"Pfft."
The servant's gaze sharpened. He drew a blade from the food box. Just one slash, yet it seemed impossible to resist.
For not only was the angle of this slash exceedingly tricky and its speed astonishingly fast, it was also pure to the utmost—seemingly the legendary Iaijutsu. Simple and plain, yet even the foremost martial artists of the jianghu might not evade such a sudden strike.
"Ah!"
Though Wen Xunpeng was a scholar, many scholars in these times practiced some swordsmanship for self-defense. The martial art Wen Xunpeng practiced was even exceptionally exquisite: Thousand Mountains, Layered Dusk Rain, selected from Prince Qi's Residence armory. It was said that Fang Zhiya had dominated the jianghu for ten years with it, only to be surrounded and slain after his disciple betrayed him. Who would have thought this art would be found in Prince Qi's Residence armory?
But Wen Xunpeng was, in the end, merely a scholar. He had practiced halfheartedly, and could barely be counted among the jianghu's skilled fighters. He was no master of flowery fists and embroidered kicks, yet even so, facing this slash, there was nowhere to hide and no way to evade.
Watching the blade's tip slice open his chest and prepare to plunge into his body, Wen Xunpeng felt a stab of pain in his chest. He saw it all clearly, plainly, yet his body could not keep pace with the pain. He could only cry inwardly, My life is over!
Clang! With the sound of metal striking metal, the killing intent was cut off. The crisp echo was like a soul-shocking peal in a stupor, jolting Wen Xunpeng awake from his state of awaiting death.
In a daze, Wen Xunpeng instinctively staggered three steps back.
Looking up, he saw Luo Jiang standing before him. Her