My Enemy Became My Cultivation Companion

Including Qin Liancheng, the four riders did not charge forward recklessly like the earlier two. Instead, after riding up to a certain distance, three of them dismounted, leaving Qin Liancheng alone on horseback, holding his lance.

Among martial artists, mortal combat generally favors fighting on foot over horseback, except for a very few exceptions. Indeed, even in historical records of two nations at war, there are accounts of heavily armored cavalry dismounting to fight on foot after reaching a suitable distance.

Sitting high on horseback, Qin Liancheng looked down at the mysterious figure. Seeing her wearing the Feathered Fishes uniform, he recognized her as a member of the court's secret police, the Jinyiwei. Though unsure if she was sent by the court as a scout, one certainty remained: the Qin family, rulers over their land, had always been regarded as fierce beasts in the eyes of the court.

The three dismounted valiant riders had already begun their attack.

The figure wielded both a blade and a sword—a bizarre appearance that, to anyone with a modicum of knowledge, seemed laughable. Though both are short weapons, a blade prioritizes slashing while a sword excels at thrusting; their mastery requires entirely different techniques. Using both simultaneously could simply tie one's hands.

How could Min Ning not know this was self-defeating?

Yet, that person chose to wield them in this manner nonetheless.

With a blade in one hand and a sword in the other, Min Ning watched with narrowed eyes as the three martial artists steadily advanced.

One of them had already drawn his blade and charged.

His curved blade gleamed like snow, finer and slightly shorter than the Brocade Spring Blade but much sharper, its arc resembling a crescent moon. As it cut through wind, it felt as though it pulled down lunar brilliance.

Min Ning struck toward this "moonlight" in one swift motion.

Metal clashed against metal, reverberating deafeningly. The dismounted rider widened his eyes in shock as his blade was forcibly dented inward.

His arm numb, he realized that, had he not been a seventh-rank martial artist, this one strike would have split both him and his blade apart entirely.

No time was spared for astonishment amid the melee. As Min Ning's strike was obstructed, another rider launched a ferocious blow from behind her. These men, born with bravery and combat prowess, could only qualify as servants to a noble scion like Qin Liancheng.

As the strike came, Min Ning sidestepped gracefully. Another assailant seized the opening, predicting her movement and stepping forward to thrust his blade. Their coordination was seamless.

Qin Liancheng watched the scene with a touch of leisure, akin to observing hunting hounds surround their prey—one hound blocking the front, another chasing from the rear, and the final one delivering the fatal blow.

At the brink of peril, Min Ning's wrist twisted, and her long sword seemed to move with a life of its own, spinning in an intricate arc. Her gaze fixated solely upon the trajectory of her sword. Then, her front foot suddenly shifted backward to serve as a pivot, her entire form spinning like a top—blade and sword swept out in an arc, and with a single thrust, her sword pierced straight ahead!

The Destruction Zen Sword.

The sword's light was sharp and unstoppable, faintly carrying traces of Sword Qi.

When blade and sword collided, there was a thunderous crash. The rider's blade flew from his grasp. Though he dodged the killing blow with a rapid retreat, his shoulder, flesh, and bone were pierced cleanly through.

Qin Liancheng's expression turned to one of shock.

This rotation of Min Ning's forced the other two riders to back away. She wasted no time on the last remaining rider, her blade striking down in one smooth arc.

The helmeted head of her opponent was cleaved open—a gory yet not overly dramatic wound, spraying blood into the air.

Unable to remain seated any longer, Qin Liancheng jerked his wrist and charged forward, wielding his lance in challenge. The red tassel of his lance swirled as he flourished its motion. From behind him, his riders cheered and shouted in approval.

Spurring his horse mercilessly, he raised the lance high above him and bellowed, "Die!"

As the word left his lips, horse and rider became one entity, hurtling forth like an arrow loosed from its bowstring. His lance, akin to a siege crossbow, roared through the air with deadly precision, its killing intent thick and chilling.

The pounding of the hooves resounded like thunder. Min Ning swung her blade and sword, seemingly unable to respond swiftly enough, her aura unstable. But Qin Liancheng had already waited for this exact moment—the prime moment for a hunter's decisive strike.

She saw the rapid approach of the lance, bearing down like a dragon lunging toward its prey.

At that instant, her mind went blank, her thoughts completely silenced. She was enveloped in a state of flow, surrendering entirely to this inexplicable instinct.

When she regained a sliver of awareness, she had already stepped forward to thrust her sword.

The long sword's thrust appeared almost lethargically slow at first, embodying the immortal grace of Yin Sword Mountain's Life-Seizing Sword—timeless, eternal, with no need for haste. But then it surged with blinding speed, mirroring the sudden brevity of life, where days rapidly run out; the sword's light gleaming with frigid brilliance, roaring like an unforeseen disaster toppling grand edifices.

Min Ning seemed powerless to stop herself as she watched the electrifying strike unfold.

When sword met lance, Qin Liancheng's eyes widened in disbelief. He witnessed his seemingly indomitable lance bend into a breathtaking arc before smashing into his steed's head.

The horse's flesh and blood splattered gruesomely. Its skull ruptured with a chilling wail. All four of its legs flailed midair before plummeting heavily six or seven yards away.

Qin Liancheng tumbled from his saddle, sliding across the muddy ground for quite a distance. His battle-hardened steed lay lifeless beside him, its hooves twitching as it took its final breaths amid desperate cries.

Clambering to his feet with difficulty, he cast a fearful gaze toward the martial artist who stood gasping for breath. It was as if even she had not anticipated the power behind her strike.

That was no sword meant to kill; rather, it was a sword meant to save lives—but its might far exceeded the Life-Seizing Sword.

Those riders watching from afar felt their courage falter, even sending falcon whistle signals requesting reinforcements before aid could arrive. Witnessing Qin Liancheng's miserable state only made them hesitate further.

Infuriated, Qin Liancheng roared, "What are you fools waiting for?! Kill her—now! Strike together!"

Only then did the riders react, albeit sluggishly, clearly intimidated by Min Ning's earlier display of power.

"Her aura is shattered. She's spent! Kill her! Do you hear me?! If the heavens themselves collapse, I will shoulder it!"

Turning his head, he observed his reinforcements—a cavalry unit advancing rapidly down the road from the camp in the distance.

Qin Liancheng burst into laughter, leaning on his bent lance to stand, as the riders finally seemed to awaken from their stupor and charged forward.

Min Ning's face turned pale as her breathing grew labored, just as Qin Liancheng had predicted. That sword strike had left her truly spent.

But now, twenty or so riders surrounded her.

A spear tore through the air, advancing like a wedge intent on breaking through.

Min Ning's grip tightened as she swung her blade in an arc midair, instantly cutting the spear and its wielder down. Yet from behind, another lance thrust forward.

Qin Liancheng held his bent lance, his expression twisted with fury. Having lost four or five of his closest guards, he now swore to shred her to pieces.

Min Ning used her sword hand to punch the bent lance.

The forceful impact of the Cangshan Fist sent the already deformed lance snapping in two instantly.

Qin Liancheng faltered at the shocking sight before turning his surprise into a sinister grin.

For another spear was already lunging toward Min Ning.

Forced to evade, Min Ning rolled across the ground, her movements disheveled and her aura disrupted.

And yet, she continued advancing toward Qin Liancheng.

With nowhere left to hide, his pupils contracted sharply.

Min Ning could only strike with her blade.

Swoosh!

But in the next moment, her blade halted midway.

The Brocade Spring Blade collided with an arrow, vibrating intensely before flying from her grasp. Blood seeped from her trembling palm.

Min Ning turned to see what had happened.

A towering figure in armor loomed ahead, imposing and regal. He calmly drew another arrow from his quiver.

"The Prince—the Prince is here!"

A rider exclaimed in shock.

At the same moment, Qin Liancheng saw the figure atop his steed, and the thrill of survival surged through him as he cried out, "Didn't I say I would shoulder the burden if the heavens collapsed?!"

With renewed morale, the riders regrouped and charged at Min Ning once more.

Qin Liancheng sneered, pointing toward Min Ning, shouting loudly:

"This knave slaughtered my Qin family brothers! This vengeance must not go unavenged!"

After his proclamation, he took several steps back. Min Ning sharply noticed the armored figure slowly approaching.

Having earlier slain several foes and intimidated the riders, Min Ning now faced the arrival of the Prince of Annan—a turn that seemed to spell doom. The cavalry rallied behind him, encircling Min Ning with renewed ferocity.

Her breaths were heavy; her complexion ashen. Unable to muster her Qi, she locked her eyes onto Qin Liancheng, nearly forgetting Chen Yi's prior warnings.

In a flash, Min Ning raised her sword again, seemingly resolved to trade her life for her enemy's.

But the next scene left her wide-eyed in shock.

The tall figure suddenly drew his lance and struck with lightning speed.

Qin Liancheng's chest was pierced clean through!

From within the towering gleaming armor came an icy decree:

"Any who indiscriminately slay civilians shall be executed immediately."

A chilling, blood-soaked wind swept across the scene, draining the color from the faces of Qin Liancheng's riders.

Qin Liancheng collapsed to the ground, his eyes bulging in terror as though unwilling to accept his fate.

The Prince of Annan advanced, his horse's hooves crushing down as he asked coldly:

"Who else claims to be of the Qin family?"

Qin Qingluo surveyed the battlefield, his expression grave:

"The heavens have collapsed, so who now dares to shoulder it?"