The atmosphere inside the inn grew grim. The Listening Rain Gate disciples shouted angrily, ready to strike.
But the young Liao man moved with startling speed. He drew his saber, a golden shadow flashed, and the blade chopped straight down. The disciple's head rolled to the floor, yet no blood appeared. Instead, streams of clear water poured from his neck.
A black shadow burrowed out of the headless corpse, inky light surging around it and bloody rain drifting through the air. It tried to flee outside, but the young Liao man blocked its path and began fighting it.
The creature's aura was roughly at the fifth level of Qi Refining, making Liu Xiaowen frown slightly.
That is not all of it.
Shen Baoxiang, who had reached the sixth level of Qi Refining, had died horribly outside. This shadow could hardly have accomplished that; something else must have done it. Neither Liu Xiaowen nor Zhang Yu moved rashly. They watched the shadow, ready to intervene at any moment.
The Listening Rain Gate disciples scattered like startled birds. Yin Yuanchen barked an order, protecting those beside him as they hurried backward.
Only then did everyone get a clear look at the Liao man's saber. Its blade was narrow and straight, with a small guard and long hilt, giving it an ancient, imposing air. Dark gold throughout, it bore an engraving of luan birds and phoenixes greeting the rising sun. It did not look like something from the Liao Kingdom.
The golden saber possessed tremendous power. Light surged with every swing. Holding it in both hands, the Liao man delivered broad, sweeping strokes, his blade moving like the sun along its celestial path. His technique never faltered, and a murderous solemnity arose naturally.
The shadow was a mass of black vapor condensed into