As Xiaoyuan stepped out, Li Muzhan's figure had vanished. She quickly called out sweetly, "Zhanran, wait for me!"

A flash of grey shadow appeared, and Li Muzhan was back, frowning. "Xiaoyuan, why are you joining the excitement!"

"Miss is worried, please take me along!" Xiaoyuan pleaded quickly.

Li Muzhan shook his head and sighed, "Alright then!"

He extended his sleeve. "Hold on tight!"

Xiaoyuan smiled sweetly, reached out her small hand, and clutched the corner of his sleeve. "Actually, I can keep up!"

Li Muzhan glanced sideways at her, his heart not in the mood for jesting, and said in a deep voice, "Hold fast!"

With that, his form dissolved into a streak of grey shadow and shot forward. Xiaoyuan's grip tightened, and she felt an immense force pull her up, soaring like a kite.

The surrounding scenery rushed backward, the strong wind striking her face and whipping her elegant hair about. The sensation was thrilling, something she had never experienced, and she couldn't help but giggle.

Li Muzhan turned back with a stern look, and she immediately stopped laughing. "I'm sorry, Sir... I won't speak anymore!"

Li Muzhan let it be, turning his attention back to the path ahead, moving like light and shadow flickering by.

In the blink of an eye, the pair left Jinyang City and headed east, entering a dense forest.

The woods were mostly pines, interspersed with poplar and locust trees, lush and green. The ground was overgrown with wild grasses, and green vines crisscrossed and entangled, their roots a complex network, making forward movement impossible.

Li Muzhan simply leaped up, treading upon the treetops as he moved, his monk's robes fluttering behind him.

"Zhanran, I can manage myself!" Xiaoyuan released his sleeve and lightly touched a treetop with her toes. She moved with ethereal grace and surprising agility, following closely behind him.

Li Muzhan darted over the treetops like a powerful eagle, while Xiaoyuan skimmed them like a young swallow, possessing a touch more captivating beauty.

They soon reached the edge of the woods. Before them lay a broad river, its water calm and flowing slowly, with a stretch of sandy beach emerging on both banks.

Xiaoyuan's sleeves billowed as she called out, "Zhanran, how much further is it?"

Between the forest and the river was the exposed riverbank, a gentle, flat slope. There, lying near the water, was a figure with the lower half of his body submerged. His upper body was positioned as if struggling to climb.

His back faced them, clad in a sapphire-blue robe.

"Look! Look!" Xiaoyuan pointed and exclaimed.

Li Muzhan nodded. "Let's go over!"

He recognized instantly that it was his Second Senior Brother, He Nanshan.

The two cut an arc in the air, descending diagonally toward the spot.

"Shhh—!" Dots of cold light suddenly appeared, spreading out like a net over the pair.

Li Muzhan swept his arm, pulling Xiaoyuan into his embrace. A silver streak flashed from his waist, his sword light like a waterfall hanging inverted before them.

"Cling! Cling! Cling! Cling..." A rapid succession of crisp sounds erupted, spitting sparks.

Wielding his long sword, he lowered his body, descending diagonally to the river's edge. His feet moved rapidly, ignoring the hidden weapons, driving straight toward He Nanshan.

The hidden projectiles rained down incessantly with their metallic ringing. Xiaoyuan, pressed against his chest, her cheeks flushed and her starry eyes hazy, looked as if she were intoxicated.

He surged forward several zhang more, stopping three zhang away from He Nanshan, hesitant to approach closer for fear of accidentally hitting his brother with the incoming darts.

He released Xiaoyuan and murmured, "Go check on Second Senior Brother... Be careful!"

Xiaoyuan snapped back to alertness and quickly pulled a slender, emerald-green bamboo tube from her pouch—about the length of her palm and as thick as her thumb, with a thin line running along one side.

Xiaoyuan pointed the tube toward the sky and yanked the line. A sharp whistle instantly pierced the air, followed by a burst of fiery light rocketing skyward, which exploded in the air with a "bang."

"Bang!" came another sound, releasing a cloud of black smoke that curled upward like dark thunderclouds.

"Bang!" followed immediately, and the black fog thickened, cohesive and unmoving, resembling a black umbrella unfurled overhead.

A low shout suddenly came from the woods: "Ay-yo, it's one of our own!"

Immediately, three figures rushed out. Dressed in black shirts, their movement was astonishingly swift; they arrived near the pair in the blink of an eye.

Li Muzhan surveyed them: the leading figure was an old man, lean and handsome, his complexion ruddy, with three strands of fine beard beneath his chin, looking like an immortal, approachable at first glance.

Behind him were two middle-aged men, ordinary in appearance, the kind that blend into a crowd. Yet, faint glints of sharp light shone in both their eyes, and their temples were noticeably prominent—both clearly masters.

In moments, the three stood before Li Muzhan.

"Heh heh heh..." The old man stroked his beard and laughed, his expression warm and familiar. "Young friend, which academy are you from?"

Li Muzhan let out a breath of relief, sheathing his long sword, and cupped his hands in a respectful salute. "Tianshu Zhanran. May I ask the senior's honorable name and which Hall you belong to?"

Xiaoyuan’s bright eyes widened, and she gasped, "Zhanran, aren't they..."

Before she could finish, a cold gleam flashed from Li Muzhan's waist, piercing the chest of one of the middle-aged men like a white rainbow striking the sun.

"Ugh..." The middle-aged man stared at Li Muzhan in shock.

This strike Li Muzhan had channeled his power into was earth-shattering.

"Shhh—!" Li Muzhan drew his sword back, and a spurt of blood shot out, unable to catch him.

The middle-aged man sprayed blood from his chest, slowly leaning backward before collapsing with a heavy "thud" onto the sand.

"You damned bald donkey!" the other middle-aged man roared in anger, his sword light flashing like lightning, aiming straight down. Li Muzhan parried with his own sword, meeting it with a "ding" of sharp impact that sent sparks flying.

The old man's face darkened, his hand stroking his beard pausing abruptly. In a flash, he was in front of Xiaoyuan, striking out with an open palm, his touch light as a willow catkin drifting down.

Xiaoyuan let out a delicate cry and met the blow with her small hand.

"Pop!" A soft sound followed as their palms connected. Xiaoyuan’s garments fluttered, and she was flung backward, her delicate back slamming against a pine tree.

"Thump!" Pine needles rained down as Xiaoyuan slid limply to the ground, as if her bones had dissolved.

She lay beneath the tree, her pretty face pale, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth, her expression one of pain.

Li Muzhan's sword light flared, and he rapidly retreated to stand before Xiaoyuan, his back to her. "Are you alright?"

"Can't... can't die!" Xiaoyuan gasped laboriously.

Li Muzhan bent his knees and squatted down, saying calmly, "Get on my back."

He sighed inwardly. Human calculations always had their limits. Without Xiaoyuan, he had already rescued Second Senior Brother, but now, the situation had turned disadvantageous!

Xiaoyuan gritted her teeth and struggled to climb onto his back, wrapping her arms around his neck, breathing in short, ragged gasps. Her pretty face grew paler, utterly devoid of color.

Li Muzhan stood as steady as Mount Tai, letting her climb, his sword unmoving, watching the old man and the middle-aged man calmly.

The two stood composedly, watching him coldly, making no move to stop Xiaoyuan from climbing onto his back, their lips curled into clear expressions of mockery.

The middle-aged man sneered, "You two lovebirds, you'll take the road together!" He then turned to the old man. "Elder Qingshi, let's attack together... Reinforcements will be here soon. This bald donkey is quite skilled; we might not take him down in a moment!"

The old man shook his head, smiling faintly at Li Muzhan, and pointed at He Nanshan by the riverbank. "An eye for an eye. Leaving this man here is enough. Little Master Monk, you are free to leave!"

Li Muzhan remained calm and composed, saying faintly, "You are Bai Qingshi, aren't you?"

"It is indeed this old man," the elder replied, stroking his beard with an air of confidence.

The middle-aged man grinned wickedly. "Heh heh, Elder Qingshi is astute. I'll slay that brat first!"

He leaped toward He Nanshan, raising his long sword high in the air, aiming to cleave He Nanshan in two.

A grey shadow flashed, and Li Muzhan charged rapidly, roaring, "Stop!"

"Heh heh, I shall sample your high skill!" The old man flickered and blocked Li Muzhan's path, bringing his right palm down heavily toward his head.

Li Muzhan suddenly accelerated, evading the main force aimed at his chest, and met the palm with his left shoulder.

"Bang!" His left shoulder took the full impact of the blow.

His expression unchanged, he used the force of the palm strike to increase his speed further, transforming into a gust of wind that materialized behind the middle-aged man. His sword light streamed out like a rainbow, aimed straight at the man's core.

The middle-aged man, just landing, saw the sword light coming and shrieked, flicking his hand upward to intercept Li Muzhan's wrist, forcing a change in stance.

Behind Li Muzhan, Bai Qingshi chased with a cold smile. My palm strike can split rocks and shatter slabs; to take such a blow without dying means shedding a layer of skin. He dares to endure it head-on! This kind of desperate fighter must be eliminated quickly!

Xiaoyuan, clinging to Li Muzhan, widened her eyes and glared fiercely at the old man.

Li Muzhan's sword momentum did not waver, driving straight toward the middle-aged man's heart—a fight to the death.

The middle-aged man sneered inwardly, cursing, If this little bald donkey doesn't change his move, his wrist will be severed. Let's see how he plans to strike me then.

Li Muzhan's face remained placid as he allowed his sword to slash into his own arm, drawing bright splatters of blood.

With his arm wounded, the long sword slipped from his grasp and began to fall.

The middle-aged man chuckled coldly. This little monk hadn't dodged or evaded, presenting himself willingly—obviously too injured from Elder Qingshi's palm strike to control his limbs properly.

As the sword dropped, a hand suddenly appeared in mid-air, snatching it and gently pushing it forward.

"Ugh..." The middle-aged man's eyes widened, clutching the sword now lodged in his chest, staring at Li Muzhan in disbelief.

He made gasping sounds, trying to speak, but a gush of blood surged up, blocking his mouth.

Li Muzhan snatched his left hand back, pivoted sharply, and stood quietly facing Bai Qingshi. Having injured his right hand previously, he had practiced extensively with his left; now it served its purpose. For the sake of his Second Senior Brother's safety, this man had to die.

Xiaoyuan finally recovered, quickly releasing her hold and dropping to the ground. She tore a strip from her white sleeve, intending to bandage his wound.

Li Muzhan shook his head and said faintly, "Let's check on Second Senior Brother first!"

Xiaoyuan glanced at him, nodded resignedly, and took a porcelain bottle from her pouch, pouring out one pill, then another. She swallowed one and handed the other to him.

Li Muzhan took it with his right hand and tossed it into his mouth.

Xiaoyuan went to He Nanshan’s side and squatted down, turning him over.

Bai Qingshi drifted down silently, without a sound.

His brow was tightly furrowed as he stared intently at Li Muzhan, shaking his head. "I did not expect the Mei Manor to harbor someone of your caliber... Tianshu Zhanran, well done! Very well done!"

Li Muzhan held his sword in his left hand, adopting a starting posture, and said calmly, "I await your guidance!"

Bai Qingshi glanced toward the woods and stated calmly, "I will spare your life today!"

With that, he turned, scooped up the bodies of the two men, leaped once, and vanished into the forest.

Li Muzhan’s frame wavered momentarily; he quickly leaned on his sword, his face bloodless white.

"Zhanran!" A figure clad in deep green appeared, reaching Li Muzhan in a blink, carrying a gust of wind that stirred his gray robes.

Li Muzhan smiled. "Third Young Master..."

Mei Ruohai stepped forward to support him. "Was that Bai Qingshi just now?"

"It was," Li Muzhan nodded, turning toward Xiaoyuan.

Mei Ruohai supported his right arm and quickly pressed two points to staunch the bleeding, then walked alongside him.

"Huh, it really was Bai Qingshi?!" Mei Ruohai suddenly looked up and laughed loudly, slapping his shoulder hard. "Good—! ... To make Bai Qingshi suffer a setback, that's deeply satisfying! Tianshu Zhanran, you truly live up to your reputation!"

Li Muzhan grimaced. Mei Ruohai had slapped his left shoulder, sending a pain deep into the bone.

Xiaoyuan quickly cried out, "Third Young Master, Zhanran is injured!"

"Yes, I see," Mei Ruohai acknowledged, then laughed. "It seems like just a superficial wound, nothing serious. He just needs some good rest!"

Xiaoyuan shot him a glare and urged, "He was also struck on the left shoulder by Bai Qingshi's palm!"

Mei Ruohai immediately withdrew his hand, apologizing profusely. "My apologies, my apologies! ... Is it bad, Zhanran?"

He noticed the blood staining Li Muzhan's left shoulder but saw that he held his sword steady and strong, assuming it must be someone else's blood.

"It's nothing... Xiaoyuan, how is Second Senior Brother?" Li Muzhan shook his head. Having practiced the Vajra Indestructible Divine Art, this minor pain meant little.

The Vajra Indestructible Divine Art was indeed extraordinary. Although his left arm took a palm strike, it was only muscle tearing; the bones were unharmed, which is why he could strike the fatal blow with one sword stroke. Bai Qingshi’s internal energy was immense, and his palm strike had driven powerful force inward, but Li Muzhan's internal energy was also deep, no less than his opponent's, allowing him to barely block the influx. Furthermore, his internal organs had been tempered by the Vajra Art, making them unusually sturdy, so he suffered no serious internal damage.

He walked over and squatted down to examine He Nanshan.

Xiaoyuan had already turned him over. His robes were soaked, and he lay facing the sky, unconscious, his complexion a pale gray tinged with blue, with a faint ashy layer over it.

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