A Gift That Defies Convention

The fleeing group numbered seven, all clad in night-robes. Among them, the tallest man wielded a Goose Feather Saber, frequently engaging the faster pursuers behind him to cover his companions' escape.

"Clang! Clang! Clang!!!"

The tall man twisted mid-leap, deflecting three flying darts. The saber and iron darts struck sparks in the night. Using the momentum from the darts, he bounded to a tree, kicked off the trunk, and accelerated forward again.

The pursuers numbered over a dozen, all skilled in lightness arts. They clung stubbornly to the black-clothed men ahead, occasionally hurling darts or even rocks picked up from the mountain, though most were blocked by the rearmost black-clothed man.

"Xiang Feng, hand over the Sword Intent Scroll, and we'll grant you a whole corpse!"

A white-robed man shouted this as he stamped his foot with full force on a tree, launching himself forward. A Nine-Section Steel Whip had already unfurled like a venomous snake, lashing ahead.

"Bullshit! I'll fuck your wife and daughter to death before I kill them!"

"Clang~"

The black-clothed man blocked the strike, borrowing force from a nearby tree. But the white-robed man struck his own whip with his left hand, causing the deflected steel whip to twist like a serpent turning back, chasing after the black-clothed man.

"Looking for death!"

"Boom!"

The steel whip blasted a chunk out of the tree trunk. Wood chips flew, obscuring vision. Two men behind had been accumulating power, and their right hands snapped forward like drawn bows.

Whoosh—whoosh—

"Clang!"

"Pfft..."

One dart was hastily deflected; another burst into a spray of blood. The black-clothed burly man was finally wounded, a dart lodged in his left shoulder.

Yet the steel whip continued to sweep before him, sometimes like a long staff, sometimes like a spirit serpent, drenching the black-clothed man in cold sweat.

"Ha!"

The black-clothed man channeled his true qi and swung his saber wildly.

"Slap slap slap slap slap..."

A mass of branches was severed by this man named Xiang Feng. He kicked the branches back toward the pursuers, no longer daring to delay alone, and fled with all his might.

The black-clothed men had originally thought stealing the Sword Intent Scroll would be a simple task. They never expected that old bastard from the Fan family, despite his age, was still ferocious. To deal with him, the Thirteen Bandits of Yan had lost two men.

The remaining eleven bandits escaped with the Sword Intent Scroll. When the Fan family saw the Old Master slain by bandits, they went nearly mad. They issued a call to the entire Dingyuan Martial Arts World: whoever killed the Thirteen Bandits would not only receive the Sword Intent Scroll but also be told all the insights the Fan family had painstakingly comprehended over the years.

In an instant, the Dingyuan Prefecture martial world was in turmoil. Experts from all directions gathered, united only in hunting the Thirteen Bandits of Yan.

The "Sword Intent Scroll" was left behind by the peerless expert Zuo Kuangtu, known as the Sword Immortal, before his death. The text within contained traces of Zuo Kuangtu's sword moves and intent, and pointed directly to the burial site where he would lay down his sword. Martial world rumor had it: fully comprehend the Sword Intent Scroll, and one could find Zuo Kuangtu's tomb, obtaining his peerless martial arts manuals and the divine weapon, the Long Sword Qingying.

No one had expected that the Sword Intent Scroll, which had once stirred rivers of blood in the martial world, had been hidden all along in the Dingyuan Fan family. Nor did they expect the Fan family to make the news public for the sake of revenge.

Now, every martial expert in pursuit scrambled to be first. This group had already clashed with the remaining eleven bandits several times, reducing them to seven. They had long developed a tacit understanding: seize the Sword Intent Scroll together before other experts from other prefectures and provinces could join the fray.

For the Fan family's promise, the Thirteen Bandits of Yan had to die to the last man!

The black-clothed men grew more frantic as they fled. They had hoped to shake off pursuit using the mountain forest, but the dozen-plus men behind were no mediocrities. They pressed too tightly, giving them no chance.

The black-clothed men ahead were already carrying wounds. Now that their leader, Xiang Feng, had also taken a dart, the situation grew even more dire.

"Eldest Brother, we can't keep this up. We can't outlast them!"

"Damn it! That bastard Fan Tong, even dead he makes trouble for us! If it comes to it, we'll fight it out up ahead!"

The leading black-clothed man gritted his teeth, yanked a scroll from his chest, and with a few bounds leaped onto a relatively open patch of mountain rocks. He raised the scroll high.

The other black-clothed men landed behind him, panting.

"You mad dogs, all you want is the Sword Intent Scroll, right? Push us too far, and I'll tear this worthless scrap to shreds!"

As he spoke, Xiang Feng unrolled the calligraphy scroll.

Behind him, the pursuing experts landed nearby, keeping a distance of two zhang from the black-clothed men.

The white-robed man sneered coldly.

"At death's door and still struggling. Even if you destroy the Sword Immortal Zuo's ink treasure, the Fan family's years of insights will suffice!"

"Heh heh, Jiang Chongli, you might think that, but will the men beside you? If the Fan family's insights were worth anything, wouldn't they have already gone to find Zuo Kuangtu's peerless sword techniques and divine weapon themselves?"

Under the black-clothed man's cold mockery, a brief silence fell between the two sides.

Xiang Feng no longer thought he could actually take the Sword Intent Scroll away. He just wanted to escape. He was about to say something more when suddenly a mountain wind rose.

Woo—woo—woo—

The gale swept up leaves and dust, plunging the night into deeper darkness. Xiang Feng's hand suddenly went slack—the scroll had been caught by the wind and sent flying into the air.

"No!"

"The Sword Intent Scroll!"

"Seize it!"

Several of the pursuers immediately launched themselves into the air, using lightness arts to leap and grab for the scroll.

Xiang Feng's initial fury had barely risen before he realized this was an opportunity. Leading the black-clothed bandits, he quietly leaped backward, using the gale and the chaos of the pursuers scrambling for the scroll to slip away.

In the forest clearing, several experts leaped up to snatch it, and some even attacked others midair, trying to seize the Sword Intent Scroll first.

Unfortunately, this gust of wind was eerily strange—just as the White-Clothed Guest was about to reach it, the scroll abruptly rose higher and was swept into the sky.

Woo... Woo...

More fallen leaves, dead branches, and dust swirled up. The martial artists, having reached the limit of their Lightness Skill, all dropped back down. When they looked up again, the calligraphy scroll had vanished into the night, and not a single bandit remained on the ground.

"Damn it! Damn it all!"

"Ugh, so close!"

"This wind is way too unnatural!"

"Should we still chase?"

"Hmph, let's find the Sword Intent Scroll first!"

To be safe, the Jianghu Guests split into two groups, heading off in two likely directions.

On a nameless peak of Niu Kui Mountain, Lord Lu lay lazily sprawled at the mouth of the Mountain Cave. In his tiger paw was a scroll that looked miniature in comparison—the Sword Intent Scroll he had casually snatched while passing through the mountains earlier.

His sharp claws gently pried open the scroll. On the slightly yellowed paper, a hundred or so characters were written in Iron Strokes and Silver Hooks, bold and forceful.

"Good calligraphy! But nothing special."

Though the strokes carried a sharp edge, they lacked any spiritual energy. It was indeed left behind by a so-called "Sword Immortal" among mortal martial artists. Just as he was about to open his mouth and swallow it, the Fierce Tiger suddenly paused.

'But the calligraphy is good!'

With that thought, the massive tiger slowly rose, wrapped in a faint breeze, and darted into the forest.

Over an hour later, in a Mountain Hollow near Ning'an County.

A red fox had its tail pinned under a Tiger Claw nearly as large as its own body.

"Whimper... whimper..."

The fox's body stiffened and trembled, not daring to struggle too much. Instead, it turned around with startling human-like caution, pressing its front paws together as if begging the Fierce Tiger.

Lord Lu's tiger mouth curled slightly, revealing terrifying fangs.

"Heh, I've long known you foxes have awakened intelligence, and I know you often go down to Ning'an County to steal chickens and ducks from the farmers. Have you ever seen the blind Hermit Master who once lived in the Mountain God Temple on the outer peak?"

"Whimper whimper..."

The fox nodded, not daring to resist.

"Good, then do something for me."

With that, a scroll drifted out from the Fierce Tiger's mouth, tied with a thin string woven from tiger fur, and hung onto the red fox's back, hidden beneath its russet coat.

"Go to Shuixian Town and Ning'an County to find Mister Ji for me. If you find him, present this scroll to him on my behalf. The fur on you should keep him from attacking, but don't be reckless and disturb his peace. Understood?"

Find Mister Ji's dwelling, give him this scroll on my behalf. The Master is blind but a Hermit Master—you'll know him when you meet him.

"Whimper whimper!"

The fox could only reply weakly.

Lord Lu's Ferocious Light faded from his tiger eyes, a look of satisfaction appearing as he released his Tiger Claws.

"Good. This is also a stroke of fortune for you. Whether you find the Master or not, don't get clever. Go now!"

The red fox took a few trembling steps, glanced back at the mountain tiger, then sped up on all fours, darting into the forest and Went Far Away.

Lord Lu watched the fox disappear, musing to himself: Sending a calligraphy scroll—that shouldn't be too cliché, should it?