Chapter 510 - 506: The Chase
Chapter 510: Chapter 506: The Chase
After lunch, Fang Han paid the bill, got up, and went downstairs.
The streets of Songqiao City were far more bustling than those of Liangshui City. The afternoon sun cast a faint halo of light upon the bluestone pavement.
Shops lined both sides of the street: silk boutiques, apothecaries, weaponsmiths... Banners and signs fluttered in the wind while shopkeeps stood at their doors, their hawking cries rising and falling in succession.
Fang Han navigated the streets and alleys, heading for the city gate.
Hundreds of yards behind him, Meng Zhao and a few disciples, including Zhao Jun, trailed him from a distance.
They didn’t get too close, simply hanging back to ensure Fang Han didn’t slip from their sight.
SWISH!
Once outside the city gates, Fang Han used his Body Technique and headed west.
’Hm?’
He hadn’t gone far before he couldn’t help but frown.
Inside the city, with the constant flow of people, the scents had been too muddled for him to notice anyone tailing him.
But now that he was outside the walls, with his "Thousand-Mile Soul Lock" constantly active, he immediately sensed he was being followed.
VMMMM—
He focused his "Thousand-Mile Soul Lock" with greater precision, carefully distinguishing the auras.
One. Two. Three. Four.
Four people in total.
Three of the auras were merely at the Middle Three Grades level and were nothing to worry about, but the fourth—
Fang Han’s gaze hardened slightly.
That aura was sinister and heavy. It carried the metallic, rusty stench of one long accustomed to slaughter, as well as a faint, searing heat.
It was like a furnace covered in a thin layer of ash—seemingly calm, but containing astonishing heat within.
This aura felt faintly familiar; he had clearly encountered it before.
He searched his memory and recalled it. It belonged to none other than Meng Zhao, the First-Grade Elder of the Red Flame Sect.
’How could he be here?’
Fang Han’s mind raced.
Meng Zhao was an Elder of the Red Flame Sect in Donglu County. Why would he show up in the neighboring Songquan County?
Normally, the powers of each county had a tacit understanding. A First Grade Martial Artist like Meng Zhao, whose presence could easily alert the powers of another county, wouldn’t show up in a different territory so casually.
’Could the Red Flame Sect be plotting some secret operation in Songquan County?’
’This is not the time to be thinking about that!’
Fang Han took a deep breath, suppressing the shock and suspicion in his heart.
Meng Zhao was a First Grade Martial Artist. Even though Fang Han’s own combat power was now comparable to a First Grade Martial Artist, he had absolutely no desire to fight Meng Zhao.
Especially since Meng Zhao had help.
SWOOSH—
Fang Han made a snap decision.
He activated his Wind God Step without reservation, and his figure suddenly accelerated.
Unleashing his Grandmaster-level Body Technique at the Minor Achievement Realm, his speed became astonishing, and the scenery on both sides instantly blurred into streaks of color.
He didn’t look back, simply pushing his speed to the absolute limit, streaking forward like a bolt of cyan lightning.
Behind Fang Han, Meng Zhao and his three disciples were still trailing him from a distance.
He had planned to wait until Fang Han reached a more secluded area before making his move, to avoid being spotted by local powers and causing complications. But he hadn’t expected Fang Han to suddenly speed up.
’I’ve been discovered?’
Meng Zhao frowned. A flicker of surprise crossed his face, which then twisted into a cold smirk.
"That kid has spotted us! I’ll go after him first. You guys follow behind!"
The moment the words left his mouth, his figure shot forward.
Unleashing the full speed of a First Grade Martial Artist, he transformed into a streak of crimson light, hurtling in pursuit of the cyan shadow that was pulling further and further away.
The three disciples behind him hurriedly activated their own Body Techniques to keep up, but their speed was no match for Meng Zhao’s. In just a few moments, they were left far behind.
SWISH!
Fang Han raced through the rolling hills, his figure leaving a faint cyan afterimage, moving so fast he almost seemed to merge with the afternoon wind.
SWISH!
Meng Zhao followed close behind, his expression grim.
He pushed the vast Inner Qi of a First Grade Martial Artist to its absolute limit, refusing to let Fang Han’s figure out of his sight.
’I can’t shake him. If this keeps up, the situation will turn dire!’
After nearly an hour of this chase, Fang Han’s brow furrowed ever deeper.
After reaching the Minor Achievement Realm in the Wind God Step, his speed was no less than that of Meng Zhao, a First Grade Martial Artist.
The distance between them remained constant; he neither closed the gap nor fell further behind.
The problem was, although his current speed was no slower than an average First Grade Martial Artist’s, he was still, after all, only a Martial Artist at the Late Stage of Third Grade.
His Inner Qi Amount was far less abundant than a First Grade Martial Artist’s. If the chase continued like this, he would inevitably be the first to run out of Inner Qi.
’Should I use the Divine Speed Jade Talisman?’
Fang Han considered using the Divine Speed Jade Talisman given to him by the Sect.
Once used, it would grant him a short burst of speed far surpassing a First Grade Martial Artist, allowing him to easily shake off Meng Zhao.
But that Jade Talisman was personally crafted by the Supreme Elder and was exceptionally precious.
His combat power was already comparable to a First Grade Martial Artist; in terms of strength, he wasn’t necessarily weaker than Meng Zhao.
To use such a precious item just because he was being chased by a First Grade Martial Artist like Meng Zhao would be too much of a waste.
’If I can’t escape, then I won’t run anymore.’
A cold light gleamed in Fang Han’s eyes as he abruptly stopped in his tracks.
His feet plowed two shallow furrows into the main road, his cyan robes whipping loudly in the wind kicked up by his sudden stop.
He turned, his right hand resting on the hilt of his Cloud Splitting Sword, and watched with a calm gaze as Meng Zhao closed in.
Meng Zhao stopped about a hundred feet from Fang Han, his sharp eyes fixed on him.
Seeing that Fang Han was no longer fleeing and had instead taken a battle stance, the corners of his mouth twitched, forming a cold, cruel arc.
"What, you finally realize you can’t run?"
His voice wasn’t loud, but it carried an air of condescending certainty.
SHING—!
Fang Han didn’t speak.
The Cloud Splitting Sword left its scabbard, its dark cyan blade shimmering with a subdued brilliance in the afternoon sun.
He took the initiative, launching the first attack against Meng Zhao.
"You think that just because you killed a grievously injured Xue Yuanlang who’d lost an arm, you can actually contend with a First Grade Martial Artist?"
Seeing Fang Han attack first, Meng Zhao felt greatly provoked and spoke in a mocking tone.
"Today, I’ll make you understand the true gap between a Third Grade and a First Grade."
His crimson longsword left its sheath. On its blade, searing Sword Qi pulsed as if it were tangible, and the surrounding air warped slightly from the high temperature, emitting a faint sizzling sound.
He moved.
There was no building up Momentum, no flashy moves—just a single slash.
The crimson sword light tore through the air, astonishingly fast. The searing wind from the blade flattened the surrounding shrubs, and a charred furrow was gouged into the ground.
VMMMM—
Instead of retreating, Fang Han advanced.
The Inner Qi from his Cyan Profound Technique surged through him, and the vast Inner Qi of a Late Stage of Third Grade martial artist poured into his Cloud Splitting Sword without reservation.
He activated the Sky-Splitting Sword Technique at the Mastery Realm, unleashing his Wind Sword Intent without holding back.
The aura was supremely sharp, carrying with it a terrifying Tearing Realm that seemed capable of ripping anything and everything to shreds.
On the body of the Cloud Splitting Sword, a cyan-gold brilliance transformed into an almost transparent, yet tangibly solid, sharpness.
The blade hummed and vibrated as he slashed out with it.
BOOM—
The cyan sword rainbow and the crimson sword light clashed violently in mid-air.
Before the clang of metal on metal could even ring out, the point of impact between the two forces exploded with a visible shockwave.
The ground cracked and shattered. Rubble was thrown into the air, only to be pulverized into dust by the residual Sword Qi.
The surrounding shrubs were uprooted, and several pine trees as thick as bowls on the edge of the forest snapped in half, sending a shower of leaves and splinters into the air.
Fang Han’s figure swayed slightly. He took half a step back, the stone beneath his feet cracking like a spiderweb.
Meng Zhao’s forward momentum was brought to a dead stop, and a faint numbness spread through the hand gripping his sword.
The two faced each other from a distance of about a hundred feet.
’How could this be?’
Shock appeared on Meng Zhao’s face. Fang Han had actually blocked his attack—the attack of a First Grade Martial Artist.
Even though he hadn’t used his full power, it was still not something a mere Third Grade Martial Artist like Fang Han should have been able to withstand.
SWISH!
Fang Han didn’t give Meng Zhao much time to think.
He unleashed his Wind God Step, his body becoming a streak of faint cyan light that instantly crossed the hundred-foot distance between them.
The Cloud Splitting Sword transformed into a sky full of sword-shadows, enveloping Meng Zhao from all directions.
Every slash was astonishingly fast, precise, and vicious, aimed exclusively at vital points like the throat, heart, ribs, and abdomen.
Even more terrifying was the attack contained within the sword light—an attack that was impossible to dodge, impossible to defend against, one that struck directly at the soul.
CLANG CLANG CLANG—
Meng Zhao swung his sword continuously, parrying Fang Han’s attacks.
The disdain on his face had long since vanished, replaced by a deep and growing solemnity.
In the continuous exchange of blows, he had failed to gain any advantage whatsoever.
Fang Han’s combat power was actually no weaker than his, a First Grade Martial Artist.
In just two months, Fang Han, who had previously been quite far from First Grade combat power, now possessed strength comparable to a First Grade Martial Artist and could face one head-on without being at a disadvantage.
Shock was no longer sufficient to describe his current feelings.
Although he knew Fang Han’s Talent was monstrous, he never imagined it would be *this* monstrous.
If Fang Han were given another two years, or five—by then, who would be able to stop him?
’I must kill him now!’
Killing intent blazed in Meng Zhao’s eyes.
He took a deep breath, and the vast Inner Qi of a First Grade Martial Artist began to circulate madly at an unprecedented speed.
Within his meridians, the Fire Attribute Inner Qi roared and surged like molten lava, emitting a faint hissing sound.
The flame-like Sword Qi on his crimson longsword suddenly erupted, growing so intense that it burned and distorted the surrounding air, seemingly swallowing even the light with its high temperature.
"This ends now."
Meng Zhao growled, his Sword Momentum changing abruptly.
He held nothing back, beginning to unleash his full power.
Doing so would reduce his control over his techniques, making them less flexible, lowering his ability to adapt, and increasing his risk of injury.
It was clear he was now willing to risk injury; he was starting to fight for his life.
One could only imagine the pressure Fang Han was putting on him.
WHOOSH WHOOSH WHOOSH—
The crimson longsword transformed into searing bolts of energy, its speed more than thirty percent faster than before. Each thrust carried a terrifying heat capable of melting gold and iron.
Wherever the sword wind passed, the air sizzled as it burned, and charred furrows were gouged into the ground.
SWISH!
Knowing Meng Zhao was now serious, Fang Han’s expression turned grave.
He pushed his Wind God Step to the absolute limit, his figure weaving through the gaps in the crimson sword light like a true wisp of wind—erratic and impossible to pin down.
His Cloud Splitting Sword danced like a wheel, and streams of Cyan Sword Light clashed fiercely with the crimson sword-shadows.
CLANG CLANG CLANG CLANG—!
The sound of metal on metal was as dense as falling rain. Each collision erupted with a deafening roar and a staggering shockwave.
Two completely different forces—sharpness and searing heat—madly intertwined, compressed, and annihilated each other in mid-air.
The resulting aftershocks devastated everything within a radius of several hundred feet.