Chapter 420 - 417: Crushing
Chapter 420: Chapter 417: Crushing
This sudden turn of events brought the entire battlefield to a standstill.
The female steward glanced, horrified, at the twitching, bisected corpse, then looked toward the source of the Sword Qi.
A figure in a green robe was swiftly approaching from the distance.
The man moved like the wind, his speed astonishing. In just a few bounds, he had reached the edge of the battlefield.
His green robe fluttered, a longsword at his waist. His face was young, yet as serene as still water.
She froze for a moment, then a look of unconcealable, pleasant surprise spread across her pale face.
"It’s Fang Han... True Inheritor Fang!"
Her voice was hoarse, but it carried clearly to the ears of the surrounding Qingxuan Sect disciples.
"Senior Brother Fang Han is here!"
"It’s Senior Brother Fang Han!"
Light flared in the once-dim eyes of the Qingxuan Sect disciples who had been struggling to hold on.
Within the Qingxuan Sect, that name was now like a banner.
He had joined the sect a little over two years ago, was ranked sixth on the Celestial Pride List, and had slain You Xin, the head disciple of the Netherworld Pavilion.
Such a record was enough to inspire awe in any disciple of the Qingxuan Sect and give hope to any of their brethren in a desperate situation.
"Fang Han..."
The other two Qingxuan Sect Stewards forced back their opponents, their gazes fixed on Fang Han’s figure. The tightness in their chests eased considerably.
They knew they might just survive the day.
In stark contrast to their elation, the faces of the Netherworld Pavilion Stewards turned utterly grim.
Fang Han.
To the members of the Netherworld Pavilion, this name was all too familiar.
True Inheritor Gong Xing had died at this boy’s hands. Stewards Gao Xiao and Tu Gang had died at this boy’s hands. Duan Wuya was grievously wounded, Meng Xian was forced to retreat, and in the end, even their head disciple, You Xin, had fallen to his sword.
And now, this god of death had appeared here.
’How did reinforcements get here so fast? And of all people, it had to be Fang Han!’
Steward Yin Zhi gritted his teeth, his voice low and hoarse.
They had seen that burst of Sword Qi clearly.
A single sword strike—just one—had bisected a Steward at the Early Stage of Fourth Grade.
Even for a sneak attack, to achieve such a result was enough to prove this boy’s strength far exceeded their estimations.
"What’s there to be afraid of?"
Another burly steward said in a low voice, his eyes locked on the approaching figure.
"No matter how strong he is, he’s still just one person!"
But despite his words, an undeniable flicker of fear flashed in his eyes.
Steward Yin Zhi’s gaze swept over the three Qingxuan Sect Stewards, who were at the end of their rope. A vicious glint flashed in his eyes.
"You two, go stop him!"
he commanded harshly, pointing at two of the Stewards.
"The rest of you, attack with all your might! We’ll finish these three first!"
Before the words had even left his mouth, he lunged at the female steward.
The other two Stewards erupted into motion as well, lunging at the other two Qingxuan Sect Stewards.
They knew that if they couldn’t finish off these three Qingxuan Sect Stewards quickly and then team up to besiege Fang Han, the consequences would be unthinkable.
The two Netherworld Pavilion Stewards he had pointed to exchanged a look, each seeing the terror in the other’s eyes.
But at this point, there was no room for retreat.
Gritting their teeth, they both turned to face the swiftly approaching figure in green.
"Fang Han, die!"
one of them roared, his long saber transforming into a streak of light as it slashed straight for Fang Han’s head.
The other flickered to the side, his Short Sword striking like a viper at Fang Han’s ribs.
They coordinated perfectly, one from the front and one from the flank, cutting off all of Fang Han’s escape routes.
Yet Fang Han didn’t even break his stride.
He merely lifted his eyes, his gaze falling upon the saber-wielding steward.
His gaze was as calm as water, yet it sent a sudden chill through the saber-wielding steward’s heart.
The next instant—
The Cloud Splitting Sword left its sheath.
A flash of sword light.
"CRACK—"
It was so fast the saber-wielding steward couldn’t even track the blade’s path before his hands felt light.
He looked down to see that the long saber he had wielded for years was now in two pieces.
Half the blade went spinning away, landing in the dirt several yards away, the metal still humming.
The webbing of his right hand had split open and was dripping with blood. His entire arm was so numb it had practically lost all feeling.
Before he could react, the sword light flashed again.
This time, aimed at his chest.
"PFFT—!"
Blood sprayed into the air.
The saber-wielding steward felt a cold sensation in his chest. He looked down to see a gash deep enough to expose bone, running diagonally from his left shoulder to his right ribs. Blood gushed out like a spring.
He opened his mouth, trying to speak, but only a gurgling rasp escaped.
The next moment, his body went limp and collapsed.
From the moment Fang Han drew his sword to the Netherworld Pavilion’s Fourth Grade Steward hitting the ground, only a single breath had passed.
The steward with the Short Sword had just begun his thrust—the tip of his blade still a foot from Fang Han’s ribs—when he saw his companion collapse into a pool of blood.
And now, Fang Han’s icy gaze was fixed on him.
’I’m going to die!’
His pupils contracted violently. A chill shot up from the soles of his feet to the crown of his head.
With no time to think, he desperately tried to pull back his sword and retreat.
But Fang Han’s sword was already there.
Again, it was a simple strike.
"PFFT—"
The sword light flashed past, and the steward with the Short Sword felt a cold sensation in his right arm.
He looked down. The arm holding the Short Sword, severed at the elbow, had fallen to his feet.
Blood sprayed furiously.
"AHH—!"
He let out a bloodcurdling scream and staggered backward.
He had only taken two steps back, however, when Fang Han’s second strike landed.
A flash of sword light swept across his neck.
The scream cut off abruptly.
The steward’s head flew high into the air. His headless body stumbled forward two more steps from inertia before crashing to the ground.
Once again, one strike to wound, a second to kill.
In the span of a few breaths, two Stewards from the Netherworld Pavilion, both at the Early Stage of Fourth Grade, lay dead by Fang Han’s sword.
At that moment, the sounds of battle on the field suddenly ceased.
The three Netherworld Pavilion Stewards who were lunging at the Qingxuan Sect Stewards froze in their tracks.
They turned their heads, their gazes falling first on the two corpses in pools of blood, then on the green-robed figure standing with his sword.
In their eyes, that young face now looked like a life-reaping Asura.
"This... How is this possible?"
Steward Yin Zhi muttered, his voice so hoarse it was barely a whisper.
They had heard how terrifying Fang Han was.
He killed Duan Wuya, defeated Meng Xian, and in the end, even their head disciple You Xin died by his sword.
But hearing about it was one thing; seeing it with their own eyes was another entirely.
Two Fourth Grade Stewards couldn’t even survive a single exchange with Fang Han.
Four strikes.
Just four strikes.
Two Stewards, dead.
Such strength was beyond their imagination.
"Retreat!"
Steward Yin Zhi made an instant decision. With a sharp cry, he turned and fled into the distance.
The other two Stewards, as if waking from a dream, also turned and fled. Pushing their Body Techniques to the limit, they scattered in different directions.
They knew that given the strength Fang Han had just displayed, they stood no chance of winning, even if the three of them fought together.
Besides, while the three Qingxuan Sect Stewards were heavily injured, they weren’t completely out of the fight.
To stay meant certain death.
However, would the three Qingxuan Sect Stewards simply let them escape?
"Trying to run?"
The female steward, who looked like a beautiful middle-aged woman, gritted her teeth. Forcing her injured body upright, she unleashed a sword strike.
A sharp wave of Sword Qi shot through the air. Although its power was greatly diminished due to her injuries, it was still enough to stall Steward Yin Zhi for an instant.
That single instant was all the time Fang Han needed.
"WHOOSH—!"
Executing the Wind and Cloud Escape at full power, Fang Han’s figure transformed into a pale cyan streak of light.
His speed was astonishing, leaving only a distorted afterimage in the air.
In a flash, he was behind Steward Yin Zhi.
Steward Yin Zhi felt the lethal sharpness rapidly closing in from behind, and his face went deathly pale.
He desperately tried to turn and fight back, but while the female steward’s Sword Qi hadn’t wounded him, it had caused him to falter for a split second, costing him the initiative.
In that moment of hesitation, the Cloud Splitting Sword arrived.
"PFFT—"
A flash of sword light.
It pierced through his back, the tip emerging from his chest.
Steward Yin Zhi’s charging figure froze. He looked down at the bloody sword tip protruding from his chest.
He opened his mouth to speak, but only coughed up a mouthful of blood.
The next moment, Fang Han withdrew his sword.
The body collapsed to the ground.
A one-strike kill.
"SWISH!"
Without a moment’s pause, Fang Han moved again.
This time, he shot toward the steward fleeing in another direction.
That steward had already fled several dozen yards. Hearing the sound of rushing wind behind him, he glanced back and saw the green-robed figure closing in at a terrifying speed.
He was scared out of his wits, desperately channeling his Inner Qi to push his speed to the absolute limit.
It was useless.
Fang Han’s speed was far greater than his.
In just a few breaths, the green-robed figure was right behind him.
"AHH—"
The steward knew he couldn’t escape. With a ferocious roar, he turned and threw a palm strike.
A jet-black Palm Seal, carrying a chilling wind, shot straight for Fang Han’s face.
Fang Han didn’t even bother to dodge.
He slashed out with the Cloud Splitting Sword.
"PFFT—"
The sword light flashed, and the jet-black Palm Seal was cleaved in two as if it were made of paper, dissipating into nothing.
The Sword Momentum continued unabated, slicing across the steward’s neck.
Blood sprayed.
The steward’s head flew high. His headless body stumbled forward a few more steps on inertia before crashing to the ground.
Another Netherworld Pavilion Steward was dead.
Had he not been so fixated on fleeing, he might have lasted longer against Fang Han. Of course, "longer" meant surviving one more attack, at best.
Sheathing his sword, Fang Han glanced in the final direction. "He’s certainly fast."
There, the last steward had already fled several dozen yards, his figure flickering rapidly between the trees, about to disappear from view.
"SWISH!"
With a tap of his toes, Fang Han was in motion again.
Unleashing the Wind and Cloud Escape at full power, he moved as fast as a cyan bolt of lightning.
In just a few breaths, he was already behind the steward.
Hearing the wind rush behind him, the steward glanced back to see the green-robed figure just a few feet away.
A look of despair flashed in his eyes, but it also ignited a final spark of defiance.
"I’ll take you with me!"
He roared, spinning around and thrusting out both palms.
Two jet-black Palm Seals, one after the other, shot straight at Fang Han.
Without breaking stride, Fang Han swung the Cloud Splitting Sword twice.
The first strike shattered the first Palm Seal.
The second strike shattered the second Palm Seal, its Sword Momentum continuing on toward the steward’s heart.
The steward tried desperately to dodge, but Fang Han’s sword was too fast.
So fast that before he could even move, the tip of the blade had pierced his heart.
"PFFT—!"
The sword pierced through his chest and out his back.
The steward looked down at the bloody sword tip protruding from his chest as the light in his eyes rapidly faded.