Chapter One Hundred Ten: An Arm

Hearing Wan’er’s cry, my heart tightened. Damn that old Zhao—he wouldn’t dare hit me, let alone my second wife. I hurried over to support Wan’er.

“Wan’er, are you alright? Are you hurt?” I bent down to examine her, only to find a deep, bloody gash on her waist where Zhao’s sharp weapon had just grazed her. Not only was her skirt torn, but flesh was exposed beneath.

Seeing this, fury surged within me. Zhao, today you’ll pay dearly. I helped Wan’er aside and drew the Phoenix Pool Sword, stepping forward.

“Wang Dachuan, surrender,” Zhao sneered. “Master Xingyun said he doesn’t want your life, only your person. Just surrender obediently—Master Xingyun likes you.” With a shake of his hands, Zhao produced two mourning sticks from his waist. A fitting weapon for a man of his ilk, but still.

No matter what weapon he wielded or how he treated me, today I would fight him to the death. That beast was a henchman of Xingyun and had killed many. If I didn’t take him down, I’d be betraying those who died.

“Zhao, make your move!” I stood firm, holding the Phoenix Pool Sword, feeling quite dashing.

“Very well, I’ll capture you alive today. That girl’s not bad—let’s rip out her heart,” Zhao said with a sinister grin and lunged at me.

To be honest, I had no confidence at all. Apart from the three-foot-long Dragon Abyss and the palm thunder technique, I only had the Phoenix Pool Sword. Since I wasn’t planning to use the palm thunder, I had just two swords—and no real skill to wield them properly.

Zhao jumped up and swung one mourning stick at my head. I hurriedly raised my sword to block; a loud clang echoed. The shock ran through my body as Zhao’s mourning stick shattered into two pieces. One fragment struck my head, tearing my scalp and spilling blood profusely.

A divine weapon remains divine—I only blocked, yet broke Zhao’s iron mourning stick. That boosted my morale despite the bleeding wound. I sprang up, slashing at his waist. Zhao was agile, flipping aside effortlessly and kicking me in the chest.

“Kick and curse at the same time—damn that old Xingyun. Ordering me to capture you alive? I’d rather smash you with this stick,” he spat.

His kick knocked me off balance; I tumbled far back, smashing into the curb stone and dropping my sword.

The blow was painful, blood flowing onto my face. I quickly wiped my face to see clearly.

Wan’er ran over and hugged me tightly. “Dachuan, we have to retreat.”

“Retreat? Where to? Surrender now,” Zhao said, grabbing the Phoenix Pool Sword from my hand. He clearly recognized it was no ordinary blade.

At that moment, Zhao suddenly screamed, dropping the sword. His hand smoked as if the Phoenix Pool Sword was a red-hot iron rod burning him.

Wan’er saw it clearly, swiftly reaching out to grasp the sword and handing it back to me. My hands were bloody; without even wiping them, I gripped the hilt.

At that instant, a miracle occurred.

The Phoenix Pool Sword transformed into a beam of light, infinitely extending like a laser blade. Seeing this, Zhao and Yueyue’s faces instantly changed. They fled swiftly toward Dinglin Temple.

I carefully swung the glowing sword beam after them. From a distance came Zhao’s anguished cry, then silence.

Wan’er and I hurried over to investigate but found no body—only an arm, evidently severed by the sword’s beam.

“Dachuan, no more chasing. Let’s find a place to rest,” Wan’er said, holding my arm.

“Yeah, let’s rest.” I dared not pursue further. Only now did I feel my helplessness—possessing such a divine weapon as the Phoenix Pool Sword, yet unable to wield it properly. Without this sword, I’d likely have been taken by that beast tonight.

On the western edge of Juxian County’s suburban district, Wan’er and I checked into a modest inn.

At the bar, the staff were terrified seeing my bloodied, bruised face. Thankfully, Wan’er was with me, so they allowed us a room. Had I come alone, they might have called the authorities.

Inside the room, Wan’er examined my wounds and insisted on taking me to a hospital. I refused, explaining my blood was special—any wound would heal quickly. She pressed, I resisted, and in the end, she relented.

She looked at me with concern, filling the bathtub with warm water and helping me undress. I wanted to keep at least one piece of clothing on, but she argued we were husband and wife now and shouldn’t worry about such things. Embarrassed by her words, I yielded.

Wan’er was gentle, her slender fingers washing me from head to toe. Yet, curiously, she didn’t undress herself—still clothed in her dress. Water splashed onto her, the semi-transparent fabric clinging, adding an alluring touch.

“Wan’er, am I too useless? If I had some martial skills or spells, those two wouldn’t have escaped today,” I lamented, frustrated by my own inadequacy. Without the combined power of my blood and the Phoenix Pool Sword, I doubt I would have survived tonight.

This ordeal revealed a secret of the sword: when it contacts my blood, its power multiplies manyfold.

“Dachuan, how can you say that? I think you’re very brave! I really like you,” Wan’er said sweetly. Since learning I was the reincarnation of Ziyi, she had become more affectionate—something I secretly cherished.

“Wan’er, why don’t you take a bath too?” I suggested as I climbed out of the tub.

“Yeah, I need one too. After a day of running around, I’m all grimy,” she smiled mischievously and began to undress right before me.

Watching her disrobe, I blushed and quickly wrapped a towel around myself. “Wan’er, you wash yourself; I won’t help.”

“A real man’s hands are rough—I don’t need your help,” she said, waving me off and stepping into the tub in just her underwear.

Sitting outside, I felt a bit down. The bathroom door was ajar, the sound of running water echoing in my ears. I felt an itch—was I being too pretentious? She was already my second wife; why this hesitation? We had embraced and kissed—what was there to be shy about? But having stepped out, I couldn’t bring myself to go back in.

“Dachuan, come in for a moment, will you?” Wan’er’s voice called softly. How considerate she was, knowing exactly what I was thinking.

I hurried inside, and the sight made my heart race—Wan’er stood in the tub, half her body exposed, utterly naked.

Her flawless form was breathtaking—her breasts high and firm, not a hint of sagging, her flat belly smooth as a jade plate, and there, a veil of misty smoke, alluring and mysterious.

“Wan’er, what’s this?” I wanted to look but was too shy.

“I was hurt by Zhao just now. Come help me check—my waist looks like it has another cut. You know how to sew, right? Please stitch it for me?” She twisted her slender waist, pointing to the wound.

“All right, wait here. I’ll go find some needle and thread,” I said. No five-star hotel here, so no sewing kit in the room. I stepped out, taking a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart.

On my way to the bar, my mind wandered. If Wan’er were to offer herself tonight, what would I do? What if she initiated it?

Conflicted, I finally resolved: no matter how I tended her wound tonight, I wouldn’t make the first move. But if she wanted me, I would wholeheartedly cooperate.