No matter their initial intentions, of the three groups besieging Chen Ping’an, the seven renowned martial artists, including the Herculean Ma Xuan, the pipa-playing woman, and the Devil Sect’s Ya’er, had already fallen on this street.

Feng Qingbai, the wandering swordsman who roamed the world, was a madman. To achieve his goals, he would stop at nothing. He launched a sneak attack by smashing through a wall, but failed to assassinate Chen Ping’an with his sword. Instead, he had cost Ya’er the majority of her life force.

The beauty in wooden sandals, who was likely to inherit the Devil Sect’s leadership as a woman, still hadn’t managed to turn herself over. One side of her cheek was pressed against the cold street surface, and her delicate fingers lightly traced the bluestone, her eyes filled with pain and pleading as she looked at the flower-adorned Zhou Shi.

Although it was a jest earlier, she had asked Zhou Shi to promise that she wouldn’t die here, and he had ultimately agreed. Why was he unwilling to help?

Zhou Shi, the flower-adorned swordsman, felt no guilt. He even made eye contact with her, offering a smiling greeting.

Lu Fang still hadn’t made a move.

The elusive Smiling Face had already exchanged blows with Chen Ping’an, without gaining the slightest advantage.

Zhou Shi held the string of scarlet prayer beads, gently turning them. “Among those standing, I, Zhou Shi, am the biggest burden. But I promise to do my utmost to deal with this person. Mr. Lu, Smiling Face, Feng Qingbai, can we put aside our differences today and unite against this foe?”

Smiling Face’s smile was unsettling. He nodded. “No matter who ultimately slays this person, I only want one skill from him, the immortal art of shrinking the earth to inches. If I can’t get it, the reward will be negotiated separately.”

Feng Qingbai’s gaze burned as he looked at Chen Ping’an. “The final strike to kill him must be mine. As for all his possessions, I won’t take a single item. I can even hand over the magical treasure obtained after slaying the banished immortal, for you to decide how to divide it.”

Zhou Shi glanced at the dying Ya’er and smiled. “I only want her.”

Lu Fang made the final decision. “Then it’s settled.”

Feng Qingbai held his sword horizontally, his fingers curved, lightly flicking the blade, his smile playful. “Sword Immortal Lu, don’t stand idly by any longer. Be careful not to lose the chicken you were trying to catch, and we all end up becoming this person’s martial arts sharpening stones. As the most capable expert on our side, if you keep hiding your skills and using our lives to test the waters, I won’t be happy to oblige. I might as well not get involved in this mess, and you can do whatever you want.”

Lu Fang smiled. “Rest assured.”

After saying these words, the Bird’s Eye Peak Sword Immortal, with his palm against the hilt, pulled the “Great Juniper” sword, sheath and all, from the ground in a fist-like grip.

Immortal sorcerers had recorded in books that in ancient times, there was a tree called the Great Juniper, with eight thousand years for spring and eight thousand years for autumn. After bearing fruit, mortals who ate it could ascend to immortality.

Chen Ping’an had been quietly gathering momentum, and also adjusting to the state after losing the restrictions of the Dharma Robe and Golden Dew.

Among the fist techniques taught by the old man with the surname Cui, the Cloud Rising from the Great Swamp or the Iron Cavalry Piercing Formation were relatively easy to handle, simply differing in the weight of the punches. But techniques like the God Pounding the Drum required extreme precision, and Chen Ping’an had to carefully control the force of each punch, while constantly guarding against Lu Fang.

This was the peak of Chen Ping’an’s fist techniques since he began learning martial arts, with his physique, spirit, and energy all at their zenith.

“He’s coming, be careful.”

Lu Fang smiled as he reminded everyone. “Really, not even announcing his move before attacking. Such a lack of grandmasterly demeanor.”

At the same time, with a twist of his wrist, Lu Fang properly gripped the hilt for the first time. After Lu Fang grasped the famous sword Great Juniper, because his sword qi was too abundant, even with intentional suppression and restraint, it continued to pour outward, causing his clothes to flutter without wind, especially the sleeves of the hand holding the sword. The sleeve was filled with sword qi, surging incessantly, the cuff wide open, and from within came strands of whistling sounds.

In an instant, Smiling Face’s heartstrings tightened. Without a word, he used the secret art from an incomplete immortal manual he had accidentally obtained, using the profound and mysterious Qimen Dunjia formation, instantly teleporting from the Zhen position to the Kan position. But before Smiling Face could check Chen Ping’an’s figure, a fist gale had arrived before him, rushing towards his face, causing a stinging pain.

A sword light suddenly blocked between Smiling Face’s head and the fist gale.

The incomparably sharp blade, placed horizontally, looked like a snow-white silk thread in Smiling Face’s eyes.

The punch was blocked by the blade, giving Smiling Face a glimmer of room to maneuver. He vanished several times, retreating again and again, finally shaking off the suffocating pressure.

Since Smiling Face had begun his career, traversing the martial world for thirty years, his favorite opponents were masters of external martial arts, freely advancing and retreating, teasing the so-called masters whose movements were slightly slow, like walking a dog. This was also the origin of Smiling Face’s nickname “Troublesome Ghost.” Several old fellows, renowned for their horizontally-honed martial arts, were worn down to death by the elusive Smiling Face.

This was the first time Smiling Face had encountered a fist technique master who could run even better than he could.

Smiling Face knew that Feng Qingbai could save him once or twice, but there might not be a third time, so he no longer held back. While retreating and dodging, his hands were hidden in his large sleeves, and between his fingers were small, exquisite, but chillingly sharp, handleless flying knives, their blades coated with a gloomy green poison, Gelsemium elegans, which was most effective at breaking martial artists’ true energy.

Five or six zhang away from Chen Ping’an, after Feng Qingbai rescued him with a sword, he had also paid the price, being targeted by that person. After a few exchanges, Feng Qingbai had fallen into a disadvantage, and was struck in the shoulder by a sweeping leg, sending him flying.

Feng Qingbai, in a white robe, moved like a shadow. With one arm drooping weakly, Feng Qingbai was clearly in a bad situation.

Returning the favor.

Flying knives flew from Smiling Face’s sleeves.

That person was truly a monster. This time, his punches seemed very casual, stepping on the street surface, not to mention the momentum of Herculean Ma Xuan cracking the bricks after summoning the gods, Smiling Face almost thought that person’s boots didn’t even touch the ground, as if he was always floating in the air.

Smiling Face didn’t expect the six Gelsemium elegans knives to hit that person, but only to buy Feng Qingbai a moment to breathe.

Feng Qingbai grinned, opened his fingers, and actually released the long sword.

A swordsman abandoning his sword?

Smiling Face felt a chill in his heart. Could it be that Feng Qingbai, the wandering swordsman who had killed his way through half the martial world from north to south in ten years, only had this much ability?

Feng Qingbai’s long sword didn’t fall to the ground. Without a master to control it, the sword trembled slightly, rippling with waves, then suddenly tensed, the long sword suspended in the air, the tip tilted up, pointing directly at the white-robed figure, and flashed away.

Feng Qingbai shook his left shoulder, which had been hit by the whip leg, causing a bone-chilling pain, but it was not a problem.

Feng Qingbai’s right hand formed a sword finger gesture.

In this narrow and oppressive small world, the sword cultivator’s supernatural abilities couldn’t be used, but Feng Qingbai had mastered the relatively inferior sword technique of controlling the sword.

Feng Qingbai came down this time to “quench his sword,” using all methods to refine his sword intent and sword heart as much as possible.

Offensive and defensive transition.

On the street, a团 of white snow, a flash of white light.

The flower-adorned Zhou Shi carefully helped Ya’er up first, letting her lean against the base of a wall, lest she die inexplicably under the sword qi and fist gales of the fighters.

The sword that Feng Qingbai pierced through her back was truly fierce and ruthless, directly shattering Ya’er’s dantian and its connections. Not only that, but a wisp of sword qi remained in her body, preventing her from circulating her energy to heal her wounds. Without an expert to help her remove that wisp of sword qi, she could only wait to die, even with the healing sacred medicine of the Vajra Temple, it would be of no use.

Of course, Zhou Shi didn’t engage in affection with her during the battle. Crouching in the shadows of the wall, he slightly increased the force of his thumb, and one of the prayer beads wrapped around his fist was pushed out. The scarlet bead didn’t roll randomly, but bounced twice on the blue stone street surface, and disappeared into thin air.

Zhou Shi continued to scatter the prayer beads.

This was a talisman that his father, Zhou Fei, had given him, saying that if used properly, it could save his life when facing the top ten people in the world, and kill enemies when facing the bottom ten. Of course, the Spring Tide Palace Master had also instructed Zhou Shi that if he encountered Ding Ying and Yu Zhenyi, he should run if he could, and if he couldn’t, he should kneel and beg for mercy, which was not shameful.

Feng Qingbai walked slowly, leisurely, using his unrestrained sword control to pursue the white-robed figure. Chen Ping’an tried several times to get rid of him, but was still entangled by the swift flying sword.

The speed of the flying sword was so fast that people could only see the sword light flowing.

Smiling Face didn’t dare to add something superfluous, and silently adjusted his breathing in the distance. Seeing this scene, Smiling Face was both relieved and horrified. If he encountered Feng Qingbai, how would he cope?

The white robe, rolling like snowflakes, suddenly stopped, and reached out to grasp the hilt of the flying sword.

Feng Qingbai was not afraid at all. “It’s not that simple, you definitely can’t catch it…”

Before Feng Qingbai could finish speaking.

Chen Ping’an gripped the hilt of the sword with his right hand, and with a chop of his left hand, struck the blade.

The blade didn’t break, but the tip of the sword was raised high, bending into a huge arc.

Feng Qingbai’s sword finger gesture paused slightly.

Chen Ping’an also put his fingers together and quickly wiped the blade, just smoothing out the long sword.

He held the sword horizontally in front of him, then released his five fingers.

While Feng Qingbai was stunned, he was grabbed by the back of his collar and thrown a dozen zhang away.

The tip of the sword was only a fraction of an inch away from piercing Feng Qingbai’s heart.

Chen Ping’an’s fingers moved slightly, and the flying sword swept back, circling around his body, like a bird snuggling up to its owner.

Sword masters control swords, and so can I.

Let’s set a small goal first, like 1 second: