A True Expert

Fang Wen took merely a glance at the corpse before putting it down and continuing forward. From the clothing, the identity of the deceased was plain to see—one of the trio of men and single woman from Feixue City. The head had been severed by a sword. As for who struck the blow, Fang Wen had no need to guess, for the person was right ahead. Passing through a single gateway, Fang Wen was met with the sight of a battle. More precisely, it was a siege. The man under siege held a sword in hand, its edge faintly glistening crimson. His swordplay was fierce and ruthless. Even though he faced four opponents, they could do nothing against him. Those four were the remaining three of that Feixue City quartet, along with the ascetic carrying a monk's spade and wearing a large string of prayer beads around his neck. At this moment, the burly monk was circulating his true qi, the blood and qi surging ceaselessly within him. In his hands, that monk's spade—weighing a full sixty-two jin—was wielded as lightly as a straw stalk. He scooped, slashed, whirled, and shoved, every move stirring up a ferocious gale. Among the other three, their leader employed a palm technique. The strikes drifted like falling petals and swirling snow, rising without form and falling without a sound. Yet a single feather-light palm pressed down, and a massive chunk of a stone pillar before the gate was cleanly erased. Another person utilized a set of finger techniques, seemingly driven by a sinister, chilly internal force. Cold qi rimmed his fingertips, leaving faint specks of frost wherever they passed. The last was the woman, who fought with twin sabers. Her movements were exceptionally swift, resembling a butterfly darting through blossoms. As she brandished her pair of sabers, sharp glints endlessly rippled from the blades, carving countless gashes into the ground. All four were experts. Yet no matter how formidable their techniques were, they simply could not breach the swordsman's defense by even half a fraction. The swordsman casually deflected an overhead strike from the monk's spade and gave a light shake of his head. "An obscure, wild monk with nothing but brute force. You are making a fool of yourself." With a shift of his sword, a finger struck the blade, spreading a layer of frost across the steel. The swordsman gave a chuckle. "If Wu Lingxiao were the one wielding this Cold Ice Finger, I might not even be able to hold my sword right now." With a tremor of his blade, the ice crystals shattered with a sharp rustle. Turning the edge, he went straight for the man's fingers. Right at that moment, a ferocious gleam descended from above, prompting him to alter his sword stance. Twin sabers struck downward; the sword pointed toward the heavens. With a ringing chime, the woman spewed a mouthful of blood and flew backward through the air. The impact tore open the webbing of her thumbs, blood streaming down her fingertips, yet she refused to let go of her twin sabers. Seeing this, the swordsman spoke in a soft voice: "Frost Flying Snow is indeed a magnificent sight of the mortal realm, but your saber intent is too hasty. You push everything to extremes, yet you are neither fast enough nor thorough enough. "Fortunately, your temperament is decent. Give you another ten years, and your achievements might reach a higher level. "Pity, though—" Before he could finish, a palm silently slammed into his back. The leader's eyes turned frosty cold. "Shut your mouth!" The swordsman sneered. "What? You're displeased that I offered them some critique, Commander Liang? "Five years ago, I told you that your Clear Frost Falling Snow Palm was beyond redemption. "If Wu Lingxiao had imparted the Great Cold Classic to you, your achievements would go far beyond this. But now—your palm has landed, yet where is its force?" Commander Liang's expression shifted drastically. It was not that he had failed to channel force; rather, when his power reached its peak, it dissipated entirely into nothingness. Instead, a razor-sharp sword qi surged back through his palm. Bypassing the meridians entirely, it pierced through his entire arm in an instant, cutting open a bloody gash behind his shoulder. Not only was he sent flying backward, but the residual force of the sword qi continued unchecked, gouging a slit nearly an inch wide into the wall. "Commander!" Seeing his companions fall—one beheaded, another thrown back with injuries unknown, and the commander failing to make a dent while losing the use of an arm—the finger-technique master was consumed by towering fury. Channeling both fingers, chilling frost drifted around the area, hindering everyone's movements. The swordsman smiled faintly. With a casual flick of his dark red sword, he slashed apart the chilling haze. Without slowing, the blade drove directly toward the man's fingers. If this strike connected, both of his fingers would certainly be severed. Just as the blade was about to hit, the swordsman's brow furrowed slightly. He abruptly pivoted his sword, unleashing a flash of sharp energy toward the side. The moment the sword qi left the blade, it suddenly swelled in size. Carving a deep trench into the ground, it surged straight toward a building. Yet the person standing before the entrance shifted his feet lightly, gracefully dodging the strike's brunt. Looking down, he raised an eyebrow. "What sharp sword qi." With that single strike, the swordsman had cleaved the building clean in two. "Who goes there?" The swordsman looked at the figure by the door—very young, plainly dressed, though gifted with fine features. Fang Wen paid him no mind. He had intended to head straight inside, but seeing how exquisite their martial arts were, he had stopped to watch for a moment. His gaze shifted, landing upon Commander Liang. When Commander Liang saw him, his expression changed as well. "Young hero, it's you? Why have you returned?" "Looking for a group of people." Fang Wen asked softly, "Have any of you seen a group of people in red?" From what the red-robed man had said, that group was supposed to ambush the people from Jinghua Pavilion. However, Feixue City had been thrown into utter chaos tonight. In such turmoil, it was hard to say whether an ambush was even feasible. Perhaps they had already taken advantage of the chaos to storm inside. Commander Liang froze, then shook his head. "I haven't seen them..." "Never mind, then." Fang Wen did not dwell on it. Just as he was about to move forward, he suddenly recalled something and asked, "Where is City Lord Wu?" A look of sorrow immediately washed over Commander Liang's face. "The City Lord... he... he..." The woman among them gritted her teeth and snapped, "How dare you ask! If that doctor you brought hadn't assassinated the City Lord, how could he have died?!" "Feiyan, silence!" Commander Liang barked harshly. Fang Wen raised an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth curling slightly. "I see." Looking up at the swordsman once more, he said quietly, "Step aside." The swordsman held his blade, his gaze chillingly cold. "I have been entrusted with a task. This gate shall not open tonight. "Those who leave unauthorized shall be slain! "Those who trespass shall die—" Before the word "die" could finish echoing, Fang Wen had already taken a stride forward. Curving his fingers into a seal with his right hand, he blasted out a strike of the Demon-Subduing Dharma Seal. There was already the grudge from the sword strike just now, and now the man was barring his way. Killing him was the simplest answer. Tonight, Fang Wen had to go inside, and no one would stop him. The swordsman had not expected Fang Wen to dare strike first in front of him. Beside his wariness, fury burned hotter within him. Yet Fang Wen's attack was too fast and paid no regard to convention. More importantly, this palm strike was terrifying—heavy as a mountain, stirring the wind and rain, drawing the ambient air from all directions into a single focal point. For a fleeting instant, the swordsman felt like willow catkins tossed about in a gale, barely able to keep his balance. He immediately circulated his internal breath, finally steadying his center of gravity. Having lost the initiative, it would be difficult to counter with his sword in time. He chose instead to hold his sword horizontally across his chest, intending to block Fang Wen's strike first. Though described at length, it all happened in a flash as the Demon-Subduing Dharma Seal reached him. A resounding crash echoed out! The divine weapon vibrated intensely, and the swordsman's calm expression shattered. The force behind this palm far exceeded his expectations. Without changing his footing, his body was forced backward by more than three feet. "Oh?" A soft murmur of surprise escaped Fang Wen's lips. Clearly, he had not expected the swordsman to withstand this palm strike either. This man was far more capable than someone like the leader of the Black Fiend Cult. Granted, the force behind this strike had not been particularly heavy. Ever since entering the jianghu, the number of people who could endure a single blow from him could be counted on one hand. He did not wish to leave behind severed limbs and gore every single time he fought. Thus, he usually controlled his strength to keep the scene from turning too grotesque. The strength of that previous palm strike would have been enough to kill Feng Mantian, the leader of the Black Fiend Cult. Yet it had merely forced this man back three feet? "A true expert!" Fang Wen nodded, offering his acknowledgment. The swordsman's face, however, turned ashen! What did he mean by "a true expert"? He had always been proud and held himself in high regard. Beyond the sect masters of the Eastern Domain's Seven Sects, only figures on the level of the Three Immortals, Two Kings, and One Madman of the City were worthy of his notice. Who would have guessed that a random brat from out of nowhere would dare critique him in such a tone after landing a single strike? Fury flared uncontrollably within him! True qi circulated through his body as boundless sword qi gathered, ready to strike. Yet before he could thrust, a tremendous force came crashing down upon him. Naturally, seeing that one palm strike had not killed him, Fang Wen reached out with another. Now endowed with three divine arts, all his internal force had been thoroughly converted through the Yijin Jing. When he channeled the Mahakala Palm, it was pure, unadulterated force overwhelming all finesse. No matter what countless variations you possessed, he would crush them with a single palm! For an ordinary person, exerting such immense force could never be sustained, but Fang Wen possessed an endless supply. The swordsman had no other choice. While unleashing his sword might injure Fang Wen, Fang Wen's palm would inevitably land on him as well. The youth's palm force was so profound that a direct hit would mean severe injury if not death. He had no choice but to block with his sword once more— Boom! As the strike crashed down, the swordsman's eyes went wide. This time, he was forced back six full feet. He opened his mouth to speak, but a sweet taste welled up in his throat, and blood trickled from the corner of his lips. His internal organs had suffered various degrees of damage. "How is this possible?!" Yet the exclamation of disbelief came from Fang Wen. The swordsman felt an urge to curse aloud. Wasn't that his line to shout? Looking up, he saw Fang Wen lunging forward once more. Having grown up scraping by in the streets, Fang Wen knew well that seizing the initiative was only the first step. Once an opponent was put on the defensive, one had to pursue them relentlessly without giving them room to breathe. Why would he give this swordsman a chance to regroup? In truth, this had far exceeded Fang Wen's expectations. The force behind his second palm strike had been even greater than the first, yet it had only made the man bleed from the corner of his mouth. He had to admit that this was likely one of the two most skilled martial artists he had fought since stepping into the jianghu. The other was Cao Jiuyin. And so, he gathered even more power for the third strike, once again unleashing the Demon-Subduing Dharma Seal. As this palm strike launched, the swordsman felt as if the fierce gale before him was no longer merely wind; behind Fang Wen, the faint manifestation of a ferocious dharma visage seemed to emerge. The palm force concentrated into a single point. This time, even the motion of raising his sword horizontally to his chest proved exceedingly difficult. In an instant, his courage shattered completely, stripping away all the effortless composure and commanding swagger he had displayed earlier. He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but under the rushing force of the wind, not a single syllable could escape. He could only muster every ounce of his strength, clutching the hilt with both hands to hold the blade across his chest. Bang! The instant the palm struck the sword, a thunderous crash erupted. Yet... the swordsman did not move. The clothes on his back, however, burst into tatters the moment the force erupted, a massive spray of blood bursting outward from his back. The swordsman's eyes held disbelief and bitter resentment, but soon, all light within them faded completely into nothingness. His head drooped slightly, and he died right where he stood. In that moment, the entire courtyard fell dead silent. Whether it was Commander Liang or the remaining three, their gazes toward Fang Wen held both disbelief and sudden realization. The disbelief stemmed from the fact that this formidable expert, who had nearly slaughtered them with ease, had been beaten to death by Fang Wen in just three palm strikes. Throughout the entire process, the man had not even managed a single effective counterattack. He had been forced into defense the entire time—only to defend himself right into his grave. The realization came from finally understanding why Sword Immortal Murong Qingchen had shown Fang Wen respect. With such martial prowess, who wouldn't accord him some deference? Fang Wen looked at the sword in the man's grip. It faintly gleamed with a cold sheen, showing not a single scratch despite enduring three of his palm strikes in succession. This was truly a magnificent sword! He took the sword from the man's hands, only to hear Commander Liang shout, "Be careful!" "Hm?" Fang Wen paused. "Does this sword bite?" "..." Seeing that Fang Wen already held the sword with no adverse reaction, Commander Liang stared blankly. "That... that's not it... but this is a demonic sword." "A demonic sword?!" Hearing this, Fang Wen found it even more intriguing. "What's the story behind it?" Commander Liang was at a loss for words, feeling that something was strange yet unable to put his finger on it. He could only explain, "This sword is named Chenxue. It is one of the seven demonic swords forged by the master swordsmith of a generation, Fenghuo Lanshan. "Years ago, when this sword first entered the jianghu, it sparked a storm of blood. "Because the sword qi and killing intent within it are so intensely heavy, it erodes the wielder's sanity, causing them to lose their reason and know only slaughter. "It passed through three masters in succession, each causing a massive uproar in the jianghu, until Shangguan Ying obtained it. Only by using his own sword intent to subdue it was he able to completely master it." "I see." Fang Wen nodded as he listened. "Then where is this Shangguan Ying?" Commander Liang froze, pointing to the corpse before Fang Wen. "He's right in front of you..." "..." Fang Wen blinked, feeling slightly dazed. Listening to Commander Liang, it sounded like an event from the distant past. Who would have guessed that the protagonist of that tale was right before him? And had just been killed by three of his palm strikes... From the looks of it, were these so-called jianghu legends merely this and nothing more? Fang Wen casually toyed with the sword in his hand, not sensing any killing intent from it. Though it certainly was sharp. He took the scabbard from Shangguan Ying's body, sheathed Chenxue, and was about to head further inside when he suddenly glanced at the monk. "Where did you escape from?" "Wu Lingxiao's residence..." The burly monk dared not conceal anything. When Fang Wen had fought Gu Yuxian earlier, he had already thought highly of him, but after witnessing this duel, he realized he had still vastly underestimated the youth. A swordsman that even he and three other experts working together could not defeat had been bludgeoned to death by this young man in three palm strikes. Now that he was being questioned, how could he dare refuse to answer? Fang Wen nodded, then turned to Commander Liang. "Commander Liang, how about leading the way?" "Young hero, you intend to..." "Go to Wu Lingxiao's residence." Fang Wen felt that this matter was not so simple. The situation was developing toward another possibility that Lu Guiyan had not mentioned. And in that scenario—Wu Lingxiao would certainly not die so easily. Commander Liang was momentarily taken aback, but considering tonight's turmoil in Feixue City, he ultimately nodded. "Very well." The remaining two commanders followed behind, while the burly monk merely bowed deeply to Fang Wen before turning and departing. Tonight's chaos in Feixue City was too vast and perilous. The monk felt that if he lingered any longer, he might never be able to leave alive. As they walked inward, Fang Wen suddenly asked, "Commander Liang, who was the one who injured Wu Lingxiao?" The root of everything unfolding in Feixue City stemmed from Wu Lingxiao being gravely injured and nearing death. That was why Wu Lingxiao had made a deal with Jinghua Pavilion, exchanging the Seven-String Ancient Chapter for two divine physicians to save his life. Now, those two supposed physicians were deemed assassins by the commander named Feiyan. And Wu Lingxiao had reportedly perished as a result. Without Wu Lingxiao's protection over the Seven-String Ancient Chapter, and with so many skilled figures from the jianghu gathering here tonight, a bloodbath was inevitable. Yet Fang Wen kept feeling that Wu Lingxiao would not die so easily. Fang Wen's question plunged Commander Liang into silence, but soon he spoke: "We do not know the exact details of that matter either. "Who that person was, what his name was, or even what he looked like—none of us know. "We only know that he was utterly arrogant, regarding no one in his eyes except for the City Lord." "...So you met him, yet you don't know what he looks like?" "Because he wore a mask..." Commander Liang gave a plain answer: "That person came to visit Feixue City requesting an audience with the City Lord and displayed remarkable martial arts. "The City Lord held his prowess in high esteem, treated him as an honored guest, and invited him to stay in the City Lord's Estate. "The two often drank tea, played chess, and discussed martial arts in their leisure, sharing great delight... "Who would have thought that on that day, for reasons unknown, a conflict suddenly erupted between them? "What started as a simple sparring match escalated into a duel to the death. "The City Lord fought him for three days and three nights, ultimately losing by a single move. But that single move left the City Lord gravely wounded, on the verge of death. "That person said not a single word, turning and leaving immediately. "We tried to stop him, but we were no match for him, and he fought his way right out of Feixue City."