"Clang!"
Metal rang against metal.
The Flying Sword Fine Rain intercepted two beads hurtling toward him.
Li Ping'an sprang up and raced down the mountain with the speed of a thunderclap that left no time to cover one's ears.
The Flying Sword Fine Rain circled him, always keeping a distance of about thirty feet.
Li Ping'an held the Fusang Saber and used Swallow Piercing the Clouds underfoot.
He either circled around the enemies he encountered.
Then left them behind at tremendous speed.
Or killed them with a single slash.
Li Ping'an's saber was fast.
He moved on at the first touch, vanishing in a flash.
Almost no one could stop him.
"Quick, quick!"
"To the southwest!"
"Those two are running too fast."
"..."
Several voices constantly overlapped.
The wind howled, and they moved faster and faster, streaking through the woods like a meteor shower.
They ran on with their heads down, and a day later...
Li Ping'an and Old Ox stopped in a village somewhere.
The villagers had long since fled.
Apart from thatched houses and bare trees, there was almost nothing in the village. It was utterly desolate.
Li Ping'an and Old Ox were both panting heavily, clearly exhausted.
Normally, running flat out for a day and a night would not have tired them out this much.
But the trouble was that they had fought the whole way, and none of their opponents had been ordinary foes.
After running so far as well, they were utterly spent.
They also had several wounds on their bodies.
"Old Ox... where... where have we ended up?" Li Ping'an asked.
Old Ox looked around and carefully worked out north, south, east, and west.
Finally, he reached a conclusion: they might have gotten lost.
Li Ping'an kicked Old Ox in the backside.
"You tell