The woods were dim, and Bai Qingshi steadied himself, allowing his eyes to adjust, while simultaneously circulating his internal energy, his entire body taut, guarding against a sudden ambush.

The woods were dim, and Bai Qingshi steadied himself, allowing his eyes to adjust, while simultaneously circulating his internal energy, his entire body taut, guarding against a sudden ambush.

After a moment, his eyes adapted to the darkness, enabling him to clearly perceive his surroundings, and he stepped forward.

Treading on the thick, soft leaves, he secretly gathered his nei li, his footsteps utterly silent, shifting abruptly between swiftness and slowness, moving like a wildcat—agile and nimble, betraying no hint of his age.

Finally arriving at the spot where Li Muzhan had plummeted, there was no sound whatsoever; the silence was unnervingly deep. His heart tightened further, and he proceeded with extreme caution.

Using this point as a center, he circled outward, segment by segment, extending over fifty zhang, yet still finding nothing. Li Muzhan seemed to have dissolved into the breeze, vanishing into the forest.

Bai Qingshi frowned and halted, sinking into thought. Such profound stillness was never a good omen. With no figure in sight, there must be some scheme brewing with this monk.

Just then, a long, high-pitched cry echoed from a distance.

Bai Qingshi’s expression shifted drastically. He wheeled around to look behind him, then shot upward, skimming the treetops, flying toward the direction from which the cry had originated.

His heart burned with anxiety; he knew he had been thoroughly tricked. This bald donkey was fiendishly cunning! Luring him out here, only to sneak back and eliminate the remaining few.

So ruthless—how could this be the conduct of a man of the cloth!?

He pushed his very life force, spurring his nei li to its limit, everything before him a rushing blur. Suddenly, he heard a muffled groan emanating from deep within the woods, not far away.

He grew more frantic, increasing his speed. He reached a clearing in the forest, the location of the recent groan, and there lay a youth, his features etched with astonishment, his eyes wide open in complete unwillingness.

Bai Qingshi gritted his teeth until they clicked, his eyes blazing like fire.

He spun around and continued his rapid dash, sweeping out of the woods and onto the small path—the site of the initial confrontation. His movement stopped abruptly.

There, on the path under the setting sun, stood Li Muzhan, his gray robes flowing, fighting four opponents. The four middle-aged men wielded swords whose light shone like snow, illuminating the surroundings.

A slight upturn graced the corner of Bai Qingshi’s mouth, revealing a strange, cold sneer, his gaze blazing with a desire to carve Li Muzhan into a thousand pieces.

Across the glare of the swords, Li Muzhan offered him a slight smile.

Engaged in the combined assault of the four, Li Muzhan held the Zhenyue Eight Swords in his left hand, while his right was empty; his long sword remained sheathed. It was clear he was not employing his full strength, maintaining an air of effortlessness.

Bai Qingshi floated forward, stopping a zhang away, and gave a cold laugh: “If I fail to slay you, bald donkey, today, I swear I shall not be human!”

Li Muzhan’s sword energy rolled and swelled, resembling layers upon layers of white clouds, effectively repelling the four-man siege. He smiled faintly: “Senior’s killing intent is fierce, yet why rely only on words and not action?”

In their previous exchange, he had already understood Qingshi’s cultivation; his skill was indeed profound, and his maneuvers exquisite. In terms of pure internal power, he was slightly inferior, but coupled with his own divine strength, he felt no fear whatsoever.

Otherwise, he would have sent a signal for aid long ago; he certainly would not be playing the hero rashly.

Bai Qingshi sneered and drew his sword: “Very well, this old man shall grant your wish!”

Li Muzhan frowned. As far as he knew, this Bai Qingshi excelled in boxing. Why draw a sword? Could it be that he had deliberately concealed his true strength, and his swordsmanship was the real threat?

He had held back a secret, a trump card. Others weren't fools; it was entirely possible they would do the same.

Bai Qingshi said sternly: “You four, stand down!”

The four middle-aged men drifted backward. Li Muzhan flickered, a cold light flashed at his waist, and he immediately retreated, returning his sword to its sheath, watching Bai Qingshi with a half-smile.

One of the middle-aged men clutched his chest and slowly crumpled to the ground.

The remaining three men’s faces were ashen, staring fixedly at Li Muzhan as they retreated even faster, scattering in three different directions.

Bai Qingshi’s face turned black as iron, grinding his teeth, letting out a cold chuckle: “Good! Good!”

Li Muzhan smiled: “Please—!”

The Bai family was an arch-rival. The intent was to strike decisively. Killing one person would diminish the Bai family’s strength by one point, incurring less loss for the Mei family. If he showed mercy, the person spared might become the killer of his own friends and relatives.

Bai Qingshi held his long sword vertically, assuming a starting posture, and spoke slowly: “To die by my sword, you should feel proud!”

“Why the nonsense? Strike!” Li Muzhan smiled, tossed aside his long sword with his left hand, drew his own blade with his right, and adopted a starting stance.

“Nine Luminaries Divine Sword!” Bai Qingshi roared, twisting his body as he thrust forward.

The sword body suddenly brightened, erupting with a blinding white light that seemed like a sun plunging downward.

Li Muzhan closed his eyes, yet instead of retreating, he advanced. The sword light condensed into a single point of cold gleam, piercing straight into the white radiance.

In this moment, he could not see, but he trusted his intuition. This was a concentrated strike, the Wuying Sword driven by all his might, exhausting the nei li in his dantian—it was the fastest sword strike of his life.

“Ugh…” The dazzling white light abruptly receded, and the surroundings became intensely dim. Bai Qingshi let out a muffled groan, staring fixedly at Li Muzhan, standing ramrod straight, refusing to fall.

His long sword had struck Li Muzhan, but his left hand was clutching his chest; a sword was also lodged in his own heart.

Li Muzhan smiled as he looked at him and stepped back.

“Chi—!” “Chi—!”

Two streams of blood collided in the air—one from Bai Qingshi, the other from Li Muzhan.

Blood welled up from Li Muzhan’s left armpit. With composed composure, he returned his sword to its sheath, lightly tapped his wrist a few times to seal the pressure points and stop the bleeding, then retrieved a porcelain vial from his robes, bit off the stopper with his mouth, and sprinkled some powder onto the wound.

Afterward, he sat down cross-legged, formed hand seals, and slightly closed his eyes.

That sword strike had been unbelievably fast; Bai Qingshi had no time to dodge. But after that strike, his essence was gone, his dantian empty; he could only perform the Tianyuan Tunu technique.

As soon as the seals were formed, his mind calmed like water. After three breaths, his pores opened, and wisps of nei li filtered into his dantian, one thread after another, accumulating little by little.

Seeing him sit down, the three middle-aged men in the distance slowly approached, their expressions hesitant, their eyes locked on Li Muzhan. As they drew nearer, their steps slowed increasingly.

Cautiously, fearfully, as if walking on thin ice, they finally closed the distance to within four zhang.

Li Muzhan made no move, still keeping his eyes slightly closed, motionless, bathed in the setting sun, appearing as if he had turned into a statue.

The three exchanged glances, reached into their robes, and then flung their hands out.

“Chi—!” “Chi!” “Chi!”

Three cold glints shot toward Li Muzhan, and the three men immediately retreated rapidly.

Li Muzhan, his eyes slightly closed, suddenly swayed, moving a zhang away, simultaneously flicking his right hand upward.

The three cold projectiles missed their mark. One middle-aged man suddenly faltered, stopped abruptly, clutched his throat, and slowly collapsed.

Li Muzhan flicked his right hand two more times, and the other two middle-aged men also fell.

He closed his eyes again; those three thrown strikes had again depleted some of his nei li.

A moment later, he let out a long breath and slowly stood up. The Tianyuan Tunu technique was indeed marvelous; in this short time, his internal energy had recovered by twenty percent.

He also understood that the effectiveness and wonder of the Tianyuan Tunu technique relied heavily on his strong spirit, allowing his nei li to circulate rapidly.

He walked to Bai Qingshi’s side, squatted down, felt his chest, and pulled out a thin booklet, yellowed and only a few pages long. The cover bore the four characters: “Nine Luminaries Divine Sword.”

Li Muzhan smiled, tucked it into his robes, and then proceeded to bury them one by one. He retrieved the three throwing knives and chanted scriptures to guide their souls to the Western Paradise of Ultimate Bliss.

Having completed these rites, the sun had completely set. Dusk gathered, and the surroundings fell silent.

ps: I simply couldn't push myself any further, so I could only write this much. I will try to write more tomorrow.