Only Seeking a Clear Conscience

Inside the stone chamber, a deathly silence reigned.

Iron-Armed Monkey's words, "Azure Yang Temple, Zhang Shan," had left Chen Fan speechless.

Zhang Shan.

That boy as skinny as a bean sprout, who had knelt before him without even daring to raise his head.

He had come down the mountain.

He had become a martial artist.

He had come to avenge the already dead "Zhao Long."

The person he wanted to kill was Chen Fan as he was now.

An utterly absurd thought shot straight to the crown of Chen Fan's head, leaving him unsure how to react for a moment.

"Big brother!"

Iron-Armed Monkey's roar broke the eerie silence.

His uninjured hand clenched hard, and veins bulged on his arm.

"A snot-nosed little Daoist killed so many of our brothers! And he dared to spout such arrogant nonsense!"

"Big brother, give the order! I'll take some men to chop him up and feed him to the dogs right now! We'll avenge our dead brothers!"

Iron-Armed Monkey's eyes were full of savagery and killing intent.

Chen Fan slowly raised his head and looked at him calmly with the fierce eyes that belonged to Black Wind Baleful Intent.

He neither agreed nor refused.

He simply picked the ghost-head saber up from the floor, hoisted it back onto his shoulder, and turned toward the depths of the stone chamber.

"A Daoist who could slit three of our veterans' throats with a single sword strike each becomes a snot-nosed brat when you talk about him?"

His rough voice held not a ripple of emotion, yet it made Iron-Armed Monkey go rigid.

"If you want to go, then go."

"Don't go throwing your life away and come back crying to me."

By the time his words faded, his figure had vanished into the dark passage leading to the inner chamber.

Iron-Armed Monkey stood where he was, his face turning pale, then livid.

Over the next two days, the atmosphere throughout Black Wind Mountain grew unbearably oppressive.

The soldiers at the foot of the mountain continued to surround it without attacking, like a thorn lodged in flesh.

And in the mountain forests, another elusive god of slaughter had appeared.

On the first day, two bandits responsible for fetching water were found dead beside a mountain spring, their throats likewise slit by a single sword strike.

On the second day, a five-man patrol was attacked on the back mountain. Three died and two were injured.

The survivors ran back, pissing and shitting themselves. They hadn't even gotten a clear look at their attacker's face, seeing only a cyan figure and a flash of sword light swift beyond compare.

Zhang Shan was like a ghost haunting the outskirts of Black Wind Mountain.

He had become a sharp sword hanging over every bandit's head, ready to fall at any moment.

No one in the stronghold dared go out alone anymore.

Even the drinking and boasting in the gathering hall grew much quieter.

"Damn it! You cowardly turtle! Come out and fight me one-on-one if you've got the guts!"

Iron-Armed Monkey smashed a wine bowl against the floor, sending shards flying.

The past two days had nearly driven him mad.

He had taken men to search the mountain for two days without finding so much as a trace of their opponent. Instead, they had lost another five men.

The stifling fury left him unable to sit or stand still.

"Second Chief, that kid's too uncanny! He's like a ghost! We should..." a bandit leader urged.

"Shut up!" Iron-Armed Monkey kicked the table over. "I refuse to believe he's sprouted wings!"

His eyes bloodshot, he swept his gaze over the crowd, all silent as cicadas in winter.

"Pass down my orders! Split everyone into ten groups and surround the woods on the back mountain! Dig three feet into the ground if you have to, but drag that brat out for me!"

"I refuse to believe he can fly up into the sky!"

Early on the third morning.

In a dense forest on the back mountain, a bloody encirclement and slaughter was underway.

Zhang Shan leaned against an ancient tree, his chest heaving.

His cyan Daoist robe had been dyed red with blood and torn open in several places. A wound on his left arm was deep enough to expose the bone.

Seven or eight bandit corpses lay sprawled around him.

Farther out, nearly thirty bandits armed with steel sabers had him completely surrounded.

At their head was Iron-Armed Monkey, his remaining arm wrapped in bandages.

"Keep running, brat!"

A vicious grin on his face, Iron-Armed Monkey advanced one step at a time.

"Let's see where you can run today!"

Leaning on his sword, Zhang Shan slowly straightened up.

His handsome face was covered in blood and sweat, but his eyes were astonishingly bright. They held not a trace of fear, only icy killing intent.

In just one month, he had shed his old self and been reborn.

Internal breath surged through his meridians, and strength flowed through his limbs and bones.

A Ninth Grade martial artist!

Xuanyangzi had said he was a prodigy seen only once in a century.

But he himself knew that what had carried him through this inhuman training was not talent, but hard work.

It was what Young Master Zhao Long had once said to him at the Daoist temple!

Genius was ninety percent hard work and ten percent talent!

"Kill!"

Without another word, Zhang Shan took the initiative and attacked.

He pushed off with his foot, his figure becoming a cyan blur. His longsword traced a sword flower as he thrust straight at the nearest bandit.

Fast!

Fast beyond compare!

The bandit only had time to cry out in alarm before a line of blood appeared on his throat.

"You're courting death! Get him! Chop him to death!"

Iron-Armed Monkey roared.

The bandits rushed forward.

Flashing sabers and flickering swords swallowed Zhang Shan's figure in an instant.

Zhang Shan was locked in a bitter fight.

He had only just entered the Ninth Grade, after all. His internal force was limited, and he was wounded.

Faced with the encirclement of nearly thirty vicious bandits, he gradually fell into a disadvantage.

"Puchi!"

A steel saber struck his back, spraying blood.

Zhang Shan staggered, nearly falling to his knees.

Iron-Armed Monkey seized the opportunity. A vicious glint flashed in his eyes as he pulled a throwing knife from his waist and flicked his wrist!

"Whoosh!"

The throwing knife became a flash of cold light, shooting straight toward Zhang Shan's heart!

Sensing the deadly danger, Zhang Shan forced his body to twist.

The knife grazed his ribs, tearing away a large chunk of flesh.

Agony made his vision go black.

It's over.

Just as he thought he was going to die there.

A burly figure appeared in the middle of the battlefield like a ghost.

No one saw how he had arrived.

He merely stood there, yet he seemed like a mountain no one could cross.

"Get lost."

A single word came from his mouth.

His heavy ghost-head saber did not even leave its sheath. He merely swung it casually.

"Bang!"

An irresistible force swept the bandits at the front straight off their feet, sending men and sabers flying.

Iron-Armed Monkey had just been preparing to follow up with a second knife when he saw the newcomer and froze.

"C-chief?"

All the bandits stopped and looked with delight at Chen Fan, who had suddenly appeared.

The chief had come, but why was he stopping them from killing the brat?

They were puzzled, but none dared ask.

Chen Fan ignored them.

His saber on his shoulder, he walked step by step toward the swaying Zhang Shan.

"All of you, leave."

He gave the order without looking back.

His icy, unquestionable tone made Iron-Armed Monkey and the others' hearts tighten.

They dared not ask any more questions. After exchanging glances, they helped their wounded companions up, dragged the corpses off the ground, and scrambled out of the woods.

Soon, only Chen Fan and Zhang Shan remained in the bloody clearing.

Chen Fan stood before Zhang Shan, his enormous figure completely shrouding him.

"Brat."

He spoke, his voice rough and hoarse.

"I gave you a chance for revenge, but you weren't up to it."

Zhang Shan raised his head and stared fixedly at the bandit chief before him, Sha Qi soaring from him to the heavens.

"You're Black Wind Baleful Intent?"

"I am."

"Why didn't you kill me?" Zhang Shan was puzzled. He couldn't understand why the culprit who had killed Young Master Zhao Long would stop his subordinates from killing him.

Chen Fan did not answer his question.

He simply looked down at the blood-covered boy and asked in a perfectly calm tone:

"Tell me, what sort of thing was Zhao Long?"

Zhang Shan froze.

"A good-for-nothing young master who bullied men, preyed on women, and oppressed the people. A waste who relied on his father's power and stopped at no evil. Trash everyone in Qinghe County wanted dead."

"I was carrying out Heaven's justice when I killed him. Yet you, a Daoist of the Azure Yang Temple, want to avenge scum like that?"

"Is there something wrong with your head?"

Every word Chen Fan spoke was like a heavy hammer smashing into Zhang Shan's heart.

Zhang Shan fell silent.

Of course he had heard what kind of man Zhao Long was.

But...

"I don't care what kind of man he was!"

Zhang Shan jerked his head up, his eyes bloodshot as he roared.

"All I know is, when I was about to be beaten to death, he was the one who stepped forward!"

"All I know is, when I had nowhere to call home, he was the one who gave me a place to stay!"

"All I know is, he was the one who gave me a Cultivation Method and let me set foot on the martial path!"

"I owe him my life!"

"I have to repay that kindness!"

The boy's voice echoed through the forest, filled with resolve and stubborn obsession.

Chen Fan listened quietly.

He looked at the stubborn boy before him, at the eyes burning with excitement and anger.

In his memories, the figure clumsily holding a horse stance in the courtyard of Tingzhu Pavilion slowly overlapped with the blood-soaked swordsman before him.

A long time passed.

Chen Fan's face twitched beneath his thick beard, and he let out a low chuckle of uncertain meaning.

He turned around and hoisted the enormous ghost-head saber back onto his shoulder.

"Get lost."

"Don't let me see you on this mountain again."

Zhang Shan was completely stunned.

Leaning on his sword, he stared blankly at the burly back walking deeper into the woods.

"You... why... are you letting me go?"

Chen Fan did not pause.

He did not turn around, leaving only a sentence that scattered on the wind.

"I only seek a clear conscience."

In the forest, Zhang Shan stood alone among the corpses. The wind blew past, sweeping up a blood-colored fallen leaf.

And at that moment, Zhang Shan's young face was filled with horror!

Young Master Zhao Long had once said those words to him too...