He Yiming moved with lightning speed, a soft palm strike effortlessly ending the gray-robed man’s life. His move this time was swift as lightning, and he felt not the slightest pressure in his heart.

Only after slaying the man and taking his gray robes and black headscarf to wear did he realize he had killed another person. He offered a bitter smile inwardly.

Could this be a case of once is an accident, twice is a pattern, and practice makes perfect? However, regarding these bandits who killed without hesitation for their own greed to seize treasure, He Yiming felt no significant burden; rather, a faint thrill coursed through him.

This was vastly different from how he felt after killing Hu Bin. Perhaps he had truly grown accustomed to killing.

With a flick of his toe, he retrieved the great saber that had fallen from the dead man. Although he hadn't learned specialized saber techniques, the Thirty-Six Forms of Mountain Splitting could certainly be adapted for saber use.

In a moment of critical danger, this martial art could undoubtedly crush gods and slay Buddhas. Shifting his footing, he entered the courtyard.

A pungent, bloody stench assaulted him. This originally elegant and beautiful courtyard was now stained crimson with blood.

Four masked men in gray wildly hacked with their blades at anything that moved, yet each was fiercely entangled by several estate guards fighting desperately. Every move they made was fraught with peril, seeming as if life and death hung by a thread.

And already, the courtyard was littered with corpses—old, weak, women, and children among them. But the battle that truly determined victory or defeat was taking place in the center of the courtyard, where the leading large man was engaged in a fierce, exhilarating fight with Cheng Ningsheng.

They both knew this was the most critical juncture, unleashing every skill learned throughout their lives without reservation. The leading man wielded a large saber, the edge radiating a chilling, sharp light.

It even bore a faint, thin crimson line, as if saturated with blood, lending it an eerie aura. Under his swings, the air was filled with shimmering saber light, reflecting the flames under the night sky, like a mass of white light swirling and dancing, threaded with scarlet.

Opposing him, the elderly Master Cheng Ningsheng remained resolute despite his age. He held a walking staff.

This staff appeared dark, unremarkable, yet it was forged entirely of fine steel, weighing a formidable eighty-six catties. Wielded by the old master, such a heavy staff, though lacking the dazzling flair of his opponent’s attacks, delivered solid, immense power in its straightforward blows.

Both displayed their utmost skill, yet for a moment, neither could gain the upper hand over the other. As He Yiming stood uncertainly, he suddenly heard the leading man roar, “Fool, quickly grab the box.” Startled slightly, He Yiming finally realized the man was speaking to him.

A quick glance confirmed a red wooden casket lying on the ground outside the two men's fighting circle. The moment he saw the item, He Yiming’s eyes lit up.

He knew precisely what it contained. He instantly leaped over and effortlessly secured the object in his hand.

His heart swelled with emotion. Before coming here, he never imagined acquiring this item so easily.

Was even Heaven assisting him? Cheng Ningsheng suddenly bellowed, staring intently at He Yiming with a contorted, ferocious expression.

His staff suddenly shot out from his grip, whipping through the air with a sharp tearing sound, flying toward He Yiming like lightning. If He Yiming were truly the masked gray-robed man, he would likely have been unable to dodge this surprise staff attack.

But since the person had changed, he immediately ducked low, rolled on the ground, darted away like a wild cat, and fled the courtyard in the direction he had come from. The staff pierced the wall like a bolt of lightning, penetrating halfway through with such immense force that it vibrated violently in the masonry.

This showed the terrifying power contained in Master Cheng’s enraged strike. Cheng Ningsheng roared, but the masked man behind him laughed loudly, wielding his great saber with exquisite mastery, completely enveloping the old master’s body.

Having lost his matching weapon, Cheng Ningsheng immediately felt immense pressure. He understood that if he continued to covet the Thousand-Year Blood Ginseng, he might truly perish today at the hands of this saber expert.

Years of experience finally brought the old master a moment of clarity at this juncture of life and death. His sweeping palm strikes unleashed equally powerful combat ability.

Steadily defending, while unable to reverse the disadvantage, it was unlikely the opponent could kill him in a short time. He Yiming, clutching the red wood box, rapidly escaped the courtyard.

But just as he emerged, he heard an angry shout and felt a powerful wave of internal energy blast toward him through the air from ahead. A swift glance confirmed his opponent: Cheng Jiahui, the foremost master among the second generation of the Cheng family, whose inner strength cultivation had reached the peak of the Eighth Layer.

His disheveled clothing and wretched appearance told He Yiming that Cheng Jiahui had rushed here immediately upon hearing the commotion, thinking of the Old Master and the Thousand-Year Blood Ginseng. He Yiming cursed his rotten luck inwardly.

If this man had arrived a moment later, he would have already made his escape. Facing the full force of an Eighth Layer internal energy master’s blow, even He Yiming dared not be careless for an instant.

However, just as he raised his palm, a strange, lightning-fast thought of shifting blame—a scheme to frame someone else—flashed through his mind. The Blazing Fire Art within his body circulated rapidly, instantly surging to the Ninth Layer realm.

He Yiming raised his right palm. His hand had turned intensely crimson, as if coated in red paint, sending a chill down the spine.

Simultaneously, a scorching wave of intense heat spread from his palm—a unique marvel arising from pushing the Blazing Fire Art to its absolute limit, fully manifesting the essence of the technique. Cheng Jiahui’s face instantly turned terrified.

As the foremost expert of the Cheng family’s second generation, he recognized the origin of this technique with a single glance. Moreover, he judged that the sheer power of this single palm strike was likely beyond his ability to resist.

But now, he was committed and had no room to retreat. With a deafening crash, He Yiming staggered slightly on the spot, then shot away like an arrow loosed from a bowstring.

Cheng Jiahui’s body flew backward, bending two small trees as thick as fists in mid-air, soaring over the garden’s precious flowers and plants, before slamming heavily against the thick earthen wall of the courtyard. However, upon seeing that the gray-robed figure was not pursuing but fleeing in panic, he actually breathed a sigh of relief.

But after this turn of events, let alone his internal injuries, even if he were unscathed, he would never again dare to pursue. After taking several deep breaths, the burning sensation inside him subsided considerably.

Cheng Jiahui gritted his teeth, channeled his inner strength, and forcibly suppressed his injuries before quickly entering the inner courtyard. The moment he entered, his eyes turned red.

But his discerning vision was far superior to He Yiming’s. He abruptly turned around, not charging toward his father’s battle, but instead flying toward the four gray-robed men who had the upper hand.

In the presence of a crazed Eighth Layer internal energy practitioner, the four cultivators, who were only at the Fifth Layer, offered no resistance; in just one exchange, Cheng Jiahui sent them flying, weapons and all. While still airborne, the four coughed up blood and died, thoroughly finished.

Then, Cheng Jiahui spun around and went to the wall, forcefully pulling out the Old Master’s iron staff. After completing this, his body swayed slightly, especially as extracting the staff had required immense effort; the internal injuries were almost impossible to suppress further.

The leading masked man suddenly let out a cold snort, the saber light shifting and retracting. He used a slight push with his feet and shot away rapidly.

He had come for the treasure, not to wipe out the Cheng family. Since his subordinates had taken the treasure, he naturally wouldn't linger.

Old Master Cheng hadn't anticipated this change, but he watched the man disappear into the distance. Although his eyes held infinite malice, his body remained firmly planted, showing no inclination to give chase.

A shrill, piercing cry echoed through the Cheng residence. Upon hearing this sound, the gray-robed arsonists stationed everywhere responded with a unified whistle and immediately turned to leave.

They had wrought boundless carnage throughout the Cheng estate; attacking the unprepared with complete readiness, this outcome was hardly surprising. Most importantly, this group was clearly very familiar with such tactics.

Once the leader gave the command, regardless of what they were doing, as long as they could move, they retreated without hesitation. As for the Cheng people, their morale was shattered.

Since these ferocious villains retreated on their own, naturally no one dared to pursue. These men did not linger in the county town but quickly gathered at the West Gate.

Upon reaching it, they immediately stormed out. With a Ninth Layer internal energy expert like the gray-robed leader holding the line, seizing a small, defenseless county gate was as simple as lifting a hand.

They passed through the city gate, left the county town, and immediately plunged into the deep mountains. The group of over fifty men had lost eleven lives in this battle.

However, these were hardened men who lived by the blade; though their expressions were somber, no one uttered a word. When they embarked on this path, they already knew their ultimate fate.

The leader gathered everyone, his gaze sweeping over them. Suddenly, his face changed drastically, becoming increasingly grim.

The two men standing beside him were greatly perplexed. One asked, “Captain Qiu, what is wrong?” The leader’s face was ashen.

“Tie Lao Liu got the ginseng box, but he isn’t here.” The crowd fell into dead silence. If Tie Lao Liu had absconded with the treasure, endless pursuit awaited him.

After a long pause, the leader’s eyes flashed with murderous intent, and the words that left his mouth were cold, seeming to scrape out from between his teeth, spoken one syllable at a time: “Investigate…” Ps: Please still try to vote for recommendations; perhaps we can return to second place, it seems only a few hundred votes short ^_^