Empress Fu Yao [Volume 1] (COMPLETED)✔

Drawn Swords Opposing

The current societal trend was for every states' influential powers to engage in never-ceasing conflicts, using the amount of victories to establish their statuses. Now that Profound Origin sect, one of the top three sword sects in Tai Yuan, couldn't gain victory in a one-versus-many consecutive battle in such an important sword sect conference, the spread of the news would certainly send their status tumbling down a thousand zhang.

The martial arena now settled into a lull, with attention fully gathered upon the wounded disciple in front of Meng Fuyao. Fuyao couldn't easily escape - when she tested moving her feet a little, the black-clothed young man on stage immediately shifted his cold eyes onto her. His expression was still rigid and unmoving, as if he was wearing a face mask. However his stare was chilly and penetrating, sharp like steel nails, drilling into the depths of Fuyao's eyes.

That gaze was murky and bottomless, like thousand ren [1] deep whirlpools, distant without end. In the mysterious inner-most depths of his eyes there was an eerie glimmer of star fire, never-endingly swaying.

Under Meng Fuyao's hesitant vision, that tiny spark of fire was constantly drifting, whirling, and ascending; then suddenly, it exploded in her field of view.

A colossal ringing noise struck her mind, and the burst of incandescent flame expanded to cover the sky and fill her sight with a scintillating fire flower.

Fuyao became disoriented at once, stumbling back a step and colliding with the bronze pillar behind her. The coldness on her back awakened her, and she raised her head to look in the man's direction, aghast.

That was the unique befuddlement skill "Hidden Eye!"

What was this person's background?

The depths of his eyes were filled with hatred - he definitely wasn't here just to compare martial skills!

Meng Fuyao turned around, having thoughts of retreat, but behind her suddenly came the piercing voice of White Mountain's sect master.

"Doesn't your Profound Origin sect still have that Yan Jingchen!"

Lin Xuanyuan started, then answered "Jingchen left for the capital last night."

"Looks like he heard of our coming, and hurriedly fled in fear of defeat?" Several sect leaders laughed in unison.

"There is still this one." Among the sect leaders, the one from Shearing Cloud sect laughed as he pointed at the Meng Fuyao who was about to slink away. "What about this one? I recall that she has not yet come out to battle, what, are you trying to learn from Yan Jingchen and grease your feet while running away?"

Lin Xuanyuan's expression slightly changed, but did not speak up. One of the disciples by his side immediately used his hand to gave Fuyao a shove.

"What are you lingering there for? Don't appear in front of others if you have no ability, don't stick Master in a difficult situation!"

"Why don't you get out and go back to your room!"

Meng Fuyao's long brows twitched, and indignance welled up in her eyes. After a moment, she let out a breath, tightly clenched her fists, and silently walked away.

She wouldn't lower herself to wrangle with these supercilious disciples.

After being separated from her world for so many years, and suffering so much bitterness, the dry, meaningless quarrelsome nature belonging to that red-haired witch so long ago had not yet been completely grinded flat, but had learned to compromise.

However, she only managed a couple strides before she heard a crisp, delicate voice come from behind, like jade pearls falling onto a silver platter.