Swordsmanship

The leader let out a thunderous roar, his voice harsh and grating, carrying an overbearing force that brooked no doubt.

Before his shout had faded, his eagle claw was already reaching for Yun Hu's throat. His fingertips gleamed with a sickly white true qi, clearly the result of years spent cultivating a vicious art.

The townsfolk watching for entertainment had never seen such a spectacle. Cries of alarm rose one after another, and the crowd scattered in all directions like water rippled by a cast stone, clearing a large open space.

The charming, ambiguous atmosphere from moments ago was instantly replaced by dense killing intent.

Cheng Ningcui, who had thrown the embroidered ball from the second floor, was so frightened that her pretty face lost all color. The silk handkerchief in her hand drifted to the ground, while her beautiful eyes widened in terror.

Yun Hu's footsteps landed upon the bluestone pavement, producing faint echoes.

Long before the embroidered ball had been thrown, when he approached this bustling place, he had already sharply sensed several powerful auras hidden among the crowd.

Aside from the five Xiantian martial artists about to attack him, other experts of the same realm were lurking in the shadows.

What was more, from the second floor of a restaurant by the street, the Spiritual Sense of a Qi Refining Stage cultivator spread openly over the area like an invisible net.

That Spiritual Sense carried scrutiny and indifference, as though it were waiting for something.

The embroidered ball tore through the air, carrying the girl's hopes and shy affection as it flew straight toward him.

Almost at the same instant, five figures brimming with icy killing intent sprang from the crowd like ghosts.

Palm winds howled, fist force split the air, and leg shadows lashed like whips.

The five martial artists, all above the middle Xiantian realm, worked together seamlessly. Their attacks were vicious and their target was clear: Yun Hu.

Faced with this sudden encirclement and slaughter, Yun Hu showed not the slightest panic. A nearly imperceptible sneer even flashed through his eyes.

He lightly tapped the ground with his toe, and his figure abruptly became elusive and unpredictable.

It was the Yun Clan's supreme movement art—Ladder Cloud Leap.

His body tilted slightly, like a willow leaf stirred by a gentle breeze, narrowly evading the first two palm winds in the gap between moments.

Then he twisted at the waist and rose several feet into the air, narrowly avoiding a sweeping leg shadow.

His movements flowed like drifting clouds and running water, graceful to the extreme.

"Boy, die!" roared the eagle-claw martial artist at the head of the group. His five fingers curled into hooks, sickly white true qi blazing as he aimed straight for Yun Hu's throat.

Suspended in midair, Yun Hu did not retreat before the fierce claw. Instead, he advanced.

He pressed his left hand against the hilt of the ancient sword on his back.

"Clang—"

A clear sword cry rang out, like a dragon's roar across the nine heavens.

The longsword left its sheath, drawing a streak of frosty light like a bolt of silk.

The instant the sword light appeared, even the air seemed to freeze.

Yun Hu flicked his wrist, pouring Pure Yang True Qi into the blade without reservation.

Qingcheng Swordplay—"Gentle Breeze Arrives."

The sword stance appeared soft and slow, yet it was incomparably swift.

The sword tip traced a profound arc through the air, striking after yet arriving first, and accurately tapped the eagle-claw martial artist's wrist pulse.

Crack!

The sound of shattering bone was crystal clear.

The martial artist released a miserable scream. His wrist twisted at a grotesque angle, and his eagle claw immediately lost its strength.

Yun Hu did not stop. His sword stance abruptly changed, transforming from "Gentle Breeze Arrives" into "Drizzling Rain."

Sword light wove through the air, fine and dense as rain, instantly enveloping the other two martial artists rushing at him.

Pfft! Pfft!

Two dull impacts sounded, and blood blossoms burst forth.

The two martial artists had not even seen how Yun Hu's sword had pierced them before they felt a chill in their chests. Looking down, they saw the sword tips protruding through their bodies as their vitality rapidly drained away.

Their eyes were filled with disbelieving horror.

Yun Hu moved with ethereal grace, like an exiled immortal descending into the mortal world. Every sword strike possessed an indescribable beauty, yet every move was fatal.

This did not resemble a battle between Xiantian martial artists at all. It was a one-sided crushing of strength.

Seeing this, the remaining two martial artists flashed with fear, but their attacks became even more frenzied as they tried to trade their lives for his.

One wielded a thick-backed saber, his saber art broad and forceful, splitting Mount Hua with a single stroke.

The other wielded a judge's brush, targeting acupoints and severing meridians with sinister venom.

Yun Hu's gaze remained calm as the longsword in his hand shifted techniques again.

Qingcheng Swordplay—"Sea of Clouds Surges."

Sword light flickered and surged, sometimes like crashing waves striking the shore, sometimes like undercurrents roiling in the depths.

Saber light collided with sword shadows, producing a piercing clang of metal against metal.

The saber-wielding man felt an immense force travel through the sword. His tiger's mouth shook violently, and the steel saber nearly flew from his grip.

Before he could steady himself, an even sharper streak of sword light had already swept across his neck.

A fine head soared into the sky, blood gushing out like a fountain.

The final martial artist, clutching the judge's brush, watched his companions die one after another. His courage shattered, and he turned to flee.

How could Yun Hu possibly give him the chance?

"Wind Sweeps Away Clouds!"

Sword light flashed, like a gale sweeping fallen leaves.

The martial artist felt a pain in his back, then lost all consciousness.

In no more than a dozen breaths, five experts of the middle and late Xiantian realm had all fallen beneath Yun Hu's sword.

He stood tall and jade-like, his white robes whiter than snow and his black hair flying in the wind. His longsword pointed diagonally at the ground, without a single drop of blood upon its tip.

The entire scene was silent as a graveyard.

The onlooking townsfolk had long since been frightened out of their wits. Their gazes toward Yun Hu were filled with reverence and fear.

Great Xia's iron law decreed that when martial artists of the same realm fought, life and death were their own responsibility.

These five had joined forces to launch a sneak attack. Their deaths at his hands were no more than the consequences of their own actions, and Yun Hu bore no responsibility.

Officials of the Great Xia Dynasty would naturally come to clean up the scene.

Yun Hu's expression remained calm, as though he had merely done something utterly insignificant.

He did not look at Cheng Ningcui on the second floor, whose face was still drained of color, nor did he pay attention to the red embroidered ball on the ground, now stained with blood.

He took out a spotless white silk handkerchief and carefully wiped every inch of the sword blade.

His movements were focused and gentle, as though he were tending to his most precious treasure.

Once he had finished wiping it, he shook his wrist. The longsword gave a soft hum and returned to its sheath.

Yun Hu slung the sword onto his back once more and calmly glanced toward the second floor of the restaurant, where the Qi Refining Stage cultivator was located.

He said nothing. Turning around, he walked away with unhurried composure.

On the restaurant's second floor, Lu Chengze stood by the window, the corner of his lips curving into an unreadable smile.

He held a warm jade pendant in his hand, his gaze fixed tightly on the tall, straight back below.

"What a beautiful sword."

Lu Chengze silently praised him.

This young Second Master Yun of the Yun Family truly had remarkable methods. His swordsmanship had already reached perfection; among those of the Mortal Stage, none could be his opponent any longer.

"What a pity. No matter how exquisite his swordsmanship, it is ultimately the pinnacle of mortal martial arts. Without a Spiritual Root, the immortal path is closed to him."

Lu Chengze shook his head slightly and turned his gaze toward an inconspicuous corner across the street.

There, a concealed gaze met his own. He gave the slightest nod, almost imperceptibly.

That old fox Ning Yongrui was certainly well-informed.

"Hmph, throwing an embroidered ball? The Mo Family is truly able to keep its composure. The Cheng Family's hidden pawn has been exposed, yet they still want to use this method to cover it up—and fish for something along the way."

Lu Chengze snorted coldly.

If the Ning Family had not leaked the information in advance and pointed out that the Cheng Family was a branch hidden right beneath their noses, the Lu Family would truly have been kept in the dark.

"This Yun Hu is rather like a stone thrown into stagnant water, stirring up quite a few waves."

Lu Chengze's thoughts raced.

This Second Master Yun of the Yun Family had come alone to Donghu City. He had clearly made thorough preparations and understood that this journey would inevitably be perilous.

Such courage, such resolve—it was enough to make one look at him anew.