Hu Ma Gang

Compared to his sluggish visual, auditory, and olfactory senses, his "spirit" perceived the edge of the dagger a step faster.

(Assassinating me?)

He Ping's heart stirred, his thoughts racing. As the only son of the He Family, he had held sole control over the family's vast wealth since his father's passing.

Naturally, there were many outsiders coveting the He Family's fortune. Beyond outsiders, there were also his own kin—several branch families who were sensitive to the distribution of interests and had stirred up trouble when his father died.

Furthermore, the He Family's business was extensive; they made many friends, but they also made no shortage of enemies. He Ping had encountered several assassination attempts himself, but he was, after all, a member of the Immortal Puppet Sect who practiced the Formless Secret Treasury.

The assassination methods of ordinary people could not possibly harm someone who understood the arcane arts.

"This time, what is the reason for coming to assassinate me?"

A trace of doubt rippled through his mind, but the situation around him had already changed drastically.

"Young Master He, watch out!"

Chi Ling Daoist, head of the Flying Fish Sect, had no time to draw his sword; he could only thrust it forward, scabbard and all. The old Daoist had been famous for a long time, and he had spent decades honing this Flying Fish Sword Technique. His strike was as fast as a shooting star, coming with the force of a thunderbolt.

At the same time, the master of the Iron Heart Martial Hall, a middle-aged man with a beard sitting at the neighboring table, flicked a chopstick, shooting it out like a bolt of lightning.

Chi Ling Daoist and Zhao Chen, the master of the Iron Heart Martial Hall, were intent on protecting He Ping. They struck simultaneously, the sheathed Flying Fish sword and the chopstick—used as a hidden weapon—blocking the servant who had drawn his dagger and charged in from the left and right.

Yet, in the next split second, a flash of lightning, a fleeting moment, a bizarre scene unfolded: the dagger aimed at He Ping suddenly shifted direction. The servant's body, slick as an oiled fish, evaded the scabbard of Chi Ling Daoist.

The next second, the plate of food he had been holding flew out, blocking the chopstick.

Instantly, a cold, silver radiance bloomed, violently striking the leader of the Hu Ma Gang sitting to the right—the burly man with the thick, bristly beard.

"So... this person was aiming for 'Wind-Soaring Blade' Xie San!!!"

Chi Ling Daoist and Zhao Chen, master of the Iron Heart Martial Hall, realized it at once. Simultaneously, He Ping, whose fingertips were clutching an invisible thread hidden within his sleeve, had been prepared to act, but he stopped in that very instant.

"No wonder there was no killing intent; it seems it wasn't directed at me."

He Ping frowned as the situation on the field shifted again. He saw the bearded Xie San laugh heartily.

"You little bastard, you want to ambush your Grandpa Xie?!"

Xie San was a veteran of the underworld. Suddenly faced with this turn of events, he knew it was too late to draw his blade to respond. He kicked the table, sending the dishes flying. With a loud clatter, the table flipped over, splashing wine and food in all directions, causing guests at nearby tables to scatter in panic.

The servant's movements were agile. He slid and dodged, easily avoiding the flying table without slowing his pace by even a fraction. His blade thrust forward, and in the blink of an eye, he was right beside Xie San.

"You're courting death."

Xie San held a blade in his left hand and a wine pot in his right. He tossed the pot into the air, swung his scabbard with force, and using a supple strength, struck the side of the wine pot, sending it flying.

As the wine pot shot toward him, the servant intended to dodge, but halfway through its flight, the pot shattered with a crack, the porcelain shards scattering like countless hidden weapons.

In that instant, the servant had no choice but to make a desperate decision: he retreated. As he stepped back, the corners of Xie San's eyes lifted. The Wind-Soaring Blade, which had remained sheathed until now, jumped out halfway with a clang, landing perfectly in his right hand.

With a whistling sound of wind and a ringing of steel, the onlookers felt a blur before their eyes. Even though the blade had not yet arrived, the sharp wind of the strike blew against them, feeling as harsh and biting as the frigid winds of the North.

"A fine 'Wind-Soaring Blade' Xie San! This 'Sand Camel Quick Slash' has dominated the North for over a decade—it is certainly no empty boast!"

Chi Ling Daoist and Zhao Chen both felt a jolt in their hearts. As masters of their own sects, they knew from this single strike that Xie San's blade technique was formidable, representing at least twenty or thirty years of grueling practice.

That Xie San could lead the Hu Ma Gang and carve out such a great reputation with a group of nomadic Northern swordsmen was proof of his own exceptional skill.

Suddenly, the blade light of "Wind-Soaring Blade" Xie San had only traced half a circle; before he could decapitate the servant, it came to an abrupt halt, and the whirlwind of blade energy shattered violently.

"My blade!!"

Xie San let out a cry of confusion. As he swung the Wind-Soaring Blade, a sharp pain suddenly flared in his wrist. The pain was strange, his tendons went numb, and the blade he gripped was struck by a massive force, flying out of his hand and clinging into the floorboards with a metallic ring.

Once the "Wind-Soaring Blade" was lost, the servant in green seized the opportunity. He swiped his dagger, and Xie San's throat was slit. The burly man's eyes widened instantly. He opened his mouth, but before he could speak, blood sprayed out with a pfft.

"Third Master!"

The other members of the Hu Ma Gang at the table were all Northern swordsmen. Seeing their leader killed, their eyes split with rage. Eight blades immediately swirled in from all directions like a cyclone.

These Hu Ma Gang members had been personally trained by Xie San. With a flash of steel, they took their positions, weaving a net of eight finely forged iron blades that surrounded the servant. One twist of their blades would have been enough to mince him into pieces.

Yet, in that very moment, the servant's body shuddered, and he launched himself into the air like a jumping corpse.

"What?"

The Hu Ma Gang swordsmen were dumbfounded. They had seen light-body techniques before, but no one had ever seen anything so bizarre.

The servant did not even touch the ground, nor did he bend his knees; he simply flew upward, nearly reaching the rafters. Then, like a bat, he twisted in mid-air and drifted away without a sound.

"Chase him!"

The lead swordsman roared and charged out.

"A pity."

Chi Ling Daoist sighed, glancing at the dead Xie San, whose body was being held by the other Hu Ma Gang members.

"Third Master Xie's blade technique was not weak. If he hadn't lost the initiative, he wouldn't have ended up like this, would he?"

"Look, what is this?"

Zhao Chen of the Iron Heart Martial Hall used his chopstick to pierce a small, blood-soaked black ball. He Ping and Chi Ling Daoist leaned in, discovering that the bean-sized pellet was clearly a small ball made of tangled hair.

"What a strange hidden weapon. Was it this that pierced Xie San's wrist?"

Chi Ling Daoist was greatly astonished.

He Ping did not say a word, though his expression was visibly grim; yet, after a single glance, he recognized the origin of the small black sphere.

"Young Master He, since the Third Master has met with such a mishap, we must return immediately to inform the Second Master."

At this moment, one of the remaining members of the Hu Ma Gang, clutching the corpse of Xie San, said in a deep voice, "The Third Master was taken advantage of by a base scoundrel this time. Our Hu Ma Gang will surely avenge him. Please forgive us for taking our leave."

"Do not say such things. Third Master Xie met his end here, and I have no idea who that thief was to have snuck into the He Family estate to commit such a crime. This is not just a matter for the Hu Ma Gang; it is a matter for the He Family as well."

He Ping heaved a deep sigh.

"It is just that with such a grave incident occurring on my end, I do not know how I shall answer to Second Leader Chen Er."

Xie San of the Hu Ma Gang had adopted several foster sons, the most famous of whom was the Second Leader, Chen Er. His blade technique had inherited the full essence of Xie San's teachings, and his seventy-two forms of the "Sand Camel Quick Slash" possessed at least seventy or eighty percent of Xie San's mastery.

The Hu Ma Gang was a renowned organization in the northern desert. Besides Chen Er, who was a formidable character, there were three other foster sons of Xie San, each possessing exceptional skills. People in the martial arts world were generally unwilling to provoke them.

"Young Master He, please do not say that. Our Hu Ma Gang is well aware of the identity of this petty thief. The Second Master is a reasonable man; how could he possibly blame Young Master He?"

This gang member was clearly a minor leader within the Hu Ma Gang. He stopped mid-sentence, seemingly wanting to say more but holding back, and merely let out a sigh.

"In that case, we shall take our leave to pursue the culprit. We ask for your forgiveness, Young Master."

"Understood."

He Ping nodded, though his complexion remained far from pleasant, still terrifyingly grim. It seemed this incident had ruined his mood, and he had no desire to continue hosting the banquet, leading the guests to depart one after another.

Once everyone had left, He Ping extended a hand. His fingers were long and slender, and between his thumb and index finger, he held an identical small black sphere.

"...Is this a Hair-Cutting Pill?"