden’s sword aura reached its peak—his sword shadows filled the sky, the surrounding forest already devastated beyond recognition, the ground full of gullies and pits carved by sword aura.
“You old beast—I’ll kill you!” Qinglong understood everything now.
He understood why Tsukahara Bokuden had been so furious back then when he learned that Aoki Youxue was entangled with the three of them, wanting to kill them; and he understood why Tsukahara Bokuden hadn’t announced that Aoki Youxue was alive all these years, instead taking her into seclusion in the mountains and completely abandoning his Shinto-ryu.
It wasn’t because Aoki Youxue’s swordsmanship talent was too outstanding and suited her to be his disciple and inherit his legacy.
It was because this old beast had also fallen in love with Youxue. So all these years, he had simply taken Aoki Youxue into seclusion—that way, outsiders would never know, and she would never be hurt by gossip.
“Ahhh!”
Qinglong’s wooden staff-spear reached its ultimate expression—the python spiraling—and his attack reached its most terrifying level at this moment. In less than ten moves, he sent Tsukahara Bokuden flying with one spear strike, then pointed the spear tip at his throat. One more push would end Tsukahara Bokuden’s life.
