Li Muzhan chuckled, "With a high monk from your esteemed temple presiding, I presume those who sought refuge here—the women and children—are safe."

"Indeed," Xinjue replied calmly.

"In that case, this humble one takes his leave!" Li Muzhan smiled, cupping his hands, and turned to go.

He had taken two steps when he suddenly sidestepped a foot to the side, and with a crisp pop, a small depression formed in the ground.

Xinjue extended a hand and pointed from a distance, saying coolly, "Where is the poison?"

Li Muzhan slowly turned back, frowning, "What do you intend?" He looked Xinjue up and down, asking plainly, "Was Martial Brother Gongwu truly killed by you?"

Li Muzhan nodded. "Correct."

Xinjue drawled lazily, "Although Martial Brother Xinwu's martial arts were not top-tier, they were not poor either. That you could kill him proves something."

Li Muzhan frowned, "Do you wish to challenge me?"

"Come then." Xinjue beckoned lazily. "Let me see your skills."

Li Muzhan studied him, realizing a fight was unavoidable, and frowned again, "What shall we compare?"

Xinjue glanced at the twin swords belted at his waist and stated simply, "Swordplay, I suppose."

"Good!" Li Muzhan nodded, drawing his swords and stating deeply, "The supreme arts of Luotuo Temple. I have long admired them. Please instruct me!" Though he knew he was outmatched, he desired to witness the martial arts of Luotuo Temple. He had a plan. He knew this monk Xinjue was ruthless; without the Vajra Indestructible Divine Art, he would not dare take this risk, but now he had the confidence—if things went south, running was always an option. Running when beaten was the best strategy. This Xinjue's finger strikes possessed immense power, far greater than the Great Leader of the Bald Head Bandits, yet he chose to spar with swords. He clearly did not take Li Muzhan seriously, displaying a rare arrogance.

Xinjue swept a glance around the vicinity and stated coldly, "If you have the guts, run!"

As soon as the words left his mouth, two burly men turned and fled. They were smart; they sensed the killing intent simmering beneath the exchange between Li Muzhan and Xinjue.

Pop! Pop! A spray of bright, brilliant crimson erupted from the backs of the two men.

They ran another four or five paces before slowly collapsing to the ground, motionless—dead.

Xinjue remained impassive, his calm gaze sweeping over the crowd. Then, he gave a small smile.

The crowd’s hearts jolted, filled with dread. They exchanged quick, meaningful glances, silently plotting escape routes, yet no one dared to run again. Xinjue’s finger strikes could silently take a life; there was no way to evade them completely.

Xinjue scoffed dismissively and turned back to Li Muzhan, beckoning, "Come!"

Li Muzhan shook his head, approaching slowly with his longsword held ready. He felt he was ruthless, never softening when killing, but compared to Xinjue, he was merely a novice. This monk not only killed but terrified first, making his victims tremble before calmly dispatching them.

Swish! A flash of sword light shot out. The technique was utterly unremarkable—a simple thrust, relying purely on speed, arriving instantly before Xinjue.

Xinjue tilted his head slightly, evading it. Li Muzhan followed up with a slashing wipe aimed at the neck, but Xinjue ducked low, avoiding it again. Li Muzhan reversed his wrist for a diagonal cleave, and Xinjue shifted sideways, avoiding it once more.

Li Muzhan’s swordsmanship was continuous, employing the Twelve Plum Blossom Swords—concise, swift, and clean. In his hands, it possessed the magic of transforming the ordinary into the extraordinary. Yet, the sword remained inches from Xinjue, unable to close the distance. Xinjue’s footwork was mysterious; just when the strike seemed certain to connect, he would somehow evade it, resulting in an empty hit.

Li Muzhan focused his spirit, executing pure sword techniques, while mentally noting Xinjue’s footwork to study later. Lacking a single great teacher, he could only hope to absorb the strengths of various schools to potentially become the world’s foremost master.

After a moment, Li Muzhan had executed a hundred moves. Xinjue had merely shifted within a small radius, his hands held within his sleeves, having returned not a single counter-move—pure defense. Li Muzhan sighed inwardly, shaking his head repeatedly. He had initially believed the Twelve Plum Blossom Swords were enough; if he could strike faster, no martial art in the world could withstand pure speed. Now, he realized he was mistaken.

His sword style abruptly changed, layers of shimmering sword light spreading out to envelop Xinjue.

"A little interesting," Xinjue murmured, a short sword, about the length of a forearm, extending from his sleeve. The blade’s light was like a pool of autumn water, clear and captivating.

Ding-ding-ding-ding! A rapid series of clear chimes rang out.

The two matched speed against speed, the clash of steel faster than falling raindrops. A purple aura flashed across Li Muzhan’s face, increasing his speed, and the crisp metallic clashing grew even more urgent. Xinjue pressed his lips tightly together, his expression stern, his sword light forming a circular shield before him, colliding with Li Muzhan’s overlapping, mountain-range-like sword intent, emitting resonant sounds. He occasionally twitched an eyebrow, surprised by the depth of Li Muzhan's internal energy. He reflected that, given this powerful inner strength, it wasn't impossible for Martial Brother Xinwu to have died by his hand; such profound internal reserves were rare for someone his age. As for himself, being even younger and possessing deeper internal energy, it was irrelevant; among the Seven Great Sects, Luotuo Temple stood first, and regardless, his own lineage was stronger than the opponent's.

Li Muzhan’s sword light gradually transformed. A hint of purple began to mix with the brilliant silver glare, and later, the purple grew denser, as if wrapped in a violet mist. He secretly channeled the Arrow-Fixing Art, imbuing his sword with robust internal power, which, in turn, increased his speed.

Xinjue appeared utterly unfazed, paying no mind to the internal energy augmenting the sword. His strikes were like lightning, showing no trace of delay. Li Muzhan frowned. Unless he used his final technique, victory was impossible. This Xinjue was truly formidable. His sword techniques were inscrutable, lacking obvious brilliance, yet they managed to block everything. Clearly, Xinjue was not using his full strength.

He drew his left sword, merging the two streams of light into one seamless whole—a sword technique he had sneakily learned. He did not know its name, calling it the Qiankun Style. He had witnessed it when sparring against the two experts guarding the Li Mansion and had spent time practicing it in secret. Due to limited time, he had only managed to master two moves until now.

"Good, even more interesting!" Xinjue smiled and nodded.

As this move was deployed, a sphere of purple light completely encased Li Muzhan, leaving no gaps, no vulnerability. Xinjue slowed his short sword and thrust gently. Li Muzhan repeatedly executed this move, seemingly disregarding defense entirely.

Ding! A crisp, echoing chime rang out, lingering long in the air. Li Muzhan’s shield of light remained unchanged, still enveloping him, suffused with ethereal purple energy, quite magnificent. Xinjue frowned and thrust again.

Ding! A clear sound rang out again; his short sword was repelled, still unable to pierce the purple shield. Xinjue retreated a step and suddenly pointed a finger forward.

Ding! A sharp chime sounded, but the purple light held firm.

Li Muzhan laughed heartily. He hadn't expected the Qiankun Sword Style to be so miraculous that it could even block the intangible force of a finger strike. His confidence surged immediately.

Xinjue began to laugh, then suddenly jabbed a finger forward.

"Ah—" A burly man who had been making a run for the mountain path, about ten zhang away and just about to step onto the flagstones, suddenly faltered. A spurt of blood blossomed from his back, and he slowly tumbled down. Xinjue turned his head away, ignoring the scene, and frowned back at Li Muzhan.

Li Muzhan’s sword light shifted again, suddenly expanding. Simultaneously, he rushed forward rapidly toward Xinjue, enveloping him within the widening light.

Xinjue swung his sword, forming a shield of light to parry Li Muzhan's twin blades. Amidst the ding-ding-ding-ding of the impacts, he suddenly spun, circling behind Li Muzhan, and stabbed out a finger.

Ding! Ding! Two crisp sounds rang out, and the purple light shattered instantly. Li Muzhan’s arms felt numb, his swords almost flying from his grip. Xinjue smiled, then suddenly retracted his finger and thrust with his short sword.

Amidst a Ding chime, the purple light dimmed briefly before immediately brightening again. He thrust again. The purple light dimmed again, then flared brightly once more. The situation was like an oil lamp in the wind: a gust would cause the flame to dim, threatening extinction, but once the wind ceased, the light would immediately brighten again.

Li Muzhan inwardly cursed. This technique was called 'Using Plainness to Overcome Skill.' Xinjue’s internal power was deeper; each sword strike carried the force of a thousand jin. Despite his own immense strength, Li Muzhan felt his arms growing so numb he could barely maintain his grip. However, his Purple Core spun, and his internal energy flowed rapidly, quickly dispelling the numbness.

Xinjue, however, focused solely on this one technique, striking steadily, neither fast nor slow. Every time Li Muzhan prepared to change his move, Xinjue would deliver another thrust. In the span of a breath, he had struck over a dozen times. Li Muzhan’s purple shield had dimmed and brightened more than ten times but remained unbroken.

Li Muzhan found this amusing; he felt like a hedgehog, while Xinjue was a fierce tiger, unable to find a place to sink its teeth except by sheer brute force. Xinjue maintained a smiling expression, concentrating deeply as he thrust sword after sword. Consequently, the contest shifted from a sword fight to a test of internal strength. Although Li Muzhan’s internal power was not as deep as Xinjue’s, he managed to hold his ground through sheer innate divine strength, creating a stalemate. He understood that this was due to Xinjue’s pride; otherwise, with sword and finger techniques used together, he would have been unable to defend.

He let out a long sigh, suddenly feeling a profound lack of interest. He halted his sword, stepped back, and waved his hand, "Enough. Fighting like this is pointless. I concede defeat."

Xinjue looked at him and smiled faintly, "You are quite good!"

"I accept the compliment!" Li Muzhan replied testily.

Xinjue stated calmly, "Since leaving the temple, you are the strongest expert I have encountered!" Xinjue retracted his short sleeve, placing his hands behind his back. "I always dispatch people in a single move. To kill you will require ten."

Li Muzhan’s brow arched, and he laughed, "Ten moves can kill me?"

"Care to try?" Xinjue asked with a half-smile.

Li Muzhan held his twin swords parallel: "Please!"

Chi! A light whistle sounded as Li Muzhan sidestepped precisely, narrowly avoiding the finger strike. A flash of reddish-brown shadow appeared, startling Li Muzhan, as Xinjue was already upon him, launching a punch. Li Muzhan deployed both swords together, executing the Qiankun Sword Style again, enveloping himself in purple light.

Clang! The purple light dimmed. His left longsword flew out of his hand. Xinjue followed with another punch.

Clang! The purple light vanished. Li Muzhan’s right longsword flew out. Xinjue punched again. Li Muzhan met the strike with his right fist. The two fists collided.

With a dull bang, he flew backward, traveling three or four zhang through the air before landing gracefully. After landing, he staggered back two steps, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, a wry smile on his face. This, he thought, was the true martial art of a Luotuo Temple successor!

Xinjue smiled, "This is the Great Demon-Subduing Fist. How was it?"

"I am impressed," Li Muzhan replied with a wry smile, shaking his head. Then, taking a deep breath, "I shall seek another lesson next time. Farewell!" With that, accompanied by a muffled bang, he dissolved into several afterimages, suddenly appearing at the base of the steps.

Pop! A depression formed where his foot landed.

Xinjue’s expression turned cold. He flickered and reappeared on the steps, only to see Li Muzhan already vaulting off the stone wall, falling straight down like a stone toward the dense pine forest.

Mid-air, Li Muzhan smiled bitterly. He was fated to leap down Wòhǔ Mountain again, destined to flee. This monk Xinjue had concealed his killing intent well, but not well enough from him. The Great Demon-Subduing Fist could actually amplify internal energy, increasing its power severalfold—truly worthy of being the supreme art of Luotuo Temple!