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CHAPTER 8: The Poso Sword
Back to Before the Villain's Blackening Author: Hua Qi Chapter 8: The Poso Sword
The night was deep and still; the moon shone brightly amidst sparse, scattered clouds. A terrifying sword intent, like a giant whale breaching from the depths of the ocean, hung heavily across the cool, water-like night sky. It felt like a primal beast of the primordial wilderness lying in ambush, flashing its claws; even its casual, unhurried breaths concealed a destructive power beyond imagination. Having caused such a massive disturbance, it took only a mere moment before lights began flickering on across half of the Lord’s Citadel. The night sky was split cleanly in two by the sheer, materialized force of the sword. A streak of frost and snow flashed across the eyes, abruptly descending right beside the gates of the Dongheng Courtyard. The ground struck by the sword intent instantly split into countless bottomless fissures, sending dirt and debris flying through the air with a sound like crashing thunder. Song Yunhe arrived earlier than Qiushi. As the Young Lord of the Qinhai Citadel, when faced with an event of this magnitude, he could not simply stand by and do nothing, even if the person standing across from him was Qin Donglin, a man of equal status whom he had known since childhood. Qin Donglin stood suspended in midair, his brow sharply furrowed like a curved blade. When his pitch-black pupils locked onto a person, the pressure he exerted swept over them like a collapsing mountain or a roaring tsunami. Lu Jue, who was responsible for guarding the Dongheng Courtyard, pushed himself up while clutching his chest. He took a deep breath, forcing down the copper-sweet taste of blood welling up in his throat. Song Yunhe took a step forward. "Donglin." His voice was clear and gentle as he subtly shifted his weight, placing himself directly in the trajectory of Qin Donglin's blade. "Why come so late in the night? You didn't even give me a heads-up beforehand." Qin Donglin finally deigned to look at him. Lowering his gaze, his voice carried a deep, steady resonance, though his frigid, volatile irritation was laid completely bare. "Do you intend to stop me?" As if sensing its master's impatience, the blade in his hand hummed and trembled, its sword intent bursting forth with unparalleled sharpness. This was precisely why Song Yunhe found Qin Donglin such a headache, he never played by the rules. If a situation like tonight's had happened to Song Yunhe, he would have undoubtedly suppressed his temper for the sake of the relationship between their two families and other grander considerations, choosing to resolve the matter rationally and calmly. But Qin Donglin would not. He was like an unrestrained hurricane. If there was something he wanted to do, he did it. He didn't have a reason, nor did he need one. Like tonight. Like this very moment. If Qin Donglin had just suppressed his temper enough to ask a single question or demand an explanation, things would still be manageable. But his current posture made it blatantly clear to everyone: he didn't care what hidden circumstances lay behind this, nor did he care to hear any explanations. This black dragon was destined to die beneath his blade. Song Yunhe knit his brows, standing firmly against him. "I'll have Qiushi explain this matter clearly to you." "What use do I have for her explanation?" Qin Donglin lifted his eyelids slightly. His black sleeves billowed wildly in the wind, exposing his pale wrists and hands, which looked as though they rarely saw the light of day. He let out a mocking sneer, his strikingly beautiful features sharpening into a blade carried with unmistakable aggression and possessiveness. "I simply dislike others touching what is mine." "At the very least, while the names Qin Donglin and Song Qiushi are still tied together, it cannot be touched." This had always been his attitude. Song Qiushi was high-maintenance, annoying, melodramatic, and delicate. Moreover, she frequently caused trouble and left messes for others to clean up. Those who disliked her truly couldn't stand her, yet no one ever dared to bully her. It wasn't because her older brother was named Song Yunhe, but because her fiancĂ© was named Qin Donglin. "Song Yunhe." Qin Donglin had lost his patience. Looking at the man blocking his path, his brow twitched slightly, his tone freezing over. "Move." As the word left his lips, Song Yunhe did not budge an inch, but Qin Donglin clearly had no intention of waiting around or engaging in a standoff. With a swift turn of his wrist, two streaks of sword light slashed out consecutively like soaring dragons. His control over the angles was precise down to the millimeter; one streak grazed past Song Yunhe's waist, while the other sliced directly across his left cheek. The first strike shattered the barrier erected outside the Dongheng Courtyard, flattening every house, pavilion, and terrace within it. The second strike locked directly onto Cheng Yi's aura, closing in for the kill. Song Yunhe's gaze narrowed. He attempted to leap forward to intercept it, but his body instantly stiffened. The power, timing, and the sheer sword intent contained within that subsequent strike left him with no way to intercept it. This strike could not be dodged; it could only be endured head-on. Cheng Yi was already severely injured. If this strike landed, he would instantly become a corpse beneath the blade. However, Song Yunhe knew that Cheng Yi possessed the spiritual bracelet given to him by Qiushi. This attack wouldn't cause him any actual, substantive harm. At this realization, Song Yunhe couldn't help but recall the words Qiushi had spoken to him earlier. Comparing them to the chaotic, tumultuous scene before his eyes, they matched perfectly without a single discrepancy. It was truly unbelievable. A volatile, unpredictable temper like Qin Donglin's actually had a day where it was completely seen through by someone else. Amidst the ruined walls and shattered debris of the collapsed house, a massive black dragon revealed its true form, coiled up in midair. With a white head and a white tail, it shone exceptionally bright against the night sky, resembling a patch of pristine early winter snow that made one's eyes ache just looking at it. The pursuing streak of sword light was blocked by a faint, golden halo of light. Unable to advance even a single step, it finally dissolved into a stray glimmer and vanished into the air. Everyone present was stunned into a daze by this sudden turn of events. Qin Donglin's pitch-black eyes shifted slightly as he sensed the familiar aura radiating from the halo. After a long silence, he turned his head, pronouncing each word deliberately: "The Meteor Bracelet." As the son, he could naturally recognize an object personally forged and gifted by Ruan Yan. Song Qiushi had certainly displayed an unusual level of generosity and cleverness just to protect this black dragon. To willingly part with a single-use, life-saving spiritual artifact like the Meteor Bracelet, and even calculate the timing so precisely before his arrival. She had truly made great progress. For the first time, the emotions deep within Qin Donglin's eyes turned thoroughly cold. He looked down at his pale, slender knuckles. With a mere shift of his intent, the long sword in his hand vanished from sight. Song Yunhe assumed this was the manifestation of him cooling down, just as Qiushi had predicted. His tensed shoulders relaxed for a brief fraction of a second, but before he could even speak, his expression abruptly changed in the next instant. The sky and the earth shifted colors simultaneously, resembling a massive cauldron. Originally, it had been filled with a lukewarm broth, but now, someone had thrown a blazing fire beneath the cauldron, causing the entire broth to boil violently! Sensing the impending danger, the massive black dragon slit its golden-yellow pupils, its colossal body shifting uneasily. Standing not far from the gates of the Dongheng Courtyard, Lu Jue stared at the vision of swirling sand, flying rocks, and roiling clouds before him. His gaze was locked tightly onto Qin Donglin's chest. A three-inch-long ancient sword vibrated, its blade flowing with a luster akin to liquid silver. Every single line on its surface was seamlessly formed by nature, carrying a heavy, oppressive aura that seemed to originate from the ancient primordial chaos. It forced the spine of anyone who looked directly at it to bend. Qin Donglin extended his palm, his long brows sharp as knives. The innate, detached laziness about him vanished entirely at this moment. Standing before the majestic, surging sword intent, right at the boundary between light and darkness, he was dangerous enough to make one's heart skip a beat. "The. Poso. Sword." The last trace of a smile vanished from Song Yunhe's face. He muttered the words one by one, as though trying to vent the trembling emotions within his chest through them. Qin Donglin lifted his brow slightly. Just as his palm gripped the hilt of the sword, another hand pressed down onto the back of his own, exerting a restraining force. Song Yunhe spoke with a heavy, solemn voice: "Qin Donglin, the Poso Sword shouldn't be used in a place like this." As one of the seven great sacred artifacts of the Six Realms, the Poso Sword had been passed down since the primordial chaos. Through thousands of generations, it had only chosen three masters, each of whom had left a profound and indelible mark on the history of the Six Realms. Even the current Heavenly Emperor of the Celestial Clan had attempted to tame this sword in his youth, only to return in crushing defeat. This was a sacred artifact on par with, and perhaps ranked a tier above, the Demon Moon Zither. And today, in a setting like this, it was seeing the light of day once more! For dozens of miles around the Dongheng Courtyard, everything was enveloped in a crisscrossing network of moon-like sword intent. Everyone’s movements and speech became sluggish under its weight. Qin Donglin did not brush away Song Yunhe’s hand, but the latter could distinctly feel a mountain-like weight pressing down upon his shoulders. Time and time again, even though he knew his side was in the wrong, the usually good-tempered Song Yunhe felt a spark of anger flare up within him. "Qin Donglin." He tightened his grip slightly, and a snow-white halberd manifested out of thin air. "This is the Qinhai Citadel." The fact that Song Chengshu and Tang Ru had only watched from afar without showing their faces, turning a blind eye as if they knew nothing, was partly to show respect to Mount Liuqi, and partly because it was a matter concerning the younger generation, making it inappropriate for them to intervene. But Qin Donglin didn't care about any of that. His foul temper was renowned far and wide; everyone knew of it. Song Yunhe had heard rumors before, but it wasn't until today that he truly witnessed it firsthand. When Qiushi arrived, this was the exact scene she encountered, a confrontational standoff with blades and halberds drawn against one another. She flew directly into midair, pressing down on Song Yunhe’s hand that held the halberd. "The Poso Sword is too powerful. If you two start fighting, the entire citadel will be flattened to the ground." Song Yunhe also realized he had acted on impulse. He lifted his eyes to sweep a glance over the wreckage behind him, then lowered his brows and said, "He won't listen to a word I say. You speak to him." Qiushi’s gaze initially landed on Qin Donglin’s incredibly dark face. As if carefully weighing her words, she remained quiet for a long moment before uttering her first sentence: "You brought the Poso Sword with you?" Song Yunhe was slightly stunned. He hadn't expected her to open with such an obvious piece of small talk just to break the ice. The knuckles of Qin Donglin's slender fingers tightened slowly. The spiritual light of the Poso Sword flared up brilliantly. His expression was impatient to the absolute extreme, and his gaze didn't even linger on Qiushi for more than a fraction of a second before he turned to strike at the black dragon that had nowhere left to hide. Qiushi made the exact same move Song Yunhe had just made. She gently rested her wrist against the back of Qin Donglin's hand. She had only just emerged from the secret chamber. Dressed in white with her black hair cascading down, her lips were incredibly pale, making her look so frail that a gust of wind might blow her over. Looking down at the back of his hand, which had been pressed down for the second time today, Qin Donglin frowned with forced endurance, his voice deep and icy. "Song Qiushi." He said, "Let go." "I won't," Qiushi replied, stealing a quick glance at him. "Don't be so furious first." Qin Donglin couldn't be bothered to bicker with her. Just as he was about to shake off her hand, he felt her fingers tighten one by one, wrapping around his wrist. The force wasn't heavy, clinging to him like a dodder flower. The moment his hand shifted even slightly, Qiushi let out a very low cough. Her face was small, barely the size of a palm, and her complexion was paper-white, resembling a patient who hadn't seen the sun in ages. With her brows slightly knit and her eyes downcast, tears seemed ready to spill from her eyelashes at any moment. From childhood to adulthood, Qin Donglin had lost count of how many times he had seen this exact expression. Every single time, she was either using it to act shamelessly and smooth things over after committing a blunder, or she was pestering him to clean up her mess and back her up. She loved nothing more than putting on this delicate act, breathing heavily after three steps and shedding a tear after five, while secretly carrying out outrageous, chaotic escapades that turned heaven and earth upside down. And she never grew tired of it, because it worked every single time. "I just came out of the secret chamber," Qiushi said in a lowered voice. "I couldn't comprehend the music score. My head hurts." The Demon Moon Zither score she cultivated was different from other secret arts; its backlash occurred within the sea of consciousness, making headaches a regular occurrence. In any case, whenever she did something wrong, her head would hurt, and her acting was so realistic that even Qin Donglin couldn't tell if it was real or fake pain. Every time Qin Donglin moved his wrist even a fraction, she would cough, entirely devoid of any guilt. His movements stiffened, halting in place. After this repeated a few times, his eyelids twitched twice in an involuntary, forced display of restraint.
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