Xuanding?
At the mention of that name, no one in the hall knew what to say.
Yi Yang stood by the doorway, his hand resting on the hilt of the Mysterious Abyss Saber, his mental power tracking the retreating blood-red figure.
The man moved swiftly, clearing the ruined courtyard walls on the front mountain in a few bounds before hurtling toward the woods to the north. His blood-red astral energy carried not a trace of Buddhist power. Every branch he struck snapped, and deep footprints marked the ground behind him.
Xu Yuhu braced himself against the stone slabs and sat up, aggravating his chest wound. His breathing faltered for two beats.
"Xuanding isn't dead."
Lu Quanan did not look back. He had already vanished from the hall entrance. There had been no warning, no explosive burst of astral energy.
In the blink of an eye, he was simply gone.
A moment later, a dull explosion sounded above the dense woods a thousand feet away.
Boom.
A surge of blue-green astral energy collided with a scarlet streak in midair. The resulting shock wave sheared the entire crown off a century-old pine. Yi Yang observed the violent commotion outside through his mental power.
Two figures crossed paths above the woods on the rear mountain.
Lu Quanan's dark martial attire remained perfectly still in the wind. Neither hand held a weapon.
Opposite him, the bald monk who had flown out of Zhao Xunge's body had already been cut off from escape.
Blood-red astral energy wrapped around the monk. A sickly sweet, bloody odor spread around him, carried by the fierce wind until even those inside the hall could faintly smell it.
The monk pressed his right index and middle fingers together. Scarlet flames condensed at his fingertips, filling the air with the smell