Wait, How Did My Digital Girlfriend Become a Sword Immortal? Chapter 880: A Glance That Lasts a Lifetime
Tang Er was fully cognizant of his Battle Technique's potent capabilities.
Under typical circumstances, Li Qingran ought to have been rendered completely immobile by now, her attire pierced by the encroaching vines, with paralyzing thorns already burrowed into her flesh. Considering her esteemed position as the captain of the Battle Soul Hall's First Team, and the fact that the tournament's rewards were personally sponsored by the Hall Master, he harbored no desire to make the confrontation overly brutal.
His intention was simple: as long as Li Qingran offered a voluntary surrender, he would cease his assault immediately.
However, the anticipated surrender never materialized.
The opposing contestant remained utterly silent.
Tang Er's countenance darkened considerably.
"Stubbornly persisting, are we? My Heavenly Net technique possesses a second stage, known as Vine Burst. Once I unleash this advanced phase of the Battle Technique, even I cannot guarantee complete control over the ensuing effects.
This is merely a match, not a fight to the death. Miss Li Qingran, there is absolutely no necessity to risk your life for the sake of a single competition."
Still, no sign of movement emanated from within the verdant confines of the vine prison.
Tang Er's brow furrowed deeper.
He could vividly imagine Li Qingran within, her teeth clenched tightly, stubbornly refusing to yield or admit defeat.
Little did he comprehend the reality unfolding.
Inside the prison formed by the writhing vines.
All external attention and audible disturbances were completely obscured by the unique properties of the Mother's Love Grass. Tang Er's ultimate offensive maneuver had, ironically, transformed into a secluded sanctuary, affording a private interlude for the master and his disciple.
Only a few stray shafts of light managed to penetrate the dense foliage, casting dappled patterns upon the two figures ensconced within.
The gnawing fear and palpable panic gradually receded, dissolving in the serene exchange of their gazes.
Chen Huaian held Li Qingran in a spectral embrace. Although his ethereal arms passed through the space where her waist should be, and though his phantom chest could not register the warmth of her physical body, the profound peace blossoming from their intertwined souls felt more tangible than any corporeal embrace could ever be.
"Master..."
Li Qingran sank to her knees, her delicate hand reaching out to gently caress Chen Huaian's cheek. Her fingertips traced the contours of his pale brow and eyes, lingering over his cascade of snow-white hair. Despite touching only emptiness, her fingertips quivered intensely, as if seared by an invisible flame.
"You have endured so much suffering."
Large, glistening teardrops cascaded down her small face, already tear-streaked, splashing onto Chen Huaian's pristine white robe. They passed through it unimpeded, only to shatter upon the dusty ground below. She could perceive it clearly, even if her master maintained his impossibly handsome visage, still exuding that signature calm and collected demeanor. However, the persistent weariness etched between his brows, the lingering echoes of desperation and lifelessness deep within his eyes – as if he had just emerged from the very depths of hell – could not be concealed from her. What harrowing near-death ordeals had that man, who always stood before her with a smile, proclaiming, "If the heavens fall, your master will hold them up," undergone in realms hidden from her sight?
The heart-wrenching ache she had felt moments earlier was unequivocally not a figment of her imagination.
"It is alright... you have returned."
Li Qingran stifled a sob, her tears transforming into a faint smile. Even if he existed in this strange "Battle Soul" form, even if he was devoid of a physical body. As long as he was present, the sky would still appear blue.
Gazing upon his young disciple's tear-stained face, a profound tenderness struck the deepest part of Chen Huaian's heart. He opened his mouth, yet no sound emerged. He could only raise his hand, letting it hover above her head, performing the deeply familiar gesture of patting her head, one he had so often employed with Li Qingran. His gaze conveyed a gentle reassurance: Your master is unharmed.
Through countless shared days and nights, nestled close together, her master had frequently offered her this same comforting head-pat. Though she could not feel the physical contact, Li Qingran sensed that warmth nonetheless.
*Rip—*
A subtle tearing sound abruptly shattered the tranquil atmosphere enveloping them. The vine prison was inexorably tightening its grip. A thorn, glinting with a luminous, deep-blue poisonous aura, pierced through the fabric at Li Qingran's shoulder, sinking into her fair skin. A trickle of crimson blood welled forth, starkly contrasting against her alabaster complexion.
Chen Huaian's hand froze mid-air. Those eyes, moments before brimming with tenderness, instantly turned frigid the instant they registered the sight of that crimson bloom. A chilling coldness, profound and bone-penetrating, emanated from him. Despite his current state as a mere Battle Soul, despite the fact that the power he could wield within the Canglan World was less than one ten-thousandth of his former peak strength, there was a limit.
A dragon possesses its reverse scales; to touch them invites certain death.
Li Qingran keenly detected the palpable shift in her master's aura. She faltered for a moment, then a flicker of realization crossed her eyes. The "Ice Goddess" facade she presented to the world crumbled instantaneously, supplanted by the coquettish and mischievous expression she reserved solely for their private moments within the secluded wooden hut atop Sunset Peak.
"Master~"
She leaned forward slightly, virtually pressing against Chen Huaian's chest, tilting her small face upwards. Her large eyes blinked innocently, her tone laced with a playful grievance:
"That guy outside with the fire poker is bullying me."
"He stabbed me with a thorn, and even said he'd be ruthless and destroy the flower."
"Your disciple can't beat him, Master... Please teach him a lesson for me!"
Chen Huaian looked down at her, his head shaking with helplessness in his eyes, a look of indulgence present.
How could Li Qingran possibly not be able to win?
She was already a grown woman, yet she still acted so spoiled.
But...
He turned his head, his gaze piercing through the gaps in the vines to peer outside.
The indulgence in his eyes vanished in an instant, replaced by sheer indifference.
A lesson did need to be taught.
He actually dared to injure his disciple?
Simply unforgivable.
He slowly lifted his right hand, pressing his index and middle fingers together.
The surrounding air grew still. A wisp of exceedingly faint yet pure Sword Intent coalesced at his fingertips.
*Break.*
He thought to himself.
The finger sword slashed outward.
...
Outside the arena.
Tang Er observed the black cocoon that had contracted to its absolute limit, showing no signs of movement. His remaining patience finally evaporated.
"You refuse a toast only to be forced to drink a forfeit."
He let out a cold snort, his five fingers suddenly clenching into a tight fist, as if crushing a heart.
"Since you insist on this, then I have no choice but to... go all out!"
"Vine Burst!!"
The instant his words left his lips.
*BOOM—!!!*
A deafening sound exploded forth.
However, it wasn't the muffled impact of vines, but rather... the sharp shriek of a blade slicing through metal.
The cold indifference on Tang Er's face had barely registered before a ferocious white shockwave erupted from the core of the black cocoon, much like a volcanic outburst.
"What?!"
He barely managed to let out a cry of shock.
That so-called indestructible "Heavenly Net," from which even a Soul King would find it arduous to escape, in that fleeting moment, was reduced to nothing, akin to tofu being ground in a meat grinder.
*Snap!*
Innumerable vines, as hard as iron, fractured inch by inch, disintegrating into a vast expanse of black dust filling the air.
Fierce Sword Qi, mingled with the fragments of vines, coalesced into a tempest of black and white, instantly engulfing the entire arena.
"Ah!!"
Tang Er experienced an irresistible, crushing force impacting him.
His entire body was propelled backward as if he were a mere ragdoll, violently colliding with the protective barrier situated dozens of meters away.
The members of his Slime team positioned behind him were sent reeling by the Sword Aura, tumbling about like carelessly thrown gourds.
The spectators in the stands leaped to their feet in sheer astonishment.
The referee narrowed his eyes, fixated on the center of the arena, his hands trembling discreetly beneath his sleeves.
This sharp, penetrating aura... could it truly emanate from a mere Soul Ancestor?
After a few breaths' time.
The settling dust revealed the scene.
A profound silence descended upon the arena.
Upon the pockmarked floor of the arena, a void with a diameter spanning one hundred meters had materialized.
The ground was adorned with dense, intersecting sword marks, each one plunging to an unfathomable depth, growing more numerous and concentrated towards the central point.
And precisely at the epicenter of these sword marks.
A figure clad in white robes stood with unwavering pride, a sword held loosely in one hand.
His presence was ethereal, yet he exuded an aloof arrogance that seemed to survey the entirety of the world from above.
And cradled within his arms.
Li Qingran was enveloped by his expansive white robe, concealing her tattered, blood-stained attire and masking all signs of her dishevelment.
This young woman, revered as an Ice Goddess in the hearts of countless Soul Masters, was now curled within the man's embrace like a submissive kitten, only her exquisitely beautiful face visible.
Her gaze was fixed, oblivious to anyone or anything in her surroundings.
She was solely captivated by the profile of the man.
As if, within the entirety of the heavens and the earth.
Only this singular individual existed.
...