Chapter 338 - 335: Ambush
Chapter 338: Chapter 335: Ambush
"Kid."
The leader, a Fourth-Grade masked man, spoke. His voice was hoarse and dry, like scraping metal.
"We’ve taken a liking to what’s in that box on your back. Put it down, leave your valuables, and we’ll spare your life. Otherwise..."
He didn’t finish, but his meaning was crystal clear: robbery and murder.
Fang Han was alone and had just won a valuable treasure at auction. In their eyes, he was a fat sheep waiting to be slaughtered.
"With just you lot?"
Fang Han stopped, his calm gaze sweeping all around him. In the darkness of the night, his eyes were profound, showing not a hint of panic.
He spoke, his voice quiet yet carrying clearly to each person’s ears, tinged with a faint trace of mockery.
"Courting death!"
Another Fourth-Grade masked man, apparently with a worse temper, let out a low shout and was the first to charge.
He wielded a pair of Water-Splitting Emei Needles. His movements were like a phantom’s, leaving a trail of afterimages as he lunged straight for Fang Han’s back, his speed astonishingly fast.
At almost the same instant he made his move, the Fourth-Grade masked man in front also sprang into action.
The Thick-Backed Ghost Head Saber in his hand shrieked as it tore through the air, coming down on Fang Han’s face in a Powerful Slash of Huashan.
The Sword Momentum was heavy, carrying the faint sound of wind and thunder, a clear sign of its immense power.
The seven Middle-Grade Martial Artists on the rooftops to the left, right, and rear also attacked at the same time.
Hidden Weapons, Flying Ropes, and the glint of blades and swords assailed Fang Han’s vital points from every treacherous angle.
Their coordination was impeccable. They were clearly veterans at this sort of foul play, launching a killing blow from the outset and giving Fang Han no room to breathe.
The nine-man pincer attack, with its web of Qi Force, sealed off all of Fang Han’s escape routes!
The main assault from the two Fourth-Grade Martial Artists, one in front and one behind, was especially perilous. An ordinary Fourth-Grade Martial Artist would likely be severely injured or even killed in an instant under such a siege.
WHOOSH!
Fang Han moved.
In the instant before the attacks could land, he abruptly activated the Wind and Cloud Escape beneath his feet, pushing it to its absolute limit.
His body seemed to transform into a wisp of invisible wind, like a weightless willow catkin.
Amidst the overwhelming killing intent, he twisted at an unbelievable angle, slipping sideways past the descending blade of the Ghost Head Saber.
At the same time, as if he had eyes in the back of his head, his other hand shot out in a reverse grip, grabbing the wrist of the Emei Needle wielder attacking from behind with unerring precision.
Although he had not yet reached the Entry Level of the Xuanwu True Skill, his physical strength and defense were already extraordinary, far surpassing that of an ordinary Fourth-Grade Martial Artist.
"What?!"
The Fourth-Grade masked man with the Emei Needles felt his wrist tighten as if clamped in an iron band. An immense force surged through it, forcibly halting his forward momentum.
Before he could even change his move, Fang Han gripped his wrist and swung him around violently.
BAM!
Fang Han actually used the Fourth-Grade masked man as a weapon, smashing him viciously into two attacking Fifth Grade Martial Artists.
"Argh!" "CRUNCH!"
A scream and the sound of breaking bones rang out simultaneously.
The two Fifth Grade Martial Artists had their sternums caved in by the "human weapon," and they flew backward, spitting blood, clearly dead before they hit the ground.
As for the Fourth-Grade masked man who had been used as a weapon, the violent impact left his qi and blood in turmoil, and his arm throbbed with a pain so intense it felt like it would split apart.
CLANG—!
At the same time, Fang Han’s other hand had quickly drawn his sword.
The Cloud Splitting Sword left its sheath like a venomous dragon emerging from its lair, stabbing toward the opening under the ribs of the Ghost Head Saber wielder, exposed as his attack overextended.
The strike was fast, accurate, and ruthless! The timing was perfect down to the finest hair!
The Fourth-Grade masked man with the Ghost Head Saber had just swung and missed; his old force was spent, and new force had yet to be generated. The spot beneath his ribs was his weakest point.
His expression changed in horror. It was too late to bring his saber back to block, so he could only twist his body and frantically surge his Protective Inner Qi to his ribs.
PFFT!
The Cloud Splitting Sword pierced the Protective Inner Qi and sank into the masked man’s body.
"Ugh!"
The saber-wielding masked man let out a pained grunt and staggered backward, blood streaming from his wound. He was now seriously injured.
In the blink of an eye, one of the two Fourth-Grade Martial Artists was down and the other was injured, while the two Fifth Grade Martial Artists were dead!
The remaining masked men were all aghast, their assault faltering. This was no lamb to the slaughter, but a fierce beast in sheep’s clothing.
WHOOSH!
But Fang Han didn’t pause for a moment. His figure moved again like a phantom, the Cloud Splitting Sword tracing a beautiful, deadly arc of cyan light in the night.
The sword light wasn’t grand, but it was condensed to the extreme, carrying a sharpness that could tear through anything as it flew toward a Sixth Grade Martial Artist on the right rooftop who was about to launch his Hidden Weapons.
SHK!
The Sixth Grade Martial Artist didn’t even have time to react. He felt a cold sensation on his throat, blood spurted, and he tumbled off the roof.
Fang Han tapped his toe on a roof tile, using the force to reverse direction, his sword light turning with him.
Like the Grim Reaper’s scythe, it swept across the neck of a Fifth Grade Martial Artist on the other roof, who was still stunned by his companion’s sudden death.
Another one dead!
Just then, the Fourth-Grade masked man with the Emei Needles was just scrambling up from the ground, his arm still screaming in pain.
Seeing how ferocious Fang Han was, having killed four people in an instant, he roared:
"This one’s a tough nut to crack! Attack together! Don’t give him a chance to pick us off one by one!"
The remaining five, including the two Fourth-Grade Martial Artists, their eyes turning vicious, surrounded and attacked Fang Han together.
PFFT—
Fang Han’s expression remained unchanged. Every time the Cloud Splitting Sword swung, it was certain to be followed by a spray of blood.
Although there were many masked men in the siege, under the absolute disparity in speed and power, they were like lambs to the slaughter.
CLANG!
He parried a long saber from a Fifth Grade Martial Artist, using the momentum to close the distance. His left palm struck without using any Palm Technique—he didn’t know any.
He simply infused his Inner Qi with Hidden Force and pressed it into the Fifth Grade Martial Artist’s chest.
The Fifth Grade Martial Artist felt as if he’d been struck by a sledgehammer. His chest caved in, and he flew backward, smashing through an earthen wall, then went silent.
"Die!"
The Fourth-Grade masked man with the Ghost Head Saber suppressed his injuries and charged again, his saber flashing like a bolt of silk, though it had lost some of its ferocity due to his internal wounds.
Fang Han’s eyes were ice-cold.
Sky Splitting!
The Cloud Splitting Sword let out a clear cry as his Great Success Sword Momentum erupted. The sword light condensed into a single line, striking late but arriving first, cutting into the sky full of saber shadows.
CRACK!
The Ghost Head Saber was actually sliced in half. The sword light’s momentum didn’t diminish as it swept past his throat.
The Fourth-Grade masked man’s eyes went wide. He clutched his gushing neck and slowly knelt to the ground.
"Retreat!"
Seeing his companion die, the other Fourth-Grade masked man, the one with the Emei Needles, was scared out of his wits. His will to fight shattered, he turned and tried to leap onto a roof to escape.
"Trying to leave?"
Fang Han tapped the ground with his toe, activating Wind and Cloud Escape. His body moved like lightning, striking late but arriving first, instantly cutting off the man’s escape route.
His sword flashed, stabbing straight for the man’s back.
"I’ll fight you to the death!"
The fleeing Fourth-Grade Martial Artist with the Emei Needles roared in desperation, spun around, and brandished his twin needles in a frenzy—the last stand of a cornered beast.
But Fang Han’s Sword Momentum shifted. His stab turned into a slice, his sword light flowing like mercury, finding and entering an opening.
SHK! SHK!
With two soft sounds, the man’s arms were severed at the wrist, and his Emei Needles clattered to the ground.
Before the man could even scream, Fang Han finished him with a backhanded stroke of his sword.
In just a few moments, all nine attackers, including two Fourth-Grade Martial Artists, had been slain. The thick stench of blood filled the street.
’I have to get out of here, fast!’
Fang Han stood with his sword in hand, his breathing slightly hurried, but his gaze remained as sharp as a hawk’s.
Knowing he wasn’t safe yet, he didn’t bother looting the bodies and was about to use Wind and Cloud Escape to leave at full speed.
However...
WHOOSH! WHOOSH! WHOOSH!
The sound of rushing air rose again!
From the surrounding rooftops and the shadows of the alleyways, more figures suddenly appeared—a dense crowd of several dozen people.
They wore different attire, showing they weren’t a single group, but clearly from various factions.
Some were masked and dressed in black, others wore martial attire, and a few were even in gang uniforms.
Now, however, these people were vaguely forming an even larger encirclement, trapping Fang Han in the center.
They had clearly witnessed the short, bloody battle that had just occurred. Their gazes toward Fang Han were filled with apprehension, but even more so with undisguised greed and ruthlessness.
"Everyone!"
A sinister voice rang out from the eastern rooftop, where a tall, thin old man holding a Judge’s Pen stood. His aura had also reached the Fourth Grade.
"This kid is a handful. If we fight him one-on-one, none of us can take him down easily, let alone get what’s on his back."
"How about this: we join forces and take him out first! Once we have the item, we can fight over it amongst ourselves based on our own abilities! What do you say?"
"Makes sense!"
"Agreed!"
"Let’s kill this little brat first!"
Cries of agreement came from all directions.
In the face of immense profit and the threat posed by Fang Han, these factions, which had been wary of and even hostile toward one another, quickly formed a temporary alliance.
"Kill!"
It’s unknown who shouted first, but dozens of people attacked at once.
Glints of blades, Palm Wind, Fist Force, Hidden Weapons, and poisoned sand rained down on Fang Han from all sides like a torrential storm.
This time, there were a full five Fourth-Grade Martial Artists among the attackers, and the weakest of the other thirty-plus people all had at least Middle-Grade Cultivation.
The sheer scale of the attack was far greater than that of the previous nine. The very air currents in the street were thrown into chaos, and the killing intent was so thick it felt tangible.
"..."
Fang Han’s expression finally grew a little more serious.
Five Fourth-Grade Martial Artists, plus dozens of Middle-Grade Martial Artists—even he felt the pressure.
But there was no fear in his eyes, only ice-cold killing intent.
"You really think you’ve got me?"
He let out a long cry as the Inner Qi from his Profound Wind Technique surged through his body at an unprecedented speed.
His Middle Stage of Fourth Grade Cultivation erupted without reservation, and a faint cyan airflow swirled around his body.
The Sword Momentum from his Great Success Level Nine Swords of Sky Splitting surged to the heavens, and the Cloud Splitting Sword in his hand let out an excited hum.
He pushed his Wind and Cloud Escape to its limit, his figure blurring instantly into dozens of indistinguishable afterimages as he took the initiative and charged into the crowd.
He avoided the strong and attacked the weak, never clashing head-on!
SHK!
His sword light flashed like lightning. A Sixth Grade Martial Artist lunging at him from the side collapsed, blood gushing from his throat.
Without pausing, his body moved like a slippery fish, weaving perilously through the gaps in the overwhelming assault.
The fierce Palm Wind from a Fourth-Grade Martial Artist grazed the corner of his clothes and pulverized the flagstones behind him.
His sword took an unorthodox path, thrusting toward the armpit of another Fourth-Grade Martial Artist—a spear wielder—that was exposed from his attack.
The spear wielder was alarmed and hastily brought his weapon back to block.
CLANG!
Sparks flew as spear met sword.
With a flick of his wrist, he sent a spiral of Hidden Force traveling up the spear’s shaft.
The spear wielder’s arm went numb, and the long spear nearly slipped from his grasp. He retreated in shock.
"Die!"
From the left, the sinister old man with the Judge’s Pen attacked silently, his twin pens striking like venomous dragons emerging from their lairs. He aimed for the back of Fang Han’s head and his spine, his angle vicious and cunning.
As if he had eyes in the back of his head, Fang Han didn’t even turn. His Flowing Cloud Sword thrust backward from under his arm at an impossible angle, precisely striking the tips of the Judge’s Pens.
TING!
With a crisp sound, the old man felt an incomparably sharp Sword Qi travel through his pens, jolting his qi and blood into turmoil and dissipating his attack.
Fang Han used the force of the collision to twist away erratically, dodging a shower of Poisoned Iron Thorns that had been descending on him from above.
At the same time, his Cloud Splitting Sword traced a perfect arc, slicing through the weapons of three cooperating Fifth Grade Martial Artists on his right and, in the same motion, slitting open one of their chests.