My Enemy Became My Cultivation Companion

Behind him was the Nameless Old Matron, her overwhelming aura pressing down, making Chen Yi feel as if a Mount Tai was weighing upon his back.

Chen Yi placed both hands firmly on his sword and saber, unmoving. Though a bitter smile flickered in his heart, his face remained calm.

The Nameless Old Matron—nameless, without a surname—was originally just a servant of the An family, a lowly handmaid without even a proper name. But at forty, she had a fortuitous encounter, and her martial arts skills advanced by leaps and bounds. Even then, she didn't adopt a name or surname, continuing to see herself as a servant. In those days, when the late emperor passed, and Empress An seized power, the head eunuch Qi Yangjian, the first-ranked scribe who served the late emperor, became the greatest palace adversary to the regent Empress An. Later, the palace established a Chief of Staff for the Inner Court and sidelined the Directorate of Ceremonies, all due to fears of the influence Qi Yangjian had even after his death. It must be noted that he was a Second Grade Grandmaster who had long bathed in the dragon aura of the late emperor, and his martial prowess was not to be underestimated. As long as he lived, Empress An could never take full control of the court. Thus, at the battle at the Hidden Truth Monastery on the outskirts of the Capital City, the seventy-three-year-old Nameless Old Matron ascended to the Second Grade Grandmaster realm and, with one strike, killed the scribe eunuch, clearing the final obstacle for the Empress Dowager to assume regency.

Having lived through this moment in another life, Chen Yi understood all too well just how formidable the Nameless Old Matron was. The world knew that the top ten on the martial rankings of the Jianghu were all First Grade practitioners, but few were aware that beyond the eleventh place were all Second Grade masters. For this reason, it was said among martial artists that stepping into the Second Grade was like having one foot in the top ten. Achieving Second Grade at the advanced age of seventy-three, the Nameless Old Matron was a paragon of late blooming talent. Furthermore, her martial prowess far surpassed that of ordinary Second Grade practitioners—just as the injured Zhou Yitang, despite being a Third Grade master, could not be compared to ordinary Third Grade practitioners.

A voice, deliberate and cold, sounded in Chen Yi's ear, word by word: "Chen family boy, what do you have to say for yourself?"

Chen Yi stood his ground, forcing himself not to collapse, and replied with a smile: "Isn't it simple? She tried to kill me, so I killed her."

The Nameless Old Matron suddenly reached out and gripped Chen Yi's throat from behind.

A burst of smoke and dust erupted, with the elderly figure at the center, as waves of violent energy rippled outward like rings on a disturbed lake.

Clenching his teeth, Chen Yi propped himself up with his sword and saber, striving to keep his voice even as he said:

"If you're going to kill me, better make it quick."

The ruthlessness in the Nameless Old Matron's eyes intensified. A slight exertion of her aged hand would be enough to snap Chen Yi's neck like a twig, letting his head drop to the ground.

Chen Yi continued, undeterred:

"You have no children of your own, so you adopted a whole slew of godsons and goddaughters. Du Juan is one of your favorites. Always filial, she'd rush to take on any task for you. Smart, too—always knew how to ease your worries. Now that she's dead, I know you're feeling miserable inside."

As Chen Yi spoke, the Nameless Old Matron's aura surged higher and higher. She glared fiercely at the young man before her. The gap in their martial prowess was vast—two whole grades. Chen Yi was but a mere Fourth Rank practitioner. If she desired, he would have perished by now.

She appeared ready to abandon her last shred of reason, her fingers tightening slowly.

"But no matter how close you are to these godsons and goddaughters, can they ever compare to those you've raised since childhood?"

The five fingers of the Nameless Old Matron froze abruptly.

Chen Yi continued, his words flowing steadily:

"The Danyang branch of the An family. Over twenty years ago, when the Western Jin raised an army and invaded the East, the main branch of the An family in Luoyong City was nearly exterminated. Only a mere Fourth Rank martial artist, you fled the city with her and took refuge in the Capital City. Now, after waiting so long for the perfect enemy, after finally being so close to avenging this blood feud, you're saying you will kill her enemy yourself?"

Each of Chen Yi's words struck the Nameless Old Matron's ears like the tolling of a great bell. Her fingers, still clasped around his throat, began to tremble. A long while later, she finally released her grip.

Chen Yi was about to let out a sigh of relief.

A palm struck from behind.

Splurt!

Blood immediately surged up Chen Yi's throat, and he flew out like a kite with a broken string. The attack sent his garments on his back into tatters, revealing a ghastly and menacing black handprint scorched into his flesh.

An unbearable pain engulfed him. Chen Yi felt as though his body were burning from the inside out. That palm strike, infused with Inner Strength, seemed to twist and shatter every meridian within him.

Turning to face the Nameless Old Matron, blood continuously gushed from Chen Yi's mouth as he glared at her.

Her expression was ice-cold as she uttered a single question: "Where is the Prince of Annan?"

Wiping the blood from his mouth, Chen Yi cursed, "Damn it. Can't kill me, so you're off to harm someone else instead?"

The Nameless Old Matron sent out a sweeping palm strike.

Though separated by dozens of meters, the gust of wind from her attack flew across like a bull charging through a mountain, slamming into Chen Yi. The resilient physique of the Fourth Rank martial artist caved inward under the formless force.

Chen Yi distinctly heard the cracking sound of his ribs breaking.

More blood gushed from his throat.

The impact stirred up clouds of dust.

The Nameless Old Matron thundered again, her voice shaking the heavens: "Where is the Prince of Annan?!"

Chen Yi paid her no mind and instead gripped his sword and saber tightly.

Killing Saber, Killing Sword.

Now that you rely on power to suppress me, using martial prowess to dominate me, yet still lack the resolve to end my life—

Then why should I not raise my blade and fight? Do I deserve only to endure your ruthless beating?!

Chen Yi's figure twisted into motion, blood spraying from his mouth. His figure carved an arc across the field, both saber and sword aimed directly at the Nameless Old Matron.

A horizontal palm strike surged forward, its sharp wind rushing at him. Chen Yi's movement, as if caught in the gust, was forced to change shape, the intended killing arc becoming an inward-folding circle.

Chen Yi steadied himself, shifting from a slash to a thrust, stomping firmly onto the ground as the blade-tip pierced through the air.