Pursuit

The two groups of people on the roof seemed to have reached a consensus, both focusing their gazes on Fang Xuan.

Fang Xuan continued to hold his sword, meeting their eyes without any hint of evasion.

Were they coming for him?

He believed he had been very low-key since his transmigration. Aside from offending Shen Qingqing and that fat guy Fei Wu, he shouldn't have any other enemies.

As a minor character, logically, he shouldn't have attracted this level of pursuit just after joining the sect.

Then, those who knew him and had a motive to strike... Shen Qingqing?

Along with the potential power behind her, their target should be both him and Ning Xian.

What about those other Foundation Establishment cultivators in mismatched clothes whose auras were somewhat unstable?

Had Fei Wu sent them? Fang Xuan felt that was unlikely.

Fei Wu looked stupid, but he was still a direct disciple. Even if he wanted revenge, he wouldn't use such a crude and direct method that could easily be traced by the sect.

Did he think everyone could be as reckless as Shen Qingqing, who had Shen Chen to clean up her messes?

"Swoosh! Swoosh!"

Two faint sounds of breaking air rang out from the back of the black-robed group. Two poison needles, glinting with a ghostly blue light, shot silently toward Fang Xuan’s face and chest.

They were testing the waters first.

Fang Xuan’s gaze didn't even flicker. He simply raised his left hand, which held the scabbard, in a seemingly casual motion.

"Cling! Cling!"

With two soft sounds, the poison needles struck the scabbard precisely, sending off two sparks before falling weakly to the ground.

"Do it!" a low voice, seemingly the leader of the black-robed men, barked.

"Boom!"

The spiritual energy of seven or eight black-robed men erupted simultaneously. Moving in unison, they actually formed a simple combined attack formation, causing the roof tiles beneath their feet to shatter and fly.

Ignoring the ragtag cultivators, they dove from the roof like arrows released from a bow, heading straight for Fang Xuan and Ning Xian!

They were well-trained, definitely not ordinary rogue cultivators or a temporary mob.

The black-robed man in the lead held a long saber. A crimson flame ignited on the blade as he swung a horizontal slash mid-air with enough force to split mountains and crush stone.

Fang Xuan remained where he stood. Raising the scabbard in his left hand, he didn't dodge or retreat, meeting the imposing blade head-on.

"Clang—!!!"

A deafening sound of clashing metal rang out.

The black-robed man only felt a massive recoil force travel up the hilt of his saber.

His tiger’s mouth instantly split open, his entire arm went numb with sharp pain, and the long saber almost flew from his grip!

What horrified him even more was that the opponent’s scabbard remained perfectly still, without even a white mark left on it.

As for Fang Xuan, the bluestone slab beneath his feet only sank by half an inch.

"Is that it?" Fang Xuan said calmly.

He used no flashy moves, only a simple diagonal strike.

The sword emerged silently.

The pitch-black blade seemed to merge into the night, carving a cold arc through the air.

"Puchi!"

The saber-wielding man felt a sudden chill at his waist. Before the pain could even register, his vision began to spin.

Looking down, he was horrified to see his upper body separating from his lower body, blood gushing out like a fountain.

Bisected with a single strike.

By the time the corpse hit the ground, the attacks from the other black-robed men had just barely arrived.

However, the sight of their companion being killed instantly caused an inevitable hesitation in their movements.

Fang Xuan flicked his wrist. The black sword transitioned from a strike into a sweep, the tip trembling as a condensed, pale-blue sword qi suddenly flew from the blade.

The Qingyun Sword Scripture he had just learned was quite smooth to use.

The sword qi was incredibly fast, like a bolt of green lightning. It instantly struck the chest of a black-robed man on the left who was lunging forward with his sword.

The man hurriedly raised his sword to block, but his high-quality blade was snapped clean through by the sword qi.

The remaining sword qi lost none of its momentum, slamming hard into his protective spiritual qi and sending him flying back as he coughed up blood.

'Half-Step Void Core...'

Ning Xian, who had been observing intently, saw her cold expression grow even more solemn.

It was as she suspected; he had hidden his strength.

However, what he performed was indeed the most authentic Qingyun Sword Scripture, without any trace of other family cultivation methods.

She couldn't see anything more for now.

The remaining five or six black-robed men saw their assault fail. They had lost two people in an instant—one dead, one heavily injured.

They finally realized how troublesome this young man was.

They exchanged glances, and a desire to retreat flashed in their eyes.

"Withdraw!" the man who seemed to be the leader shouted decisively. He turned and fled without hesitation.

Seeing this, the other black-robed men also used various means to escape. Some dove into the smoke, while others smashed through the walls of nearby houses, scattering in all directions.

Fang Xuan frowned, but he didn't pursue them immediately.

Instead, his figure blurred, appearing in front of the heavily injured man who hadn't had time to escape.

He reached out with his left hand to grab the man’s neck, intending to take a prisoner.

A flash of ruthlessness appeared in the man’s eyes, and he bit down hard on his back molar.

His eyes instantly bulged, his face turned a bruised purple-black, and after two twitches, his body slumped to the ground, his aura completely gone.

Suicide by poison! A death soldier...

Fang Xuan withdrew his hand, his gaze turning cold.

Well-trained, disciplined, retreating upon defeat, and committing suicide when captured... This style didn't seem like something a common worldly force could easily command.

That only left the people sent by Shen Chen...

While his attention was drawn by the black-robed men, the shabbily-dressed cultivators who had been ignored did not take the chance to flee or stay on the sidelines.

Instead, they simultaneously shifted their targets, lunging toward Fang Xuan with madness.

Their fighting style was completely different from the black-robed men—chaotic, almost savage, a desperate approach of trading injuries for injuries and lives for lives.

One man swung a heavy spiked club, ignoring all defense as he smashed it down toward Fang Xuan’s head.

Another held dual hooks, specializing in attacking the lower body.

Although Fang Xuan was a Half-Step Void Core, facing five or six Foundation Establishment cultivators who completely disregarded their own safety just to deal damage was a bit troublesome for a moment.

Furthermore, he had to worry about protecting Ning Xian behind him.

However, dealing with these minions was only a matter of time.

"What a nuisance." Fang Xuan clicked his tongue. His footsteps shifted as he performed the movement technique from the Qingyun Sword Scripture.

Ning Xian, who had been standing quietly behind him as if she were merely the one being protected, also moved.

She raised her empty hand, forming sword fingers.

She pointed lightly at the cultivator who had lunged the closest from several yards away.

"Puchi!"

The charging cultivator’s body suddenly stiffened. A blood hole appeared in his chest without any warning.

Three more of the ragtag cultivators who were leading the charge or attacking most fiercely either fell to their knees with shattered kneecaps, or had their shoulders pierced and their weapons dropped.

One was even struck directly at his shanzhong acupoint, causing his spiritual energy to backflow as he collapsed, vomiting blood.

The remaining two cultivators were terrified by this sudden attack. Their madness faded slightly, and they turned to flee.

Fang Xuan wasn't about to miss this opportunity. His figure flashed, and the black sword followed them like a shadow.

"Swoosh! Swoosh!"

Two lines of blood appeared almost simultaneously on the back of the fleeing cultivators' necks.

The battle came to a sudden halt.

The alley was now thick with the scent of blood.

More than ten corpses lay scattered across the ground—some in black robes, some in mismatched clothes—amidst severed limbs and broken weapons. It was a mess.

Only two remained alive, knocked unconscious after being heavily injured.

Faint cries of alarm could be heard from the distance, but no one dared approach this slaughterhouse.

Fang Xuan flicked the non-existent blood droplets from his sword and returned it to its scabbard.

He turned to look at Ning Xian with a smile. "Senior Sister, nice finger technique."

Ning Xian slowly lowered her hand. Her face was a shade paler than before, and her breathing was slightly unstable.

Those few moves just now seemed effortless, but they were actually a significant burden on her current body.

She didn't respond to Fang Xuan’s praise. Her gaze swept over the field of corpses, finally landing on the black-robed man who had committed suicide, her cold eyes narrowing slightly.

"It's not safe to stay here," she said, her voice a bit raspy. "Let's leave first."

Fang Xuan nodded and naturally reached out to take the cloth bag she had been clutching. "Senior Sister, let me carry it."

Ning Xian looked at him and let go of her hand.