The funny counterattack of traveling through time and space and becoming a vicious female supporting

Chapter 142 Thunder and Lightning at Night

The night was as dark as ink, and a cold wind like a knife swept mercilessly through the courtyard of Qingyun Pavilion. Murderous intent spread quietly like a plague. Gu Yichen and the others stood in the courtyard, their vigilant eyes like eagles, scanning the surroundings sharply. The air was filled with the oppressive atmosphere of impending battle, like a volcano about to erupt.

Ji Junche stood like a statue in the center of them, his face as cold as ice, his hand tightly gripping the long-held family heirloom sword. The ancient runes on the sword flickered faintly, like stars in the night sky, and seemed to echo the thunder and lightning in the darkness, flowing with mysterious and powerful power.

He took a deep breath, his internal energy surging like a surging wave, like lightning zipping through his meridians. His "Thunderbolt Heart Technique" was already swirling like a raging wind, ready to meet the enemy's ferocious attack. He knew this battle was not only a matter of life and death for Qingyun Pavilion, but also a golden opportunity for him to prove his true strength.

"Thunder!" Yun Junche roared in a low voice, swung his sword fiercely, and the sword energy transformed into a dazzling flash of lightning, tearing through the veil of darkness. Lightning flashed instantly, and a low rumble filled the air, like the roar of the god of thunder. Before the enemy could react, they were forced into a desperate situation by the lightning-fast sword energy. The move was as fast as the wind and as fierce as thunder, just like the indestructible sword in his hand. He could clearly feel the runes on the blade tremble slightly as his internal energy was stimulated. The mysterious power seemed to be integrated with his blood, adding endless power to his swordsmanship. This sword was more than just a cold weapon. It carried the glory and inheritance of his family for generations and was a symbol of great power - a power that only he could control and make it shine with the brightest light.

The lightning dissipated, and Ji Junche sheathed his sword like a steady mountain, his gaze as calm as a tranquil lake. The enemy's movements seemed frozen in frost, becoming incredibly slow, clearly still reeling from the shock of the blow. At this moment, his mind was as clear as a mirror, fully aware that this was his once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

"Thunder Shadow Disappears." He unleashed his sword once more, his form darting through the darkness like a ghost. Layer upon layer of sword shadows, seemingly real yet illusory, blinding the opponent, forcing them into a state of fog, unable to discern the path of his attacks. The enemy before him panicked, their eyes mesmerized by the sword shadows, as if lost in a vast fog, unsure of where to go. Ji Junche's lips curled up slightly, and the sword in his hand slashed through like a swift, graceful swallow, with such precision and swiftness that the enemy had no time to react. This was his forte—fast as the wind, accurate as an arrow. His swordsmanship flowed like clouds and water, without a trace of hesitation, each strike striking the enemy's vital points.

He recalled that when he was young, he fought with many masters in the arena of Jing'an Palace. At that time, his father's cold eyes were always staring at him from behind. Every victory was accompanied by his father's indifferent expression like an iceberg, and every failure was exchanged for more inhumane punishment. His father once said to him: "The true meaning of power does not lie in the sword, but in whether you can control it." Ji Junche knew that the power of the family sword was closely related to his own cultivation. Only by practicing his swordsmanship to perfection can he stimulate the mysterious power hidden in the sword. Suddenly, his figure flashed, like a meteor across the sky, and instantly disappeared from the enemy's sight. In the darkness, there was only the whistling sound of the wind.

"Thunder without a trace!" He roared in a low voice, and his figure suddenly appeared behind the enemy like a phantom. The sword in his hand rushed out like lightning, and the sword tip was like a poisonous snake spitting out its tongue, going straight to the enemy's vital point, and the enemy had no power to fight back.

This move was like a mountain crushing an egg, requiring not only inner strength as mighty as the abyss, but also the sword's perfect harmony with his will. He knew that the runes within the sword, like a dormant dragon, held within them the mystical power inherited from his ancestors, a power that would only be fully awakened when his swordsmanship reached its peak. As his foe collapsed, Ji Junche's expression remained stern, the blade stained with traces of blood, as if relieving the bloody battle he had just endured. Thunderous inner strength roared through his meridians, undiminished.