An Accident (6)

Ming De had spent many years at Qingfeng Temple and enjoyed considerable prestige in Xinyu Town. Even among the dozens of towns throughout the Outer City, he counted as one of the very few true experts. In terms of status, influence, and say, even long-established members of the Three Greats who had undergone the Calling for years might not measure up to him.

His standing was far beyond what his older cousin Lin Hongzhen had once possessed, let alone someone like Lin Hongyu, who had not even undergone the Calling.

In theory, once the Calling succeeded, one would inevitably attain Inner Strength Realm power comparable to Ming De's in the future. Yet this also involved factors such as actual combat experience, performance under pressure, and the moves and martial arts one used.

In reality, after undergoing the Calling, it generally took several years before one could possibly reach strength on par with the Inner Strength Realm.

At that thought, the faint sense of crisis Lin Hui had felt earlier immediately lessened by quite a bit.

After confirming the relationship, he returned to his spot and continued watching the matches on the stage. By then, it was time for Third Senior Sister Mu Qiao Zhi to take the stage and fight Second Senior Brother.

The two moved as fast as lightning, their figures completely impossible to make out. All he could see of the longswords in their hands were sparks exploding at each clash; all he could hear were densely packed detonations like raindrops drumming down. Nothing else could be seen.

Sword marks would occasionally appear out of nowhere on the stage floor and railings.

Their striking speed remained slightly below Lin Hui's speed with the Lightness effect activated, and it was extraordinarily steady. Before long, more than a hundred exchanges had passed, yet neither showed the slightest sign of exhaustion.

Lin Hui watched in awe from below the stage, silently estimating how long he could last if he went up there himself.

With the Lightness effect, he might perhaps force a draw. After all, he was faster than them—but his swordsmanship was dreadful.

But without activating the effect... he would not last ten moves.

Before long, Mu Qiao Zhi was defeated. Finally, Eldest Senior Brother took the stage and, in just over a dozen moves, easily knocked Second Senior Brother Zhao Jiang'an off the platform.

Neither of them changed expression, clearly having expected this outcome long ago.

Eldest Senior Brother's strength was clearly in a league of its own.

Though their speed was about the same, their understanding of moves existed on entirely different levels.

After the tournament came the announcement of rewards.

First were the rewards for the top ten: each would receive a custom-made inner armor vest for protecting the heart. The material had been stripped from a Mist monster Daoist Baohe had personally hunted.

Next came the five-win streak reward, which only Lin Hui received.

It was something called Ning Xiang.

"This item can be lit after entering the Mist, ensuring safety within ten meters. It can drive away the Mist's erosion of the human body." When Huishen brought Lin Hui the prize, he introduced it in a low voice.

Clearly, he wanted to ease the shift in his earlier attitude.

He had never expected that after the Lin Family's misfortune, Lin Hui would lose the backing of a Caller yet still rise through his own efforts. Now, he had even directly become a disciple under Ming De Zhenren, displaying extraordinary potential.

This made Huishen somewhat regret how quickly his attitude had changed before.

"Thank you." After accepting the Ning Xiang, Lin Hui examined it.

It was an amber-colored object the size of a fist, irregular in shape. It felt warm and smooth in his hand, and carried the scent of rosin.

He guessed it might have been made from rosin.

After quickly having his measurements taken for the custom inner armor, Lin Hui accompanied Chen Zhishen and the other man for a stroll around the temple. They chatted for a while before he saw them off.

As evening gradually fell, the spectators in the stands departed one after another. Vehicles and pedestrians scattered in every direction, and Qingfeng Temple returned to its previous relative quiet.

After the event ended, Ming De summoned him to his residence.

Two other disciples had already gathered there, a man and a woman. They were respectively ranked eighth and ninth in the latest standings.

"Come, come, get acquainted. This is Wang Yun, one rank ahead of you. Her family runs a timber business." Ming De introduced Lin Hui with a genial smile, pointing to the girl.

The girl wore her hair cropped short and had a sturdy build, with facial features that were also highly masculine. Without looking closely, one could not tell she was a woman at all.

At his words, she gave Lin Hui a friendly nod as well.

"Junior Brother Lin, just call me by name. If you need to borrow money, come find me anytime." She was clearly someone who did not lack money, and her tone was impressively grand.

"Senior Sister Wang's family are major timber merchants spanning three towns. Their family even has branch stores in the Inner City, with connections everywhere. I'm different—just a lone man with no family." The other man smiled and introduced himself. "My name is Deng Mingchao. I'm ranked second among Teacher Ming De's disciples."

"Greetings, Senior Sister Wang. Greetings, Senior Brother Deng." Lin Hui solemnly cupped his hands and bowed to them both.

"Father, what about me?" At that moment, a slender, fiery woman emerged from the inner room. She was no more than twenty, yet her beauty was seductively charming. Her legs were long, and the ratio of her waist to hips was astonishingly perfect. Her fitted black-and-purple leather outfit perfectly accentuated her figure.

"This is my daughter, Wei Wei. She practices martial arts too, but she isn't listed among the temple's disciples. Just call her Third Senior Sister," Ming De said helplessly.

"Greetings, Third Senior Sister." Lin Hui bowed again.

"Mm, not bad." Wei Wei smiled in satisfaction. "I admit I misjudged you before. Your potential and aptitude are good, and your luck isn't bad either. Since you can study under my father, your swordsmanship will surely make up the gap very quickly!"

"Thank you, Senior Sister." Lin Hui nodded.

Wei Wei had been somewhat resistant toward Lin Hui before, but seeing that he was refined and courteous now, with a good grasp of etiquette, she no longer found him quite so objectionable.

Still, she remained a little hung up over the matter of the sword she had given him.

After the introductions, Ming De took a sheet of yellow paper from a drawer and handed one to each of the three disciples.

"I called you here today because there's a good opportunity. You can choose for yourselves." He paused, then continued, "The town's Public Security Office wants to expand its emergency response team. Six people have already joined, and now they're looking for another three. Which of you is willing to go?"

"I'll pass. Let them have it," Senior Sister Wang Yun said casually. Her family did not need such benefits, and she had no interest in that authority to execute people either. Martial arts were more of a hobby for her.

"Fine. What about you two?" Ming De looked at Deng Mingchao and Lin Hui.

"I'm willing!" Deng Mingchao agreed without hesitation. "A single mission pays at least ten thousand, and as much as thirty thousand. Not going would be the real loss. Not to mention the temporary authority to execute."

After quickly learning what execution authority meant, Lin Hui decisively agreed as well.

Forget the generous pay—even without any pay at all, the authority to carry out executions alone made joining worthwhile.

"Very well. Your master will submit the list now and let the Public Security Office make their selections." Mingde smiled as he wrote down the names.

Just as he dipped his brush in ink and had written halfway through—

Bang!

A sudden muffled boom drifted in from outside the temple gates.

It was followed by a thunderous shout.

"Song Zhanlong of Xingdao challenges Daoist Baohe to a battle!"

The resounding voice echoed through the temple, wave after wave of reverberation piercing and circling within its grounds.

Mingde's expression changed. He set down his brush and paper, flashed to the doorway, pushed it open, and looked toward the temple.

The others hurried after him.

The temple was already buzzing with commotion. The many disciples who had only just dispersed emerged one after another, all looking toward the man standing at the main gate.

Daoist Baohe was already standing in the front courtyard's training grounds, his gaze grave as he stared fixedly at his opponent.

Behind him stood Ming Chen and Ming Xiu, along with a cluster of front-courtyard disciples.

Everyone looked toward the man at the gate.

He had a head of red hair, an icy face, and a lean, tall build. He was a black-clad man of around forty or fifty.

His right hand wore an enormous black metal claw. Its tips were sharp and gleamed with a cold light. Barbs protruded from its joints, while delicate patterns were engraved across the finger pads and palm. It looked more like an ancient artifact than a weapon.

"Fellow Daoist Baohe, do you dare accept the challenge?" the visitor called again.

"What is there to fear? Might I know your name, friend?"

Daoist Baohe drew a deep breath. Before so many disciples, if he dared not accept, Qingfeng Temple's reputation would be utterly ruined.

So he had to accept, whether he wished to or not. There was no way out. The other man had clearly seized upon this weakness, coming to challenge him during the New Year, when the temple was at its liveliest and its disciples most numerous.

"Just a nameless nobody, not worth mentioning." Song Zhanlong's expression did not change as he strode step by step into the temple training grounds.

"Clear the area."

Very quickly, everyone moved aside and cleared out a large open space for the two to fight.

Mingde also led Lin Hui and the other three to stand at a distance, watching with worry on their faces.

The snowfall grew denser, scattering across the ground with faint little taps. In the silence, even the sound of shattered flakes landing could be heard clearly.

Song Zhanlong and Baohe approached one another and came to a stop, their eyes meeting.

"I'd long heard that quite a few people had come to Xingdao City to stir up trouble everywhere. I'd even counted myself lucky that they hadn't come for me. Now it seems..." Baohe gave a bitter smile.

"We pick off the strong ones first, then the outer circle. That is our usual practice," Song Zhanlong said casually. "Make your move. I can give you three moves."

"You are quite overconfident, sir. Are you truly so certain of yourself?" Daoist Baohe raised a brow.

"I gave Feiyun Fist three moves before as well. You and he are evenly matched. If you do not want the concession, that is fine too." Song Zhanlong smiled.

At once, he stepped forward and raised the claw on his right hand. His robes stirred without wind, and a faint, thin white glow seemed to light up beneath his skin and across his face.

"Do not say I never gave you a chance!"

Whoosh!

He lunged forward, his body like a black python striking with lightning speed at Baohe.

Clang!

Baohe drew his sword at the same instant, accurately stabbing between the man's brows—yet it only produced a crisp clang.

Not only that, his sword flashed and leaped, striking the man five times in an instant, but every blow rang with the sound of metal against metal.

In the blink of an eye, the man had closed in. His black claw became a blur of shadows, enveloping Baohe.

He was not fast, but his moves were steady, heavy, and forceful. He made no attempt to defend at all, even closing both eyes and relying solely on his ears to strike.

Bang bang bang!!

In an instant, three heavy explosions rang out.

Baohe retreated with a muffled grunt, unfolding his movement technique. In a flash, three phantom images appeared around him, attacking three points on Song Zhanlong at once.

But it was useless. The swords of all three phantoms struck Song Zhanlong's completely undefended body with nothing more than crisp impacts.

Song Zhanlong casually swept his claw, and a sheet of black shadows rained over a broad area, crushing the sword shadows outright.

Bang!

His claw-shadow grazed the stone wall of the training grounds, easily blasting out a crater the size of a washbasin and a palm deep.

Wherever the black claw passed, whether metal weapons on the racks or hard, heavy ornamental rockeries, everything snapped like tofu, unable to withstand a single blow.

At this sight, a trace of foreboding rose in everyone's hearts.

But before they could think further, after barely a dozen exchanges, a scream suddenly rang out.

Daoist Baohe flew backward and crashed heavily onto the training-ground floor, vomiting mouthful after mouthful of blood.

The treasured sword in his hand still gleamed with a faint, crystalline white light—dim yet conspicuous—but it was utterly meaningless now.

"Thanks for letting me win!" Song Zhanlong withdrew his claws and said casually. Then, looking thoroughly bored, he turned and walked out through the main gate. Before long, he boarded a black-purple carriage waiting outside and sped away.

The entire Qingfeng Temple had fallen deathly silent. Only Daoist Baohe's attendants and the three disciples of the Ming generation reacted swiftly, hurrying forward to help Baohe up.

But Baohe had already fainted, his body completely blocked from view by the people crowding around him.

Lin Hui and the others could only see bright red blood quietly staining the pure white snow beneath them through the gaps in the crowd.

Only then did everyone—all the disciples—realize what had happened.

Daoist Baohe had lost.

And he had lost miserably.

Yet the man who had come to challenge the temple had not even suffered a light injury. This meant the gap between their strengths was painfully obvious.

As Qingfeng Temple's strongest fighter, Daoist Baohe's sudden fall would undoubtedly bring enormous consequences.

Watching the others carry Baohe into a side room to examine his injuries, Lin Hui felt a heavy oppression rise within his chest.

He had a premonition that Qingfeng Temple might soon face a tremendous change.

No—judging by what Song Zhanlong had said just now, perhaps every martial arts school in the surrounding towns would face the same fate...