In just ten exchanges, Shi Feiyang first pierced Jiang Weiyu's wrist with his sword.
With a clang, the treasured sword fell to the ground. It had already developed a spiritual nature, and, stained with Jiang Weiyu's blood, it kept bouncing on the ground.
Jiang Weiyu staggered backward. Pan Xiuhu roared and threw himself at Shi Feiyang in a desperate attack, only to meet three consecutive sword strikes—the same move as before.
Pan Xiuhu felt sharp pain in his throat, chest, and lower abdomen all at once. His mind went blank in an instant, and he felt his life had reached its end.
Yet Shi Feiyang had not killed him. The sharp sword tip had merely touched his body, slicing through his clothes while leaving his skin completely intact.
He had only condensed his true qi into conical points and driven them into Pan Xiuhu's body, sealing his acupoints. Pan Xiuhu's sword fell to the ground. He staggered back, then dropped to his knees with a thud.
Jiang Weiyu supported his bleeding right wrist with his left hand, his face deathly pale. "We've lost! Kill us or flay us—do as you please!"
"What would I kill you for?" Shi Feiyang said. "Bring out that fragment of the immortal scripture and let me take a look."
Jiang Weiyu was in no position to refuse. He glanced at Pan Xiuhu, who knelt rigidly on the ground, unable to stand, then turned and went back into the cave.
Shi Feiyang studied the surrounding scenery and its Feng Shui, nodding repeatedly. "Vast waves of cloud over here, a jade pillar holding up the heavens over there. This really is a treasure of a site. It's outside the bustling city, yet not too far away—a pocket of quiet amid the bustle. It would be wonderful to