Chapter 592 - 588: Who Are You?
Chapter 592: Chapter 588: Who Are You?
Fang Han leaped from the White Tiger’s back, landing lightly on the main road.
He held the Cloud Splitting Sword with its tip angled toward the ground. Empowered by his Inner Qi, the dark cyan blade swirled with a reserved brilliance.
It wasn’t blinding, yet no one dared to look at it directly.
Lei Zheng’s gaze fell upon Fang Han, sizing him up before glancing at the sword. His voice was hoarse as he spoke:
"Such power... Who in the world are you?"
"Fang Han of the Qingxuan Sect."
Fang Han’s voice wasn’t loud, but it carried clearly down the empty road.
In that instant, Lei Zheng’s pupils contracted violently.
"You’re Fang Han? Impossible! How could you possess this level of power?"
Lei Zheng gritted his teeth, his voice tinged with an irrepressible mix of fury and fear.
According to the records, Fang Han was only twenty-one years old. How could he possibly be this strong?
’If Fang Han is already this powerful, have I just been wasting my life all these years?’
He would rather believe that the person before him was some old monster who merely looked young but was actually older than himself.
"You are simply ignorant."
Fang Han raised the Cloud Splitting Sword in his hand.
"I didn’t want any trouble, but since you’re courting death, you have no one to blame but yourselves."
His voice was calm, as if he were stating a simple, everyday fact.
Before his voice had faded, he moved—
SWOOSH!
A faint cyan afterimage suddenly stretched across the main road.
He was so fast that he surpassed the visual tracking limits of a Late-stage First Grade Martial Artist like Lei Zheng, leaving only a blurry trail in the air.
Alarm bells screamed in Lei Zheng’s mind. He reacted on pure instinct, thrusting both fists forward and unleashing a torrent of blue Fist Gang like a raging wave.
However, empowered by the Great Success stage of the Wind God Step, the cyan figure merely flickered and slipped silently through a gap in his Fist Gang.
A flash of sword light.
SHHNK!
The outer part of Lei Zheng’s right arm, along with his robe and the Soft Armor beneath it, split open silently. A wound an inch deep appeared from nowhere, and blood instantly seeped out.
He hadn’t even seen how Fang Han had struck. He only felt a cold sensation on his arm, followed immediately by a sharp pain.
"Ugh!"
Lei Zheng grunted, staggering half a step to the side before steadying himself.
He glanced down at the bleeding wound on his arm, then looked up at the green-robed figure standing with a sword several dozen feet away. The terror in his eyes could no longer be concealed—
’Late Stage of First Grade! I’m a Late-stage First Grade Martial Artist! And yet, I couldn’t even dodge a single strike from this kid?’
’How is this possible?’
Fang Han gave Lei Zheng no time to breathe.
The second strike arrived.
This strike was faster, fiercer, and more cunning than the last.
The sword light was like a bolt of cyan silk, tracing a barely perceptible arc through the afternoon sun, aimed straight for Lei Zheng’s throat.
Lei Zheng clenched his jaw and threw out both fists, his blue Fist Gang clashing violently with the cyan sword light.
But he still couldn’t block it.
CLANG!
The Fist Gang was torn asunder the moment it touched the sword light. Lei Zheng only had time to turn his body slightly as the light grazed past his left side.
It sliced through his Soft Armor, leaving a wound on his ribs so deep the bone was visible.
Blood immediately soaked his dark blue Elder Robe. The immense force from the sword sent him stumbling back seven or eight steps.
Each step he took left a deep footprint on the road, the ground around it cracking and splintering.
"Elder!"
The young disciple and the Steward from the Thunderlight Pavilion cried out in alarm, their faces turning deathly pale.
They wanted to rush forward but knew that with their strength, they would be of no help at all. The oppressive aura emanating from the green-robed figure with the sword was simply too terrifying.
Lei Zheng regained his footing, gasping for air. The wound on his side oozed blood with every ragged breath.
He looked up at Fang Han, his sharp, hawk-like eyes now filled with nothing but profound horror—
’If he were just some old monster who looked young, that would be one thing.’
’But if he really is *the* Fang Han, then this is too frightening. To have such terrifying power in his twenties...’
"This... How is this possible...?"
Lei Zheng’s voice was hoarse and dry, trembling with disbelief.
He didn’t get to finish his sentence, because Fang Han’s third strike had already arrived.
For this strike, Fang Han didn’t even use a Step Technique. He simply thrust his sword forward in an unremarkable manner.
But as the sword’s edge advanced, a fine, silent fissure split the air. The crack lingered, un-dissipating, like a rift in space itself.
An aura of sharpness far surpassing anything before erupted forth.
Lei Zheng’s pupils shrank to the size of pinpricks.
He desperately channeled the Inner Qi in his body, the blue light on his fists flaring like a blazing fire as he attempted a final resistance—but it was useless.
The sword light swept past.
PTHH!
A thin line of blood suddenly appeared on Lei Zheng’s throat, then widened.
He opened his mouth, trying to say something, but only managed a few garbled, hissing sounds, like air leaking from a puncture.
The light in his sharp, hawk-like eyes faded rapidly, eventually turning into a vacant, ashen gray.
His body swayed, then pitched forward stiffly, hitting the dusty road with a dull thud.
Fang Han sheathed his sword, his gaze turning to the young disciple and the Steward.
The young disciple and the Steward were already pale with fright.
Elder Lei Zheng, a Late-stage First Grade Martial Artist, had been slain in just a few moves by this young man who looked to be in his early twenties—
’What kind of monster is this?’
The Steward was the first to react. He yanked hard on the reins, let out a sharp cry, and the giant silver-gray wolf beneath him spun around, about to flee for its life down the road!
"You think you can escape?"
Fang Han’s voice was level, yet it carried an unquestionable authority.
He raised his right hand and swung the Cloud Splitting Sword through the air.
A condensed stream of cyan Sword Qi shot from the blade. It was astonishingly fast, instantly catching up to the accelerating silver-gray wolf.
PTHH!
The giant wolf’s massive body stiffened. It stumbled forward a few more steps from momentum, and then a line of blood appeared, stretching from its left shoulder to its right flank.
In the next moment, its enormous body, along with the Thunderlight Pavilion Steward and young disciple on its back, silently split into two pieces.
Blood and entrails splattered across the ground, glistening a shocking dark red in the afternoon light.
The main road fell into a dead silence.
Atop the White Tiger, Luo Yuntian’s hand, which had been gripping his sword, was frozen in mid-air, unwilling to lower.
He stared at Fang Han’s back, a hint of undisguised shock in his usually calm eyes—
’I knew Fang Han was strong, but I never imagined he was *this* strong.’
Slaying a Late-stage First Grade Martial Artist in a few moves, and killing a First-Grade Demon Wolf with a casual swing of his sword.
’He’s even stronger than the rumors say. Much stronger.’
The Qingxuan Sect Steward stood frozen in place. His Adam’s apple bobbed, but when he tried to speak, he found his throat was too dry to make a sound.
He was a man of the world, someone who had seen his share of storms.
But the scene just now—killing a Late-stage First Grade Martial Artist in four moves and then casually dispatching a First-Grade Demon with another—had left his mind struggling to keep up.
’The most talented disciple the Qingxuan Sect has seen in centuries... to think he’s this powerful!’
’It’s a good thing Fang Han has this kind of strength. Otherwise, our odds of survival today would have been slim.’
Fang Han sheathed his sword and swept his gaze over the three corpses on the ground and the silver-gray wolf that had been sliced in two.
He crouched down and began to search them.
He started with Lei Zheng’s body.
From inside his robes, he pulled out a bulging brocade bag. Untying the drawstring, he found a thick stack of silver notes, all large-denomination bills of one hundred thousand silver taels. A rough count put the total at about ten million silver taels.
Normally, one wouldn’t carry so much money. He must have brought this amount because he was on a long journey.
Searching again, he found several Jade Bottles.
Inside the Jade Bottles were Elixirs for healing and restoring Inner Qi, and their Grade was not low.
Finally, there was the damaged Soft Armor, its value now greatly diminished.
The young disciple was also quite well-off.
A hidden pouch was sewn into his undergarments. Inside were over five million silver taels in silver notes, plus three bottles of Elixirs to aid in Cultivation. Though their quality was inferior to a Celestial Essence Pill, they were comparable to an Earth Essence Pill.
His longsword, inlaid with blue Gemstones, was slightly heavy to the touch. The blade shimmered with a cold light; it was a Top Grade among Low Grade Magical Soldiers.
The Steward had the least wealth, but he still had over two hundred thousand silver taels in silver notes and a few bottles of Elixirs.
Fang Han gathered the silver notes, Elixirs, and the weapon, placing them in a cloth bag he took from one of the bodies, and made a silent calculation.
Including the value of the silver notes if exchanged for gold and silver, the total haul would be around twenty million silver taels.
’It’s a shame there are outsiders present.’
Fang Han glanced at the corpse of the silver-gray giant wolf.
If he could "recharge" the corpse of this Demon Wolf—whose strength was comparable to a First Grade Martial Artist—into his system panel, he could gain at least another few million silver taels in wealth.
But with Luo Yuntian and the Steward standing nearby, he couldn’t very well use his "recharge" ability in front of them.
"Senior Brother Fang."
Luo Yuntian leaped down from the White Tiger’s back and walked over. He glanced at the bodies on the ground, his voice filled with a sigh of admiration.
"I never realized the gap between us had grown so large."
"Don’t sell yourself short. You’re already outstanding among your peers!"
Fang Han stood up, dusted off his hands, and turned to look at the corpse of the silver-gray giant wolf.
"The meat from this Demon Wolf can serve as food for the White Tiger."
"I’ll handle it. You two True Inheritors can wait."
The Qingxuan Sect Steward hurried forward, volunteering for the task.
He worked quickly, and in no time, he had carved off several hundred pounds of bloody meat and carried it over to the White Tiger.
The White Tiger had already caught the scent of blood. A low growl rumbled in its throat as it began to tear into the meat with great bites.
He then cut off several thousand more pounds of meat, tied it to the White Tiger’s back, and abandoned the rest of the wolf carcass.
The White Tiger ate its fill and was full of vigor.
The three of them leaped back onto the tiger’s back. The Steward gave a light flick of the reins, and the White Tiger set off at a gallop, continuing north along the main road.
...
「A few days later.」
The scenery on both sides of the main road gradually became familiar.
The rolling hills, the meandering streams, the distant silhouette of a city looming in the morning mist—
It all felt familiar to Fang Han.
Because this was Wangxi County, a place he had visited before.
’The Secret Realm should be accessible again!’
Fang Han sat inside the carriage, a thought stirring in his mind as he gazed out the window at the familiar landscape.
Holding the "key" allowed one entry into the Secret Realm each year. Now that it was a new year, he should be able to enter again.