The journey was three hundred li long, a distance impossible for a horse-drawn carriage to cover in a single day.

After a full day on the road, the last crimson glow of the setting sun vanished behind the distant mountains.

The convoy stopped on an open, sheltered riverbank beside the main road, preparing to camp for the night.

The servants skillfully unloaded the carts, fed the horses, gathered firewood, and started cooking.

Soon, several bonfires were lit. The dancing flames pushed back the darkness and brought a welcome warmth.

Fang Han and his four companions gathered around one of the bonfires. A wild rabbit they had just hunted was spitted over the flames.

A servant with a knack for cooking was roasting it for them.

As the seasoned rabbit roasted, a fragrant aroma slowly began to fill the air.

Eventually, it became crisp and fragrant, its juices sizzling, stirring the appetites of the five who had eaten nothing but dry rations for lunch.

"Senior Brothers, Senior Sister, it is ready to eat."

The servant cut the rabbit into small pieces with a knife, arranged them on five clean, broad leaves, and respectfully presented them to Fang Han and his companions.

"Thank you."

Fang Han’s group accepted the food and began to eat.

Perhaps it was because they were so hungry, but the five of them—all accustomed to fine dining—found the rabbit meat surprisingly delicious. It was every bit as good as a dish from a proper restaurant.

"Xiao Chen, Chen Ying, and Shi Yong, you three will take the first watch. Zhao Li and I will take the second."

After they finished the rabbit, Fang Han, being the strongest of the five, took it upon himself to arrange the night’s watch schedule.

"Alright."

In the Martial Arts World, strength reigned supreme. Xiao Chen and the other three had no objections and immediately began their watch according to the arrangement.

In the dead of night, the mountain forest fell silent. The only sounds were the rustle of the night wind through the treetops and the occasional, unsettling wolf howl in the distance.

The night passed without incident. Other than the draft horses pawing nervously at the ground in response to a few wolf howls, nothing was amiss.

The next morning, the convoy set off again.

They traveled for another full day, pausing only briefly for water and dry rations.

As the setting sun painted the horizon in shades of orange, the convoy, now two-thirds of the way through their journey, found a sheltered mountain hollow to make camp for their second night.

Night fell again, and the bonfires were lit once more.

Once again, Xiao Chen, Chen Ying, and Shi Yong were on duty for the first watch.

After a night of camping in the open, followed by a day of travel and constant vigilance, a trace of fatigue was unavoidable on their faces. Their eyes, however, remained sharp and alert.

Having passed the fierce competition to join the Qingxuan Sect, their willpower was far tougher than that of an ordinary person.

They failed to notice, however, that in the deeper darkness, more than a dozen pairs of eyes, like those of hunting wolves, were fixed on the fire-lit convoy.

Their leader was none other than Qian Yong’s trusted subordinate, Qian Li—a man with a gaunt, fierce face and ruthless eyes.

He and his men had been silently tailing the convoy for more than a day.

"Boss Qian, why didn’t we make a move last night? Why wait until tonight?"

A scar-faced man asked in a hushed, perplexed tone. He rubbed his hands together, clearly impatient.

Qian Li’s cold gaze swept over the three guards by the bonfire. His voice was a low, raspy whisper.

"Last night was their first night out. Those little whelps from the Qingxuan Sect were fresh and on high alert. After one night on the road, their Essence, Qi, and Spirit will have slackened... Tonight is the perfect time to strike!"

He paused, a vicious glint in his eyes, and then swung his hand forward.

"Move out! And remember, make it look like a roadside robbery by mountain bandits!"

At his command, a dozen or so figures moved like phantoms. Using the cover of night and trees, they muffled their footsteps and crept silently toward the convoy in the hollow.

Their movements were nimble, their steps nearly silent. They were clearly all skilled fighters.

By the bonfire, Chen Ying’s expression suddenly changed.

His hearing was naturally sharp, and he caught an almost inaudible sound—something distinct from the wind or the chirping of insects.

"Trouble!"

He shot to his feet, his long saber instantly half-drawn, its cold gleam reflecting on his grim face as he barked out the warning.

His warning cry shattered the night’s silence like a peal of thunder!

Fang Han and Zhao Li, who had been sleeping lightly, were jolted awake. They leaped to their feet in the same instant, weapons already in hand.

Fang Han drew his Cyan Blade Sword with a soft hum.

Zhao Li crossed her pair of short swords before her chest, her eyes sharp.

"We’ve been spotted! Kill them!"

Seeing they had been discovered, Qian Li abandoned all pretense of stealth. With a roar, he waved his hand forward.

The dozen or so men dropped their cover. The cold glint of drawn swords and sabers flashed in the darkness as they charged the convoy, radiating killing intent.

In an instant, the clash of weapons, angry shouts, and the terrified neighing of the draft horses shattered the tranquility of the mountains.

Completely outnumbered, Fang Han and his four companions were instantly swarmed, each facing two or three assailants.

This was no disorderly mob. Each man had a composed aura and struck with vicious precision—all of them were Ninth Grade Internal Qi Realm Martial Artists!

Xiao Chen’s long sword moved like a downpour of light, forcing the two Ninth Grade Martial Artists attacking him back, but he was unable to gain a decisive advantage.

Chen Ying faced three Ninth Grade Martial Artists. He responded with composure, his Saber Technique precise and his defense watertight, but he was still locked in a difficult battle.

Shi Yong roared, his iron fists striking with immense power. He fought two Ninth Grade Martial Artists and seemed to have a slight advantage, the wind from his punches so fierce his opponents didn’t dare block them head-on.

Zhao Li’s Body Technique was nimble, her pair of short swords striking like a viper’s fangs. She weaved and dodged the attacks of three Ninth Grade Martial Artists. Though constantly in peril, her blades would lash out from impossible angles, keeping her opponents wary.

SWOOSH!

Meanwhile, three Ninth Grade Martial Artists had surrounded Fang Han in a triangular formation. Swords and sabers raised, they launched a ferocious assault.

Fang Han’s expression was serene. He executed the Startled Swan Step, his form becoming as elusive as a phantom, dodging their fatal, coordinated strike by a hair’s breadth.

The Cyan Blade Sword in his hand became a streak of cyan lightning as he unleashed the full power of his Wind-Splitting Swordsmanship at the Minor Achievement level.

SHLICK!

The wind from his blade tore through the air with a sharp whistle.

He executed Returning Wind and Shadow. The light of his sword curved strangely around an incoming saber, precisely slicing across the Ninth Grade Martial Artist’s throat.

The Ninth Grade Martial Artist’s eyes filled with disbelief and horror. He clutched his spurting throat and collapsed.

The other two Ninth Grade Martial Artists were horrified, and their assault faltered for a moment.

Pressing his advantage, Fang Han’s Sword Techniques changed. He executed Wind Rolls Up the Clouds. A vortex of sword light enveloped the remaining two Ninth Grade Martial Artists, his blade wreathed in a gale.

CLANG! CLANG—

One Ninth Grade Martial Artist’s wrist was struck, and his weapon clattered to the ground. The other was slashed across the chest by Sword Qi and let out a pained scream.

SHNK! SHNK!

Seizing the opportunity, Fang Han flicked his sword twice, slitting both their throats and killing them instantly.

After ordering his men to attack, Qian Li hadn’t joined the fray immediately. Instead, he observed the battle from the sidelines.

He was ready to provide support wherever his men faltered.

When he saw how ferociously Fang Han dispatched three of his men in an instant, he was both shocked and enraged.

"Useless trash!"

He cursed under his breath, then shot forward, pouncing on Fang Han like a great bird of prey.

Before he even arrived, a scorching, powerful force from his fist bore down on his target.

His punch was without flourish, but it carried the immense Inner Qi of an Eighth Grade Martial Artist. His fist glowed with a faint red light, and the very air around it sizzled as if burning.

Fang Han felt a wave of heat wash over him, catching his breath.

He quickly jabbed with his Cyan Blade Sword, the tip vibrating as it shot forward in a direct thrust.

CLANG!

Fist met sword, producing a deafening clang, as if metal had struck metal.

An immense force traveled up the blade. Fang Han’s arm trembled violently, his blood and qi churned, and he was forced back several steps before he could neutralize the impact, leaving deep footprints in his wake.

Qian Li, however, only swayed slightly, clearly holding the advantage.

’An Eighth Grade Martial Artist!’

Fang Han’s expression turned grave as he looked at Qian Li.

Judging by the power of that last attack and the undisguised fluctuations of Inner Qi rolling off the man, he had to be an Eighth Grade Martial Artist. 𝕗𝚛𝚎𝚎𝐰𝗲𝗯𝗻𝚘𝚟𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝕞

He was confident in his own abilities, unafraid of any ordinary Late Ninth Grade Martial Artist—he had even killed one before—but facing an Eighth Grade Martial Artist filled him with an unprecedented sense of gravity.

"Fang Han, be careful!"

Xiao Chen, Chen Ying, Shi Yong, and Zhao Li cried out in alarm when they saw Fang Han being attacked by an Eighth Grade Martial Artist.

They wanted to help, but they were pinned down by their own opponents and couldn’t break away.

"Not bad!"

Qian Li let out a savage laugh, the killing intent in his eyes flaring.

"But Ninth Grade is still just Ninth Grade. Let’s see how many of my fists you can handle!"

His Eighth Grade Inner Qi flared to life, and the aura around him surged violently.

BOOM—

His fists, like red-hot branding irons, left a trail of afterimages as he unleashed a tempest of blows against Fang Han.

The wind from his fists was searing, and each punch held the power to shatter stone. He was clearly using some kind of Fire Attribute Inner Qi Technique.

Fang Han felt the pressure on him intensify.

SWOOSH! SWOOSH—

He executed the Startled Swan Step, pushing his Body Technique to its absolute limit as he weaved and dodged across the battlefield.

His Cyan Blade Sword became a blur of cyan light, parrying one moment and counter-attacking the next.

He brought the full potential of his Wind-Splitting Swordsmanship to bear. His Sword Techniques were swift and tricky; rather than meeting Qian Li’s attacks head-on, he targeted the openings and vital points in his opponent’s form.

POW!

The wind from a punch grazed him, scorching the collar of his robes. A searing pain shot through his arm.

SHK!

A flash of sword light left a bloody gash on Qian Li’s shoulder.

They exchanged blows at high speed, their figures a blur. Intersecting waves of Sword Qi and fist wind tore the surrounding grass and trees to shreds.

Wounds began to appear on both of them.

’Are Major Sect Disciples this terrifying?’ Qian Li grew more alarmed the longer he fought. ’I thought I could easily crush him with my Eighth Grade Cultivation. But his swordsmanship is so refined and vicious, and his body technique is incredibly slippery. I can’t gain any advantage at all. I knew disciples from major sects like the Qingxuan Sect were stronger than ordinary Martial Artists, but I never imagined one could be *this* strong. A mere Middle Stage of Ninth Grade is holding his own against me, an Early Stage of Eighth Grade Martial Artist!’

Although Xiao Chen and the other three were locked in difficult battles of their own, they kept an eye on Fang Han’s fight. Awe-struck that he was holding his own against an Eighth Grade Martial Artist, they felt a flicker of hope and redoubled their efforts, trying to finish off their opponents and rush to his aid.

POW! POW! POW!

Fang Han and Qian Li’s fierce exchange quickly surpassed a hundred moves.

Qian Li now had seven or eight sword wounds. None were fatal, but the constant bleeding was clearly affecting his performance.

Fang Han, for his part, was breathing heavily. His body was covered in burns from the scorching fist wind, and his Inner Qi was severely depleted.