The Duchess Should Not Be Too Arrogant

"Let me go, let me go!"

From a remote courtyard, a faint womans voice could be heard, her tone filled with such humiliation that it was clear she was enduring unspeakable torment.

"Little slut, before we send you on your way, let brother show you some affection."

This statement was followed by a chorus of mens voices, filled with foul language and the sounds of a woman struggling for freedom. As one looked over, a woman in a pink dress was being held down by several men, their intentions unmistakable.

Tears of humiliation streamed down the womans eyes, but as she turned her head, her pupils dilated in despair. Not far away stood a beggar with a stick.

The young beggar watched the scene coldly, indifferent to the womans plight. The beggars lack of emotion filled the woman with a sense of hopelessness.

As if satisfied with the spectacle, the beggar spoke in a clear, emotionless voice that was oddly pleasant, as if merely reminding them.

"Let her go."

There was a hint of reluctance in the tone.

The group of men turned at the sound, laughing uproariously upon seeing the beggar. The man who had spoken earlier was nearly crying from laughter, pointing at the beggar.

"Where did this little beggar come from, meddling in your grandpas business? Are you tired of living?"

This man, broad-shouldered and intimidating, exuded a menacing aura. He scoffed at the beggars futile attempt to intervene.

The beggar sighed in exasperation, looking at the woman on the ground. "Do you want to live? As a lady of the State Manor, to suffer such treatment, do you wish to survive?"

The woman, stunned, nodded vigorously, her desire to live evident. The beggar flipped the stick in hand and stood still.

This action was nothing but provocation, challenging the men in the yard. The man who had spoken earlier darkened with rage.

"Stinking brat, youre asking for death."

He charged towards the beggars position, his speed impressive. Everyone present, aware of his prowess, wore expressions of anticipation, certain the beggar would meet a gruesome end.

The leader, confident in his speed and disregarding the beggar, unleashed a fierce killing intent. These men, all of the blue rank, had targeted the young lady for a price.

Everything unfolded in the blink of an eye: a strike, a横扫, a sheathe—the sequence completed in an instant. The leader had already retracted his blade, turning to face his men, eager to展示 the beggar torn apart by his own hand.

"Boss is mighty, Boss is mighty, Boss is mighty."

Cheers erupted from the crowd. One man uttered an astonished "hmm," breaking the uniformity of the cheering. An eerie silence fell as all eyes fixed on the leader, who felt something amiss and turned to the spot where the battle had taken place.

Where was the beggar? In the next second, a cold object pressed against his neck, a silent threat emanating from it.

It was a stick!

At the other end of the stick stood the unharmed beggar.

How was this possible?

Everyone felt they had seen wrong; after all, the leader was a spirit master. Even without using spiritual energy, his speed should have决定了 everything. Yet, the beggar stood unscathed, implying a speed surpassing the leaders.

In the great land of tomorrow, there are several stages: warriors, spirit masters, blue masters, kings, and above kings, there are the great realms of Ming Tong, Di Tong, and Shen Tong. On this continent, experts of Ming Tong are rare, and those of Di Tong and Shen Tong are virtually nonexistent.

Thus, a spirit master like the leader was highly valued and held a prestigious position within the Blue Order.

Yet, he had been outmaneuvered by a beggar.

Seeing the stick threatening their leader, everyone laughed again. The beggar was delusional to think he could intimidate the leader with such a simple tool.

However, the man under the beggars stick trembled in fear, for beneath the guise of a stick was a sword that could cut through iron and steel. And the owner of this sword was she!

"I told you to let her go. Why didnt you listen?"

The beggar spoke again, and this time it was clear—a crisp female voice.

The deathly aura emanating from the cold sword filled the thug with dread. He feared nothing, not even the powerful or influential, but he feared this sword and its master.

"Please, spare us. We dare not again!"

The leaders plea surprised his men, and the sudden shift in power left them bewildered. How had the situation changed so drastically?

"Boss, its just a stick. Break it open, and crush the beggar."

Someone from the crowd spoke up, but the next moment, the leaders eyes filled with spiritual pressure swept over them. The pressure from a spirit master was not to be taken lightly by those with lower spiritual energy.

"You fools, why do you provoke the matters of the Blue Order with your greed?"

The leaders sweat slid down his face as he silently cursed: Idiots, how could you raise such a bunch of dolts, what have you been doing all this time, not recognizing this sword.

"You heard her, I dont wish to keep you alive any longer."

With a slight movement, the man under the sword met his end, undoubtedly still pondering in death why he had provoked such a terrifying figure.

The others, witnessing their leaders demise, saw red. They charged at the beggar, who danced with her wooden stick, leaving a trail of blood in her wake, and astonishingly, she hadnt used any spiritual energy!

How terrifying, such formidable strength, and yet her level was inscrutable!

In the fluttering of the beggars clothes, someone finally recognized her face!

Her eyes were filled with coldness, her features hid a murderous intent, and most importantly, her posture with the sword was imposing!

"Its the Flame Cloud Sword! She holds the Flame Cloud Sword! Run!"

They finally recognized the sword in the beggars hand, but it was too late to escape, for soon, a sword with a chilling aura found its way to their necks. They turned to see the owner of the sword, her eyes filled with a mischievous air, and they breathed their last unwillingly!

Flame Cloud Sword!

The shouts filled the air as everyone sought to flee but found no escape; no one could match the speed of her sword. The owner of the Flame Cloud Sword was a devil!

With a "bang," the last man fell to the ground, and in the courtyard, only the beggar and the woman, her mouth agape in shock, remained!

The woman spoke in terror: "Flame Cloud Sword, you are... you are the Bamboo King!"

Then she screamed in horror and fled the yard, which was more terrifying than being violated...