Meeting Zhang Shan Again

He had asked for Black Wind Baleful Intent by name.

The atmosphere in the gathering hall, which had only just eased, grew tense once more.

Every bandit looked at Chen Fan in the seat of honor.

Chen Fan remained seated in the great tiger-skin chair, blowing the walnut crumbs from his hand a little at a time.

Zhang Shan.

He had finally come.

Sooner than expected.

"Big brother, he's just a damned Daoist. The brothers and I will go kill him!" Iron-Armed Monkey grabbed his great saber and started for the door.

So what if he was a martial artist? They had the numbers. If they all attacked together, it wouldn't matter who came!

"Let him come up," Chen Fan said, his voice rough but unusually calm.

Iron-Armed Monkey stopped in his tracks and turned around, his face full of confusion.

"Big brother?"

Chen Fan offered no explanation, merely waving a hand.

In the gathering hall, the bandit chiefs exchanged glances, but none dared say another word.

On the mountain path, Chen Fan walked down alone, the enormous ghost-head saber slung over his shoulder.

He had not let anyone follow him.

Iron-Armed Monkey and the others had wanted to come, but one calm glance from him had frightened them into stopping where they stood.

The mountain wind swept past, lifting the hem of his robe.

Trouble.

He was not afraid of dying at Zhang Shan's hands.

He simply did not want Zhang Shan to die.

Knowing how the system operated, whoever killed him would have their body taken over by him. If he died under Zhang Shan's sword, the Martial Dao genius who had only just begun to distinguish himself, with a boundless future ahead of him, would reach the end of his life as well.

That was not what he wanted to see.

A seed he had casually planted had grown into a towering tree, and now it had come to chop down the gardener.

How unpredictable life was.

Outside One-Line Sky, at the entrance to the narrow mountain path.

A young man in a blue-green Daoist robe stood with a sword.

He stood straight and tall, his features refined, an ancient-looking longsword on his back.

He was no longer the boy who had knelt outside the Zhao Residence, as skinny as a bean sprout. Three months of tempering had transformed him completely; he was like a sharp sword drawn from its sheath, its edge fully exposed.

When he saw the burly, heavily bearded figure coming down the mountain path with a ghost-head saber on his shoulder, a blazing fire of hatred flared in his clear eyes.

"Black Wind Baleful Intent!"

Zhang Shan's voice was cold and resolute, filled with irreconcilable hatred.

Chen Fan stopped and planted the enormous ghost-head saber on the ground with a dull thud.

Imitating Black Wind Baleful Intent, he grinned, revealing a mouthful of teeth stained yellow by wine and meat.

"You still dared to come? I spared your life last time. I thought you knew what was good for you, but you still don't know the meaning of death!"

Zhang Shan stepped forward, one hand already on his sword hilt. "You murdered Young Master Zhao Long and slaughtered Zhang Household Village. Today, I'll use your dog head as an offering to their spirits in heaven!"

Young Master Zhao Long...

Chen Fan sighed inwardly. The boy had not disappointed him after all.

"Zhao Long was a good-for-nothing wastrel. He deserved to die!" He dug a finger crudely into his ear. "As for Zhang Household Village, I've killed so many people. How would I remember which village they came from?"

"You!" Zhang Shan's chest heaved, and his refined face flushed red with anger.

He wasted no more words.

Clang!

His longsword left its sheath with a clear, ringing dragon's cry.

A ribbon of sword light tore through the air, stabbing straight for Chen Fan's throat.

Fast!

Unbelievably fast!

For the first time, a hint of gravity appeared on Chen Fan's rugged face.

He flicked the ghost-head saber up from the ground with one hand. Heavy as the blade was, it felt weightless in his grip.

Clang!

Saber and sword collided, sending sparks flying.

A tremendous force traveled through the sword, numbing Zhang Shan's arm and driving him back three steps.

Chen Fan, however, stood where he was, utterly unmoved.

Though Black Wind Baleful Intent's body had mediocre aptitude, he had spent many years at Eighth Rank. The solidity of his foundation was far beyond what Zhang Shan, who had only just broken through, could match.

"With just that much skill, you think you can seek revenge?" Chen Fan grinned viciously, shouldered his great saber, and launched an attack of his own.

"Gale Saber Technique!"

In his hands, the enormous ghost-head saber became an impenetrable net of blade light, whipping up fierce winds that filled the sky as it swept down over Zhang Shan's head.

His saber strikes were wild and overbearing, with broad, sweeping movements.

Yet Zhang Shan showed no fear. Moving with a profound footwork technique, his figure elusive, he wielded his longsword like a butterfly weaving through flowers. He always found the trickiest angles through the gaps in the net of blades, thrusting at Chen Fan's vital points.

For a time, saber light and sword shadows filled the mountain path, and the clash of metal rang out without pause.

Both were Eighth Rank martial artists. One wielded a saber and the other a sword, and neither could gain a clear advantage.

In the blink of an eye, they had exchanged a hundred moves.

The longer Chen Fan fought, the more alarmed he became.

That boy's rate of progress was monstrous!

His swordsmanship possessed not only the uprightness and calm of the Azure Yang Temple, but also a fierce killing intent that pressed forward without hesitation. Every thrust was aimed at taking them both down.

He was practicing the sword with his life on the line, feeding his moves with hatred!

If they continued fighting like this, he might win, but he would surely be injured.

And once injured, he would have less chance of surviving the assault to come from the Prince of Xiushan's Residence and the imperial army.

He had to end this quickly!

Chen Fan exposed an opening, deliberately slowing his saber.

Zhang Shan fell for it. Thinking Chen Fan had exhausted his strength, he flashed a fierce look and sent his longsword streaking like a startled swan straight toward Chen Fan's heart.

Now!

Instead of retreating, Chen Fan advanced. He twisted his body at a bizarre angle, avoiding the sword's edge while swinging the ghost-head saber sideways with all his strength, its spine facing upward.

Bang!

The heavy spine of the saber struck Zhang Shan squarely in the chest.

As if struck by lightning, Zhang Shan spat out a mouthful of blood and flew backward, crashing heavily to the ground.

He struggled to get up, but could no longer muster an ounce of strength.

The battle was decided.

With the saber on his shoulder, Chen Fan walked toward him, step by step, until his enormous shadow enveloped him.

Zhang Shan raised his head, his face full of resentment and bone-deep hatred.

"Kill me."

Chen Fan looked down at him, no emotion visible on his rugged face.

Slowly, he raised the ghost-head saber.

Zhang Shan closed his eyes and waited for death.

But the agony he expected never came.

He opened his eyes in confusion, only to see that the burly bandit chief had already shouldered his saber and turned to walk back up the mountain.

"Why... won't you kill me this time either?" Zhang Shan shouted hoarsely.

Chen Fan did not stop walking. He left him with only a few crude words.

"I'm tired of killing today. You can keep your dog life for now."

"If you dare come again, you won't be so lucky."

Watching the figure disappear at the end of the mountain path, Zhang Shan braced himself on his sword and struggled to his feet.

He wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, his clear eyes filled with complicated emotions.

Black Wind Mountain, a stone chamber in the rear hall.

Chen Fan tossed the ghost-head saber into a corner and plopped down on the stone bed.

The fight with Zhang Shan had used up a good deal of his strength.

Hong'e and Cuiqiao hurried over. One massaged his shoulders while the other pounded his legs.

"Chief, you're amazing! Did you really drive that little Daoist off just like that?" Cuiqiao asked in a sweet voice, full of admiration.

"Just some greenhorn," Chen Fan replied offhandedly.

His eyes were closed, but his mind was racing.

Though Zhang Shan had lost this time, the speed of his growth was terrifying.

The next time he came, this body of Chen Fan's probably would not be a match for him.

He had to find a way to change identities before Zhang Shan came again.

The Prince of Xiushan's Residence? The imperial army?

Both seemed like good choices.

He suddenly remembered the people he had released earlier.

Yun Niang... that gentle woman should be home by now.

And there was the woman who had claimed to be a merchant's relative, but was actually the Consort of the Prince of Xiushan.

Wait.

A thought sprang up without warning.

The Prince of Xiushan's consort had probably been missing for a month or two.

Some time had passed since he let her go, too.

Though Qinghe County was remote, imperial order still held. Given the consort's status, returning to the residence should have been quite simple, as long as she wanted to.

Why was the Prince of Xiushan's Residence still searching everywhere for her?

Why had she not gone back?

The scene of their return from that day's raid rose unbidden in Chen Fan's mind.

The woman in brocade had been bound hand and foot, her face full of defiance.

Behind her, a trembling maid had huddled.

At the time, he had thought she was just an ordinary maid.

But now, thinking back carefully, that maid...

Although she had been trembling all over with fear, the way she had huddled behind her mistress looked less like she was seeking shelter and more like... an instinctive attempt to protect her.

And that little face, smeared with mud and streaked with tears like a pear blossom in the rain...

Chen Fan frowned. There was something wrong with that maid!