Chapter 551: Repulsed
Chapter 551: Chapter 547: Repulsed
A Tiejiang Gang Steward was raising his saber to strike a fallen guard when he suddenly felt a fierce wind approaching from behind and spun around to block.
Though severely injured, Lan Daoxing still possessed the underlying strength of a First Grade Martial Artist.
CRACK—
With a single slash, the long saber in the Steward’s hand snapped. The Sword Momentum continued unabated, carving a deep gash across his chest.
The Tiejiang Gang Steward spat blood as he flew backward, crashing into a pile of rubble, unable to rise again.
WHOOSH!
Without pausing, Lan Daoxing lunged toward another Tiejiang Gang disciple.
His intervention was like a pillar of strength, instantly revitalizing the spirits of the Hundred Treasures Pavilion’s guards and Honored Guest Elders, who had been on the verge of collapse.
“Reinforcements are here! With the Pavilion Master, let’s drive back these bastards!”
An Honored Guest Elder from the Hundred Treasures Pavilion roared, forcing a Tiejiang Gang Elder back with his saber and seizing the chance to counterattack.
Two guards who had been surrounded now stood back-to-back, coordinating their movements.
With a renewed hope for survival, they unleashed a burst of strength that forced the three Tiejiang Gang disciples besieging them to fall back again and again.
While Lan Daoxing’s arrival couldn’t completely turn the tide of battle, it did manage to stabilize the Hundred Treasures Pavilion’s precarious situation for the moment.
In the center of the dust-filled ruins, two figures moved so fast they were nothing but blurs and afterimages.
SCHLICK—!
The blade of the Cloud Splitting Sword swept past at a cunning angle. Qi Zhen did his utmost to dodge, but the dark-gold brocade robe on his left shoulder was still neatly torn open.
The wound was not deep, but a thin line of blood quickly appeared and spread, turning into a warm stream that trickled down his arm.
Just three breaths later.
PFFT!
A dark cyan sword light shot out like a striking viper, coalescing into a wave of Detached Sword Qi that thrust forward abruptly.
Qi Zhen roared as he twisted his body to evade, but he failed to dodge completely. The Sword Qi pierced his Protective Inner Qi and grazed the outside of his right thigh.
He grunted and staggered backward.
A long, shallow gash appeared on his right thigh, blood seeping from the wound.
The Cloud Splitting Sword moved like an invisible wind in the night—omnipresent and all-pervasive, making it impossible to guard against.
New wounds appeared on Qi Zhen’s body, one after another.
Although he managed to protect his vitals and none of the injuries were severe on their own, the accumulated wounds caused him to lose a great deal of blood, and his condition noticeably deteriorated.
His dark-gold Inner Qi, which once blazed like a roaring flame, had now clearly dimmed.
HUFF, HUFF—
Qi Zhen’s movements became visibly heavy and sluggish.
Each time he swung his saber to parry, his breath came in ragged gasps like a straining bellows as cold sweat rolled continuously down his brow.
The hand gripping his saber trembled violently, the wound on the web of his thumb a mangled, bloody mess.
With every exertion of force, more blood welled up, dripping down the hilt and guard to splatter like tiny crimson blossoms in the dust and rubble below.
Fang Han, in contrast, was like a rising tide, his attacks growing more ferocious with each wave.
As his Wind Sword Intent suffused the battlefield, his body and the light of his sword all but merged into one.
Each swing of the Cloud Splitting Sword no longer produced isolated glints of cold light, but a dense, flowing net of pale cyan arcs, like a breathtaking rainbow.
His sharp, fluid Sword Momentum systematically compressed Qi Zhen’s space to evade.
He moved with profound footwork, always occupying the most advantageous position.
He pressed Qi Zhen relentlessly, forcing him to retreat again and again as the rubble underfoot groaned and collapsed.
CLANG—!!!
It was a direct, artless, head-on clash.
The Cloud Splitting Sword struck the heavy saber. This time, Qi Zhen failed to completely deflect the immense power and the piercing Hidden Force behind the blow.
His body shuddered violently, the long saber nearly flying from his grasp as he was thrown backward like a kite with a snapped string.
His feet gouged deep trenches in the ground, yards long, sending rubble and dust flying in their wake.
GWAH—!
The Hidden Force had pierced his defenses. Before he could even regain his footing, a great mouthful of blood sprayed uncontrollably from his lips, atomizing into a crimson mist in the air.
He had clearly sustained serious internal injuries.
His face instantly turned ashen, and his bloodshot eyes were filled with nothing but utter horror and disbelief.
‘Defeated?’
‘He, the Gang Leader of the Tiejiang Gang, a battle-hardened Late-stage First Grade powerhouse who dominated the region, had actually lost? Lost to a junior, a twenty-year-old whose Cultivation was only at the Early Stage of Second Grade?’
‘He knew Fang Han was a genius, the champion of the Celestial Pride List, a prodigy of the Sword Dao the likes of which the Qingxuan Sect hadn’t seen in centuries.’
‘He had once scoffed at such things, believing that so-called geniuses, untested by the storms of real conflict, were ultimately just fragile flowers in a greenhouse.’
‘He just never imagined that this “flower” could be so sharp.’
‘Sharp enough to hew countless notches into his own “Battle Saber,” a blade he’d thought was tempered to be indestructible, and force him into a desperate corner.’
‘Such Talent, such combat prowess… It was inhuman!’
HUFF… GHH… HUFF…
Leaning on his saber with one hand, Qi Zhen barely managed to support his swaying body.
His chest heaved violently like a worn-out bellows, each breath pulling at the wounds all over his body and bringing a searing, burning pain.
He struggled to lift his head. His vision was blurred by sweat and blood, but he continued to stare fixedly ahead.
Dozens of yards away, Fang Han stood holding his sword.
The Cloud Splitting Sword was angled down at his side, its dark cyan blade suffused with a reserved light.
From the tip of the blade, a single, plump drop of blood slowly gathered, elongated, and finally dripped silently into the dust.
The night wind rustled the hem of his cyan robes, making them flutter gently.
His breathing was long and even, his expression as serene as the surface of a deep, ancient well.
It was as if the ferocious, storm-like assault that had pushed a Late-stage First Grade master to the brink had been nothing more than a trivial warm-up for him.
This absolute control, this crushing composure, was more chilling to Qi Zhen than any sharp Sword Technique, a coldness that seeped into his very bones.
Flames danced in his eyes, but they could no longer illuminate his heart, which had already sunk into an abyss of despair.
“Gang Leader!”
An urgent cry came from nearby.
Seeing Qi Zhen’s dire situation, the Tiejiang Gang’s First-Grade Elder, Han Kui, forced Shen Cangsong back with his saber and darted to Qi Zhen’s side.
“Gang Leader, your injuries?”
Han Kui’s eyes swept over the many wounds on Qi Zhen’s body, his pupils constricting slightly.
Qi Zhen took a deep breath, his gaze sweeping across the battlefield.
The Hundred Treasures Pavilion had lost more than half its people, but with Lan Daoxing now in the fight, their once-precarious defensive line was gradually stabilizing.
Meanwhile, he himself was seriously injured. And though his Elders and Stewards still held a numerical advantage, they no longer had the overwhelming power to crush their opponents.
Most importantly, his side had only two First Grade combatants, whereas the enemy had three.
Even though two of their First Grade fighters were badly injured, they were still combat-effective.
If the fight dragged on, it would likely end in the complete annihilation of every Tiejiang Gang member present.
“Retreat.”
Qi Zhen’s voice was low, laced with unconcealable bitterness.
Han Kui froze for a moment, then nodded. He turned and bellowed:
“All units, retreat!”
Hearing the command, the Tiejiang Gang’s Elders and Stewards forced back their opponents and began to converge on Qi Zhen’s position.
Their movements were swift and orderly, a sign of their rigorous training. Even in retreat, there was no panic.
Neither Lan Daoxing nor Shen Cangsong gave chase, and neither did the guards and Honored Guest Elders of the Hundred Treasures Pavilion.
They were spent forces. Just holding on this long had been their absolute limit; they had no energy left for a pursuit.
Fang Han stood with his sword, watching as Qi Zhen led the men of the Tiejiang Gang out of the Hundred Treasures Pavilion. He did not move to stop them.
‘The Sect Leader said not to hold back,’ he thought, ‘but the Tiejiang Gang is, after all, a power with a Grandmaster in its ranks.’
‘If I killed their Gang Leader in front of all these people, a serious conflict would undoubtedly erupt between the two sides.’
‘That’s not an outcome the Qingxuan Sect wants, nor is it one I want.’
“Fang Han, I will remember what happened today.”
Qi Zhen had retreated to the main gate of the Hundred Treasures Pavilion, where he paused.
He turned around, his gaze traveling across the ruins to land on Fang Han, his voice hoarse.
…
Fang Han stood with his sword, a cold glint flashing in his eyes.
‘The man already despises me,’ he thought. ‘If I weren’t concerned about escalating the conflict between the Qingxuan Sect and the Tiejiang Gang, I wouldn’t hesitate to kill him on the spot.’
‘But just because I can’t kill him in public doesn’t mean there won’t be an opportunity later. It just needs to be done with enough secrecy.’
‘Just like with Meng Zhao’s death.’
WHOOSH!
Qi Zhen snorted coldly, then turned and sped out of the Hundred Treasures Pavilion.
A hundred black-clad figures followed close behind, like a receding tide, and soon vanished into the night.
The sound of their footsteps grew faint, eventually swallowed by the night wind.
…
On a rooftop near the Hundred Treasures Pavilion, Zhang Yuanshan, Patriarch of the Commandery City’s Zhang Family, stood with his hands clasped behind his back. He stared in the direction the Tiejiang Gang had retreated, silent for a long while.
The initial shock had yet to fully fade from his ruddy face, and a complex, unreadable emotion lingered deep in his eyes.
“Father.”
The middle-aged clansman beside him spoke in a low, emotional voice.
“To think that child, Fang Han, is already this strong. Even Qi Zhen, at the Late Stage of First Grade, was no match for him.”
Zhang Yuanshan fell silent for a moment before speaking slowly.
“Twenty years old, Early Stage of Second Grade, yet his combat prowess can suppress someone at the Late Stage of First Grade… The Qingxuan Sect has truly produced an incredible figure.”
He said no more. After one final glance at the cyan-robed figure in the ruins of the Hundred Treasures Pavilion, he turned and leaped from the rooftop.
…
Not far away, on the roof of another building, several figures were still murmuring amongst themselves.
“Qi Zhen retreated. The Tiejiang Gang actually retreated.”
“What choice did they have? Even Qi Zhen was no match for Fang Han. If they had kept fighting, the Tiejiang Gang’s entire force here would most likely have been wiped out!”
“That kid, Fang Han… he’s a true monster.”
“From this day forward, not just in the younger generation of Qingyang County, but even among the old guard, few will be able to compare to him.”
Amid their discussion, some shook their heads, some sighed, and others fell silent.
Their gazes all landed on the cyan-robed figure in the ruins of the Hundred Treasures Pavilion, their expressions varied, but all held the same emotion: shock.
…
Zhou Huai’an stood atop a building, his hands clasped behind his back as he gazed toward the Hundred Treasures Pavilion.
“A Late-stage First Grade Qi Zhen… was actually no match for Fang Han.”
Yue Zhan’s voice sounded at his side, laced with unconcealed surprise.
“The speed of this boy’s growth is truly astonishing.”
Zhou Huai’an stared in that direction, silent for a long time.
He had seen many geniuses, and many monsters.
But he had never seen anyone like Fang Han, who at only twenty years old could suppress a Late-stage First Grade Martial Artist.
“Within ten years, the Qingxuan Sect will surely produce another Grandmaster. When that time comes, it will be a sect with two Grandmasters.”
He spoke in a low voice, so soft it was almost as if he were talking to himself.
Yue Zhan said nothing, merely giving a slight nod.