On November 13th, after challenging the Four Great Manors, Chen Luomo, Sect Leader of the Lingbi Sect, proposed to both Shaolin and Wudang that the martial arts world of the Central Plains had been scattered for too long. He suggested that one sect should be quickly chosen to manage affairs, command all sects, and assume the role of Alliance Leader. His words implied Lingbi Sect’s intention to dominate the Central Plains martial arts world, and once this spread, it immediately caused an enormous uproar.

On November 14th, except for Shaolin and Wudang, the leaders of all righteous sects gathered at Suzhou’s Liuyun Manor, the foremost of the Four Great Manors, to discuss through the night.

On November 15th, at Suzhou’s Tiger Hill.

As noon approached, Tiger Hill gradually grew bustling with activity. Many disciples from various sects had arrived, along with numerous unaffiliated martial artists who came to attend the meeting. The crowd stretched to the Sword-Testing Stone below the Thousand-Man Rock.

Beyond the Thousand-Man Rock lay the Sword Pool. In the small pavilion beside it, Shaolin Abbot Master Xuezhen and Wudang Sect Leader Daoist Qiusheng had already arrived and were engaged in casual conversation. The pavilion also housed members of the Four Great Manors who had arrived earlier.

Yet there was still no sign of the Lingbi Sect who had issued the challenge.

The weather was not particularly good, with clouds so dark it seemed rain could fall at any moment. The autumn wind, already carrying a hint of winter’s chill, blew in gusts.

Some bold vendors, seeing business opportunities, took the chance to peddle various goods. One vendor carrying umbrellas weaved through the crowd selling his wares.

“Hey, young man, let me see your umbrellas,” called out a young woman who had just come up from the foot of the hill, biting into a roasted sweet potato as she stopped an umbrella vendor.

Seeing a potential customer, the vendor hurried over and displayed the umbrellas in his arms: “Here you are, miss, take a look.”

The young woman held the sweet potato in her mouth, her hands quickly rifling through and examining the umbrellas. She mumbled something incomprehensible, and while the vendor was still trying to understand, she had already pulled out a light yellow umbrella and snapped it open with a “pa!” sound. Taking another big bite of her sweet potato, she handed back the golden tuber and freed her mouth to shake her head: “The brushwork is too poor!”

The vendor finally understood that what she had mumbled earlier seemed to be: “The colors are so vulgar…”

Having dealt with picky customers before, the vendor smiled accommodatingly and held up three fingers: “Miss, my umbrellas only cost thirty wen each. If you’re comparing them to the thirty-six-rib purple bamboo umbrellas from Liuyu Workshop that cost three taels of silver, of course, they’ll fall short…”

“I wasn’t comparing with those,” the young woman sniffed. “The umbrellas Liuyu Workshop ships to the capital each year for three taels of silver are only half a degree more pleasing to the eye than yours.”

The vendor, hearing the young woman’s grandiose tone, was about to make a witty remark when he saw her suddenly turn to face the young man in azure robes standing behind her, whose hand she had been holding onto. Her face bloomed into a smile: “Brother Xiao, why don’t you paint an umbrella face for me!”

The vendor was struck speechless, secretly rolling his eyes: You think just anyone can paint these!

Sure enough, the young gentleman smiled, his voice gentle: “My painting wouldn’t be any better than the artists at Liuyu Workshop.”

“I don’t care, I want you to paint for me anyway, and while you’re at it, paint some kites, screens, and pillar decorations too.” Speaking carelessly, the young woman’s bright eyes sparkled as she smiled quite proudly, “Just stay at my home and paint for a month or two!”

The vendor was completely floored: This girl not only lacked proper restraint but was being so blatant… He couldn’t help but look the azure-robed gentleman up and down – such a refined and cultured appearance, how pitiful to be trapped like this.

Amused by the young woman’s words, the young gentleman shook his head: “You might as well ask me to paint a ten-thousand-li scroll of mountains and rivers, then I’d have to stay at your home for several years…”

“Oh my, kites and screens and pillars are things we see and use every day, but what use is some scroll that only gets brought out once every ten or several decades to show off? I’m not asking you to paint such lifeless things – see how much I value you!” Chattering away, the young woman had already raised the paper umbrella high, shielding his head. “Looks like it’s going to rain, and you haven’t fully recovered yet – you absolutely cannot get wet again.”

Her mouth was quick but her hands were quicker. In an instant, she had stuffed three one-tael silver pieces into the vendor’s hand: “Let me tell you something – your umbrellas may not be as fancy as Liuyu Workshop’s, but the frame is much better. Those famous things aren’t necessarily all they’re cracked up to be!”

Was that meant to be a compliment? Before the vendor could gather his thoughts, the young woman in pink and green, without bothering to close her newly purchased umbrella decorated with osmanthus flowers, had already walked away swaying it. She extracted her free hand from the azure-robed gentleman’s arm and lowered her head to nibble at her sweet potato.

The cool silver pieces in his hand were slightly damp with sweat. As the vendor put them in his pouch, he thought: Apart from being a bit crazy, this young lady is quite nice…

As more and more people gathered, the vendor lost sight of them in the crowd, catching only occasional glimpses of a light yellow paper umbrella among the stream of people moving toward Tiger Hill.

Suddenly, there was a commotion at the edge of the great rock beneath the pavilion, as a young man in azure robes appeared standing atop the previously empty stone.

Bowing to all directions, the young man smiled calmly: “I have a presumptuous request – I wish to fight on behalf of the Four Great Manors against the Lingbi Sect. I wonder what the esteemed elders think of this?”

These words were truly audacious. Setting aside that he was just an unknown junior in the martial arts world, even a well-established hero would be considered disrespectful to the Four Great Manors for rashly interfering in their affairs.

Then someone exclaimed in surprise: “Isn’t that Xiao Yunzong? The one who defeated Wen Yuxian and claimed the title of World’s First Sword!”

Smiling, he raised the Shengxie sword to his chest and gave a slight laugh: “Indeed, it is this unworthy one.”

Suddenly, a swordsman in white appeared on the great rock of Tiger Hill.

Like a shadow, he materialized atop the great stone, looking down at the jet-black sword in his hand.

He was no longer young, yet far from old. Though his face bore the indelible marks of time, his eyes still held the brightness and innocence of youth.

His expression was detached as if the weapon in his hand was something he had just picked up by chance and was using merely because it felt suitable. Yet paradoxically, within that utterly detached expression lay an ineffable pain, like a wanderer in the martial arts world who, amid the bustle of a crowded market, catches sight of a former lover walking past with a young child in tow, unable to tear his gaze away.

“I hear you defeated Wen Yuxian,” the white-robed swordsman spoke, finally raising his head to look at Xiao Huan before him.

“Just won by a single move,” Xiao Huan smiled faintly.

“One move is enough.” Speaking softly, the white-robed swordsman brought his sword level with his eyes. “I am Xia Chenxue of the Wind Flash School. I have long wanted to defeat Wen Yuxian, but since you have defeated him, beating you would be just as well.”

He spoke quietly, and as his words trailed off like a sigh, the black sword came alive. That ink-black blur, like a withered branch in brush painting, instantly obscured the bright moon.

Wind Flash School Master Xia Chenxue’s sword was fast. If one were to consult the weapon rankings compiled by martial arts enthusiasts, Xia Chenxue’s Shufen Sword would surely rank among the top ten. Venerable martial artists praised his swordplay as possessing divine grace and magnificent precision. However, the true reason for such effusive praise might be that they simply couldn’t see Xia Chenxue’s sword move at all.

Now this sword, too fast to even leave a shadow, thrust straight at Xiao Huan – a direct stab without any variation, seemingly concealing no follow-up moves. Was Xia Chenxue confident in changing moves at such speed, or was there simply no need for follow-up moves with such a lethal thrust?

No one knew, because as the sword reached Xiao Huan, it was gently caught between two fingers. Moving against the fierce sword energy, meeting the long sword, those somewhat pale slender fingers pinched the black blade.

Xia Chenxue nodded: “Very good.” He pulled back his sword, and a white flash crossed the air, yet that section of the black blade remained firmly pinched between Xiao Huan’s fingers.

It turned out Xia Chenxue’s sword had two layers, and this white blade was the true face of the Shufen Sword.

The Shufen Sword was originally several degrees narrower than ordinary swords, and after the white blade emerged from its black shell, it became even more slender and considerably lighter. Xia Chenxue’s sword momentum changed accordingly – if his previous sword style could be called ingenious, it was now bizarre. The white sword instantly struck several moves, continuous sword techniques falling like rain.

Xia Chenxue had truly pushed the ruthless precision of the narrow sword to its absolute limit. Each of his thrusts came from angles one could never imagine, yet these extremely dangerous moves were woven into an impenetrable net of swords, pressing down on Xiao Huan with overwhelming force.

Several points of fluorescent light flashed in the air like fireflies drifting lazily past. The accompanying clash of metal was equally crisp and melodious. As the clear ring faded and the fluorescent light ceased, Xiao Huan smiled: “The Jiangnan Shufen truly lives up to its reputation. Master Xia’s move struck precisely twenty-eight positions.” These twenty-eight lightning-fast thrusts were just one move.

Xia Chenxue silently withdrew his sword, stepped back, and smiled, though his voice carried an unmistakable hoarseness: “Indeed, one move is enough. Young Master Xiao’s skill surpasses mine. I am humbled.”

With that he turned and left, his departure as sudden as his appearance.

The crowd below the rock fell silent, whether stunned by the sudden fierce sword energy or still processing the brief yet heart-stopping battle.

Slow but crisp applause broke out. “Truly brilliant.”

The speaker was a middle-aged man walking slowly from the pavilion onto the great rock. Though his face was somewhat thin, as he approached step by step, the clamor of the crowd gradually died down until even the birds fell silent.

Qin Shiyue, Master of Suzhou’s Liuyun Manor, foremost of the Four Great Manors.

In the martial arts world, there had always been a saying: if the Four Great Manors claimed second place in palm techniques, no one would dare claim first.

The prestigious Four Great Manors were renowned for their unique and supreme palm techniques, and Liuyun Manor Master Qin Shiyue’s Panlong Liuyun Palm was, apart from Wen Yuxian’s swordplay, the only martial art technique revered as supreme by the Jiangnan martial arts world.

Xiao Huan raised his hand in a casual yet far from perfunctory greeting, the smile still lingering at the corners of his lips: “Master Qin, I’ve long admired your reputation.”

Qin Shiyue lowered his hands, standing impassively in the center of the great rock: “Since you wish to fight on behalf of the Four Great Manors, let us test your skill?”

As his quiet words ended, the dust began to rise faintly around him. As if blown by an invisible wind, fallen leaves on the great rock began to move slowly, then faster and faster. The wind-blown leaves carved streak after streak into the smooth rock surface as they spun into formation.

“Crack!” With an extremely subtle sound, a yellow leaf positioned between two adjacent grooves split in half, quickly curling into the wind.

The formless internal energy suddenly surged at this moment as Qin Shiyue slowly struck out with his palm, the technique orthodox and unremarkable.

What followed his palm was an invisible, colorless cloud of dust.

In an instant, it obscured the sky. In that moment, between heaven and earth, only this intertwining, spiraling energy remained, like a vast fog blindfolding one’s eyes.

A trembling pressure descended from all directions, as graceful as a flying dragon, spinning and pressing closer.

The energy grew denser and more violent – this must be the majesty of a celestial deity, a pure-blooded divine beast contained within the eternal heavens, striding upon the wind, its roar savage yet its movements gentle and circular.

That was the dragon, having crossed where the red sun first rises and where the sun-crow meets its end, its scales gleaming gold, its five claws like blades, its unfurled body becoming the clouds that touch the sky.

The fierce wind grew stronger. A single hair blown loose from Xiao Huan’s topknot brushed against the whirlwind and was instantly ground to powder.

In just a moment, the true qi pressed against Xiao Huan’s brow. The formless wind filling heaven and earth merged into one, and in this instant – a thousandth of a lightning flash – Xiao Huan also struck out with his palm.

A completely straightforward counter without any trick, for at this moment any kind of fancy technique would have been meaningless.

As the two palms met, countless fallen leaves shattered to dust.

In the violent clash of true qi, his azure robes whipped in the wind, showing no retreat, only advance.

Though the time they crossed hands might not have been long, everyone felt as if an entire lifetime had passed – a palm strike like lightning accurately landed on Qin Shiyue’s palm center. Taking a slight misstep, repeatedly retreating Qin Shiyue now stood at the edge of the Thousand-Man Rock.

In any martial arts match, there was an unwritten rule – whoever was forced off the fighting ground was the loser.

No longer counterattacking, Qin Shiyue stood at the rock’s edge, eyes slightly narrowed, hands lowered, completely still.

After a long moment, he raised his hands in salute: “I am humbled.”

Almost simultaneously, he exhaled a long-held breath. Only then did the crowd below begin to realize: that Master Qin of Liuyun Manor… had lost!

Stepping back several paces, Xiao Huan also cupped his hands and smiled: “You’re too kind.”

Qin Shiyue no longer looked at him, but turned to face the crowd below: “My skill is inferior. This young hero Xiao will represent the Four Great Manors in the battle against the Lingbi Sect.”

He turned and walked down from the high platform, his steps as slow and dignified as before, though his slightly hunched silhouette now carried a touch of loneliness.

Gradually, scattered gasps of amazement rose from the crowd. Though they had heard of a young man called Xiao Yunzong breaking Wen Yuxian’s sword technique, no one had witnessed that heart-stopping battle. But today, countless people have seen with their own eyes Qin Shiyue’s defeat at this man’s hands.

However, regardless of how powerful this young man’s martial arts might be, publicly defeating Qin Shiyue like this was tantamount to greatly damaging the Four Great Manors’ face. Whether or not he could help the Four Great Manors resist the Lingbi Sect, he would be their enemy.

What made him step forward? Could this young man, whose single battle had dazzled all, merely be seeking momentary glory?

“Brother Xiao, wonderful, you won…” After watching anxiously for so long, Cangcang called out, wanting to rush forward.

Before Xiao Huan had mounted the platform earlier, he had left her in the pavilion. Before he left, he had smiled at her saying: “Wait for me here.”

That night not long ago at the Lingbi Sect’s branch altar, when he had asked her to wait, she had listened and waited earnestly. When he finally came out, though still smiling faintly, his face had been exceptionally pale.

Thinking nothing was wrong, she had returned with him to the inn, but when she went to find him early the next morning, she saw him lying on the bed coughing incessantly, his snow-white face tinged with an eerie flush. That day he couldn’t keep down any food, would choke and spit out even a sip of water, couldn’t even take medicine pills – she was almost frightened to tears. Only after keeping vigil by his side for a day and night did he show some improvement, smiling faintly as he stroked her head, telling her not to worry. Her eyes had reddened then and there.

Now again, though he hadn’t recovered, he insisted on involving himself in these martial world affairs.

“Oh my, he didn’t draw his sword,” a lazy voice suddenly sounded beside her ear. “This old Daoist was hoping to see that rare peerless famous sword.”

“Amitabha, a precious sword is form, and form is illusion…” another equally lazy voice continued.

Cangcang turned around, only now noticing that the two elderly martial arts masters sitting behind her – one in crisp Daoist robes, one in kasaya – were both watching the platform with great interest.

Seeing Cangcang turn to look at them, the white-bearded old Daoist unhurriedly asked her: “Little miss, do you know of the Wang Feng sword?”

Just as she was about to shake her head, Cangcang remembered… Wang Feng was supposedly the Great Wu Emperor’s sword. So she nodded. Then suddenly realized: Wasn’t that Brother Xiao’s sword? She immediately looked warily at this old Daoist of unknown background. Then quickly realized this old man looked somewhat familiar.

The old Daoist continued leisurely: “Then do you know what the only thing that can counter Wang Feng is?”

Cangcang frowned: “What?”

“It’s another sword,” the old Daoist shook his head contentedly, “Of course it’s another sword.”

Before his words faded, his sleeve was suddenly grabbed. Cangcang seized them both with one hand each, holding them tightly as she lowered her voice: “I remember who you are! Daoist Qiusheng of Wudang, Master Xuezhen of Shaolin… How much imperial patronage do your Wudang Mountain and Shaolin Temple receive each year?”

“Eh? What?” Daoist Qiusheng began playing dumb.

“Amitabha, Shaolin Temple has received much imperial grace, this old monk is truly humbled, truly humbled.” Master Xuezhen was no better.

“Don’t waste words with me!” Cangcang wouldn’t let up. “You eat imperial food, you do imperial business. Now I command you two… go help Brother Xiao!”

“Help with what?” Daoist Qiusheng unhurriedly looked at her.

“Of course…” Playing dumb! Cangcang glanced left and right, lowering her voice again, “I’ll tell you what – I know that you know, and don’t pretend you don’t know, this is protecting the emperor!”

“Oh? Protecting what emperor? Is there an emperor here?” Daoist Qiusheng glanced sideways, expression unchanged.

“It’s, it’s…” After stuttering twice, Cangcang suddenly deflated – she understood why he would expose himself, disregarding his unrecovered body to come here. He must have his reasons.

She hadn’t tried to dissuade him, but accompanied him all the way here in high spirits, as if she were looking forward to watching this spectacle. Only she knew what bitterness had welled up in her heart the moment she turned away from him.

“Don’t worry,” Daoist Qiusheng looked at her, his lazy voice somehow carrying a note of comfort, “The thing that can counter Wang Feng won’t appear today.”

“Really? You better not be lying!” Her dejected spirit instantly lifted as Cangcang perked up, “If Brother Xiao is in any danger and you two dare not go up to save him, I’ll kick you out!”

The highly respected Wudang leader and Shaolin abbot had probably never heard of such a threat before.

Another tall and graceful figure in white had appeared on the platform. Walking slowly to the center of the great rock, that person raised his hand and drew his blade, clean and decisive.

The white-robed young man before them looked over quietly, his handsome face completely calm. His long blade pointed forward.

This was Xu Lai.

A hush fell over the crowd below. No one had noticed when Xu Lai had arrived, or when he had leaped onto the platform.

They had come united against a common enemy, prepared to face the Lingbi Sect, yet they didn’t even know where their enemy was.

Xiao Huan smiled, his fingers gripping Wang Feng beneath his sleeve.

The true battle was only beginning.

Under the watching eyes of the gathered heroes, the young man in white spoke coldly, word by word: “Our Sect Leader said the other day that our sect will rule the martial arts world. I trust you all understand and are willing to submit?”

His arrogant gaze swept across the gathering.

The harsh autumn wind stirred his white clothes, and in his windblown left sleeve, luxurious golden patterns intertwined, surrounding the left lapel’s half-circle of the brilliant morning sun.

Gone was the pure white, often-wrinkled robe, gone was the lazy, carefree smile that used to hang about his brows. Xu Lai, Left Hall Master of Lingbi Sect’s Hall of Light, withdrew his gaze.

In the deathly silence of Tiger Hill, so quiet it was suffocating, Xu Lai slightly raised his head. He slowly ran his fingertip along his gleaming long blade and spoke arrogantly, as if addressing an insect he could flick away with one finger: “You must be Xiao Yunzong. Today you represent the Four Great Manors in battle. Let me ask you this – are you willing to submit to our sect?”

After a moment, a calm and refined voice responded: “And if I say I’m not willing?”

“Nothing will happen.” Xu Lai raised his brows, killing intent suddenly surging in his narrow eyes. “Those unwilling to submit shall die!”

With his final word, his long blade swept out in a semicircle, the mirror-like blade extending, bright as the moon.

This was Xu Lai’s blade – the Shuoliu Silver Blade that had swept through the Eighteen Fortresses of the East, the blade of overwhelming grace, its world-shocking silver radiance arriving in an instant.

A blue light leaked from a sleeve, tearing across the blade edge filled with powerful force.

They fought with all their might, a battle of life and death.

Without the slightest pause or hesitation, the silver quick-blade traced a second dazzling arc.

Dust and sand flew, and sword energy crisscrossed.

None could see who made what move, or even distinguish which flash was the brilliant silver light and which was the gentle blue glow.

Someone in the crowd, as if waking from a dream, stepped back two paces, bumping into the chest of the person behind them.

No one blamed them, no one turned to mock them for being afraid while watching a martial arts match.

Everyone just stood in silent witness, watching the two figures fighting with abandoned fury atop the high rock.

Thrust sword, twist body, cross paths, dance through the air, blade meets blade, soar skyward, horizontal slash, piercing thrust…

Every movement was strangely harmonious. Each burst of force scattered like waves on the sea.

Like ocean waves layering one upon another, each higher than the last. Just when you thought this wave must be the peak, an even higher one would come roaring forth, impossible to resist.

Xu Lai had never really been considered a top-tier master. His blade, though intoxicatingly brilliant, was always considered too lazy – each time the Shuoliu Silver Blade struck, it seemed somewhat careless. Thus his blade didn’t even rank in the top thirty of the weapon rankings compiled by martial arts enthusiasts.

Yet today, in a moment of shock, almost everyone remembered – the Shuoliu Silver Blade had never lost.

That blade, which its master always seemed to draw lazily, except for two occasions when surrounded by multiple opponents, had never lost in any of its seemingly casual encounters.

Whether facing long-established heroes or famous rising stars from renowned schools.

This seemed to be the first time that typically languorous silver light began to dance with savage ferocity.

“Worth a lifetime” – how many people had this same thought simultaneously?

To see such an incomparable display of grace just once in a lifetime was enough.

“Xu Lai?” Somewhat hoarsely murmuring this name, Cangcang frowned distractedly.

Wasn’t he supposed to be Xiao Huan’s friend? Cangcang remembered when she had run into them at the medicine shop, this graceful young man in white had been joking with Xiao Huan. While constantly mocking Xiao Huan for fearing bitterness, he grabbed the wrapped medicines himself after they were prepared, as if a few bags of medicine would crush someone.

How could someone who cared so much as a friend suddenly cross-blades with him today? She couldn’t understand.

“Wang Feng.” From a seat to the side, Daoist Qiusheng spoke softly.

“It is Wang Feng.” Master Xuezhen had somehow already straightened his posture, watching the scene on the rock with a grave expression. “This old monk thought he would never see Wang Feng again in this lifetime.”

“The blade of kings, to which all under heaven submit…” Daoist Qiusheng continued slowly, his gaze seeming to look toward some distant place. “So this is how it is.”

A streaming line of blood sprayed up from between the fighting figures, scattering like falling plum blossoms across white clothes.

The blade light and sword shadow finally stilled. Before Xu Lai’s chest rested a hand, hovering above his heart meridian. A bright blade pierced through the palm, fresh blood trickling down the wrist and slender fingers, dropping onto Xu Lai’s white clothes.

It should have been a heart-piercing strike. In that hair’s breadth of combat, Xu Lai had always been that one step behind, his blade force shattered by the incoming blue sword light, beyond salvation.

In that instant, the sword thrusting toward Xu Lai was swiftly withdrawn into its sleeve, allowing his long blade to swing.

Rather than blocking the incoming cold sword blade, it had pierced through the pressing palm.

Almost no one would do such a thing in such intense combat – it was practically madness. If that long blade hadn’t come back to guard the chest but instead struck with full force seeking mutual destruction, the person with a pierced chest would undoubtedly have been him instead.

He was betting on his own life – betting on ending the fight without harming his opponent.

Raising his left hand to press the acupoints around his wounded right hand, Xiao Huan pulled his hand from Xu Lai’s blade. The thin blade’s wound wasn’t large but was deep, blood flowing even faster now. He cupped his fist: “Hall Master Xu, please tell your Sect Leader that I refuse to submit, and the martial arts world of the Central Plains will not surrender.”

Though his voice wasn’t loud, it was gentle yet firm, carried far by the rising autumn wind.

The martial artists, stunned by this storm of sword and blade, finally came to their senses. Immediately, a hero raised his weapon and shouted in agreement: “Well said! We’ll die before surrendering!”

“Die before surrendering!”

“Lingbi Sect goes too far!”

“If you dare, fight to the death!”

“Rather die than submit!”

The scattered shouts gradually merged into one, until finally all of Tiger Hill echoed with spirited cries.

Amidst the loud calls, Xu Lai flicked the blood from his silver blade with a backhand motion and sneered: “Such a bunch of presumptuous fools, spouting nonsense here!”

Turning his blade back, he spoke coolly: “It’s just that I have no way to silence these presumptuous fools.” Before his words faded, he turned his hand and thrust the snow-white blade into his left shoulder.

The thin quick-blade sank in deeply, bright red quickly seeping through the white fabric.

Blood splattered as the silver blade was withdrawn, and half of Xu Lai’s white clothes were stained red.

Raising his long eyebrows, Xu Lai smiled: “I have lost.”

Turning with grace, his blood-stained white clothes still flew proudly.

Again deathly silence fell over Tiger Hill as the excitement gradually subsided. All eyes focused on the azure-robed young man remaining on the Thousand-Man Rock.

He just stood quietly, neither speaking nor moving. Fresh blood dripped slowly from his fingertips onto the smooth stone surface, spreading into a stain.

A moment ago, he had suddenly appeared unknown; the next moment, he had become a hero single-handedly resisting the evil sect’s leadership.

Such a rapid transformation left people at a loss.

What should they do? Rush up as their excited shouts had suggested and fight Lingbi Sect to the death? Yet the catastrophic disaster hadn’t reached them yet.

In the awkward silence, a light green figure suddenly rushed out from the pavilion.

“Brother Xiao!” the young woman called out anxiously, not bothering to hide her worry or avoid the countless gazes directed at her.

She ran straight to the cleared center of the rock, and before everyone’s eyes, grabbed his wounded arm and embraced his body.

Then she turned her head and shouted at the people below, tears still visible in her eyes: “Are you all idiots? Are you just going to watch Brother Xiao risk his life for you? Are you planning to let him face Lingbi Sect alone?”

Her clear voice, still carrying a touch of youth, echoed out.

Some people gripped their weapons tighter – regardless of who that person was or what he had done before, what was at stake now was the situation in the martial arts world, and that person had blocked the first wave of the bloody storm for them.

A white ribbon shot through the air with fierce intensity, like a straight dragon crossing the sky above the Thousand-Man Rock.

More ribbons shot forth, as if a white firework had exploded from one corner.

As the ribbons fell into hands, four light green figures floated down onto the Thousand-Man Rock, the interconnected white ribbons instantly forming a white net on the stone.

“Xiao Yunzong,” the wind stirred Wu Wushui’s light green gauze clothes, the Grand Protector of Lingbi Sect, “you wounded our sect’s Hall Master and still think to leave unscathed?”

On Tiger Hill, Lingbi Sect disciples in green robes and white clothes poured in endlessly, making not a sound, like the dark clouds pressing down from the horizon.