My Enemy Became My Cultivation Companion-Chapter 50 - 37 Crushing Wind and Slicing Rain_3

"A blade speaks reason, cutting wind and slicing rain."

Chen Yi repeated mockingly.

Min Ning shot him a glare. Once the teahouse maid had filled a gourd with Daughter’s Red for her, she uncorked it, took a few hard swigs, then stood abruptly, tied the gourd at her waist, and descended the stairs with a hint of intoxication.

Chen Yi stared directly at her retreating figure, not letting his focus waver for a moment, lest anything untoward happen.

The fine rain continued unabated.

Min Ning strode forward step by step, unsheathing her blade. The passersby, seeing her official uniform, hastily stepped aside.

"If one causes a disturbance and draws a blade, the Brocade Guards shall render immediate execution."

Min Ning recited the law of Great Yu indifferently.

A few gang members, recognizing her as a Brocade Guard, hesitated in fear. Their leader, Rakshasa Li, glanced behind her, then surveyed the surroundings. Upon realizing she was alone, he barked out:

"Officer, give me some face. I have brothers in the Brocade Guards too."

Min Ning merely repeated:

"If one causes a disturbance and draws a blade, the Brocade Guards shall render immediate execution."

At these words, Rakshasa Li’s expression turned grim. Two paths lay before him: one was to make peace, gather his gang members, and leave quietly; the other was to confront her head-on, kill this Brocade Guard, and go into hiding for a while, returning later to resume his ambitions.

No gang leader would choose cowardice. Rakshasa Li’s ruthlessness surged as he shouted:

"If it’s a fight, then fight! If it’s death, then die!"

Min Ning had been waiting for those words. Her drunkenness surged, her body slightly hunched, her hand gripping the Brocade Spring Blade tightly. The blade was over an arm’s length, the edge measuring three feet and eight inches. Its surface gleamed as brightly as water. Passed down through the Min family line, it bore the name "No Distracted Thoughts," inspired by the line from the Dragon-Slaying Blade technique: "With no distracted thoughts, one can cleave through torrential rain." Years ago, Min He had ascended to the post of Garrison Commander within mere years as a mere commoner, relying on two things: the Cangshan Fist and the "No Distracted Thoughts" blade. When the former emperor’s brother, King Jing, learned of Min He’s renown, he once sent someone offering gold to purchase the blade. But he was turned away, left to eat the humiliation of a closed-door rejection.

Min Ning prepared to strike. Outside Qian Deng Temple, the rain curtain grew heavier, the fine drizzle flying. She recalled that rainy night when Chen Yi had single-handedly slaughtered twenty-one men. She had later counted: he had struck a total of forty-three times, nearly every move precise, carrying the force of overturned seas. Yet within each strike lay excess—some foes who could have been dispatched with one strike were given two, even three. Still, one of his strikes had been near-perfect—the one that cleaved flesh and bone to slay the Eastern Factory chief. Min Ning’s current strike drew inspiration from that very move. Chen Yi had once said that drinking made the blade slower, but after drinking, his strikes had proven even stronger.

Lost in thought, Rakshasa Li had already raised his massive saber high, his large frame barreling forward, roaring like a lion:

"Take this!"

Min Ning’s inner energy surged. Her right foot lifted and stomped forward heavily, her form charging ahead like cavalry piercing into enemy formations. Beneath the rain curtain, she gripped her blade and slashed upward.

Splurt—

First came the swift sound of flesh being cleaved.

Tap, tap, crack—

The crack was the blade hitting the hard spine, followed by the crunch of breaking bone. After this came another satisfying splurt of flesh being sliced.

In a flash of cold light, Chen Yi tightened his grip on his teacup, watching from afar as, after this single strike, the wind slowed, and even the rain curtain split apart into an empty void.

Blood sprayed to either side, staining the onlookers. They froze at first, then screamed in horror.

Half of Rakshasa Li’s body toppled stiffly to the ground like a snapped flagpole. His pupils rolled back, but before the last few seconds of consciousness faded, he managed to utter his final word:

"Dead..."

The gang members of the North Sea Gang stood rooted, none daring to step forward and retrieve the body.

Min Ning straightened her posture, her face expressionless. She did not sheath her blade but instead untied the gourd from her waist and took a long swig.

The fine Daughter’s Red poured into her stomach. That gourd of wine cost at least five or six taels of silver, while her annual salary was only thirty taels. But she wasn’t worried—Chen Yi had footed the bill.

She turned and walked away slowly.

Chen Yi gazed at the scene from afar.

In that moment, as the drizzle continued to fall, the righteous young warrior had killed, her long blade stained with blood, her flowing garments fluttering, drinking wine as she strolled away from the temple.