The finest inn in the small town boasted only one establishment, impeccably clean and dignified, with a private courtyard reserved exclusively for the most affluent guests.

When two wealthy parties unexpectedly converged, neither willing to yield, a confrontation was inevitable.

There, by the roadside in front of the inn, two men stood empty-handed, locked in a fierce exchange. One was Zhong Puyuan, a retainer of the Yuan family, whose cultivation had reached the Eighth Layer. With his prowess, he could command respect from any noble house; yet, owing to a great kindness shown by the Yuan estate in his youth, he served the Yuan family willingly, making him the most skilled individual accompanying this escort.

The other was a startlingly lean, middle-aged man clad in close-fitting clothes—narrow shoulders, long arms, and long legs, his hands dangling outside his sleeves as if they were an extra section.

Yet, his internal energy had also reached the Eighth Layer, and his attacks were viciously poisonous. His long arms moved like a spider’s legs; every sweep through the air produced a strange, whistling sound of displacement, as if his very limbs were his weapons.

Zhong Puyuan was wary of the middle-aged man's arms, but his own strikes were light and seemingly effortless, always managing to gently deflect the opponent’s limbs at the critical moment.

Though they fought, both displayed considerable restraint, avoiding any true killing intent.

Both had discerned that the other must possess a significant background; in such a situation, no fool would recklessly slaughter an opponent.

Those sudden road encounters where a disagreement led instantly to drawing blades were not achievable by every cultivator. Perhaps those elusive mountain bandits could manage it, or a powerful innate master like He Yiming, but certainly not individuals like them, who had established roots and whose strength did not place them above the established laws.

Beside them, Yuan Lixuan and another man faced each other, their expressions grim. Neither seemed to desire a genuine conflict, but with weapons already drawn, retreat was proving difficult.

Yuan Lixuan’s internal energy was only at the Fourth Layer, but behind him stood at least five masters of the Seventh Layer, while the men continuously emerging from the inn, weapons in hand and looking menacing, added immense pressure on the opposition.

The atmosphere in the square tightened palpably at that moment.

As more people gathered behind Yuan Lixuan, those opposite began to show unease, particularly the middle-aged man sparring with Zhong Puyuan, whose attacks finally grew sharper.

Indeed, faced with an escalating number of enemies, anyone would instinctively try to eliminate the immediate threat first. Moreover, based on his observations, he was certain that Zhong Puyuan was the only Eighth Layer expert among them. Once he was dealt with, the others would be far easier to handle—at the very least, they could flee if a fight went sour. Sometimes, the restraining effect of one master far outweighed that of a large contingent of lower-level cultivators.

As the middle-aged man focused his efforts, Zhong Puyuan immediately felt tremendous pressure. The technique used by the man was clearly a rare Metal-elemental cultivation method, and at least half of its power resided in his double arms, which were noticeably longer than those of ordinary men. As he swung them, it was like great sabers slicing through the air, the edges of his palms faintly catching a metallic gleam—a clear sign of mastering a specialized Metal discipline to a certain degree. Under the man’s frantic channeling, his palms became increasingly metallic, and the force of his strikes grew exponentially; the sheer ferocity of the sound they tore through the air was enough to make one’s heart pound.

Yuan Lixuan and the others watched with concern, subconsciously edging closer to the fray. Faced with such imposing power, no one dared to relax their guard; they were prepared to swarm forward the moment things looked dire. No matter how skilled the middle-aged man’s martial arts were, he was still only an Eighth Layer cultivator. If over a hundred people struck at him simultaneously, he would have no choice but to flee in disarray.

However, just then, a calm voice drifted from behind them: "All of you, return and watch properly."

As that voice sounded, the anxiety vanished instantly from Yuan Lixuan’s face. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief and quietly stepped back several paces, putting distance between themselves and the combatants. They recognized He Yiming’s voice. Though only sixteen, He Yiming was a legendary Innate Realm expert. These retainers and attendants from the Yuan family had heard endless tales of this master’s exploits recently. In their minds, He Yiming was almost deified. With him observing, what was there left to worry about?

Though these men retreated, the man fighting Zhong Puyuan, and several others watching nearby, felt an inexplicable tightening in their chests. When the crowd had advanced, their intimidating momentum had been offset by the confidence that they could escape even if they lost the fight. But a single sentence from the inn had silenced them and forced them back, and what was more alarming was that not a trace of resentment showed on their faces; instead, every eye held a flicker of expectation and excitement. These were seasoned individuals who immediately understood the weight of the speaker’s presence. That person clearly possessed the standing to command these hundred burly men and earn their complete deference. They realized with a shock that provoking this hidden figure might truly mean trouble today. The leader among them already regretted ever aiming for that courtyard; had he known these people were so formidable, he would have readily accepted the superior rooms or simply walked away.

Zhong Puyuan’s spirit surged upon hearing He Yiming’s voice. He gave a soft cry, and his palm techniques grew progressively gentler. He was using a Water-elemental skill; though perhaps not first-rate, it was far from poor. His hands continuously traced esoteric circles within a certain range, and with the completion of each circle, a small vortex formed in the center, acting like a spring that pushed back the middle-aged man’s arms. Though he never met force with force and appeared slightly on the defensive, he was like sticky taffy—once attached, it was nearly impossible to pull away safely.

After a few more exchanges, a sharp call came from the opposition: "Li Fuzhou, stop delaying, finish it quickly."

The middle-aged man frowned slightly but acknowledged the command. Zhong Puyuan felt a surge of private anger. They were both Eighth Layer experts of the same rank; though the man’s internal energy might be slightly higher, eliminating him so easily would not be simple.

Yet, as Zhong Puyuan stewed in his anger, Li Fuzhou suddenly retracted his arms and retreated several steps. Having pressed the attack and held the advantage, he could withdraw without any entanglement. Zhong Puyuan paused, suspicion rising, unsure whether to press the attack immediately.

But in that fleeting moment of hesitation, Li Fuzhou raised both arms. His unusually long limbs locked together strangely, his hands spread flat, palms much larger than average. Now, the ten fingers intertwined to form an extremely bizarre hand seal. It appeared as if the fingers were pressed together, but the two thumbs strangely pierced through the gaps between the other fingers, revealing two sections of snow-white fingernails. For some unknown reason, upon seeing this seal, Zhong Puyuan’s expression shifted slightly, for he sensed a power within the formation that he could not comprehend—a power that felt dangerously like being targeted by a venomous serpent.

At that instant, in a dim corner of the inn, He Yiming suddenly exclaimed in surprise, "I know who these people are!"

He Quanxin and his son exchanged a brief look, both thinking simultaneously: Could these be people He Yiming met during his last outing? He Yiming glanced at them, smiling slightly. "Uncle, Eldest Brother, look at their attire."

He Quanxin and He Yitian looked closely, finding the clothing somewhat familiar, yet they couldn't place it immediately.

He Yiming murmured softly, "Eldest Brother, the day of your wedding."

He Yitian’s eyes finally brightened. "I remember now! They are from the Lin Family of Linlang. This is the specific uniform worn by Lin Family attendants; there's absolutely no mistake."

He Quanxin nodded. To recruit He Yiming, Lin Taoli had personally visited the He Family Estate, though he had left disappointed. He Yiming, having fought Lin Taoli, naturally retained a strong memory of their clothing.

However, they were unaware that He Yiming recognized them not from their clothes, but from the seal on Li Fuzhou's hand. Though this mark was neither the Crouching Earth Seal nor the Cloud Rain Seal, He Yiming’s perception was too keen. With just a glance, he recognized that the man’s seal technique shared the same origin as the Lin Family’s Innate Seals. Compared to Lin Taoli, the power displayed by Li Fuzhou’s current technique was undeniably far inferior—they weren't even in the same league. Whether he had mastered it poorly or if the technique itself had limited scope, its current level of power was not enough to astonish He Yiming.

But while He Yiming could dismiss it, Zhong Puyuan could not. His eyes were wide, his face showing an unprecedented gravity, his entire internal energy circulating at maximum speed, pushing his strength to its absolute peak. The pressure exerted by the opponent’s seal made him deeply aware that this might be the most formidable adversary he had ever faced.

Li Fuzhou suddenly gave a sharp shout, stamping one foot down as the hand seal descended upon Zhong Puyuan like a hammer. Yes, he used it like a smash, coming straight down with such fierce momentum that it allowed no room for evasion.

Zhong Puyuan retreated smoothly on his legs, but he immediately noticed that the opponent’s hand seal maintained the exact same posture; no matter where he fled, it seemed unavoidable that he would be brutally struck. He was horrified. What kind of combat skill induced such a terrifying feeling for no apparent reason? In fact, if he knew this technique was evolved from an Innate Combat Skill, he would not be so despondent. Innate Combat Skills were inherently overwhelming; even if reduced to only thirty percent of their original power for use by ordinary Post-Heaven masters, they were not something one could easily dodge.

He stopped his feet. Since evasion was impossible, he would meet it head-on. With a great roar, he raised both hands, intending to clash directly with the incoming seal.

But just then, he saw the slight curl of mockery on Li Fuzhou’s lip, as if laughing at his overestimation of his own strength. A cold sweat soaked the back of Zhong Puyuan’s neck. He regretted his decision, but the arrow was already loosed, and it had to fly. He concentrated all his internal energy into a single point and desperately pushed forward.

Suddenly, his vision blurred, and a figure had appeared before him. His two palms were already thrust out, and faced with this sudden, close-range silhouette, Zhong Puyuan could not recall his strike. His hands slammed heavily into the person’s back. He was terrified, wondering where this spectral figure came from that moved so swiftly that he couldn't react in time.

“Pff…” A soft sound echoed. Zhong Puyuan was bewildered; the sound seemed not to come from the man’s back, but from his front. What is happening? Have I unconsciously mastered the secret of striking through an object? I aimed for the back, but caused damage to the front. In the next instant, he knew that was impossible.

He twisted his body and saw clearly. Blocking him and Li Fuzhou was He Yiming. Recognizing He Yiming, he immediately understood that although his palm strike held considerable force, attempting to injure this person was sheer daydreaming. He respectfully backed several steps, letting his hands hang naturally, adopting an attitude of extreme deference.

In front of He Yiming, Li Fuzhou’s hand seal slammed violently into He Yiming’s chest and abdomen—a vital area. An Eighth Layer expert using his full power, augmented by the might of a top-tier combat technique, striking that spot. By Li Fuzhou’s estimation, this young man should have lost at least eight and a half of his nine lives. Yet, the youth before him wore a gentle smile, showing no sign of injury. Li Fuzhou staggered back several steps, his face pale, his gaze toward He Yiming heavy with dread. Though He Yiming emanated no discernible aura, even with triple the courage, Li Fuzhou would never dare provoke him again.

The men behind them exchanged looks of shock. They had witnessed the exchange and immediately hushed their movements, all traces of arrogance wiped from their faces.

He Yiming lightly fanned his chest twice, as if brushing away dust from his clothes. “Are you gentlemen from the Lin Family of Linlang?”

Li Fuzhou, relieved by the gentle tone, looked back. The leading man among those behind him stepped forward, cupped his fists, and replied, “Indeed, we are from the Lin Family of Linlang. We missed our intended lodgings tonight, which led to this conflict with your party. This was all a misunderstanding, and we were wrong. We ask for your forgiveness, esteemed sir.”

He Yiming sighed internally. These people had good judgment, realizing instantly that they were outmatched, prompting them to lower their stance. “No need for formalities. Since it was a misunderstanding, let us consider it over.”

The man bowed deeply. “My name is Lin Wenkai, one of the stewards for the Lin Family. May I ask… your distinguished surname, sir?” Lin Wenkai marveled inwardly when he clearly saw He Yiming’s face. Such profound cultivation at such a young age—how had he trained?

He Yiming smiled faintly. “He Yiming, from Taicang County.”

“Taicang County?” Lin Wenkai looked up abruptly, his face filled with astonishment. He was not the only one wearing that expression; Li Fuzhou and the others behind him shared it too.

He Yiming’s smile subtly faded. A strong, ominous premonition welled up within him. He shivered internally; his instincts had rarely failed him before. “Gentlemen, is something amiss?” He Yiming asked sternly.

Lin Wenkai hesitated, as if recalling something. “Are you perhaps Young Master He Yiming, from the He Family, one of the Three Great Families of Taicang County?”

“That is correct.”

“Has Young Master He been returning from outside? Has he not yet reached Taicang County?” Lin Wenkai asked tentatively.

“Precisely.” He Yiming’s gaze sharpened subtly. “Has something happened to our He Family?”

Lin Wenkai gave a wry smile. “Young Master He, to be frank, seven days ago, the four major bandit groups of Tai’a County joined forces and suddenly passed through Taicang County, moving at top speed toward Taicang City, which they breached with swift, overwhelming force.”

“What?” Two figures flashed by. He Quanxin and his son emerged quickly, their faces turning extremely grim.

“What happened afterward?”

Lin Wenkai shook his head slightly. “The last news we received was that the county seat had fallen; we know nothing beyond that.” He paused. “The Family Head sent us to Taicang County to gather intelligence. However, these bandits are ruthless desperados who value human life cheaply. I fear that Taicang County this time…” Though he stopped speaking, everyone understood the implication.

He Yiming’s face darkened, an icy chill suppressed but visible in his eyes.

“Father, Mother.” He Yiming murmured softly, looking up. Then, taking a deep breath, he announced loudly, “Uncle, Eldest Brother, I must leave now.”

As soon as He Yiming finished speaking, he vanished like a phantom. Within mere seconds, the sound of urgent, drum-like hooves reached them, and a streak of red disappeared from their sight.

Ps: Another chapter in two minutes ^_^