On the silent street, old friends reunited.

Suspended on a flying sword, stood Yu Zhenyi, his face as youthful as a child’s. Beneath his feet, the sword’s light resembled glazed glass, shimmering with brilliant hues.

The Sect Leader of Lakeside Mountain Sect, a paragon of the righteous path, having reached the pinnacle of martial arts, he resolutely abandoned everything to pursue the mystical arts of immortals, finally achieving further advancement after scaling insurmountable heights.

He had finally appeared in the capital after the first drumbeat resounded from Cattle Mountain, the site of his ascension.

Having left Cattle Mountain, the place where he struck the celestial drum and ascended, the first person he encountered was his former brother in life and death, Zhong Qiu, the National Preceptor of the Southern Garden Kingdom.

Zhong Qiu seemed to have anticipated Yu Zhenyi’s arrival to obstruct him and showed no surprise. Instead of stopping, he continued forward until they were only twenty paces apart before halting.

Zhong Qiu asked with a smile, “Is that jade bamboo fan finished? Would using it as the token of office for the future Lakeside Mountain Sect Leader seem a bit too delicate?”

It was just like a casual greeting between ordinary friends.

Like a traveler returning home on a snowy night, asking for a cup of wine?

Yu Zhenyi asked, “This is the third time. Why?”

This was clearly a questioning of guilt.

Zhong Qiu countered, “Are you asking why I saved Lu Fang, why I’m helping that Chen Ping’an?”

Yu Zhenyi, who emerged from his secluded cultivation with the appearance of a child, had ripples stirring in his eyes, which were as dark and deep as a bottomless pool. Uncharacteristically, he was clearly furious.

Yu Zhenyi remained silent, but the flying sword beneath his feet, connected to its master’s will, radiated a brilliant and captivating light, resembling a piece of glazed glass fallen from the celestial realm.

Zhong Qiu glanced at the immortal flying sword beneath Yu Zhenyi’s feet, then withdrew his gaze. With a composed expression, he said, “Didn’t you already know the answer?”

Yu Zhenyi sighed softly, a hint of reminiscence welling up in his heart.

It wasn’t that Yu Zhenyi had softened; rather, now that things had come to this, since Zhong Qiu remained unrepentant after so many years, he had to harden his heart.

The rumors in the martial world that Yu Zhenren and National Preceptor Zhong had broken up over a beautiful woman who could topple a kingdom were greatly underestimating them.

Back when they were first rising to prominence in the martial world, it was because of an encounter with a banished immortal that the two brothers parted ways.

At that time, Yu Zhenyi was determined to kill the banished immortal, but Zhong Qiu believed that he didn’t deserve death and that the risk was too great, that there was no need to gamble everything. However, Yu Zhenyi still went alone to assassinate the banished immortal. At the critical moment of life and death, Zhong Qiu suddenly appeared and took a fatal blow for Yu Zhenyi. Then, as Ding Ying had told them in the Southern Garden Kingdom, after the banished immortal was killed, two opportunities fell from his body: a secret immortal manual for cultivating the Great Dao of immortality and an indestructible glazed sword.

In the torrential rain, Yu Zhenyi held the golden jade book of unknown material in one hand and raised the sword in the other, roaring towards the sky.

Zhong Qiu departed in dismay.

Yu Zhenyi gently tossed away the immortal’s sword, saying that the two brothers could share life and death, and should also share wealth and glory. From now on, the rules of this world, whether in the high halls of the imperial court or in the distant martial world, would be established by you, Zhong Qiu, since you enjoy reading. I, Yu Zhenyi, yearn for the immortality of the Great Dao. Once I cultivate immortal magic, I will help you guard it. I will teach all the banished immortals in the world to bow their heads and obey, never daring to act recklessly again…

However, Zhong Qiu didn’t even wait for Yu Zhenyi to finish speaking, but simply left, letting the priceless divine weapon fall into the mud, letting Yu Zhenyi’s heartfelt words dissipate in the torrential rain.

Liu Zong, the knife sharpener, left the ruined street, turned the corner, and saw this scene from afar. He was immediately astonished. After hesitating, he still slowly walked forward, neither shrinking back nor attempting to flee.

Liu Zong believed the young man’s words, believed that the “child” wielding the sword, Yu Zhenyi, who should have fought the old Devil Ding eight hundred rounds, would be determined to intercept Zhong Qiu, his former close friend.

The reason for his belief was that the young banished immortal was able to make Zhong Qiu actively feed him punches, helping to solidify a certain realm in order to better cope with the upcoming great battle.

Zhong Qiu never acted impulsively; every word and deed had its own rules.

Was Zhong Qiu a hypocritical moralist or a strategist who plotted for the country and the world? Neither. Liu Zong had been in the capital of the Southern Garden Kingdom for so many years, and he knew exactly what kind of person National Preceptor Zhong was. He was a true literary saint and martial arts grandmaster, possessing both and integrating them. He had elevated the pinnacle of outer martial arts in this world by himself. Moreover, Zhong Qiu had a very clear understanding of the distinction between good and evil. Several times, public opinion in the imperial court and the martial world was one-sided, and the capital was in turmoil. It should have been a matter of killing them all, which would have been satisfying and saved effort. However, Zhong Qiu secretly brought things to a peaceful conclusion, handling them so impartially that Liu Zong, watching coldly, had to give a thumbs up and praise him as a true hero.

So, when the young man said that he and Zhong Qiu were “like-minded people.”

Liu Zong resolutely decided that the knife in his sleeve had to be drawn.

Apart from being like-minded, he was also fighting for a chance of survival for himself.

To be honest, no one in the world wasn’t curious about the strange relationship between Yu Zhenyi and Zhong Qiu.

Of course, Liu Zong, the knife sharpener, was no exception. You should know that he gossiped with the old women and young ladies at the silk shop, talking about the trivial matters of the neighborhood, hearing about which old man was having an affair, which girl had taken a fancy to whom, that Widow Liu often had cat calls at night, which man had secretly gone to the brothel, spent all his savings, and his wife was threatening to hang herself. Liu Zong gossiped about these mundane matters even more enthusiastically than the women.

Liu Zong’s hand hidden in his sleeve tightened around the knife.

He hadn’t even asked who Widow Liu’s nocturnal cat really was, so he couldn’t die here today!

Besides, the candidates who were expected to become his disciples, both founding and closing, had been observed for so many years, and there were roughly results.

Zhong Qiu looked at the child standing on the sword, suspended in the wind, and sighed softly, “Yu Zhenyi, have you ever thought that you are still different from those banished immortals now, but if you keep walking on this path, one day, you will become them. And one day, there will be another Zhao Zhenyi, Ma Zhenyi to kill you, and they will think that killing you is perfectly justified.”
Yu Zhenyi shook his head, “Zhong Qiu, you still don’t know, the ascension site this time is still Ox Mountain, but the number of people has changed. It’s no longer ten, but only three. However, these three people are qualified to choose five, three, and one person respectively from the true history of Lotus Blossom Blessed Land to ascend and leave together. It’s just that these nine people may become vassal puppets. I’ve calculated and deduced that Ding Ying, myself, and Zhou Fei have the greatest chance of being the final three ascenders.”

Afterward, Yu Zhenyi recited the names of the ten on the final list to Zhong Qiu.

Lu Fang and Tong Qingqing were no longer on it.

Zhong Qiu went straight to the most crucial question, frowning, “You want to leave?”

Yu Zhenyi shook his head, “Of course not. I won’t ascend Ox Mountain before the third drumbeat. I will voluntarily give up that ascension opportunity, just like the madman Zhu Lian back then, except he did it to be able to ascend physically a second time. And I want to prove to you that I, Yu Zhenyi, was right to kill that banished immortal, and you, Zhong Qiu, were wrong. I want this world, as long as I, Yu Zhenyi, am alive, to be stable. Your patching and mending, Zhong Qiu, is meaningless.”

Those words were grand, but Yu Zhenyi spoke them lightly.

Zhong Qiu smiled, “Different ideals cannot be reconciled.”

Yu Zhenyi slowly said, “You still have one last chance now. Join hands with me and kill the banished immortal Zhou Fei. Ding Ying won’t interfere. Then you can live to the end. As for whether you choose to go to Ox Mountain for daytime ascension, it’s up to you.”

Zhong Qiu asked, “Then who will kill the others on the list, Liu Zong, Arm Saint Cheng Yuanshan, Great General Tang Tieyi of Northern Jin, and the Vajra Temple monk Yun Ni? Is it you, Yu Zhenyi, or Ding Ying? These people aren’t banished immortals.”

It was as if the two had been talking at cross-purposes, each speaking their own mind.

Yu Zhenyi flew into a rage, “If someone else said such foolish things, I’d just take it as the view of a countrywoman and not bother to argue! As the National Preceptor of Southern Garden, don’t you know that there’s no change in the world without unwarranted deaths?!”

Zhong Qiu nodded with a smile, “Of course I know. I’ve done a lot of things these past years to revitalize Southern Garden. But I’m just asking you, Yu Zhenyi, not asking about some unprecedented change in a thousand years, not asking about this world, not about the Lotus Blossom Blessed Land of the banished immortals. I’m just asking you, Yu Zhenyi of Chou Lan County, Zhuo Prefecture, Songlai Kingdom.”

Yu Zhenyi sneered, “Incorrigible! You, Zhong Qiu, have been this way since you were a child. No matter how many books you read or how much martial arts you practice, you’re still that stinky rock in the outhouse.”

Zhong Qiu smiled, “You, Yu Zhenyi, have changed a lot.”

Liu Zong was terrified.

He was truly afraid that Zhong Qiu would nod in agreement and, in turn, join forces with Yu Zhenyi to kill the four of them on the list, including himself, as easily as killing chickens. Aside from Yu Zhenyi, who had already reached the Realm of Transformation, not to mention Zhong Qiu was still a local tyrant in Southern Garden. Even if he, Liu Zong, joined hands with Cheng Yuanshan, Tang Tieyi, and the monk Yun Ni, they still wouldn’t stand a chance.

Fortunately, Zhong Qiu was worthy of being the National Preceptor Zhong whom Liu Zong admired!

Zhong Qiu looked up at the direction of his hometown, a little sad, “After saying so much, you, Yu Zhenyi, just want to kill me with peace of mind. That’s something that has never changed.”

Yu Zhenyi stood on his flying sword.

Zhong Qiu didn’t turn his head, laughing loudly, “Liu Zong! We’ve been neighbors in this capital for so many years, but we’ve never visited each other. It’s not that I look down on you, the knife grinder. It’s just that the friendship between gentlemen is as light as water. I, Zhong Qiu, will strike first, and you can provide support. If the disparity in strength is too great, you, Liu Zong, can run if you can. Just go find the monk Yun Ni. Don’t feel ashamed!”

The knife grinder, Liu Zong, was stunned, muttering, “Damn it, worthy of being National Preceptor Zhong. He sure knows how to flatter an old man like me, making me feel so good!”

To be friends with a wonderful person is like a drunkard drinking rich wine, how is sobriety possible?

Liu Zong, who wasn’t afraid to die but never sought death, took a step forward. Die if he must, might as well die drunk!

Yu Zhenyi leaned forward slightly, gently floating out, his feet lightly landing on the street. He waved his sleeves forward, softly saying, “Go.”

The flying sword behind him, its light as clear as glazed sunlight, drew a huge arc, broke through the wall, then broke back in, swift as lightning, reappearing on this street, just bypassing National Preceptor Zhong Qiu and charging towards the knife grinder Liu Zong behind him.

Yu Zhenyi leisurely strode forward, raising his hands and waving them, then putting them behind his back, laughing, “Zhong Qiu, aren’t you known as the number one hand in the world? Come on, I won’t fight back, you can attack as you please.”

Zhong Qiu nodded, then suddenly asked, “Can we fight outside the city?”

Yu Zhenyi laughed, “Great National Preceptor Zhong, you don’t have to worry about harming innocent people. You simply don’t have the ability.”

Zhong Qiu smiled ruefully.

This guy, after pursuing immortality, turned into a boastful little child. He, Zhong Qiu, really had to experience the so-called supernatural powers of an immortal.

Yu Zhenyi put his hands behind his back, signaling that Zhong Qiu could strike with all his might.

Not only that, but he also tapped his toes, suspending himself in the air, level with Zhong Qiu, actually making it easier for Zhong Qiu to attack!

Zhong Qiu wasn’t angry about this, feeling mocked. Instead, he became even more solemn.

He delivered a punch.

Zhong Qiu’s fist stopped a mere three feet away from Yu Zhenyi’s childish face.

That punch could only advance inch by inch, extremely slowly.

Like an old man climbing a mountain, struggling with every step.

Between the two of them, a mere three feet was a world apart.

Yu Zhenyi, with his hands behind his back, slightly shook his head, his eyes full of pity, “I never thought Zhong Qiu would be nothing more than this.”

All the way until Ding Ying appeared, seeking to finalize this chaotic situation, the Powdered Vajra Ma Xuan remained motionless. Even though Tang Tieyi, Cheng Yuanshan, Zhou Fei and several other grandmasters had left one after another, Ma Xuan was still lying on the ground.

The martial world is like this, whether the water is deep or shallow, it can drown people. Moreover, as the old saying goes, even good swimmers can drown.

Ma Xuan’s life was actually quite valuable, worth far more than five hundred taels of gold. In the Lotus Blossom Blessed Land’s martial world, this amount of gold could only buy the life of a second-rate master or a county governor’s parents.

Although he seemed to have escaped the perilous situation of being surrounded and was only facing the lotus-crowned elder, just one person, sweat had seeped into Chen Ping An’s palms. This had nothing to do with courage or mental state. It was purely because the murderous intent after Ding Ying’s appearance was too intense. Avoiding danger is a person’s instinct, but being able to rise to the challenge is the true tempering of martial arts.

Just looking at the flying sword Fifteen between Ding Ying’s fingers was enough to understand how difficult he was to deal with.
Ding Ying chuckled, “So this is what the Immortals refer to as a Natal Flying Sword? A rather novel trinket. It seems to be the first time such a thing has appeared on the map of Lotus Flower Blessed Land, and to enter with both body and soul intact is even rarer. No wonder you’ve attracted so much unwanted attention. But fret not, for I, Ding Ying, am here in Lotus Flower Blessed Land.”

Chen Pingan, without a word, expelled a breath of turbid air and assumed the stance of the Cloud-Steaming Great Marsh Fist.

Ding Ying surveyed his surroundings, his right fingers continuing to imprison the exquisitely beautiful, jade-green flying sword. He then extended his left hand, “Now that we’ve chatted, it’s time for action. Let’s see if I can slay you with just one hand.”

Ding Ying glanced at Chen Pingan’s stance, shaking his head, “I advise you to switch to a stance more conducive to offense. I’m rather hoping to witness some eye-catching martial arts. Otherwise, if I gain the initiative, you’ll be as helpless as you were when you repelled Lu Fang and Zhong Qiu with that previous stance.”

Ding Ying waved at Chen Pingan with a smile, “You managed at most ten punches previously; surely you can do more. I’m quite curious, what’s the maximum number of blows you can deliver? Feel free to unleash your full power; I’ll receive them all!”

Chen Pingan indeed changed to the stance of Divine Man Drumming, his aura instantly shifting from that of a lofty mountain fortress to a tidal wave of iron cavalry.

Ding Ying nodded with a smile, still restraining the miniature flying sword with one hand, ready to face his foe. “Come!”

In a flash, the street where Chen Pingan had been standing collapsed into a massive pit, several zhang in circumference, his white-robed figure vanishing without a trace.

Ding Ying nodded slightly, impressed by the speed.

No wonder Lu Fang, on the verge of entering the Sword Control Realm, had been so thoroughly routed.

Ding Ying blocked the young Immortal’s fist with his palm. Just as he was about to grip and clench, the force of the punch lessened, and a second blow was already aimed at his ribs.

Ding Ying understood. If his guess was correct, this fist technique delivered blows that advanced in succession, each punch increasing in speed, power, and spiritual intent. Its most ingenious aspect was the seamless connection between each blow, making it impossible to evade, leaving only the option to withstand them head-on. At first glance, it seemed like just a small hill, but if an Immortal were to use divine powers to reveal the earth for thousands of miles, they would discover that the insignificant hill was actually an entire “dragon vein”, an ancestral mountain of the world.

Before the eighth punch, Ding Ying hadn’t moved an inch, precisely meeting each blow with his palm.

Around him, it was as if a snow-white dragon was coiling, yet no human form could be seen.

With the ninth punch, Ding Ying retreated a step, still blocking the punch aimed at his brow with his palm.

Ding Ying’s seemingly simple actions contained the essence of nine martial arts he had collected from various sects and gangs throughout Lotus Flower Blessed Land. Not to mention the Mirror Heart Pavilion, his own personal training ground, Yu Zhenyi’s Lakeside Sect, the fist techniques Zhong Qiu imparted to his direct disciples, Bird-Watching Peak and Spring Tide Palace, Cheng Yuanshan’s Avalanche-style spear technique, the unrevealed secrets of the Eight-Armed Divine Spirit Xue Yuan, and other grandmasters—Ding Ying had obtained them all through various means and transformed them into his own. Some had already reached the pinnacle of martial arts, so he left them untouched. Others still had room for improvement, and Ding Ying would help refine them in his spare time.

The tenth punch.

Ding Ying shifted several steps to the side, yet still had the leisure to laugh and say, “The only flaw in your fist technique is that it follows the path of harming oneself to injure the enemy. I’m curious to see how many punches you can endure, and just how powerful that final punch will be.”

Chen Pingan focused solely on his strikes, his mind as calm as the bottom of an ancient well.

There were no spectators to this fight.

Because they dared not.

The Old Devil Ding was notorious for enjoying the brutal slaughter of onlookers.

You daredevils enjoy watching from the sidelines, do you? Enjoy pointing fingers and applauding, do you? Enjoy wearing expressions of shock as if you’ve seen a ghost in broad daylight, do you? During every break in his battles, Old Devil Ding would slap those onlookers into minced meat, like one using a fan to swat mosquitoes on an account book, flies on a wall.

That was why Crown Prince Wei Yan’s scrawny master, who had arrived not long ago and was initially hidden in the distance, fled as soon as he saw that Old Devil Ding was personally intervening.

However, there was only one Ding Ying. Others like Zhong Qiu and Yu Zhenyi, mountain-peak figures in their own right, also disliked onlookers, but mostly ignored them.

But observing the life-or-death struggle between second-rate masters was a great taboo in the martial world, because no one wanted their trump card to be seen by outsiders. People were gossipy, and one person would tell ten, ten would tell a hundred, until it was known by everyone. The Jianghu was not that big, especially after reaching the level of a first-rate grandmaster; the Jianghu became even smaller.

The distance between the two remained within two arms’ length, but with the eleventh punch, Ding Ying seemed to have tasted the power of the Divine Man Drumming Fist. He deliberately widened the distance, retreating more than ten feet after being struck.

Lu Fang had been severely injured by ten punches because, firstly, he had been caught off guard and had no time to react. Ding Ying, on the other hand, had been prepared from the start. Secondly, Lu Fang had focused solely on swordsmanship, his skill lying only in the sword, his physique far inferior to Ding Ying’s. Lu Fang taking Chen Pingan’s ten punches was like an infantry force encountering an elite cavalry force in the open field, collapsing at the first touch, a complete rout. Ding Ying, facing the same ten punches, was fortified behind high walls and a mighty army.

Therefore, the true gap between Lu Fang and Ding Ying was not as vast as it seemed.

Ultimately, Ding Ying’s easy handling of the situation was due to the lessons learned from Lu Fang and Zhong Qiu.

After the eleventh punch, Ding Ying stood ten feet away, taking advantage of the brief respite before the next punch to suddenly flick his sleeves, dispersing the remaining fist force lingering in his palm. Ding Ying said playfully, “Three or four more punches, and I might suffer a minor injury.”

The twelfth punch arrived at his face. Ding Ying threw his own punch for the first time, colliding with Chen Pingan’s Divine Man Drumming Fist.

Chen Pingan retreated several steps, but the mysteries of the Divine Man Drumming Fist were displayed to the fullest extent. Chen Pingan, with an unnatural trajectory and speed, delivered the punch even faster.

With no time to punch, Ding Ying had to raise his elbow slightly belatedly, blocking it in front of him.

His own elbow struck his chest.

Ding Ying flew backward with a thud, but his inner qi surged within his robes, helping to dissipate most of the punch’s force.

In a flash of insight, noticing that his opponent seemed to have slowed down slightly, Ding Ying narrowed his eyes. His figure slid backward, and as he received the fourteenth punch, he smiled and said, “Earlier, at your residence, there was a mischievous little thing, ignorant of death, trying to secretly use the flying sword to burrow underground to find you. I discovered it. I wonder if it’s been shaken to death or suffocated under the earth.”
As expected, although the young man was aware of something, he still didn’t stop. The fifteenth punch came swiftly.

After the punch.

Ding Ying retreated again, his fingers, which were clamping the flying sword Fifteen, trembling slightly.

Instead of being alarmed, Ding Ying was secretly pleased, though he hid it well.

This Old Devil Ding, who had been firmly seated on the throne of the number one figure for sixty years, seemed arrogant and presumptuous, but in the deepest recesses of his heart, he desired to grasp the essence of this punch technique more than anyone else.

It was highly probable that comprehending this punch would give him a greater chance of accomplishing what he desired in his heart.

To contend against this world’s Heavenly Dao!

Ding Ying didn’t care that speaking would cause his true energy to dissipate rapidly. He smiled and said, “Those four heads from earlier, I had Crow and Zhou Shi bring them out for you to see. That little child, if I remember correctly, is called Cao Qinglang. He’s truly unfortunate to have encountered a banished immortal like you.”

Even Ding Ying couldn’t clearly see Chen Ping’an’s face, but the old man could clearly sense a “trace” of murderous intent.

Not anger, nor even the kind of wildly scattered murderous intent, but one that was deliberately suppressed into a thin line, then twisted into a single point.

This was quite interesting.

This person’s mental state was unique among the banished immortals Ding Ying had seen and killed.

Ding Ying’s learning in life was miscellaneous, and he read every book. He had once come across this passage in a Taoist classic: *To travel in water without avoiding dragons is the courage of a boatman. To walk in the mountains and forests without fearing jackals and wolves is the courage of a woodcutter. To face a blade and see death as life is the courage of a hero. To know that human power has its limits and remain calm in the face of great calamity is the courage of a sage.*

To be calm, one must first have a stable mind.

What does it mean that human power has its limits? It means that when the Chen Ping’an before him believes that the family in the small courtyard is dead, and that the little thing might be dead too, he must not only know that all guilt and regret are meaningless and will only lead to self-destruction, but he must also act on it with focused dedication.

Knowing is not easy, but doing is even harder.

But Chen Ping’an did not disappoint Ding Ying.

His punches were neither hesitant nor restrained. On the contrary, even knowing that each punch would only allow Ding Ying to understand the Divine Man Drumming style better, his punches were even more resolute. Injure the enemy a thousand, and yourself eight hundred. Either Ding Ying would die by his fists, or his own meridians would be severed, his soul would be destroyed, his flesh would collapse, and he would die honorably in the process of delivering the final Divine Man Drumming punch.

The sixteenth punch!

Ding Ying nodded slightly and laughed heartily. Light like a waterfall cascaded down from the lotus on top of his silver high crown, covering his entire body.

This time, Ding Ying only retreated three steps, unharmed.

Chen Ping’an retracted his fist, using the force of the rebound to leap backward several feet.

After standing firm, he raised his arm and wiped away blood with the back of his hand.

Ding Ying had no intention of switching between offense and defense. He asked with a smile, “Why aren’t you punching anymore? Judging by your aura, you can support at least two more punches, at the very least.”

Ding Ying looked at the silent young man and raised his right hand. “Didn’t you ever think that maybe with one or two more punches, you could force me to release my fingers?”

Ding Ying sighed, feeling a little regretful. If he hadn’t summoned the lotus crown, his intuition told him that it would be dangerous, and they might really end up severely injured.

However, there was no need to seek perfection in everything. These dozen or so punches were enough for him to study and analyze.

It was clear that this punch technique was the most lethal move of that young banished immortal.

Ding Ying felt that it was enough. Now it was time to get down to business.

Chen Ping’an looked around.

Everything was so inexplicable.

But precisely because of this, Chen Ping’an felt that the injustice in his heart was about to explode.

Just like when he was young and saw Liu Xianyang lying in the hospital bed, he left and silently walked towards that covered bridge.

That feeling of despair, even after all these years, after traveling so far, after practicing so many punches, Chen Ping’an still remembered it vividly.

The world is vast, you are alone, and then you encounter some great obstacle that you can’t overcome no matter what. You either suffocate to death, or you seek death, what else can you do?

At this moment, the sword-raising gourd at his waist was still sealed, and First remained unable to leave.

The Golden Li Dharma Robe on his body was still lifeless.

And Fifteen, which was both a flying sword and a spatial treasure, was still firmly bound by Ding Ying between his fingers.

Fortunately, Chen Ping’an was no longer the pottery apprentice he once was.

Chen Ping’an spat out a mouthful of blood and said, “Didn’t you forget something?”

Ding Ying laughed and said, “Are you talking about the sword you left on the table? You want to go and get it and then fight me? But under my nose, do you think you can get there?”

Ding Ying answered his own question, shaking his head. “As long as I don’t want you to leave, you, Chen Ping’an, won’t be able to get out of ten feet. I can already be certain that you are just a pure martial artist, a so-called banished immortal, not a sword cultivator at all. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to trap this small flying sword.”

Chen Ping’an grinned, glancing at the Taoist crown on Ding Ying’s head. “Heavenly timing, geographical advantage, and popular support, you have it all, aren’t you feeling great?”

Ding Ying narrowed his eyes, his murderous intent deepening. “Oh? Boy, you’re not convinced, but what can you do?”

“Earlier, what word did you say, ‘come’?”

Chen Ping’an extended one arm horizontally. “Right?”

Ding Ying remained silent, responding with a sneer.

He thought that this very different banished immortal was definitely trying to struggle in vain.

He would just wait and see what happened.

Chen Ping’an silently recited in his heart, “!”

From within the side room of that courtyard, the Long Qi Sword, whose sword energy alone weighed tens of pounds, instantly left its sheath.

As if following Chen Ping’an’s last approximate footsteps when he left the house, as if demonstrating to this world, the long sword broke through the window like a white rainbow, left the courtyard, came to the alley, swept through the alley, entered the main street, and brushed past Ding Ying.

When Chen Ping’an grasped this “white rainbow.”

The snow-white river of sword energy still lingered in the world, both winding and straight, but without the slightest sign of dissipating.

When Chen Ping’an reached out and grasped the Long Qi Sword.

The sword body was like frost and snow, the sword energy was like a white rainbow, and his robe was even whiter than snow.

In this world, within arm’s reach, Chen is invincible.

Beyond arm’s reach, there is still a sword.