Legend of Fuyao 147 Untitled

The trio made their way to the "Drunkard's return" and settled down in a table. They saw Eunuch Hua getting drunk as usual, tripping over some victim, as usual, exorting the victim as usual. Ya Lanzhu giggled at that sight, and so did Meng Fuyao, yet in her eyes, one could faintly see the painful admiration — an old man who abhorred drinking, and yet, he got drunk for 20 years for Zhan Beiye.

As Eunuch Hua hobbled out of the door, Meng Fuyao went forward to support him. The old man lifted his head and accepted the pill she gave him.

Meng Fuyao went back to continue drinking and play finger-guessing game with Ya Lanzhu. They could not help but overhear a boisterous and arrogant announcement from another customer. "The other nations can forget about sending people to compete in this True Martial Arts Meet because even if they do come, they are merely bringing humiliation onto themselves. Our Shangyuan Flying Double Sword is the sect leader of the Mystic Essence Sword Sect at a young age and with his Stirring Thunder Technique that is renowned, who could be their enemy?"

"Double Flying Sword will be here?" Someone asked. "I heard that the couple is busy with national affairs, they might not have the time."

"Senior brother will be here." The statement came from the mouth of a self-conceited young man. "Even if he does not, my presence is very much equivalent to his for he taught me personally the Stirring Thunder Technique. "

A group of people started chattering as waves of people rushed up to offer him words of flattery. The grin on his face widened as an unbearably pronounced arrogance could be spotted from miles away. With his nose in the air, he watched his surroundings proudly. Another group of people, however, hung their heads down in shame — this young lad had been showing his sword skills, and his haughtiness was by no means unwarranted.

A laughter cut through the chattering.

"Hey, what is the Flying Double Sword you are talking about?" Meng Fuyao leaned on the table as laughed to Ya Lanzhu. "What flies? A pair of ducklings? A pair of love birds? Or a pair of bats?"

Ya Lanzhu blinked. "Did it not refer to a pair of chicken wings?"

The two burst out into unrestrained laughter as they slammed the table uncontrollably. The crowd fell into absolute silence as they looked at Meng Fuyao with pity — this frog in the well who knew nothing of the immensity of the heaven and earth. She actually dared to offend the lad that mastered the Stirring Thunder Technique. One can only hope she can die with a complete corpse.

Meng Fuyao wiped away her tears of laughter as she continued to giggle. "My lord… Flying Chicken Double Sword…"

With a chilling flash, the tip of a blade sat inches away from the tip of Meng Fuyao's nose.

"How dare you insult my Senior Brother Yan? Die!"

"Oh?" Meng Fuyao completely ignored the murderous aura directed at her and asked gleefully, "Who is your Senior Brother Yan? I've never heard of him before?"

The clamor from the crowd rose once again. Everyone felt that Fuyao was either looking for death or acting dumb. A comparable pair with honorable family backgrounds. To even say that they were a match in heaven was underrated! Furthermore, Yan Jingchen was the sect leader of the Mystic Essence Sword Sect, one of the top three sword sects in Shangyuan. How could she not have heard of them?

Meng Fuyao only laughed in an innocent and benevolent manner. The young lad was pleased with himself as he entertained the thought of her going mad with fear. He chuckled. "That is because you are an ignorant and inexperienced small fry. The two of them are a distinguished existence, a match made in heaven. Who could have not heard of them? Today, you have insulted my Senior Brother Yan and Senior Sister Pei, outrightly going against the Mystic Essence Sword Sect. But since we are so magnanimous, we shall forgive you as long as you kneel down."

"Ptui!"

Meng Fuyao spat out a shattered bone on the young lad's face, splattering grease all over his face.

This was the simple answer she had for that egoistic young lad.

She turned back and smiled at Ya Lanzhu and Yun Hen. "Let's go, I am in a good mood and don't feel like fighting."

Ever since Yun Hen heard Yan Jingchen's name, he did not speak a word. His eyes darkened as he got up.

"Stop there!"

That young lad, never in his wildest dreams, could imagine someone had the audacity to treat the Mystic Essence Sword Sect in this manner. He was in such shock that he stared blankly at her when the bone landed on his face. It was only after a moment that he came back to his senses. Enraged, he drew his sword without any warning and headed straight for Meng Fuyao's back.

His stance, his prowess as a swordsman, was accompanied by the quiet sounds of thunder as he made his move. Illusions of petals from the blade movements filled the air with a flick of his wrist coming together to become dozens of blooming flowers. The crowd cheered as the spectacular sight unfolded itself before their eyes.

Someone cheered, "Stirring Thunder Technique! No wonder it is one of the top mantras in the world!"

Some of the more charitable customers shouted, "Careful! Escape now!"

The sharp blade appeared right behind Meng Fuyao in an instant, determine to stab through her.

Meng Fuyao continued to move forward as if nothing happened.

Some people in the crowd held their breath.

They let out a sigh only to stop halfway. Their eyes slowly widened.

In front.

The sounds of the wind stopped.

The petal-like blades wilted instantaneously.

The hundred-year sharp blade was suddenly in Meng Fuyao's palms. She bent the blade so nonchalantly and absent-mindedly like she was molding a pile of clay.

A breeze ruffled her hair as she leaned closer to the tip of the sword, scrutinizing it very carefully. And then, she twisted it.

That exquisite blade was casually molded into a thin metal thread. With a couple of twist and turns, the blade was unrecognizable, or rather, recognizable as a wire sculpture. She nodded her head with satisfaction.

The audience took in a deep breath at this sight. Some managed to notice that the blade was only a centimeter from Meng Fuyao's back and merely by lifting her hand, she managed to catch the tip of the blade in her hands.

'How quick must her eyes be and how strong mus her inner energy be in order to catch the sword of the Stirring Thunder Technique?'

'Since when did such a young talent appear?'

A few boastful Shangyuan martial artists immediately kept quiet, and they looked at each other alarmed. They thought that with the aggressive behavior of the Mystic Essence Sword Sect's disciples and with the new leader's unparalleled Stirring Thunder Technique, the Sword Sect would definitely clinch the championship. Who could have possibly entertained the thought that in this very moment, an insignificant lass could stop a rising disciple of the Sword Sect just by lifting her hand!

The excitement in the crowd rose. It turns out the results for this year's True Martial Arts Meet was not as predictable as they expected.

The owner of the blade, or rather flower sculpture at this point, stared at Meng Fuyao in disbelief as she once again slowly wove the blade into something else. Once she was done with her pair of dog sculpture, she tossed it into the lad's arms. "As usual, the Mystic Essence Sword Sect would attack someone behind their back. If I may just trouble you to pull a more decent move next time. Also, this pair of dogs, pass it to your sect leader. Take it as my congratulatory gift for their marriage."

She dusted off her hands and turned to leave. As she left, an exasperated howl could be heard. With a clink, a patch of fine needles shot out from his sleeve, making their way towards the trio.

Meng Fuyao remained unbothered as she stopped the more-than-ready to fight Ya Lanzhu. Yun Hen, who was walking behind, flung his sleeve and the needles landed on the floor silently. The needles were coated in blue, and one could tell that they were laced with deadly poison at a single glance. Yun Hen turned back coldly and fixated his cold dark eyes on the lad who pulled a sneak attack on them. His gaze sent chills down the lad's spine and that young lad could not help but take a step back.

His step backward made him realize that Meng Fuyao, who was initially right by the door, was now quietly behind him.

He jumped backward in shock and disorientation. It was too late, however. Fuyao's cold voice came from behind him. "Those who do not learn from their mistakes require a heavier punishment."

She lifted her hands and pointed her fingers. Her movements looked slow, but as the young lad stared at her hand, he realized her hand had penetrated every corner of the room, blocking his escape route. No matter where he ran, he would not be able to escape from her next move. His eyes widened in shock as fear drowned him.

Kacha!

With a crisp sound, blood splattered everywhere followed by a cry of despair.

Meng Fuyao's move cut through the young lad's bones.

She looked down coldly at the young lad on the floor with pain. "You offending me that does not warrant such a punishment. However, not only were you arrogant, but you were also cruel in killing the innocent. For people like you to master martial arts, more innocent civilians will get hurt in the long run. Therefore, I shall take on this trouble to deal with you."

The thick scarlet-red blood covered the floor. Meng Fuyao stood upon it all. Those words came out of her mouth in a calm tone with a tinge of murderous aura.

Everyone held their breath in a restaurant so silent that one could hear the sound of a needle dropping. It was only then that they finally took a serious glance at this insignificant lass. This lass was one that gave off a murderous aura as if she had climbed back up from a mountain of corpses and skeletons. One that experienced the depths of hell yet making her way back — a survivor.

The few Shangyuan martial artists snuck away while the companions of the young lad came over timidly to help him out. That young lad was a stubborn mule, too. Despite the pain, he did not once utter a sound. With cold sweat dripping down his forehead, he gave Fuyao his death glare. Biting his teeth, he growled. "… Mystic Essence Sword Sect… will not tolerant insults… leave… your name. Our sect leader Yan will definitely… definitely… repay you the favor!"

Leave your name.

Meng Fuyao looked up slightly. She looked out of the windows where the sun rays scattered glitters of gold along the pavements, bringing her back to the day where a young man would bring her a warm smile amidst the heavy rain; that day where she slit open a sleeve; that day where he sneaked an attack on her; that day where he, someone she had loved deeply, with his very own hands, pushed her down the cliff of despair.

It was all in the past, but that past had signified her very beginning in this world.

In those days, Meng Fuyao was a nobody that everyone belittled. She was trash that was despised by the man she loved. She was one that everyone in the Mystic Essence Sword Sect bullied.

The wheel of fortune spins as time flies. That lowly, useless, ugly girl from the past was no more. It was time to let the entire sect and the entire world hear of her name.

Meng Fuyao laughed, so brightly and cheerfully.

"Tell Yan Jingchen, I, Meng Fuyao accept your challenge, and I will trample upon the sect's pride. He better pack his bags and get the hell out of Tiansha. Otherwise, I will wipe the sect's name off history."

When Meng Fuyao went back, she found that Tiecheng rushed back with the guards and in the living room, there sat a man who drank his tea leisurely. Yuan Yang, otherwise known as mandarin duck is a duck species native to East Asia. However, in the Chinese saying, it can also refer to a pair of love birds.

Chapter end