Ye Wen glanced left and right, finding no one else appearing, which struck him as odd. Yet, a moment of deeper thought brought a shadow across his face; even slaying the Demon Cult Protector Xiang Yutian failed to bring him joy.
He turned back to examine Xiang Yutian’s corpse. It remained standing exactly where it fell, utterly devoid of life. As the thought crossed Ye Wen’s mind, the few purple swords dissipated into nothingness. He then addressed the group, “This place is not safe for long; we must press on quickly.”
Ning Ruxue also sensed the strangeness of the situation. While Xiang Yutian was present, she hadn't noticed, but now she finally realized, “Why are there no ordinary Demon Cult disciples blocking our path? Could it be that the Cult trusted Xiang Yutian so much as to leave him alone guarding the east?”
Xu Xian, however, seemed to grasp the reason, his expression turning grave. “I suspect Xiang Yutian’s subordinates concentrated their strength to deal with the Nangong or the Beicheng families.”
“What do you mean?”
“The Beicheng family attacked the Cult from the southeast, and the Nangong family from the northeast. We have only four Protectors, yet we split into eight routes. This means each Protector must manage at least two routes. Now it seems there are only four paths leading to the Cult’s main location. We arrived, but we see no sign of the Nangong or Beicheng forces. Either they went north or south, or they were intercepted by men Xiang Yutian dispatched.”
After a rough explanation, everyone understood why Ye Wen looked so displeased.
It turned out Xiang Yutian’s plan in guarding this area alone included using their presence to tie down one major contingent, allowing his main forces to crush one enemy line quickly before flanking another.
Whether Xiang Yutian’s forces could actually wipe out a contingent of the righteous sects, the Shushan disciples could not know. However, one thing was certain: their rear was not secure.
“Senior Brother, perhaps we should remain here and wait for Xiang Yutian’s returning forces or for the Nangong family to arrive. That way, we avoid being caught in a pincer attack if the enemy suddenly strikes our back while we are engaged in front.”
Ye Wen had considered Xu Xian’s suggestion, but after mulling it over, he felt simply waiting was not a solution. What if the Nangong and Beicheng families were defeated, and their enemies then turned toward the north or south? How long would the Shushan sect be expected to wait here?
“We advance slowly, maintaining vigilance at all times. Junior Brother, you will stay at the rear to guard against enemies approaching from behind.”
Having Xu Xian cover the rear was a necessary precaution. Given Xu Xian’s skill, no ordinary person could escape his notice. If the martial artist was skilled enough to evade Xu Xian, then waiting or advancing made little difference; it would be a desperate fight regardless.
Entering the cave, they walked through winding passages for quite some time without finding an end. The group even began to suspect the Demon Cult had set up a maze, and they had somehow taken a wrong turn.
“Ha, so I get to play a real-life maze formation?”
The dim passage, with torches sputtering on the walls, made Ye Wen increasingly irritable. He looked back and saw his composure was relatively steady. The oppressive space and the fear of the unknown prey made everyone extremely tense; at this point, a minor disturbance might cause the whole group to descend into chaos.
He felt this situation could not continue, but he could think of no solution right now. Fortunately, just as he felt frustrated, a glimmer of light finally appeared ahead—it seemed to be the exit.
Upon seeing the light, the group unconsciously quickened their pace. When they finally emerged from the tunnel, everyone felt an immense opening before them. They were surrounded by exotic, rare flowers, impossibly vibrant and filling the air with intense fragrance. Not far off lay a clear pool, the bottom visible, where rare fish the size of a forearm swam about.
“This place is beautiful.”
While the others took in the surroundings, Ye Wen noticed a simple dwelling ahead. By the doorway stood a weapons rack laden with various blades, and nearby were wooden posts and dummies used for practicing martial arts. It was immediately clear this was the residence of a warrior.
“Could this be Xiang Yutian’s dwelling?”
The group moved forward cautiously, wary of anyone leaping out at them, but no one appeared as they neared the house.
Ye Wen took a few steps forward, reaching out to push open the door, but the moment his hand moved, a sharp shout erupted from behind him: “Who goes there?”
He pulled his hand back and turned to see Xu Xian leaping out of the passage, landing with his back to the group, his sharp sword already drawn, his gaze fixed intently on the tunnel entrance.
Then, several figures emerged from the passage. The leader was a strikingly heroic man with distinguished features, possessing a slight scholarly air. Clad in tight fighting gear, he made no attempt to conceal the palpable aura of killing intent, making it instantly clear this was no easy opponent.
The second was an elder, perhaps fifty or sixty years old, yet he showed no sign of feebleness in his gait, his spine held perfectly straight. He stood with his hands clasped behind his back, curiously observing the group, shifting his gaze from one person to the next, as if searching for someone specific.
The last person was a slight surprise: a young girl in a yellow gown, appearing no older than sixteen or seventeen. She had a charmingly mischievous look, a soft, slightly chubby face, and large eyes that blinked incessantly while she stuffed candy into her mouth, seeming determined to fill her small mouth completely before stopping.
Ye Wen, however, noted two large pumpkin hammers tucked into her lower back belt. These were no small trinkets; each head was nearly the size of half a watermelon. Pumpkin hammers varied in size, some as large as great hammers, others smaller than a girl’s hand, serving various purposes beyond mere weaponry. But this girl’s hammers were clearly weapons; a young girl carrying such implements as personal arms was impossible to ignore.
Once the three appeared, they stopped a short distance from the Shushan and Yudong Sect members. Soon after, the sound of numerous disorganized footsteps approached, and a horde of Demon Cult disciples rushed in, positioning themselves behind the three figures and shouting while brandishing their weapons.
Ye Wen saw that the disciples’ weapons and clothes were stained with a considerable amount of blood and immediately understood that someone among the righteous sects had suffered. “Did you come from the southeast, or the northeast?”
The elder turned to look at Ye Wen, scrutinizing him up and down, but instead of answering, he asked, “Are you Ye Wen of the Shushan Sect?”
“Indeed.” Ye Wen assumed that since he had repeatedly opposed the Demon Cult, they knew of him, so the question was not unexpected.
The elder, hearing the admission, looked him over again. “To think you are so young.” He muttered a few words, then suddenly asked, “Was it you who killed Pei Gonglie?”
“Ah?” Ye Wen was caught off guard by the sudden mention of Pei Gonglie and almost failed to react. Fortunately, his reflexes were sharp. After a moment of confusion, he admitted, “That’s right.”
“Tsk, tsk,” the elder said, then added, “Do you know who I am?”
“How would I know who you are?” Ye Wen grew impatient with the old man’s endless questioning. He responded dismissively, “I have no interest in knowing your identity, I just want to know which direction you came from.”
The girl constantly eating candy suddenly interjected, “Old Man, you are so long-winded! Why not just say it directly?” She then turned to Ye Wen, “We came from the northeast. What do you want to ask?”
At these words, Nangong Huang in the group immediately tensed. Ignoring the presence of his master and elders, he blurted out, “How are the people of the Nangong family?”
“The Nangong family?” The girl tilted her head, then pulled a bundle from her back, fumbled with it for a moment, and tossed it forward. “Are you asking about this fellow?”
As the bundle hit the ground, it fell open, and the object inside tumbled out, rolling into view...
“Uncle!”
Upon seeing the truth, Nangong Huang’s eyes widened until they were bloodshot, seemingly on the verge of bursting. His long sword shot out of its sheath into the air, and he himself leaped up, gripping the blade, and charged directly at the girl.
Words were useless now; Nangong Huang only sought revenge for his kin. His movements were lightning-fast, too quick for the others to stop him. Nangong Huang leaped above the girl, shaking his sword, producing thirteen strikes in an instant, aiming for thirteen vital points on her body.
The girl neither dodged nor avoided, her expression unhurried as the sword energy approached. She pouted and muttered, “I hate it most when people interrupt my eating.” Then, she clenched her small fist and punched out fiercely.
This action confused the onlookers. Nangong Huang was still some distance away; his sword energy hadn't even reached her, so what effect could a punch thrown now possibly have?
Unexpectedly, as the others wondered, Nangong Huang, mid-air, let out a dull, heavy thud as if struck by a massive weight. He was sent flying backward, crashing down somewhere far from where he had jumped.
Pfft.
He spat up a mouthful of blood upon landing, glaring hatefully at the girl while clutching his chest. Where his hand covered it, a dull, earthen-yellow fist print remained.
“Oh?”
The girl looked at Nangong Huang with feigned surprise. “You’re quite strong, surviving my punch without dying...”
Had she said this before, she might have been mocked mercilessly, but seeing Nangong Huang’s state, no one thought the seemingly young girl was speaking presumptuously.
Ye Wen’s gaze sharpened. The girl had thrown that punch casually, without any visible surge of energy, yet she sent Nangong Huang flying. Not just anyone could accomplish that. This single feat established her as an absolute master.
He glanced toward the old man and the silent figure standing nearby...
“Did you kill everyone from the Nangong family?”
The girl tapped her chin with her finger, thought for a moment, and then answered honestly, “No, these guys are too cunning; they managed to escape. If it weren’t for this fellow holding one of them up for a while, those others wouldn’t have gotten away. But one fellow took one of my punches and one of the Old Man’s palms; he probably won’t last long.”
“Who was it?” Ye Wen could only think of Nangong Tinghai. Could it be that the Nangong brothers had both fallen to the Demon Cult today?
At this moment, Nangong Huang struggled to rise, his face etched with anxiety, fearful of hearing his father’s name.
“It was Nangong Feng,” the silent man stated calmly. He was extremely displeased that his two unreliable companions couldn't even remember who they had killed versus who they had wounded. He deeply resented acting alongside people who didn't even know their opponents. If this weren't such a prime opportunity to eliminate these so-called elites of the righteous path, he would never have allied with them.
The man then spoke, “I am Yan Miao, the Water Envoy among the Sacred Cult’s Five Elements Envoys. There is one matter I wish to ask Sect Leader Ye.”
“What is it?”
Yan Miao coldly swept his gaze over the group before suddenly asking, “Which individuals joined Sect Leader Ye in surrounding and attacking Protector Xiang?”
“Surrounding and attacking?”
“What do you mean?”
“Are you looking down on us?”
The group was momentarily stunned, then they understood: these Demon Cult members must have seen Xiang Yutian’s corpse upon their return and concluded that the righteous side won only through sheer numbers.
Ye Wen immediately grasped the implication of the words and sneered, “While your esteemed Protector Xiang possessed high martial skill, he was not so weak as to require overwhelming numbers to be slain.”
Yan Miao’s face immediately took on a look of contempt. “I heard Sect Leader Ye was known as the ‘Gentleman Swordsman,’ and Protector Xiang held you in high regard. It turns out you are just a hypocrite who dares not own up to his deeds.” To prove his point, he mocked further, “Protector Xiang sustained three fatal wounds, all inflicted almost simultaneously, in addition to countless other sword marks. This could not have been done by one person with one sword. Furthermore, there was a sword wound on his palm—this clearly shows Protector Xiang grabbed one person's sword with his hand, allowing the other three to strike successfully for the kill. What more can you say?”
Such words were unbearable to anyone, and Ye Wen was enraged. “Ignorant fool, I shall let you witness Ye Wen’s ultimate technique!”
With that, purple qi erupted from his body, stirring up a fierce gale that nearly knocked the unprepared group over. Even so, those closest to Ye Wen were forced to retreat several steps before steadying themselves.
The three newcomers showed no surprise at Ye Wen’s outburst, merely assuming he was enraged by shame. Just as Ye Wen was expected to attack, the gale dissipated, yet Ye Wen remained standing in place. Above his head floated seven purple swords, their chilling light aimed menacingly at the three figures.
The sword energy emanating from the purple blades was immense; even from that distance, it felt as if they were physically pressed against them, making them impossible to ignore. Seeing this, Yan Miao’s composure vanished, replaced by muttered disbelief. “This is impossible—how could such a thing happen?”
Ye Wen, irritated by his crude words, sneered, “It’s not your fault you lack knowledge, but it’s wrong to parade your ignorance in public. You claim Protector Xiang’s three fatal wounds were inflicted by three people attacking simultaneously. Tell me, will you next claim you were surrounded by seven people?”
Yan Miao was still reeling from the shock and couldn't formulate a reply.
At this point, someone from the Yudong Sect jeered, “It’s a good thing Uncle Hu isn't here, otherwise these Demon Cult members would claim he was attacked by nine people!”
“Such ignorance! Everyone in the Jianghu knows Sect Leader Ye and our Uncle Hu can both command flying swords. Yet you dare claim that wretched Protector died only because he was ganged up on? Do you really think that Protector was so powerful? I tell you, he couldn't withstand even a few moves from Sect Leader Ye; he was almost immobilized by Ye Wen’s flying swords!”
This barrage of ridicule made Yan Miao’s face extremely pale. He roared, “Impossible! How can true sword manipulation exist? It must be an illusion! This Envoy will expose your trick!”
Hearing this, the others regarded him with even greater disdain, but the moment he started channeling his internal energy, Ye Wen’s expression drastically changed: “The Tide Listening Art? How do you know that?”
Yan Miao laughed heartily. “It’s just the Tide Listening Art, what’s so strange about it? The Holy Maiden watches Lin Hai practice that technique all day long and has long since memorized it completely.” Saying this, he channeled energy into his palm, and the sound of crashing waves filled the air, with wave-like energy manifesting on his hand. “Moreover, my Tide Listening Art is far more potent than that Lin Hai’s! I genuinely cultivated it by the actual sea!”
Amidst his maniacal laughter, Yan Miao slapped a palm toward Ye Wen, failing to notice how Ye Wen’s face had grown increasingly dark. As the palm strike neared, Ye Wen roared, “Insolent fool! You dare compare your meager abilities to those of Chief Lin?”
With a casual wave, the seven purple swords simultaneously rotated their tips, exploding with blinding light, and shot out toward Yan Miao from seven different directions. If Yan Miao continued with his palm strike, he would certainly be sliced apart by the swords. He was forced to change his move mid-swing.
However, Ye Wen gave him no opportunity to adapt this time. As the seven purple swords shot forth, Ye Wen used his movement skill to instantly close the distance to Yan Miao, striking his palms repeatedly with the Continuous Palm technique, forcing Yan Miao into desperate, clumsy defense, barely parrying while completely unable to deal with the seven flying swords.
Just as the purple swords were about to tear him to pieces, two figures flashed forward. The old man and the yellow-clad girl suddenly leaped over, each using their own means to force the seven purple swords back.
The yellow-clad girl wielded a pair of refined gold pumpkin hammers. With several swift swings, she repelled four of the purple swords. But once they were pushed back, the girl stopped, clutching her hammers and examining them closely. She was worried that the purple swords had damaged her precious gold, crying out, “Ouch! My hammers!”
The elder summoned his internal fire energy to push back the remaining three swords. Seeing the girl fussing over her hammers, he noticed a thin scrape on the refined gold surface left by the purple swords and became furious. “Worry about your hammers later! First, let’s combine forces and take this Ye Wen’s life!”
But before his words finished, a voice suddenly cut through the air next to his ear: “Did you think we were all dead men?” Before finishing the sentence, his sword flickered, transforming into a vast canopy of sword shadows that engulfed the elder.
And at that precise moment, the girl shouted, “My hammers are very precious!”
Hammers, hammers, RA!