Peerless Swordsman

Chapter 2: Peerless Swordsman

The heavy snow made travel difficult.

A line of deep footprints stretched from afar, marking the snowy landscape.

Gao Xian, riding his donkey, crested a hill and passed through a withered forest. He suddenly stopped.

A pile of logs blocked his path, clearly intended to stop horses or carriages.

The presence of this obstacle indicated that someone had deliberately set it up, waiting to rob passing merchant caravans or travelers.

As expected, five or six figures burst from both sides of the dense woods, surrounding Gao Xian.

The leader was a burly man wielding a large saber. The others carried swords, axes, and hammers.

This was clearly a band of seasoned bandits, not ordinary refugees. Swords and sabers were valuable possessions for common households.

To the bandits, Gao Xian seemed frozen in place, stunned, as he sized them up.

"Just a delicate, young, donkey-nosed Taoist priest. But judging by your shabby appearance, you probably don't have much of value."

The burly leader, wearing a worn-out, shedding cloak, approached and examined Gao Xian, shaking his head in disdain.

"Nice donkey, fat and strong. It'll make a delicious donkey meat bun." He reached out to grab Gao Xian's donkey, intending to knock him off, but he didn't notice the donkey looking at him strangely.

Gao Xian was also assessing the bandits, wondering if they had any money, if they were fat sheep or poor wretches. He considered whether his actions would be merely to eliminate demons and uphold righteousness, or perhaps to rob the rich and aid the poor.

Before Gao Xian could make a move, however, another person emerged from the mountain path behind him.

His appearance immediately shifted the situation, drawing the bandits' attention away from Gao Xian.

Gao Xian was just a poor, shabby Taoist priest with nothing but a donkey. This newcomer, however, was tall and strong, and carried a sword.

It was a magnificent precious sword, and judging by its hilt, it was clearly worth a fortune.

The swordsman wore a blue robe and a bamboo hat, obscuring his face.

He walked quickly but steadily, without any sense of haste. Yet, he exuded a powerful pressure, a palpable aura of killing intent that enveloped everyone blocking his path.

"Stop!"

"I said stop!"

"Did you hear me?"

The bandits roared, trying to intimidate him with their numbers and ferocity, but his pace remained unchanged.

The bandits immediately formed a defensive formation, their faces grim.

Even though he was alone, the six seasoned bandits felt a strong sense of crisis.

As the swordsman drew closer, the road robbers were the first to buckle.

Feeling ignored and insulted, they decided to strike first.

"Ah!"

The burly leader of the bandit group charged forward with his men, his companions shouting behind him as if louder cries would somehow increase their combat effectiveness.

"Clang~"

The sword was drawn.

Most people didn't even see the sword being unsheathed; they only heard the sound, and then the three men at the front had their throats slit, falling to their knees.

He stepped forward, swung his sword.

Thrust, a sword through the heart.

Slash, a sword to the throat.

With a final turn, he rode back, and the sharp blade pierced the bandit leader's chest from behind, the white tip emerging from his chest.

He sheathed his sword and fell.

The burly man convulsed a few times before his breath ceased. His killing was elegant, beautiful.

It didn't feel like killing at all, but more like strolling through the snow, painting with a brush. He killed six men with only five sword strokes, each a direct, simple, and imaginative move that ended their lives.

Every strike was fatal, yet not much blood was spilled, possessing an artistic quality. More importantly, after killing, he said nothing, wiped his sword, and sheathed it.

Then, he adjusted his bamboo hat and walked past Gao Xian, disappearing with elegant nonchalance.

He arrived without a word, killed without a word, and left without a word.

It was as if he had merely flicked dust off his hat during his journey, killing being as easy as breathing.

It was incredibly cool, establishing the imposing image of a peerless swordsman.

Gao Xian was envious.

The previous abbot of Cloud Heaven Temple held many secrets and had taught Gao Xian's previous incarnation the methods of martial artist cultivation. In this world, martial artists practiced breathing and Qi circulation techniques and body tempering arts. There was no such thing as internal energy, but when trained to the extreme, they possessed abilities beyond ordinary people. Top martial artists could fight a hundred men, which was also the reason for the flourishing of martial Dao sects in this world.

However, this man's Way of the Sword already had a hint of fusion with his will and aura, transcending the realm of mere physical training and sword practice.

What Gao Xian didn't expect was that the swordsman in blue, who had left in such a hurry, returned even faster.

As the sun set, Gao Xian walked forward with the descending sun behind him. He saw the blue-robed swordsman, who had previously departed in haste, suddenly sprint back into view.

He flew through the heavy snow, his feet barely touching the ground. He looked disheveled and injured, his left arm hanging limply, clearly bitten badly by something. Gone was his former image of a master; he seemed to be fleeing for his life, pursued by something that left him gasping for breath.

Upon seeing Gao Xian, the man immediately shouted, "Run! There are Wolf Demons behind me!"

"Wooooo~"

A pack of wolves burst from the distant woods. In the icy, snowy landscape, the churning snow created an image of a massive army.

Although the swordsman in green was fast, the lead wolf was even faster. In the blink of an eye, it was like lightning, catching up to the swordsman.

With no other option, the swordsman in green turned to face it.

"Kill!"

His sword was drawn, and a cold, desperate killing intent emanated from it. An ordinary person struck by this sword would likely be unable to move, left with no choice but to accept their fate.

But this wolf, nearly ten feet long and as cunning as a fox, was truly something else.

To most people, it could certainly be called monstrous. However, in Gao Xian's view, if it couldn't speak or shapeshift, why call it a demon?

Now, facing the swordsman, this ferocious wolf incredibly and cunningly charged head-on, intending to trade injuries as it opened its massive jaws to bite the swordsman.

But before the swordsman could strike its vital point, the lead wolf's eyes glowed green, seizing the swordsman's mind.

The swordsman's pupils instantly glazed over. By the time he regained his senses, the wolf's maw was already at his neck. In that instant, his thoughts raced, and he resigned himself to certain death.

He felt a pang of regret. He had traveled a thousand miles to keep this appointment, only to die in this desolate wilderness outside Gongzhou City.

No grand spectacle, no widespread fame. The only witness was a young Daoist, who would soon be buried in the wolf's belly alongside him.

Suddenly, a gust of wind swept past the swordsman in green, stirring up snowflakes. The wolf's body, over two meters long, froze mid-air.

An aura like that of a great demon emanated from a donkey, which stared intently at the wolf pack. The wolves and the swordsman, though their eyes were open, were completely immobilized.

Thump~ thump~ thump~ thump~

The sound of the donkey's hooves striking the snow echoed.

Then, it lifted a hoof and brought it down with immense force, kicking the ferocious, starving wolf away like a tattered rag.

It had killed the lead wolf with a single kick. As the aura dissipated, the swordsman and the wolves slowly regained their senses.

The swordsman in green stood frozen in the snow, looking at the wolf carcass. The pack also stopped, whimpering as they retreated, then turned and fled in a mad dash.

Silence fell upon the mountain.

The Daoist, riding on the donkey's back, passed by the swordsman in green and walked up the ridge into the setting sun.

The swordsman in green stared at Gao Xian, speechless, his eyes filled with shock and astonishment.

As they brushed past each other, Gao Xian could sense the profound embarrassment radiating from the swordsman.

The Daoist stood at the highest point of the ridge, bathed in the sunset. Behind him, a respectful voice inquired, "I am Lu Canghai. May I ask the immortal elder's name?"

"Cloud Heaven Monastery of Mount Lao."

"Kongchenzi."