The icy stream water soaked through his clothes, its bone-piercing chill intertwining with the stabbing pain beneath his ribs, relentlessly battering Lin Feng's nerves.
A Martial Master blocked his path ahead, while assassins cut off his retreat behind.
Since he began cultivating, this was the closest he had ever come to death.
The air seemed to have frozen solid. Only the babbling mountain stream remained, along with the suffocating killing intent emanating from the sinister Martial Master.
"Let's see where you can run now!"
The sinister Martial Master's voice was hoarse, like the cry of a night owl. He stood with his hands behind his back, seemingly at ease, yet he had sealed off every possible route Lin Feng could use to evade.
The Martial Master's aura was like an invisible swamp, making every breath Lin Feng took feel unbearably difficult.
The curved-blade assassin stared viciously at Lin Feng as though watching prey caught in a trap. The twin blades in his hands gleamed with an eerie blue light, clearly coated in deadly poison.
"To kill two men from my Shadow Kill Pavilion and force this deacon to act personally, you have every reason to be proud."
The sinister Martial Master looked Lin Feng over, his gaze eventually falling on Lin Feng's still-bleeding left ribs. A cruel smile, like a cat toying with a mouse, curled across his lips.
"Now, hand over the secret you carry, and I can grant you a quick death."
He simply did not believe that a martial artist from some remote border town could reach such a level through his own abilities.
There had to be some priceless treasure or heaven-defying inheritance!
Lin Feng slowly straightened. The simple movement tugged at his wound, bringing a fine sheen of cold sweat to his forehead.
He wiped