The two rode side-by-side until halfway through their journey, when Leng Wushuang suddenly frowned and halted. Li Muzhan quickly reined in his horse and looked over.

“Lake Master?”

Leng Wushuang knitted her brow. “I’ve just remembered something urgent that needs immediate attention!”

“What is it?” Li Muzhan asked.

Leng Wushuang looked at him, then shook her head. Li Muzhan wisely refrained from asking further, yet ventured, “The Tianji Tower…?”

“Can you handle chasing them down alone?” Leng Wushuang inquired.

Li Muzhan managed a wry smile and remained silent for a moment.

Leng Wushuang gave him a half-smile. “Scared now?”

Li Muzhan met her gaze, which held that faint, knowing amusement, and blurted out, “No problem!”

The moment the words left his mouth, he regretted them. The fatal allure of the honey trap lay in its appeal to the most fundamental instincts of a man, an impulse impossible to wholly avoid. Though his self-control was deep, his spirit was shallow; encountering Leng Wushuang exposed his inherent male weakness, making him shake his head internally.

“Hmm, kill as many as you can manage; don’t force yourself,” Leng Wushuang said lightly.

Li Muzhan slowly nodded.

Leng Wushuang continued, “Logically, with your Duanyue Saber technique, enhanced by the internal energy I infused, you should be considered a master, capable of self-defense… Back in the day, Chunyu Yueyun was unrivaled across Western Zhao with that very saber art.”

Li Muzhan forced a bitter smile. “How could I possibly compare to the skill of Senior Chunyu?”

“Your comprehension is extraordinary, no less than his. Don't belittle yourself,” Leng Wushuang stated calmly.

“…Yes,” Li Muzhan conceded with a resigned nod.

Leng Wushuang waved a hand. “Go then. Chunyu Yueyun went to Western Zhao because things were unsettled there. He tempered his saber art on the battlefield; only between life and death can one truly grasp the essence of the saber.”

Li Muzhan nodded.

Leng Wushuang cautioned, “Don't rely on luck, thinking I can always bring you back to life, making you unafraid of death. I am heading north. If you die, I won't have time to return.”

“Yes, I understand.”

“If you truly can’t win, just run. I’ll teach you another movement technique,” Leng Wushuang said, as if suddenly remembering. She began reciting the incantation.

This method of cultivation was incredibly complex, especially the channeling routes, which were bafflingly intricate—even more so than the Duanyue Saber or the ancient Qi Refining Arts. This, however, did not stump Li Muzhan. He possessed total recall, memorizing everything instantly. He asked clarifying questions, which Leng Wushuang answered one by one. Li Muzhan quickly grasped it, particularly excelling at internal cultivation methods. He already had a foundation in movement arts, though he had hesitated to use them. Learning this new technique was surprisingly easy. He dismounted to test it and found the results astonishing.

Leng Wushuang explained, “This Feixian Bu (Flying Immortal Steps) is a Supreme-grade martial art. What you are going to do is too dangerous; escape will be your primary objective, so you must learn it, even if only superficially. Others find it immensely difficult, often failing to master it. But with your excellent memory and insight, coupled with your practice of the Ancient Qi Refining Arts, you should be able to learn it… If you can't, well, you’ll just have to run on your own two feet!”

Under the pressure of life and death, astonishing potential would erupt, forcing him to quickly master the Feixian Bu. This Supreme-grade art was notoriously difficult; almost no one ever succeeded. The most crucial requirement was a capacity for infinitesimal sensory perception, demanding formidable spiritual cultivation to register such minute forces. If one could not feel the subtle energies outside the body, mastering the Feixian Bu was impossible. Among the disciples, Li Zhu’s aptitude was closest to her own, possessing a strong and resilient spirit, making her the most likely candidate.

Li Muzhan smiled. “Are Senior Sister Xu and the others’ movement arts also Supreme-grade?”

Leng Wushuang nodded slightly. “The disciples can progress gradually with their other martial arts, but movement techniques must be Supreme-grade. Life is at stake; there is no room for compromise.”

Li Muzhan laughed and nodded.

Leng Wushuang waved dismissively. “Do what you can within your limits. I am leaving now.”

With that, she spurred her horse away, drifting off like a rising white cloud.

Li Muzhan watched her depart, and an immediate hollowness opened in his chest. He let out a long sigh; the surroundings seemed to dim, losing their brightness, rendering everything tasteless. A sudden shock hit him: Could he have actually fallen for Leng Wushuang? He swiftly restrained his thoughts, forcing his mental lake back to stillness, an act his deep reserve allowed him to accomplish quickly. He then composed himself and set off on his own path. He wasn't in a hurry to pursue the Tianji Tower members; with his keen sense, finding them wouldn't be difficult. He descended the mountain first, reached a small town, lodged his horse at an inn, and then unleashed his movement technique.

The Feixian Bu was truly marvelous. Despite the complex mind method, he mastered it rapidly, moving forward in a light, floating manner, as if riding the wind. It truly felt like a method for harnessing the air; the Yongquan acupoint seemed buoyed by an ascending force, propelling him forward at high speed, an experience Li Muzhan likened to a rocket from a later age. Through these convoluted mental pathways, such a marvelous effect was achieved. Supreme-grade martial arts were indeed extraordinary, surpassing every movement art he had known before. More importantly, the Feixian Bu consumed very little internal energy; as his proficiency deepened, the consumption lessened further, as if borrowing energy directly from the atmosphere. He traveled with the Feixian Bu, his feet barely touching the ground, his robes fluttering like an immortal.

As he used the Feixian Bu, his understanding deepened. Eventually, he could sense a subtle force present in the air—incredibly resilient and elastic. A slight push off it could send him rebounding a great distance. This sensation was profoundly mysterious, something he glimpsed only when operating the Feixian Bu at high speed. His thoughts were sharp as pearls, capable of capturing every fleeting notion, allowing him to quickly seize this sensation. His form suddenly shifted, flickering and shimmering like a candle flame buffeted by the wind, indistinct and uncertain. In those swift glimmers, he had already traversed ten zhang, his figure ephemeral, swift as the breeze.

He was overjoyed. The Feixian Bu was truly mystical; he practiced with increasing fervor, dedicating only a sliver of his spirit to observing the external world while keeping the rest focused inward, savoring the intricacies of the technique. He felt the elasticity of the air was omnipresent; he simply needed to borrow its strength to move, an aptitude he excelled at—like using four ounces to deflect a thousand pounds, requiring minimal effort. More critically, it wasn't just fast; it was incredibly agile, allowing instantaneous changes in direction, sudden and unpredictable, impossible to guard against. Li Muzhan mused that with this movement art alone, he could stand undefeated.

However, as he continued, he noticed an unfavorable development: the ball of Qi in his spleen began to diminish. Not only was its color fading, but its size was also changing. He felt the subtle drain, realizing this Qi mass was being constantly consumed by the movement technique. Worse still, it lacked the ability to regenerate internal energy on its own; once diminished, it stayed diminished.

After a hundred li, he stopped, finding a secluded, quiet spot, and began meditating to practice the Ancient Qi Refining Arts, breathing in and out, cultivating Earth Qi. He absorbed the Qi rapidly; all the Earth Qi flowed into the mass, enlarging it, with no dissipation, achieving extremely high efficiency. It soon returned to the size of a fist. Afterward, he practiced again, but the Qi mass only darkened in color, showing no further change, suggesting the practice was now fruitless. Li Muzhan, however, understood this was not wasted effort; he sensed the critical turning point for transformation was near. A period of secluded, diligent cultivation, he felt, would surely allow him to break through his current stage.

He then rose and continued his journey, employing the Feixian Bu, which cost minimal energy. After another hundred li, he stopped again to breathe and recover, then resumed using the Feixian Bu. His application of the Feixian Bu grew smoother, allowing him to move as he pleased, with perfect mastery.

Guided by instinct, Li Muzhan arrived at a monastery. Its red walls and green tiles spoke of imposing grandeur, above which the three characters "Jingming Temple" were inscribed, the plaque weathered with green moss. The temple was built halfway up a mountain, surrounded by lush, ancient pine trees, exuding an air of venerable antiquity, quietude, and distance—a perfect setting for cultivation. Li Muzhan slowly approached the temple entrance.

The monastery was tiered in three levels, ascending steeply with ten steps to each level. Standing beneath the ancient Ginkgo tree at the forecourt, he could see the highest Buddha Hall, from which wisps of incense smoke curled upward. The faint sound of chanting drifted down; Li Muzhan recognized the Diamond Sutra, recited by perhaps a dozen people. However, the spiritual cultivation of these dozen individuals seemed mediocre; their chanting lacked focused intent, remaining superficial, clearly not heartfelt recitation, thus yielding little effect. Li Muzhan narrowed his eyes, observing the scene; what a pity for such a tranquil, ancient sanctuary.

Few would ever suspect that such a secluded mountain temple concealed the very base of the Tianji Tower. This organization’s foundation was clearly deep-rooted. The massive Ginkgo tree, estimated by him to be nearly a century old, formed a dense canopy, lending the temple an air of profound age and deeper serenity. Li Muzhan took a deep breath. Having made his decision, he would not regret it now. He pondered how to fulfill the task assigned to him.

These masters from Tianji Tower were no pushovers. Never mind his current shallow internal energy; even the Li Muzhan of Canghai Mountain would struggle against them. These Tianji Tower experts possessed profound martial arts, but more terrifying was their ruthlessness; they were quick to fight to the death, embracing mutual destruction. They cared nothing for others' lives, nor for their own. Faced with such opponents, most would retreat, preferring to yield ground rather than engage in a direct confrontation. Anyone willing to fight to the death is terrifying, let alone a martial arts master whose explosive power is even more alarming. He was no Lake Master, capable of handling things with ease, nor did he possess the courage for self-sacrifice.

His only reserve trump card was the Great Ming King Scripture, but this could not be used lightly. If he deployed it, his identity would be immediately exposed. Xinghu Xiaozhu (Star Lake Lodge) was tranquil and idyllic within its borders, a paradise on earth, but fiercely aggressive externally—otherwise, it would never have earned such a fearsome reputation. Although he had risked his life to save the Lake Master once, if his true identity were revealed, Xinghu Xiaozhu would certainly not spare Canghai Mountain. Canghai Mountain was powerful within the Great Yan region, but compared to Xinghu Xiaozhu, they were far inferior. At this juncture, even if it meant death, he could not compromise his identity and bring about the annihilation of Canghai Mountain.

After much deliberation, he concluded he could not use the Great Ming King Scripture. He had to rely on his current martial skills: the Luoyang Saber Technique, the Duanyue Saber Technique, that ball of yellow Qi, and his throwing knives. He carried ten hidden throwing knives, invisible to outsiders, which served as deadly threats once revealed—ten knives for ten men. However, the experts of Tianji Valley numbered more than ten.

Standing before Jingming Temple, Li Muzhan let his thoughts race, finally taking a deep breath and shouting loudly, “All members of the Tianji Tower, show yourselves!” He projected his internal force, his voice resonating like a bronze bell, echoing throughout the entire temple.

The chanting inside Jingming Temple abruptly ceased, followed by the sound of footsteps. A young monk in yellow robes pulled open the temple door and stood on the steps, offering a prayer gesture. “Greetings, Benefactor. What brings you to our humble temple?”

Li Muzhan swiftly assessed the young monk: thick eyebrows, large eyes, an aura of killing intent shrouded between them—clearly no friend. Li Muzhan returned the greeting gesture, shaking his head. “I do not wish to disturb your meditation, but the people of Tianji Tower are hidden here; I had to come.”

The young monk’s already large eyes widened slightly, flashing with fierce light. “What Tianji Tower, Earthly Machine Tower? Our humble temple does not receive outsiders. I beg your pardon, little monk, I know nothing of this.”

Li Muzhan said calmly, “The people of Tianji Tower live by assassination, creating boundless sin. If you shelter them, little master, your karma will be entangled, and you will be unable to ascend to the Western Paradise; you will descend to hell!”

The young monk's expression shifted, his eyes shining with sharp glints of light. He said coldly, “Benefactor, do not speak nonsense. Our temple knows nothing of the Tianji Tower. Please return!”

Li Muzhan laughed aloud, shaking his head. “It seems you are truly family. Then I must offend!”

He flashed forward suddenly, appearing behind the young monk, his palm striking toward the center of the monk’s back. The young monk snorted and countered with a fierce Overlord’s Elbow strike, both powerful and sharp. Li Muzhan’s right palm met the monk’s, and the monk was immediately sent flying backward, crashing into the Ginkgo tree.

With a dull thud, the Ginkgo tree shuddered. The monk slid down the trunk and immediately braced himself with his other hand, shouting in fury, “You wicked thief! Attacking sneakily! Help!”

More than a dozen young monks poured out from the temple gate and swiftly surrounded Li Muzhan. Long blades were angled towards him, the steel gleaming coldly, their gazes equally cold, as if looking upon a dead man.

Li Muzhan slowly drew his right saber. “You are also members of the Tianji Tower, aren’t you?”

A young monk with a face like a shoe last sneered. “Enough nonsense. Daring to storm my Jingming Temple, you are utterly audacious! Die!”

He flicked his long saber; it vibrated with a whirring sound, the blade wriggling like a venomous snake lunging for Li Muzhan’s chest. As he moved, the dozen other blades moved simultaneously, trembling like serpents, striking toward various parts of Li Muzhan’s body. Each man performed his designated role, covering a specific direction. These dozen blades completely sealed off every angle around Li Muzhan, wrapping him in a net from which escape was impossible.

Li Muzhan drew his left saber and swung it, immediately followed by his right, executing the Circular Form of the Duanyue Saber Technique. The two blades formed a shimmering curtain of silver light, protecting him within an impenetrable barrier.

Amidst a chorus of sharp clangs and dings, three of the incoming blades were knocked aside. Li Muzhan laughed heartily. His right saber defended while his left executed the Mountain-Splitting Strike. With one downward slash, the opposing monk and his weapon flew backward together.

These dozen monks were not particularly strong in overall martial arts, but their saber formations and joint attacks were exquisitely coordinated, posing a significant threat to others. However, Li Muzhan was uniquely positioned to counter them. His physical strength was astounding, amplified further by the internal energy augmentation, making his power incredible. With one saber defending and the other attacking, he fought like two men combined, unleashing tremendous force.

One monk flew away, and three blades were neutralized. With four immediate gaps, the formation faltered momentarily. In that split second, Li Muzhan flashed out, directly escaping the encirclement.