"Zhao Jiansheng..." I snarled.

"You again~ No Black Riders to shield you today. No one can save you now, Mimic." Zhao Jiansheng smiled, eyes narrowed.

"Hmph~" I answered with a cold laugh.

"Sword God, is it?" Yeping cut in sharply.

"Hm?" Zhao Jiansheng studied her, then his slitted eyes flew open. "Nightingale Clan?"

He was actually afraid?

"Scared?" Yeping smirked.

"Scared? I’m thrilled! A Nightingale Clan member crossed my path." Zhao Jiansheng’s grin widened.

Just as I thought—this man was...

"..." Yeping fell silent, her expression darkening. She’d likely never encountered this reaction before.

"My greatest goal in the Southern District has always been your Nightingale Clan," he chuckled.

"Bold!" Yeping gave him a thumbs-up, voice icy. "But know your limits."

"Heh~" He scoffed.

Suddenly, sword-sharp killing intent sliced toward us. For a split second, it felt like ten thousand blades pierced my heart! He stood motionless, smiling, yet my whole body screamed with phantom wounds. That smile was lethal—no room for distraction.

Beside me, an aura erupted that seemed to warp space itself. The air trembled. Blue, vein-like patterns flared across Yeping’s skin as she glared, radiating the dominance of a true sovereign.

Invisible sword intent clashed with tyrannical killing intent!

"Run first," Yeping ordered me.

"Why? I can fight beside you!" I shouted.

"...You’re too weak. Get back to the Shadowless Abode. Bring help."

"..." Words failed me.

"Go ahead. My target’s only the Nightingale Clan. I’ll finish her before you return," Zhao Jiansheng laughed.

I bolted toward the Shadowless Abode without another word.

"The nuisance is gone. That boy owes you his life," Zhao Jiansheng sneered at Yeping.

"...You’re dead." Yeping roared, fist clenched. She stomped down—

*Crack!*

The floor shattered beneath her foot. She vanished like a phantom, reappearing beside Zhao Jiansheng to smash a fist toward his skull!

*Boom!*

The chair he’d sat in split cleanly in two.

But he’d already dodged.

"Not bad for a Nightingale of Strength. Your power is... extraordinary..." Zhao Jiansheng circled her, smiling. "But missing your target makes it meaningless."

"..." Yeping’s face tightened.

Her answer came as a world-shattering punch!

This time, the Sword God didn’t evade. A black flexible sword slithered from his sleeve. He gripped it and thrust—a jet of black light spearing forward!

Black sword light met blue-veined fist!

Yet at the last instant, the black blade coiled like a serpent, avoiding her fist’s force. It spiraled around her arm—

They swapped positions in a blur.

Sword God Zhao Jiansheng still smiled. Yeping’s face remained stormy. The only mark from their clash: a shallow cut on her hand.

She frowned, examining the wound. Blue light pulsed along her veins, sealing the cut instantly. But her expression turned grim.

She’d lost that exchange.

"A newly matured Primordial... Your combat experience is lacking." His smile never wavered. "My turn now."

He lunged—a drawn sword piercing straight for Yeping’s chest!

Yeping reacted fast, snapping a kick toward the sword’s core.

"Trying to brute-force me?" she muttered.

"Heh~ Of course not." Zhao Jiansheng’s voice cut through the chaos.

"...Bad sign," Yeping realized.

Just as her kick landed—the black sword light froze mid-strike.

"*Despair Three Strikes...*" Zhao Jiansheng’s voice echoed from the blade.

One shadow became three. They split around her kick.

Yeping couldn’t react. The sword light flashed past her.

The first strike sliced her skirt, cutting her thigh.

The second grazed her cheek.

The third slashed her arm.

Yet the supposedly unstoppable blade only drew shallow blood.

Her eyes widened in shock. This Sword God was far stronger than she’d imagined.

"I’ve researched your Nightingale Clan..." His voice came from behind her. "An ancient bloodline. Those blue veins mark you. Ten years ago, you violently invaded Dongchuan Guang City. You clashed with the original four Primordial families—and won. Became the fifth. But your victory cost you dearly. Many died."

Yeping whirled to face him, fury blazing in her eyes.

"Nightingales possess strength and speed unmatched by any other Mimic—even other Primordial families. No mutant weapons. Your bodies *are* your weapons... But such overwhelming power is hard to control." He stepped closer. "Your fatal flaw? Your attacks are too rigid. Too much force, too much speed—you can’t change direction mid-strike."

"..." Yeping stayed silent.

"You can’t hit me... And I’ll carve you apart slowly."

"...When was that intel gathered?" Yeping suddenly asked.

"Hm? Ten years ago—" Zhao Jiansheng paused, caught off guard.

"Heh~ *Sword God*," Yeping wiped blood from her cheek. Blue light glowed faintly over her wounds, sealing them. "Your data’s outdated. And this sword? It can’t truly hurt me."

"Vein-regeneration. Nightingale healing is mediocre. You’ve used it too many times already."

"I’m not talking about healing. Times change. *People* evolve." She grinned, triumphant.

Bat-like wings sprouted from her back—tiny things, barely fifty centimeters long.

"...A mutation point? Useless," Zhao Jiansheng muttered.

To him, those miniature wings seemed pointless. Too small to fly. No sharp edges to attack with.

Just... cute?

"Watch closely, mad dog!" She dropped into a fighting stance, smiling.

Same as before—she stomped, closed the distance in a flash, and threw a punch!

"Pointless~" Zhao Jiansheng slid back effortlessly. His blade twisted, reversing to slash at her. He knew her recovery time was slow.

But this time—he was wrong.

Yeping’s bat wings snapped open. She aborted her punch, pivoting into a spinning kick aimed at Zhao Jiansheng!

"What?!" He barely raised his sword to block.

Her kick slammed into the black blade, bending it ninety degrees. It didn’t strike him—but the impact sent him flying, blood bursting from his palms!

The assault wasn’t over. Yeping chased him mid-air, fist cocked back—

Zhao Jiansheng tucked his knees, executing his signature aerial pause. He thrust his sword downward, accelerating his fall.

"Hah!" Yeping’s laugh was sharp. Her punch didn’t stop. The blade bit deep into her shoulder—deeper than before. Blood flowed freely.

But the Sword God fared worse. No creature survives a full-force Nightingale punch.

After wounding her, he drove his sword into the ground, yanking himself down—not to pause, but to crash-land.

Yeping’s fist only grazed his chest as he slammed into the earth. He rolled sideways, sprang up, and braced for her next move.

Then he dropped to one knee, fingers probing his ribs. Two snapped under the slightest touch. But a greater question burned in his mind.

"Heh~ I know what you’re thinking," Yeping loomed over him, grinning. "Why am I so agile now?"

"..." He stayed silent, calculating.

"No need. These wings?" She flicked one tiny bat-wing. "They can’t fly. Can’t attack. They just balance my strikes. Cancel my recoil. Fine-tune my speed." Her queenly smile widened as the wings fluttered softly. Blue light flickered over her arm—but the wound only half-healed.

"You’ve pissed me off, mad dog! Today—you don’t walk away!" Her eyes turned feral. Her voice cracked like a whip.