The Esteemed Immortal Master

Drawing the blade...

Ten thousand times?

The youth froze for a moment, a profound and mysterious sensation flowing through his entire body.

In that fleeting instant, Chen Changming felt as though he had gained a new layer of insight into the technique of drawing a blade to strike.

At this moment, the piercing sound of mocking laughter reached his ears, causing his blood to boil once more.

Relying on the strength surging from the soles of his feet, his previously uncontrolled body suddenly exerted force, launching him like an arrow from a bow, whipping up a flurry of wind and snow.

Though his speed was great, in the eyes of Ma San, it only caused a flicker of surprise; even if an eight or nine-year-old child doubled his speed, he posed no real danger.

"Go to hell!"

Ma San sneered, lifting his leg to sweep toward the youth's chest.

The wind of his kick whistled, leaving a trail of afterimages.

This was Ma San's most prized Lightning Leg Technique. Although his mastery was imperfect, it still possessed a certain level of heat, far beyond what an eight or nine-year-old child could withstand.

If this kick connected, the youth would surely die.

The firewood blade paused slightly in mid-air, cleverly altering its trajectory to pierce through the leg shadows, slashing directly toward the most vulnerable throat.

"What?"

Ma San was terrified out of his wits, never expecting this strike to be so bizarre and filled with such subtle variations.

This was not a blade technique a little beggar should be capable of executing!

Pfft!

It was too late for him to dodge. The shimmering cold light dispersed the freezing wind, and the blade sliced through his throat.

Thud!

Having succeeded in his strike, the youth's thin, small body landed on the ground, gasping for air as if that single blow had exhausted every ounce of his strength.

"How is this possible... you actually know martial arts..."

Ma San's eyes widened, staring at the youth in disbelief, his gaze filled with intense resentment.

He never imagined he would die at the hands of an eight or nine-year-old child.

Boom... His hands fell limply, his tall frame unable to support itself any longer, and he crashed down into the thick snow.

Chen Changming was quick-witted and agile, rushing to catch Su Linger, who had been frightened into a stupor.

"Murder!"

A cowering, thin figure darted out from a nearby corner—it was Liu Si, Ma San's lackey.

He had just emerged from the teahouse and witnessed his boss collapse with blood spraying from his throat. Although his legs shook like chaff, Liu Si gritted his teeth and stumbled toward the direction of the magistrate's office.

Chen Changming's pupils constricted, a wave of lingering fear washing over him.

In a fit of rage, he had actually killed someone in Xiliang City. That fleeing Liu Si would surely report this to the authorities.

What awaited him would be imprisonment and execution at noon to serve as a warning to others.

He hoisted Su Linger onto his back and growled, "We must leave, now!"

With Xiliang City currently buried in ice and snow, the streets were deserted—the perfect opportunity to escape.

Driven by the need to survive, the potential within Chen Changming erupted once more, and he soon vanished into the blizzard.

The snow fell heavier and heavier.

Within a few breaths, Ma San's corpse was covered in a thin layer of white, and the youth's footprints were buried by the falling flakes.

Liu Si led several constables to the scene. After inspecting the area, one constable frowned and asked Liu Si, "Are you certain this was done by that little beggar who sells firewood?"

"It was him, I saw it clearly. There is no mistake."

Liu Si said, his face deathly pale. He could not forget that small, thin silhouette leaping into the air, bringing with it a flash of steel that had severed Ma San's throat in an instant.

The sight was too terrifying.

The constables' expressions turned grim. They exchanged glances, and in an instant, they reached a conclusion.

This little beggar knew martial arts, and his strength was not to be underestimated.

A short while later, a team of ten constables, accompanied by several large black hounds, exited Xiliang City and began tracking north.

Only a stick of incense's time later, in the woods north of the city, the team of constables caught up to the murderer.

"Woof! Woof!"

The black hounds caught the scent and barked excitedly.

"Go!"

The constables released the chains. The three black hounds, their eyes bloodshot, howled as they charged toward Chen Changming.

Linger's face was etched with despair as she suddenly exerted force, sliding down from the boy's back.

"Brother Changming, run!"

She screamed.

"There's nowhere left to run!"

Chen Changming gave a miserable laugh, turning around to grip his blood-stained woodcutter's knife, watching helplessly as the three large black hounds closed the distance.

He had exhausted most of his strength during this flight; how could he possibly escape the pursuit?

These three black hounds were incredibly robust, each the size of a small calf, and he couldn't even handle one of them.

"If I kill one, I'll break even; I've lived long enough anyway."

Chen Changming muttered to himself.

No matter how hard his life had been these past few years, he had never complained, but being bullied by thugs today and nearly dying had filled him with despair for this mortal world.

"Brother Changming, I will die with you."

Linger's face was resolute as she picked up a tree branch, aiming it at the charging black hounds.

"You haven't done anything; they won't seize you."

Chen Changming shook his head.

Linger was as weak as a chicken; even if those bailiffs were blind, they wouldn't lay a hand on a little girl.

"If you die, how could I possibly go on living?"

Linger laughed bitterly.

She was starving and freezing, her body covered in festering chilblains, and her frail frame could no longer hold out. In this snowy night, she would be frozen stiff and dead within the hour.

Hearing Linger's words, Chen Changming fell silent, uncharacteristically offering no rebuttal.

The three black hounds drew near and leaped into the air, lunging at the pair. Linger's expression remained calm as she pressed her head against the boy's shoulder, whispering, "In the next life, let's not come here, okay, Brother Changming?"

Chen Changming nodded and swung his blade.

However, the three black hounds suddenly groaned, vomited blood in unison, and crashed heavily onto the snow.

"Such a rare Heavenly Spirit Root—how could it be allowed to die?"

A woman's voice rang out, ethereal and clear. Then, the wind and snow abruptly ceased, and a woman in silver robes, her face veiled, stepped slowly out of the void.

Her aura was noble beyond measure, and as she stood suspended in mid-air like a celestial being, she inspired an instinctive urge to worship.

"My Lady Immortal!"

The pursuing bailiffs turned pale with fright and scrambled to their knees.

An immortal?

Gazing at the silver-robed woman, Chen Changming was stunned. The legendary immortals had actually appeared before his eyes, making him feel as if he were dreaming.

The silver-robed woman beckoned, and Linger flew up uncontrollably, drifting to her side.

"Tsk, tsk. Such a prodigy would have the major sects fighting tooth and nail to claim her elsewhere. Who would have thought that in this remote corner of the Northern Region, she would nearly die at the hands of mortals..."

The silver-robed woman examined Linger, full of praise.

Linger blinked and hurriedly asked, "My Lady Immortal, can you please save me and Brother Changming?"

"Why ever not?"

The silver-robed woman smiled indifferently and gave a light wave of her hand; the ten bailiffs instantly turned to ash.

Seeing such a terrifying sight, Chen Changming retreated several steps, his heart filled with horror.

Is this the power of an immortal?

It's too terrifying!

"Linger, are you willing to take me as your master?" the silver-robed woman asked.

"I am."

Linger felt a sudden flash of intuition and quickly knelt down. "Master is above; please accept this disciple's bow."

"Rise!"

The silver-robed woman personally helped Linger up, her gaze filled with tenderness. This child had suffered so much in her youth that she would surely be diligent in her future cultivation, and her resolve would far surpass that of her peers.

On this trip to the Northern Region, she had truly struck gold.

"Linger, come back to the sect with Master."

The silver-robed woman took Linger's small hand, and the cold sensation that greeted her only made her feel more affection.

"Master, can you bring Brother Changming along too?"

Linger asked timidly.

"Changming?"

The silver-robed woman squinted at the frail boy below. Her expression shifted, coldness surfacing as she gave a faint, mocking laugh. "A mere Five-Element Mixed Spirit Root—the worst cultivation aptitude in the world. How could he possibly enter the gates of my Glazed Sect?"