A cold glint flashed in Ling Wuyuan's eyes.
He didn't say another word, but simply raised his right hand, spread his fingers, and gently pressed down.
With a single palm strike, the wind from the palm silently pressed a deep trench, several feet deep, into the snow-covered ground.
The soil and gravel rolled to both sides, as if plowed by an invisible plowshare.
The speed of this palm strike was not fast, it could even be described as slow, but the oppressive feeling as heavy as a mountain caused Shen Moyan's pupils to suddenly contract.
"Drink--!"
Shen Moyan a low shout, holding his long sword horizontally in front of him.
He poured his First Grade Late Stage Internal Qi into the sword without reservation, and a layer of cyan sword light appeared on the sword as he met the palm print.
"Boom--!!!"
The sword's edge collided with the palm print, unleashing a dull, resounding boom.
Shen Moyan felt an overwhelming force emanating from the sword, a force that surged into his arm like a mountain collapsing and the earth splitting.
The shock instantly made his entire right arm go numb and tingly, his thumb and forefinger split open, and blood dripped down the hilt of the sword, spreading a small dark red patch on the snow.
His body flew backward like a kite with a broken string, crashing heavily onto the snow dozens of feet away.
It rolled over again before finally coming to a stop, a trickle of blood seeping from its mouth.
"Master!"
Lu Songhe and Tang Shuang exclaimed in surprise at the same time and rushed forward to help him up.
Shen Moyan leaned on his sword to stand up, the blood still on the corner of his mouth.
He stubbornly looked in Ling Wuyuan's direction, but he had completely lost his fighting ability and could not even stand steadily.
Ling Wuyuan did not look at Shen Moyan.
He withdrew his hand, his gaze passing over Shen Moyan and landing on the Bodhi Blood Tree protected in the center by the Azure Profound Sect members. His voice was calm:
"I'll say it again, step aside."
His voice carried a hint of impatient coldness, a coldness that permeated the winter air as if it were a tangible presence.
"Everyone, step back."
They attempted to resist but failed; they had already fulfilled their duty.
Shen Moyan knew that if they continued to resist, all the Azure Profound Sect members present would likely be killed.
He had no choice but to order the Azure Profound Sect members to retreat.
Although the Azure Profound Sect members were extremely unwilling, they had no choice but to retreat.
After all, even Shen Moyan, the strongest among them, couldn't withstand a single blow from Lin Wuyuan, let alone the rest of them.
Ling Wuyuan said no more.
He walked towards the Bodhi Blood Tree, his steps neither hurried nor slow, each step causing the ground beneath his feet to tremble slightly.
It was as if the entire valley trembled slightly beneath his footsteps.
He walked to the Bodhi Blood Tree, squatted down, and probed the soil near the roots with his five fingers, preparing to dig the tree out and take it away.
He knew that moving it rashly would most likely damage the Bodhi Blood Tree Bodhi Blood Tree and cause it to die, but he had no other choice.
If the tree isn't dug up, by the time the "Grandmaster" of the Azure Profound Sect arrives, there will be no more chance.
His fingertips touched the soil, and just as he was about to exert force—
"Whoosh!"
A figure in a green robe flashed through the narrow opening in the valley like a startled swan, then abruptly stopped in the cold wind.
The soles of the boots gently stomped on the snow, leaving not a speck of dust.
It was Fang Han.
Ling Wuyuan stopped moving.
He raised his head, his gaze falling solemnly on Fang Han who had appeared.
In the cold wind, Fang Han stood with his hands behind his back, the hem of his robe being whipped up by the wind, revealing the snow-covered boots underneath.
"How could it be so fast?"
Ling Wuyuan's expression was solemn.
This valley is much farther from the Azure Profound Sect than Nether Pavilion. He originally thought that even if Azure Profound Sect sent Fang Han to provide support, it would be impossible for them to arrive so quickly.
He had enough time to dig up the Bodhi Blood Tree and transport it back to the Nether Pavilion.
Unexpectedly, Fang Han arrived so quickly.
In that exchange at the Grandmaster Banquet, he was defeated in just over ten moves, and the defeat was utterly devastating.
After that battle, he clearly understood the gap between himself and Fang Han.
By the time Fang Han arrived, it was no longer possible for him to uproot the Bodhi Blood Tree in front of Fang Han.
He slowly withdrew his hand and straightened up.
His youthful face had regained its composure, but the five fingers of his right hand, clasped behind his back, had quietly tightened.
" Fang Han, you arrived quickly."
Ling Wuyuan spoke, his voice calm and even, revealing little emotional fluctuation.
Fang Han stood at the entrance of the valley, neither taking a step forward nor responding to a question.
He simply stared at Ling Wuyuan, his green robe remaining perfectly still in the cold wind.
That calm gaze fell upon Ling Wuyuan, like a predator observing its prey's final movements.
Ling Wuyuan was silent for a moment, then made a decision.
He stopped looking at Fang Han and turned his gaze back to the crimson Bodhi Blood Tree.
Then he raised his hand.
The hand rose quickly in the cold wind, the five fingers slightly bent, and a layer of dark, ink-like Internal Qi suddenly emanated from the palm.
The direction was not towards Fang Han, but towards the trunk of the Bodhi Blood Tree.
"Boom--!"
The moment the palm strike was unleashed, a muffled sonic boom echoed through the air.
The master-level Internal Qi transformed into a jet-black palm print, tearing through the flying snow and striking directly at the main trunk of the Bodhi Blood Tree.
Wherever the palm print passed, the snow on the ground was churned up to both sides by the force of the energy, revealing the frozen soil and gravel underneath.
Knowing he couldn't win against Fang Han, he actually planned to destroy the Bodhi Blood Tree.
"Whoosh!"
Fang Han made a move; to be precise, he sensed Ling Wuyuan's intention and took action even before Ling Wuyuan struck out with his palm.
His figure suddenly blurred in place, and his green robe left a faint afterimage in the air that was almost invisible.
The next moment, they appeared before the Bodhi Blood Tree.
The Silver-Gray Longsword had been drawn at some point, and a Dark Green light suddenly shone on its blade.
The Wind Sword Intent condensed into a tangible form, and the air around the sword silently cracked open with several fine, dark lines.
He slashed out with his sword, meeting the dark palm print head-on.
"Laugh--!"
There was no earth-shattering sound when the sword light collided with the palm print.
The moment the jet-black palm print touched the dark green sword light, it was like a thin sheet of paper being sliced open by a sharp blade, silently splitting open from the center.
The palm strike dissipated, transforming into two dark, residual energies that scattered to both sides, slamming into the ground on either side of the Bodhi Blood Tree and creating two craters over ten feet deep.
Frozen soil and gravel were hurled into the air and then crashed down.
The Bodhi Blood Tree itself remained completely unharmed under Fang Han's protection.
After Fang Han shattered the palm print with a single sword strike, he stood before the Bodhi Blood Tree.
He stood with his sword in hand, his gaze calmly fixed on Ling Wuyuan, his tone indifferent:
"Sect Master Ling, you can't take this tree away, nor can you destroy it."
Ling Wuyuan's expression darkened.
He had used all his strength in that palm strike, aiming for a single, devastating blow.
Fang Han so easily neutralized the full force of a Grandmaster's attack, without even damaging a single leaf of the Bodhi Blood Tree.
He suppressed his turbulent emotions, and his dark Internal Qi once again gathered in his palm.
This time, he didn't say a word more.
With a single step, he shot forward, unleashing another palm strike towards the Bodhi Blood Tree.
"Boom--"
The palm strike was even fiercer and more ruthless than before, carrying an almost resolute determination that left no room for retreat.
Fang Han thrust his sword forward again, this time even faster.
The Dark Green sword light drew a simple arc through the swirling snow, precisely meeting Ling Wuyuan's pitch-black palm print.
The Sword Qi sliced through the palm force like tearing cloth, its momentum undiminished, continuing forward.
"Laugh--!"
With a sharp sound of a blade slicing through flesh, Ling Wuyuan's body stiffened abruptly.
A gruesome sword wound extended diagonally from his right shoulder to his left rib.
The robe was torn, and the seeping blood left a slightly darker stain on the black fabric.
The wound was extremely deep, clearly indicating that he was seriously injured.
And in the process, he didn't even have time to dodge.
Ling Wuyuan glanced down at the wound on his chest, the shock deep in his pupils becoming impossible to conceal.
It was even stronger than the Grandmaster Banquet.
He could clearly feel that the power of Fang Han's sword strike had increased by more than one level compared to two months ago.
The same technique would have required more than ten sword strikes to defeat him at the Grandmaster Banquet, but now it only takes one.
"Walk!"
Ling Wuyuan's gaze fell on Fang Han, his eyes filled with an unprecedented solemnity.
He no longer looked at the Bodhi Blood Tree, nor did he say another word. He simply turned around and walked back towards the valley entrance along the path he had come from.
The figure left a trail of shallow footprints in the cold wind.
"The Pavilion Master was defeated in just two moves?"
The Nether Pavilion members behind him stared wide-eyed, somewhat unable to believe what they were seeing.
They had heard that the Pavilion Master had been defeated by Fang Han, but they only thought that Fang Han had won by a narrow margin, after all, the Pavilion Master was a Grandmaster.
But the gap was much larger than they had imagined.
In just two moves—no, not counting the first move, to be precise, just one move—the Pavilion Master was defeated.
The extreme shock left them hoarse and speechless; they could only hurry to catch up with the Pavilion Master, their hearts pounding with fear.
She was afraid that if she walked too slowly, Fang Han would notice her.
Dozens of black figures followed closely behind Ling Wuyuan, retreating from the valley one after another, and soon disappeared into the cold wind.
Fang Han before the Bodhi Blood Tree, his Silver-Gray Longsword pointing diagonally at the snow. The dark green luster on the sword slowly faded, returning to silence.
He gazed in the direction where Ling Wuyuan had disappeared, his hand still gripping the sword, yet he did not give chase.
With his current strength, if he were to go all out, he would be extremely confident of killing Ling Wuyuan here.
However, the thought only briefly crossed his mind before he suppressed it.
If Ling Wuyuan is killed, Li Hanjiang will surely go mad.
A veteran grandmaster's relentless revenge could inflict heavy losses on the Elder and disciples of the Azure Profound Sect who are away from home, and might even affect the Fang Clan in Liangshui City.
He wasn't confident he could protect everyone in front of Li Hanjiang, and Ling Wuyuan couldn't die until he was certain he could eliminate Li Hanjiang.
Fang Han sheathed his sword, turned around, and looked at the Bodhi Blood Tree, which was entirely crimson.
A few thumb-sized, bright red fruits hung on the tree, swaying gently in the cold wind.
Shen Moyan steadied himself with his sword, cupped his hands in a respectful gesture towards Fang Han, his voice hoarse yet carrying a hint of relief:
"Thank you for arriving in time, Junior Nephew Fang."
Fang Han shook his head slightly and asked:
"You're too kind, Master Shen. How are your injuries?"
Shen Moyan a deep breath, regulated his internal energy, and shook his head.
"The injury is quite serious; he'll probably need to rest for a month or two."
He looked at Fang Han, his eyes still showing some lingering shock, and after a moment he cupped his hands in a respectful gesture.
"If it weren't for Junior Nephew Fang's timely arrival, the Bodhi Blood Tree would probably have already fallen into the hands of the Nether Pavilion."
Fang Han waved his hand.
"We both serve our sect; Hall Master Shen, there's no need for such formality."
He carefully examined the Bodhi Blood Tree.
A small, crimson tree, about ten feet tall, stands atop the white snow, its branches gleaming with a faint, blood-red light, like glass.
Several thumb-sized, bright red fruits hung from the branches, with juice faintly seeping through their thin skins.
A faint, mellow, and exotic fragrance permeated the valley.
The tree trunk showed no obvious damage, so it should not have been damaged in the previous exchange.
Fang Han breathed a sigh of relief and withdrew his gaze.
"Send a message back to the sect, and ask the sect leader for a decision."