(Chapter Name Borrowed from Circle Readers)

The white-robed youth was surrounded, yet he advanced instead of retreating. After a series of punches, his companion was left with no ability to retaliate.

This caused all those participating in the hunt to feel a sense of unease.

If not for the strongman’s warning, the array master to the north might have died on the spot.

The old man, who was creating a mountain-moving, river-draining array for the group, was squatting on the ground, arranging several small, earthen-yellow flags. Even without sensing anything amiss, he unhesitatingly struck his chest with his palm, shattering a hidden, expensive Substitute Talisman. Instantly, his position and that of a young disciple were reversed.

In that instant, a fleeting, ethereal flying sword descended from the sky, piercing like chopsticks into water, creating ripples. Its speed was astonishing.

The bewildered young man was cleaved in two by the massive flying sword, from his head to his waist. The two halves of his corpse fell to the ground, entrails spilling out in a horrifying sight.

The flying sword, far larger than the usual sword-wielding warrior’s weapon, vanished into the earth without a trace, leaving no mark on the ground.

It was undoubtedly a sword cultivator’s Natal Sword.

The array master then struck his chest again, seemingly using another Substitute Talisman, determined to sacrifice his second direct disciple to ensure his own safety.

However, this time, the previously caught-off-guard heretical cultivator had room to maneuver. He didn’t stand idly by. Standing at a distance, he took out a small, black earthenware jar covered in runes, chanted incantations, and gently shook it a few times. A chilling black smoke soared into the sky, splitting into three streams after leaving the jar, heading towards the array master, the maiden, and Lu Tai, who was perched atop a tall branch, controlling his sword.

The flying sword reappeared out of thin air, once again descending like a headsman’s axe.

But instead of targeting the array master, who was about to activate the talisman, it struck the maiden, who was filled with terror.

The billowing black smoke, formed from countless shadowy specters, shielded the maiden’s head like an umbrella.

However, the massive flying sword was simply too powerful. It broke through the black smoke barrier with unstoppable force, cleaving the maiden in two from head to toe.

The young girl, in the prime of her life, perished on the path to immortality.

Striving so hard for longevity, yet failing to live past twenty.

Lu Tai, holding onto the tree trunk, wore an unpleasant expression.

Indeed, the dao is one foot high, but the devil is ten. (The righteous are always struggling against evil)

The array master hadn’t truly used the Substitute Talisman. His second strike to the chest was merely a feint, tricking him into aiming his sword at the maiden.

Lu Tai, having lost a move, didn’t become flustered. Cultivating on the mountain, firstly, only the intelligent were qualified to cross the threshold; secondly, even the dullest person, even if they had lived like a dog for decades or centuries, would have gained some cunning.

Therefore, no one was a simpleton.

Although the Natal Sword was huge, its speed was unbelievable. Lu Tai stood his ground, allowing the black smoke to surge towards him. After slaying the maiden, the flying sword instantly arrived before its master, Lu Tai, shattering the black smoke filled with resentment, wails, and twisted faces.

The heretical cultivator continuously shook the earthenware jar in his hand, saying with a sinister smile, “Dare to ruin my shadow creatures? Let’s see how much spiritual energy you have to waste!”

Streams of black smoke poured from the jar, like a huge, black flower blooming in his palm.

The array master, truly terrified of another sword strike, had no choice but to pull out a handful of snow-white pearls and scatter them with a wave of his sleeve. Dozens of pearls hovered around him, arranged according to the Three Powers, Four Symbols, Seven Stars, Eight Trigrams, and Nine Palaces. The arrangement of the pearls was very particular, creating a series of protective arrays. After forming the arrays, they shone brightly, illuminating the elderly array master with a divine light.

However, this delayed the original array formation, setting it back considerably.

The heretical cultivator knew that he couldn’t convince the cowardly and life-loving old array master with mere words. While controlling the black smoke to attack Lu Tai, he reminded him, “Hurry up and finish the array, or our journey of a thousand miles will be wasted. And if we don’t kill those two, there will definitely be endless trouble later. You better consider it!”

The old array master’s face flickered with indecision. With a fierce resolve, he removed half of the small arrays and retrieved dozens of pearls. This, in turn, sped up the array formation progress.

On the southern battlefield…

The burly man collapsed to the ground, vomiting blood as if he were expelling his heart, liver, and intestines. The ground was stained with a patch of crimson, a truly tragic sight.

He was a genuine fifth-realm martial artist, with a body of accumulated physical conditioning that made him extremely difficult to deal with.

However, his martial path was fraught with difficulties, as he had never encountered a wise teacher. The foundation of his three body-refining realms was riddled with flaws. His progress from the fourth to the fifth realm had been reckless. Without a doubt, he would never reach the sixth realm.

A living person couldn’t be stopped by a trickle of blood. Thus, he had taken a heretical path. His method of summoning deities came from a half-volume of a damaged scripture, acquired through illicit means. Because he only had the first half, he only knew how to summon, not how to send them back. It was easy to invite a god, but hard to send him away.

Each summoning carried a great price. After nearly twenty years of exploration, begging people, and buying similar mystical texts, he had barely managed to control the aftereffects of this summoning art.

Especially today, summoning the deity halfway, only to have the white-robed youth punch the “god” back to his altar, was extremely disrespectful to the strict rules of deity descent. Therefore, the backlash was severe. Wisps of divine essence drifted out of his orifices like incense sticks, rising into the air.

Even after burning three incense sticks, it showed no signs of stopping. The strongman’s entire back was shrouded in rising mist. This was the manifestation of a fifth-realm martial artist’s aura, the fundamental vital energy of a pure martial artist.

The man hoarsely choked out, “Save me!”

The qi cultivator, proficient in the five elements of wood, frowned deeply. He was forced to withdraw a mountain-moving, tree-uprooting technique aimed at the white-robed youth and crouched down beside the strongman. His fingers formed hand seals, his face flushed red. Between his fingers, faint points of light floated up from the ground, surrounding his fingertips, then forcefully pressed into the strongman’s back.

The strongman’s body, lying in the mud, twitched. His face instantly regained color, and crisp popping sounds like bursting soybeans emanated from all the joints in his body. Like withered wood meeting spring, the burly man turned over in a carp-like leap, grabbed his twin whips, and stood up, looking radiant and no longer showing any signs of fatigue.
The Qi cultivator who intervened to help said in a deep voice, “Put it on the account.”

The burly man glared at the white-robed youth with astonishing strength, gritting his teeth as he nodded, “Take down these two fat sheep, and everything will be easy!”

That night in the Heavenly Street of the Fuchi Sect, that fellow who looked even more delicate than a woman was incredibly generous. Even rogue cultivators in the Golden Core Realm would be ashamed. It wasn’t that a Golden Core cultivator couldn’t afford so much paltry silver, but that handsome young master bought nothing but money-guzzling items like suet beasts, spring dream spiders, and paper talismans. No offensive magical treasures for killing enemies, nor protective artifacts for saving lives!

Which Tongye Continent cultivator, whether an orthodox immortal master or a mountain rogue, would speak such halting Tongye dialect?

These two young men, clearly from other continents and foreign lands, had only traveled through mountains and forests and market towns, journeying north for a thousand miles without visiting a single immortal mountain along the way, nor had any great cultivator taken the initiative to pay them a visit. What did this signify? It meant that these two fledglings had a noble background and were laden with riches, certainly accustomed to comfortable lives since childhood, yet ignorant of the depths of the martial world and the windswept heights of the mountains!

If he didn’t take down these two rich and naive lads, how could he be worthy of his years of arduous cultivation? Besides searching everywhere for opportunities and licking blood from the edge of a blade, he also had to bow and scrape like a dog to the immortals on the mountains, taking their money to settle the unsavory affairs they disdained to do themselves, bearing the infamy, fleeing and escaping, starting over in a new place, repeating the cycle endlessly. When would it ever end?

From the moment the brawny man was beaten half to death by the divine power-drumming fists, to the Qi cultivator using a secret method to steal the mountain and river aura of this place and successfully heal the brawny man, all of this only took place in the span of a few finger flicks.

Chen Ping’an was blocked by the middle-aged sword master’s waves of sword energy, unable to kill the iron-whip strongman in one fell swoop.

Controlling swords with Qi was a very impressive immortal art in the martial world.

In many ignorant local regions, in their books and classics, the so-called flying sword taking a head from a thousand miles away actually referred not to sword cultivators, but to sword masters who often appeared before the world. Compared to mountain sword immortals and martial world swordsmen, these half-baked sword masters, neither high nor low, especially liked to fish for fame and reputation.

When a sword master controlled swords to kill enemies, the items emerging from their sleeves would often be both sword Qi and real swords, the former excelling in quantity, the latter in power.

Light cavalry sweeping the flanks to gain an advantage, heavy cavalry penetrating the formation to achieve victory; the two complemented each other, indispensable.

The sword master confronting Chen Ping’an was clearly a master of this art. His sleeves billowed, and the surface of his cuffs rippled with azure light, from which streaks of azure sword Qi, unusually fierce, darted out.

Fortunately, the sword master controlled at most two strands of sword Qi at a time.

Chen Ping’an dodged with relative ease, far from being overwhelmed, but he was being held back quite effectively.

Chen Ping’an did not resort to methods of killing a thousand enemies while sacrificing eight hundred of his own. After seriously injuring the hulking strongman, due to the sword master’s interference, even though the Qi cultivator proficient in the Five Elements Wood Technique saved the strongman, Chen Ping’an still made a token attempt to impede him, causing the sword master to misjudge and have a wisp of sword Qi waiting in ambush near the strongman. As a result, Chen Ping’an suddenly accelerated and charged fiercely at the sword master, almost intruding within three feet of the sword master’s position.

The sword master, frightened into a cold sweat, had to use his true trump card.

That material small sword did not fly out from his sleeve, but quietly appeared from within his hair bun. It turned out that the jade hairpin was used as a “scabbard” to conceal the small sword.

It was a hiltless small sword shaped like a verdant willow leaf, extremely slender, revolving around the sword master, bringing with it streams of tender green flowing light.

The talisman sect Daoist sternly reminded, “This poor Daoist’s two Dry Well Talismans can only last for another twenty finger flicks at most! Make a quick decision and quickly kill this little bastard! Once his flying sword breaks open the cage, then we can just wait in line to have our throats slit!”

The old Daoist’s face was withered, his fingers skinny. As he spoke, his hands slowly rotated, presumably controlling the two talismans that had captured Chuyi and Shiwu. The old Daoist’s voice trembled with anger, “According to the intelligence you provided, isn’t this kid a martial arts master who knows some swordsmanship? Now, he is not only a sword cultivator, but this brat actually has two flying swords, two! If this old man didn’t have a bit of a fortune, saving up two precious talismans that were originally intended to be passed down to my family, then we would all be finished this time! The previously agreed upon share of the spoils doesn’t count!”

The brawny man’s face was unsightly. He strode towards Chen Ping’an, not even looking at the old Daoist, and said in a muffled voice, “Changing the division of the spoils is something we can discuss. You won’t be at a loss.”

The old Daoist snorted coldly.

His heart churned, and he stared intently at the white-robed youth.

When did sword cultivators have such powerful physiques?

Then there was that handsome young master still standing on the tree, who was also a sword cultivator with a natal flying sword. No wonder the two dared to strut about in a foreign land. Two sword cultivators with three natal flying swords, even if they swaggered from the Jade Gui Sect to the Tongye Sect, as long as they didn’t provoke those immortal residences, how many rogue cultivators would dare to provoke them under normal circumstances?

This group of people was a mixed bag, of course they wouldn’t have come together originally, but they were united by profit. Although everyone’s realm of cultivation was not particularly high, they each had their own strengths. All along, there was also a mastermind behind the scenes providing advice, so even if they were to kill a Golden Core cultivator, as long as the other party hadn’t noticed beforehand, the group could still try their hand, and maybe a stroke of immense fortune would come their way.

For example, his move this time was to target that young suet beast.

He was determined to obtain it!

They had actually overestimated the two young men enough, but they didn’t expect them to be so difficult to deal with.

This time, with the middle-aged sword master unleashing his full power to entangle the youth, and the wood technique Qi cultivator in this mountain forest, blessed by the environment, actually driving ancient trees to rise from the ground like old men staggering forward, the strongman took out a vermillion pill and threw it into his mouth, the skin on his face becoming burning hot and red.

He was going to invoke the spirits again!

The branches of the trees, like long whips, lashed fiercely at Chen Ping’an. While dodging, Chen Ping’an also had to avoid one or two sinister and tricky azure sword rays in time, making for a precarious situation.

Fortunately, Lu Tai quickly conveyed his thoughts, teaching Chen Ping’an how to deal with those strange trees. Afterwards, every punch Chen Ping’an threw accurately smashed the small string of hidden word incantations attached to the big trees. Only when Chen Ping’an successfully shattered the incantations would there be a scene of silver light shattering, and the trees would collapse, the green and leafy trees instantly withering.
Lu Tai reminded Chen Ping’an that the talisman sect cultivator who imprisoned the two flying swords, the so-called “twenty flick fingers,” might not be true. It was very likely to be thirty flick fingers, or even that the talismans could sustain for a longer period.

Chen Ping’an was expressionless, probably unable to spare attention. After smashing all the bizarre trees, the burly man who had abandoned his iron whip had successfully invited a deity, his eyes now snow-white, devoid of any human gleam, as if a god coldly overlooked the mortal realm.

However, Lu Tai was somewhat surprised.

He noticed that Chen Ping’an, upon hearing his reminder, did not show the slightest ripple of concern. Clearly, he had long been aware of the old Daoist’s scheming, enabling him to maintain such calm composure.

“Such a young age, yet already an old hand,” Lu Tai mused.

Lu Tai leaned against a tree trunk. Compared to Chen Ping’an’s chaotic melee against various heroes, his side was rather dull.

His flying sword “Needlepoint” could not kill the old array master, and the ghostly black smoke emanating from the pottery jar was no threat to Lu Tai.

Moreover, Lu Tai casually took out a five-colored silken cord and tied it around his arm. Although this item was far inferior to the colorful belt he wore when dressed as a woman, it was still a rather remarkable magical treasure for ordinary Qi refiners. The five-colored cord wrapped around his arm possessed several enchantments: a life-extending core, which could increase the absorption of spiritual energy; a weapon-repelling silk, capable of deflecting blades and spears (though not all weapons, otherwise it would be a semi-immortal artifact instead of a magical treasure); an evil-banishing rope, with its thread rising like a psychic serpent, capable of dispersing evil spirits and baleful aura; a sword-spitting silk, which could fly out independently, somewhat like a swordsman controlling a flying sword; and finally, a miniature demon-binding cord.

The strength of Lu Tai’s magical treasure lay in its all-encompassing nature, combining offense and defense.

However, ultimately, unless one’s cultivation was a realm or two higher, like a Golden Core or Nascent Soul cultivator, everyone feared a war of attrition, feared being nibbled to death by ants.

Fortunately, today Chen Ping’an was holding back the main force of the enemy. Lu Tai, “with nothing to do,” felt a rare twinge of guilt. He had indeed been careless this time, not expecting the enemy to be so bold as to gather so many people to besiege them, and their perseverance was unparalleled, following them for a thousand miles.

On the northern battlefield, the heretical cultivator, seemingly distressed by the dissipating black smoke, shouted loudly to the old Daoist, “Do you have any more dried-well talismans? If so, quickly throw one out! I’ll owe you, and later I’ll join him to collect money to pay you back!”

The old Daoist was furious, retorting, “May you have your dad!” (A rude retort in Chinese cursing someone’s parents.)

The heretical cultivator was inwardly enraged, but he could only endure it for now, thinking that there would be plenty of time to settle accounts with this stinky Daoist priest in the future.

The old Daoist looked down on the half-human, half-ghost heretical cultivator. Seemingly afraid of the end of the twenty flick fingers, he quietly shook his sleeve, as if preparing something.

The two talismans imprisoning the flying swords trembled increasingly.

The old Daoist was suffering in silence.

Initially, he had loudly proclaimed that he could only trap the flying swords for twenty flick fingers, as Lu Tai suspected, to deliberately deceive Chen Ping’an, hoping that he would mistakenly believe that he could recall his flying swords after twenty flick fingers and unleash a devastating attack. But now, the old Daoist was swallowing a bitter pill, unable to voice his troubles. It turned out that those two priceless precious talismans could really only trap the flying swords for about twenty flick fingers, not the expected forty!

The talisman was called the Dried-Well Talisman.

It could suppress natal flying swords.

Seven small nails made of lightning-struck wood, arranged in the shape of the Big Dipper, were embedded into special talisman paper using secret techniques, and one liang (a unit of weight) of flying dust that had fallen from the Great Wind’s tail (a specific auspicious location and timing) was scraped off. The talisman pattern depicted a sword trapped in a well, with the characters “Immovable” written on the back of the talisman paper. This was the main component, and there were many other “branch” links.

It was a high-grade secret talisman of a branch of the Talisman Sect of Tongye Continent. Although it could not compare to Lu Tai’s so-called “sword sheath talisman” and “mountain-sealing talisman,” it was not to be underestimated. It was a life-saving talisman for middle-fifth realm Qi refiners to deal with sword cultivators, worth a thousand gold.

Researching and creating a Dried-Well Talisman with its complex materials was both time-consuming and expensive.

Within a radius of ten zhang (a unit of distance), as long as this talisman was activated, it could cause a sword cultivator’s natal flying sword to be like a person standing in a well, unable to move.

The quality of the talisman depended on how long it could trap the flying sword.

To open the restriction, one only needed to perform a hand seal, flick one’s sleeve, and blow air, and the flying sword “in the well” could freely fly away.

Others spent ten years forging a sword, while the old Daoist spent ten years forging a talisman, which he treasured more than anything.

On both battlefields, fierce battles were raging.

Deep in the mountains, two people were watching the scene from afar.

They were watching the fire from across the river.

One was the guest who had competed with Lu Tai for the lamb-fat jade at the Automatic Writing Sect shop, short and unremarkable, with a slightly smug look on his face.

The other was a red-robed swordsman with a long sword at his waist, tall and handsome. He reached out and pressed the hilt of his sword, watching the battlefield situation and smiling, “Everyone previously thought you were making a mountain out of a molehill, and even I was no exception. Now it seems that it was fortunate that you were cautious, saving me a lot of trouble.”

The red-robed man was a swordsman at the peak of the sixth realm of martial arts.

In the Jianghu (martial world) beneath the mountains of Tongye Continent, he was already a veritable grandmaster of swordsmanship. Although he was already in his seventies, he still had a jade-like face. For decades, he had traveled through more than ten countries with his sword, rarely encountering an opponent.

Moreover, the long sword at his waist was a peerlessly sharp immortal treasure, allowing this swordsman warrior to dare to call himself “One sword can wound an enemy below a Golden Core Earth Immortal. One sword can kill below the Dragon Gate,” and few above or below the mountains questioned him.

His reputation was illustrious, and he was unparalleled in his romantic affairs. Countless women admired this Jianghu sword immortal who did not seek immortality. There were even rumors that the Queen Zhao of Yunlu Kingdom had an affair with him. As for the chivalrous women and fairies of famous Jianghu sects, their admiration for this red-clothed sword immortal was even more numerous.

The unremarkable man smiled, “My, Ma’s, caution is a habit. I suffered too many losses and hardships when I was young, so I remember one thing: when dealing with these immortals from good backgrounds, we who are in the Jianghu must treat them like a lion hunting a rabbit, swallowing them in one gulp. Otherwise, even if we win by luck, it will be a pyrrhic victory, with little gain.”

The red-clothed swordsman smiled, “Ma Wanfa, we agreed before that I would help you hold the line to prevent accidents. The sword on the back of the white-robed boy was mine from the start. Now that an accident has occurred, and I really need to kill the enemy myself, then…”
The man nodded, “The Gourd of Nurturing Swords cannot be given to you, and you are not a sword cultivator. However, at least one spatial artifact exists on those two youngsters. I want to take out the contents within to divide the spoils, you can take the spatial artifact, how does that sound?”

The red-clothed swordsman narrowed his eyes and smiled, “Excellent.”

The burly man hesitated for a moment, “Although the overall situation is set, we must still be cautious. That white-robed youth is likely at his wit’s end, but that effeminate-looking fellow probably has some remaining strength. Otherwise, why don’t you deal with that one first? The remaining one won’t be able to cause much trouble.”

The red-clothed swordsman shook his head, “The one in the tree has a magical treasure protecting his arm, and flying swords are secretly darting about. It would be difficult for me to succeed with a silent, decisive strike. On the other hand, I can kill that white-robed youth with a single sword strike. When his companion is gone, that fellow, more delicate than a maiden, will surely lose his composure. Then, whether I kill him or you do it personally, it won’t matter.”

The burly man thought for a moment and nodded in agreement, “That would be best.”

Then he chuckled, “The old Daoist’s two ‘Dried Well’ talismans are about to fail. When will you make your move?”

“Precisely now!”

The red-clothed swordsman’s figure had already vanished, leaving only a lingering echo.

The branch he had been standing on had not even trembled.

This showed how swift this grandmaster of the martial world was, and how high his martial arts had reached.

On the southern battlefield, Chen Ping’an and the brawny man empowered by a divine spirit were locked in an indecisive battle, with the latter aided by two others. It seemed the chaotic situation would continue for quite some time.

A streak of crimson light descended from the sky, as fast as lightning, instantly tearing through the battlefield. Sword qi surged, filling the heavens and earth.

A drawn sword pierced towards the white-robed youth’s heart.

The strike landed, without a doubt.

The red-clothed swordsman’s lips curled into a faint smile. It was always so interesting, yet so uninteresting.

He had slain another so-called cultivation prodigy.

But the next moment, the red-clothed swordsman was about to retreat with all his might, even willing to abandon his immortal magic sword.

Because life was paramount.

Everyone present was dumbfounded. The aura of this sword dao grandmaster’s arrival was simply too overwhelming. No one dared to add anything unnecessary. All ceased their battles, lest they be casually slain by the grandmaster after he killed the youth, who would then nonchalantly call it a mistaken kill.

With one less person to divide the spoils, it meant the remaining ones would get a larger share. Who alive wouldn’t be pleased?

However, the scene that followed was unforgettable.

The delicate youth, always clad in snow-white robes, after being pierced in the heart by the red-clothed swordsman, was met with…

Waves of dazzling ripples spread out from the sword’s tip at his heart, revealing the true nature of the long robe.

A golden robe!

It was as if dragons were hidden within golden clouds.

Chen Ping’an no longer deliberately suppressed the power of this magic robe, a relic of an overseas immortal. He no longer deliberately revealed flaws or sought out injuries, making himself appear bloodied and wounded.

Therefore, this sword had struck the golden robe, but had failed to pierce even a thread of the magical garment.

Lu Tai did not speak.

But Chen Ping’an had been waiting for this moment.

Waiting for the hidden expert behind the scenes to make a final, decisive move.

If they didn’t come, Chen Ping’an lost nothing.

If they came, Chen Ping’an would win big.

On this journey, from the first time he left the Li Zhu Grotto-Heaven to the Great Sui Academy, to the second time he left his hometown for Inverted Mountain,

Chen Ping’an had always been meticulous and cautious, striving for “no mistakes” day after day. Now, he was finally reaping the rewards.

In an instant,

The red-clothed swordsman had just released his grip on the sword hilt when the youth, disregarding everything, strode forward, using his chest to stop the sword’s advance, and reached out to draw the long sword from his back.

With a single stroke, he removed the swordsman’s head.

Even Lu Tai was dumbfounded, then looked around, smiling sweetly at those terrified fellows, “Ah, you are truly delivering heads from a thousand miles away, a small gift but with great sincerity.”

Chen Ping’an returned “Everlasting Breath” to its scabbard, took a few steps forward, gently grasped the long sword in his other hand, and stood firm.

Holding the sword in a reverse grip.

There was a touch of carefree swagger.