Upon the high platform in the heart of the lake, a woman in colorful attire, seemingly formed from fallen yellow talismans, surveyed her surroundings. Her eyes, bright and lively, sparkled with spirit. She was no mere puppet or lifeless object, but a living, breathing woman.

At the edge of the platform, the venerable immortal, under the gaze of the crowd, produced a small, famille-rose porcelain bottle from his sleeve. He uncorked it and casually tossed it toward the center of the platform, where it landed near the feet of the colorful woman. After a moment of silence, the melodious sound of a qin began to emanate from the bottle. It was as if a master musician were present, skillfully playing the instrument. Experts of the qin could discern that the piece began with a slow Jiao mode. The colorful woman, in time with the music, gracefully extended her body, her long sleeves flowing like iridescent clouds.

The music paused slightly, and the colorful woman halted her movements, striking a playful pose with one foot playfully raised.

Her pink embroidered shoe delicately pointed, like a lotus bud just revealing its tip.

Then, the music shifted from slow to fast, and the beauty’s dance accelerated accordingly. Her waist twisted and turned like the wind, and a single glance over her shoulder was full of captivating allure.

As the music became increasingly rapid and chaotic, like a cascade of pearls pouring onto a jade platter,

the old immortal smiled faintly. He suddenly raised both sleeves, from each of which fluttered four yellow talismans. As they touched the ground, wisps of green smoke billowed forth, enveloping the colorful woman. The crowd could only hear the music growing more frantic, but they could no longer see the beauty’s figure. Anxiety turned to anticipation.

In an instant, the music soared to a crescendo, like a silver vase shattering.

At that very moment, from within the ethereal mist, eight graceful young women in white robes materialized without warning. They sprang outwards in all directions, with the colorful woman at the center. Each wielded a long sword. Simultaneously, these lithe, white-clad swordswomen let out a unified cry, reminiscent of an ancient barbarian rite performed to honor the deities. But rather than detracting from their elegance, the cry added a unique air of fortitude, showing women were not to be outdone by men.

Within the lakeside pavilion, a middle-aged military commander garrisoned near Rouge County, his eyes lit up, pleasantly surprised. He had accepted the invitation to come solely out of courtesy, but having now witnessed this spectacle, he couldn’t help but clap his hands in praise. “A truly remarkable cavalry charge! Especially the way those girls advance with their swords, filled with such spirit. Truly impressive.”

Prefect Liu stroked his beard and smiled, nodding in agreement. “Indeed, quite exceptional.”

Thereafter, the music continued to ascend into the heavens, like thunder rumbling through a sea of clouds. The eight swordswomen, ever circling the central colorful woman, spun rapidly, their sword strokes like bolts of lightning. The colorful woman, however, intentionally slowed her movements, creating a striking contrast with the lightning-fast swordswomen. And many times, the women would lunge with their swords, the tips stopping a mere inch or so from the colorful woman. It was truly perilous, yet the colorful woman kept smiling.

The scene on the lake’s high platform presented both flowing grace and breathtaking allure.

The old immortal smiled slightly and whispered, “Withdraw!”

As the silhouettes of the girls on the platform were quick enough to be compared to startled wild geese, a shower of white sword-light sprayed into the crowd of watchers, some of whom covered their faces in fright. Then, as the old immortal spoke the word “Withdraw!”,

the eight white-clad women came to an abrupt halt, transforming into yellow talismans suspended in mid-air. The old immortal beckoned, and the talismans flew back into his sleeves, like swallows returning to their nests.

The colorful woman stooped to pick up the porcelain bottle. With graceful steps, she walked up to the old immortal and offered it back to him. Then she cast a dazzling smile in the direction of the head seat of the water pavilion, before reverting to being a crudely inscribed yellow talisman, just as the other white-clad women had done. The old immortal carefully tucked it away into his sleeve.

This display by the venerable immortal from afar, filled the audience with astonishment. It awed all the wealthy folk who had come to Rouge County to join in on the excitement. Some of the local “immortal masters” who had harbored challenges had lost their nerve to jeer.

The young Daoist priest, circling around the Prefect’s eldest son, asked softly, “Brother Xu, did you see through it? Is it demons or ghosts? Because my demon-detection chime hasn’t moved.”

The heavily bearded man ignored the priest, stroking his chin and muttering, “The white-clad maiden with the mole on her lip… her figure seems no less striking than that of the colorful woman.”

Liu Gaohua was lost in his shock. He murmured to himself, “Such supernatural power! No wonder so many people seek out immortals in the mountains as recorded in books. If I could learn such divine techniques, I’d have no need to frequent brothels for entertainment.”

The heavily bearded man came back to his senses, asking the young Daoist priest, “Has Chen Ping’an not returned yet? Did he fall into the latrine?”

The young Daoist priest sighed helplessly. “Chen Ping’an has no interest in such things. He probably snuck off to practice his fist stances.”

The heavily bearded man nodded, approvingly. “Chen Ping’an would definitely do something so distasteful. Actually, we should have young Master Liu take us to a rouge parlor. That would ensure Chen Ping’an will be the first to camp at the lakeside the next time something like this occurs.”

Liu Gaohua looked troubled. “Great Hero Xu, I am practically destitute. You have seen the state of my family estate. In the past, when I indulged in frivolous pleasures, it was only at the insistence of friends. To put it bluntly, at first the girls would recall that I was the Prefect’s son, and would say some flattering words and actively try to seduce me. But later, everyone secretly cursed me as a miser who wouldn’t even pull out a hair, and were close to showing me the door.”

The heavily bearded man teased, “To think that a descendant of officials has become such a wretch. That takes some skill, Liu Gaohua. What, you couldn’t succeed in your studies, couldn’t continue your father’s legacy, and you’re too ashamed to make money? In the end, you can’t rely on either. So you spend your days wandering around, not doing anything worthwhile?”

Liu Gaohua’s face darkened, and he mocked himself, “If I weren’t the only son in the family, and my father still wanted me to carry on the family line, he would write a eulogy that would be famous for its blood and tears should I perish in the ancient manor. In truth, the affection between father and son is only that deep.”

The heavily bearded man peeled a tangerine, handing half to Liu Gaohua, without saying a word of consolation.

In times of peace and plenty, the young always feel that everything is unsatisfactory.

Only when true misfortune arrives, will they realize that the past unhappiness was, in fact, a blessing.

The young Daoist priest grew concerned about Chen Ping’an and wanted to get up to look for him. However, the corridor was already packed with people, leaving no room to move. He had no choice but to give up.

Chen Ping’an stood at the foot of a wall in a secluded area, stopping seven or eight paces from the outer wall of the residence. He didn’t move forward any further.
The black-clad youth perched atop the wall, a playful glint in his eyes as he sized up Chen Pingan. Speaking in the distinct dialect of Longquan, he said, “I couldn’t gauge the depth of your fist intent back by the stream. Looking back now, that fight at the Immortal Graveyard… I was careless indeed. Losing wasn’t entirely undeserved.”

A familiar accent in a foreign land.

But Chen Pingan wasn’t happy at all.

This fellow was none other than Ma Kuxuan from Apricot Blossom Lane, taken as a disciple by the Zhenwu Mountain, one of the ancestral halls of military strategists in the Treasure Bottle Continent.

Back at the Immortal Graveyard, Ma Kuxuan had been intent on eliminating both of them, deliberately amassing power, hoping to deal with him and Ning Yao in one fell swoop. This gave Chen Pingan the opening to nearly finish him off with the hairpin dagger Ning Yao had temporarily lent him. Unfortunately, a Zhenwu Mountain expert had intervened, preventing Chen Pingan’s success.

Ma Kuxuan held a handful of salted soybeans, popping them into his mouth one by one, savoring the flavor.

While he was at Zhenwu Mountain, he had worried that this kid from Mud Bottle Lane would either die or become an insignificant mundane scholar. In that case, the grudge from the Immortal Graveyard would be too boring to avenge. In the past year or so, he, Ma Kuxuan, had followed his second master to cultivate on Zhenwu Mountain. He became the talk of the town, so to speak, after ascending the mountain. Not to say he shook the entire continent, but throughout the dozens of countries surrounding Zhenwu Mountain, who didn’t know about the once-in-a-century genius from Zhenwu Mountain, appearing out of nowhere? Which of the old patriarchs and ancient freaks on the mountain dared to look down on him, just because of their higher cultivation realm or seniority?

Breaking through three realms in a mere year, advancing like a hot knife through butter, he was now at the peak of the fifth realm, Foundation Building, scaring people to death.

On Zhenwu Mountain, in battles between those of the same cultivation level, big and small, sixteen fights in total, Ma Kuxuan hadn’t suffered a single defeat.

It was just a pity that this trip down the mountain, for vengeance and settling scores, could barely be considered so. He still hadn’t broken through the bottleneck of the fifth realm to enter the middle five realms in one fell swoop. Thus, Ma Kuxuan wasn’t in a great mood. He had his accompanying master return to the mountain first, saying he wanted to wander the world, find a few grandmasters in the Qi Refining third realm to spar with, seeing if he could learn from others to improve himself and successfully break through. But even without using the many magical treasures he had received as rewards from Zhenwu Mountain, given as prizes, or won in bets, Ma Kuxuan traveled alone through the Jianghu of five or six small countries, and couldn’t find a single genuine grandmaster. Most were fourth and fifth realm martial artists, craving fame and reputation, unable to withstand more than a few of his punches.

Ma Kuxuan ate his handful of salted soybeans, grinning as he said, “Chen Pingan, judging by your appearance, you’re determined to walk the path of a pure martial artist? Actually, it doesn’t matter. If you’re lucky, a sixth realm martial artist might catch the eye of our Great Li Dynasty. If you can then snag a battlefield generalship with some real power, you, Chen Pingan, could be considered to have brought honor to your ancestors.”

Chen Pingan asked directly, “Did you come looking for me? Or are you just passing by?”

Ma Kuxuan seemed to have heard the biggest joke in the world, laughing so hard he could barely stop. Finally, after halting his laughter with great effort, he threw the last of the soybeans into his mouth, sneering, “Just passing by. You, Chen Pingan, think too highly of yourself. I heard that in the Colored Robe Country, there was an unparalleled Sword God who had retreated into the mountains for thirty years. Everyone said his swordsmanship was divine, even more impressive than the immortals on the mountains, something about having no sword in hand but a sword in the heart, they were exaggerating wildly. I spent a lot of effort to find him, but he refused to fight, saying he had already retired from the Jianghu, which infuriated me. I searched for him for almost half a month, how could he dismiss me with a single sentence? But no matter how I attacked, he only retreated and avoided battle, constantly fleeing. Even if I chased after him and killed him with a punch, it would lose the original intention of my seeking a sparring partner. So I came up with a plan, I found his descendants in the Jianghu, and carried two heads to find this Sword God, finally he was willing to fight me. But how could a fifth realm martial artist who uses a sword be worthy of the title ‘Sword God’? Don’t you think so, Chen Pingan?”

On Zhenwu Mountain, Ma Kuxuan was actually a man of few words, definitely not as loquacious as he was now. Aside from occasional insights or breakthroughs, he would go out and find someone to fight, and spend the rest of the time cultivating in seclusion. Not counting his master in name only, there were two old patriarchs on Zhenwu Mountain who fed him punches and taught him the true meaning of military strategy. One was arranged by the Zhenwu Mountain sect, and the other admired Ma Kuxuan, taking the initiative to appear and regard Ma Kuxuan as his own successor.

Ma Kuxuan himself didn’t know why, but he felt like talking in front of this peer from Mud Bottle Lane. Of course, after saying what he wanted to say, there was something more important to do.

Like having another fight!

Ma Kuxuan had made a vow after ascending the mountain. In battles of the same realm, whether against Qi Refiners or pure martial artists, he would be victorious, with no suspense. This was true for the lower five realms, and would be for the upcoming middle five realms, and even more so for the future upper five realms!

So Chen Pingan, this boy from his hometown, was a minor knot in his heart. For military cultivation, this little knot was nothing much, but it was disgusting, Ma Kuxuan was certainly not happy. He could wreak havoc on Zhenwu Mountain, which was full of immortals, but he had actually lost to a little mud-legged boy who knew a few rudimentary martial arts?

Chen Pingan asked, “Having met, are we going to fight?”

Ma Kuxuan rubbed his hands, grinning as he said, “It’s alright, even if it’s the third realm against the third realm, I won’t be taking advantage of you, Chen Pingan. Considering our hometown friendship, I’ll still try my best to hold back, and try not to accidentally kill you. Even if you’re injured or crippled tonight, in the years to come, when I gradually reach the upper five realms, the battle at the Immortal Graveyard will be enough for you to be proud of. But I’ll advise you first, you can be smug about it in your heart, but if you let it slip, and I hear even a hint of it, I won’t be polite with you.”

Ma Kuxuan looked down at the calm peer below, feeling a faint displeasure. Oh, you’ve learned to feign composure. It seems this journey, all the way to this Colored Robe Country, has given you some experience. Ma Kuxuan still smiled, telling himself that after knocking him down with a few punches later, this kid would know the immensity of the heavens and the earth.

Ma Kuxuan was just about to get up and jump off the wall when Chen Pingan said, “Let’s fight outside.”

Ma Kuxuan, who was crouching on the wall, leaned back, disappearing from view, as if he had fallen onto the street outside the wall.

Chen Pingan looked around, then touched the wall with his toes, leaping onto the wall, seeing Ma Kuxuan slowly walking on the empty street, beckoning to him.

When Chen Pingan’s feet landed on the street, Ma Kuxuan put one hand behind his back, scratching his head with the other, glancing at the sword box behind Chen Pingan, smiling as he said, “You can use any weapon you want, it won’t be considered me taking advantage of you.”
Without a word, Chen Ping’an “slowly” advanced with the six-step stance of the Mountain-Shaking Fist.

Deep waters run silent.

So it is with the intent of a martial artist. Spirit and energy contained within, returning to simplicity, the principles of the fist being the principles of the world.

Although Ma Kuxuan appeared frivolous, always regarding Chen Ping’an as a frog in a well, when he truly stilled his heart and formally faced his opponent, the black-clad youth’s aura underwent a complete transformation. One hand formed a fist, held against his abdomen, the other palm open, behind his back. The fingers of his fist habitually and lightly tapped his palm.

The two were separated by a dozen steps.

“Having just fist intent is not enough; you are too slow!”

Ma Kuxuan suddenly took a step forward. The street beneath his shoe vibrated slightly, the force penetrating deeply downwards, without any signs of dissipating outwards. In an instant, the black-clad youth arrived before Chen Ping’an, his right fist striking down.

Chen Ping’an simultaneously extended both hands, tilting his head. His left hand slapped away Ma Kuxuan’s right fist, while his other hand gripped the opponent’s cunning, upward-sloping hook punch. At the same time, he leaned forward, driving his left elbow towards Ma Kuxuan’s face.

Unexpectedly, Ma Kuxuan raised his knee, abruptly kicking out a leg, blocking Chen Ping’an’s forward momentum. He then leaned back, taking the opportunity to create distance between them, dodging the elbow strike. However, just as Ma Kuxuan was about to unleash his concentrated power, this kick, delivering force, would have truly ruptured his internal organs. In his days wandering the martial world, challenging masters from all corners, even fifth-realm martial artists, once struck by the body-tempered, warrior-path cultivator Ma Kuxuan, whether by fist or foot, would almost certainly vomit several ounces of blood.

But Ma Kuxuan didn’t succeed. Chen Ping’an’s right hand preemptively seized his leg, instantly throwing him sideways.

Ma Kuxuan rapidly adjusted his posture in mid-air, ultimately planting both feet on the wall. He even maintained a bizarre position, his body parallel with the street, walking forward as if on flat ground.

Chen Ping’an “walked alongside” him, not giving chase, instead, using both fists to pummel Ma Kuxuan’s head.

Nor did he use any of the fist techniques that Old Cui had taught in the bamboo building.

In their initial probing, neither side knew the other’s true depths. Therefore, their first exchange was more about building momentum, more about weighing each other’s strength, rather than exerting all their power, launching into a wide-open, unrestrained battle from the start. Chen Ping’an’s caution was not surprising. But Ma Kuxuan, having witnessed the scenery of Mount Zhenwu and experienced the power of martial masters in the pugilistic world, remaining so conservative was somewhat interesting. Clearly, Ma Kuxuan harbored an unspeakable apprehension deep down for Chen Ping’an, the only one who had ever defeated him.

Here it comes!

The wall was imprinted with two hollows from Ma Kuxuan’s steps.

The black-clad youth shot forth like a sharp arrow. Chen Ping’an lowered his true qi to his dantian, drawing an arc with one foot, gliding lightly backwards. Then, he suddenly exerted force. With a resounding thud, dust billowed from the street at his feet. The ground beneath his grass sandals was cracked and broken.

Ma Kuxuan unleashed a torrent of punches. Chen Ping’an retreated while fighting, meeting him head-on, fist against fist. Ma Kuxuan’s punches were powerful and heavy, continuous and unbroken. His breath flowed smoothly, extending endlessly. Even suspended in the air, without a foothold, Ma Kuxuan still displayed an extremely fierce and robust presence.

The air between the two crackled.

It was as if someone was frantically beating a drum between them.

Chen Ping’an was driven back a dozen steps by the black-clad youth’s relentless assault, almost forced against the wall.

However, Chen Ping’an, who had unknowingly gained a territorial advantage, was able to constantly borrow and dissipate power from the ground, accumulating subtle advantages bit by bit. With one side gaining and the other losing, Chen Ping’an, who still held back reserves in this second exchange, in case of unforeseen circumstances, heavily stomped the ground. That wasn’t enough; he then planted his foot firmly, and after blocking Ma Kuxuan’s punch, returned it with double the force, slamming a fist into Ma Kuxuan’s cheek, sending the black-clad youth flying sideways.

But just as Chen Ping’an was preparing to draw a fresh breath, the sent-flying Ma Kuxuan swept in with a horizontal leg, repaying him in kind, lashing heavily against Chen Ping’an’s neck.

One was sent flying by Chen Ping’an, his body reversing direction, his feet touching the ground, but his body still slid backwards.

The other was kicked by Ma Kuxuan, causing his entire body to spin, his knees slightly bent. After regaining his balance, he immediately retreated, as if needing to regulate his breathing.

Ma Kuxuan grinned, his white teeth gleaming, roughly gauging the weight, speed, and true qi circulation of Chen Ping’an’s fist techniques. He lunged forward, so fast it was as if he had used a divine-speed talisman from the Daoist sect.

Chen Ping’an was forced to assume a seemingly defensive fist posture. Ma Kuxuan’s pupils constricted. Just as the two were about to collide, Ma Kuxuan’s body turned, his footsteps rapid and tight, tapping out little by little, circling Chen Ping’an like a spinning top, his body always leaning backwards, on the verge of falling, maintaining a distance of an arm and a half from Chen Ping’an.

Chen Ping’an did not rashly deliver that punch.

After circling once, Ma Kuxuan straightened his body and once again drifted around Chen Ping’an, curiously asking, “That punch… it seems very dangerous. Does it have a name?”

Chen Ping’an naturally would not speak, gently shifting his feet, always facing Ma Kuxuan, his fist posture unchanged, fist intent flowing throughout his body, a stream of true qi coursing like a fiery dragon within him.

Ma Kuxuan did not receive an answer, his footsteps continuing, gracefully wandering near Chen Ping’an, suddenly laughing to himself. “I was foolish. It’s not your fault, it’s not your fault. It’s funny to say, but during this journey through the martial world, I’ve seen many so-called heroes and masters. During battle, they exchange blows back and forth, and countless fools clap and cheer on the sidelines, fighting like chickens pecking at each other. Before they strike, they always like to shout, ‘Eat this move of mine!’ Or they foolishly reveal the name of their technique, as if they can’t wait for their opponent to know the origins and essence of that sword or that fist.”

Ma Kuxuan laughed, his eyes squinting, his smile languid.

But the black-clad youth, who had agreed only to determine victory and defeat, now harbored a killing intent no less than that of the Divine Immortal Burial Ground battle.

Ma Kuxuan stood firm, asking, “We can’t just stand here in stalemate. My third realm has actually fought you to a draw. Chen Ping’an, do you want to fight in a more interesting way?”

Chen Ping’an twitched the corner of his mouth. “If you use your fifth realm directly, I won’t consider it as you taking advantage.”

Ma Kuxuan had said similar words before. Now, Chen Ping’an, this silent gourd, throwing them back at the proud and arrogant Ma Kuxuan, was simply more hateful than a punch to Ma Kuxuan’s head.

Ma Kuxuan chuckled.
The black-robed youth forced a brilliant smile, rage burning within him. One hand repeatedly clenched and unclenched, strands of snow-white lightning crackling and weaving between his fingers, emitting a hissing sound.

It turned out that in their previous battle of realms, Ma Kuixuan had abandoned the identity of a military strategist Qi refiner, resulting in a brawl that was more street fight than high art, utterly lacking in finesse.

Chen Ping’an, however, showed no sign of fear. Instead, his martial intent surged violently, rising like a tidal wave.

This time, though, he had swapped the ancient, god-drumming style for the sharp, uncompromising formation of an iron cavalry charge.

Finally, Chen Ping’an uttered words that solidified Ma Kuixuan’s resolve to kill him.

“Ma Kuixuan, I’m begging you, just fight! Stop your incessant prattling.”

Ma Kuixuan took a deep breath, his lazy demeanor vanishing, replaced by a tranquil gaze devoid of arrogance, joy, or anger.

His face was calm as he pointed a finger, “Dare you decide our victory or defeat within the second circle I just traversed? Whoever exits the circle first loses.”

Chen Ping’an nodded.

Without hesitation, Ma Kuixuan stepped forward, entering the circular boundary.

Chen Ping’an of Mud Bottle Lane, Ma Kuixuan of Apricot Blossom Lane.

In truth, both knew that Ma Kuixuan sought not merely victory or defeat, but life or death.

Chen Ping’an, unwilling to evade, knew that any hint of retreat would mean his demise. Moreover, slaying a scoundrel like Ma Kuixuan, whose power grew with the lives he took, would not weigh on his conscience.

Their encounter tonight in a foreign land was accidental.

Their invisible conflict of great daos, however, had been inevitable since their days in their hometown.

Furthermore, there was a feud between their fathers, known only to Ma Kuixuan, not yet to Chen Ping’an.

On this deserted street in Rouge County City of the Color-Robed Kingdom, within Treasure Bottle Continent…

Chen Ping’an, adopting the iron cavalry charge, launched the first strike. The inch-square talisman within his sleeve was ready to provide timely support for his true killing move, the god-drumming style.

Ma Kuixuan, a fifth-realm military strategist cultivator, wielded the deeply rooted “Thunder” of True Martial Mountain in his palms and fingertips.

Within the confines of an inch, on this square foot of earth…

Resided the abundant martial intent and startling lightning of both youths.

This close-quarters combat…

Judging by realm alone, it was a clash between a peak third-realm pure martial artist and a peak fifth-realm Qi refiner – in Ma Kuixuan’s words, a mere squabble between chicks.

But considering the martial intent of one, and the military strategist’s soul nurtured within the other, it was not only unheard of in the mundane world but shocking even amongst the immortals of the mountains.

Ma Kuixuan first shattered Chen Ping’an’s iron cavalry charge, which had yet to coalesce into true martial principle.

However, Ma Kuixuan soon suffered a full fifteen strikes of the god-drumming style, his face flushing a faint gold. He had to forcibly sever the ancient fist’s momentum with True Martial Mountain’s secret military technique. Afterwards, Ma Kuixuan struck Chen Ping’an, causing blood to seep from his temples. His face was bombarded by electric light spheres twice, the sensation like spring thunder roaring in his ears, like a hammer smashing his face. However, Chen Ping’an, having endured countless hardships in the Fallen Phoenix Mountain’s Bamboo Lodge, was all too familiar with this!

Ma Kuixuan fought with increasing ferocity, like a demon unleashed.

The two countrymen, of similar age, traded blows, seeking speed and a “kill one thousand, self-harm eight hundred” exchange. With the youths’ extreme resilience and ruthlessness, they would not let go of even a profit of twenty, let alone two hundred.

They would rather endure a punch to the face than block it, insisting on landing their own blow first.

Chen Ping’an’s internal organs were already quaking, blood flowing from his seven orifices.

Ma Kuixuan’s Qi was also in disarray, his heart clenching in pain, the True Martial Mountain lightning on his hands dwindling.

However, both youths grew even more composed.

Each became the other’s whetstone, sharpening their great daos.

Their final exchange of injuries was a moment of perfect understanding. Chen Ping’an transformed his soul-nourishing sword-stance into an attack, splitting it apart with both hands, but maintaining a unified Qi. One hand’s two fingers pierced Ma Kuixuan’s brow, the other hand’s bent fingers tapped Ma Kuixuan’s heart.

Chen Ping’an himself was struck in the chest by Ma Kuixuan’s fists, one after the other.

Both stumbled backwards simultaneously. As Ma Kuixuan stepped outside the circle, he swallowed a mouthful of blood and sneered, “Chen Ping’an, you lost this time! We’re tied, one win each!”

Chen Ping’an remained silent, twisting his toes, staring intently at Ma Kuixuan, slowly raising the back of his hand to wipe the blood from his face, not daring to obscure his vision.

Just then, from the city walls, someone said softly, “Very good.”

Ma Kuixuan sighed, turned, and began to walk away, turning his head to point at Chen Ping’an, “Next time, we will decide victory, defeat, and life.”

Turning his back, the black-robed youth walked forward slowly, his face contorted with pain, his teeth clenched, determined not to utter a single sound.

Chen Ping’an stood his ground, looking up at the familiar figure.

The True Martial Mountain military cultivator, the one who brought Ma Kuixuan away from the Cemetery of Immortals.

After the fifteenth strike of the god-drumming style was forcibly interrupted, Chen Ping’an had realized that person’s presence, or rather, that person had deliberately made him aware.

Therefore, Chen Ping’an did not use his two natal flying swords.

That man told Chen Ping’an telepathically not to worry about life or death, to simply fight with all his might, and he would ensure that only victory or defeat was decided, whether Chen Ping’an had the chance to kill Ma Kuixuan, or Ma Kuixuan was about to kill Chen Ping’an, that person would intervene.

That man, who had once gone to Jade Pearl Grotto Heaven on behalf of True Martial Mountain, stepped out, walking side by side with Ma Kuixuan, whose face was streaked with tears of pain. The man turned to Chen Ping’an and said, “As a gesture of apology and gratitude, I have already dealt with an assassin hiding in the shadows. Otherwise, if your vigilance wavered, you would find it difficult to steel yourself in a short time, and the assassin would easily find an opening.”

Chen Ping’an nodded.

The so-called gesture of gratitude…

Was because that person had seen that Chen Ping’an’s foot, when he stepped out of the circle, had not actually touched the ground, but was suspended in the air. Only Ma Kuixuan, being at his wit’s end, had failed to notice the truth.

As for why he was so cautious…

Because Chen Ping’an simply did not trust the words of that True Martial Mountain military immortal.

There was only one Qi Xian, and only one Ah Liang.