On the seventh day, the Fang Residence faced its most oppressive day since its establishment. Although most people dismissed the threat of annihilation with disdain, the entire residence grew tense as dusk fell.
The night was like water, and the cold wind whistled through the silent Southern Hills City, which was once bustling with activity, interrupted only by the occasional bark of dogs.
Fang Wang sat on the roof's edge, his hand on a treasured sword. This was a weapon that Li Jiu had spent three days acquiring, capable of cutting through iron as if it were mud, truly a divine weapon.
His gaze settled on a figure perched on another roof in the distance: his cousin, Fang Hanyu.
Fang Hanyu stood upright with his sword in his arms, his head slightly bowed as if he were dozing. The cold wind tousled his long hair and robe, giving him the air of a heroic swordsman poised to ascend to the highest peak.
"His martial skills are indeed impressive, truly amongst the top tier of the martial world, and not just a newcomer to this realm—truly a martial arts prodigy," Fang Wang inwardly praised.
In the martial world, martial artists classified their realms from low to high as Unranked, Third-rate, Second-rate, First-rate, Pinnacle, and the legendary Martial Mythical Realm. There were no Martial Mythic practitioners in the current age. Pinnacle experts were the mainstay of major sects, rarely venturing into the jianghu, while First-rate masters were enough to traverse the land unchallenged.
Fang Wang had achieved the Martial Mythical Realm at the age of sixteen, which should have made him a legend of his time, but he had encountered a dimensionally transcendent strike from the Cultivation World.
Confronted with the imminent arrival of cultivators, Fang Wang was neither fearful nor panicked but instead felt a surging enthusiasm within him.
Having practiced martial arts for four years, he had yet to kill an enemy. Even in his sparring matches, he wore a mask to challenge those experts, always stopping at the point of contact.
His reliance lay in his martial arts mastery and the Great Perfection of the Sword Control Technique, giving him the confidence to challenge the lowest echelons of the Cultivation World. Moreover, with the reincarnated Zhou Xue of the Fang Residence, he believed that Zhou Xue, reborn as an Immortal Venerable, must have extraordinary methods up her sleeve, for she knew well the gap between cultivators and mortals.
The night grew deeper, and the croaking of frogs echoed frequently from the courtyards. House servants patrolled everywhere, especially the streets surrounding the Fang Residence, where even the official soldiers had been alerted and came to keep vigil.
Zhou Xue sat at a stone table in the courtyard, wiping silver darts in her hands. She appeared cold, her gaze chillier than the moonlight. In the reflection of the blade, a dark aura seemed to rise in her eyes.
Elsewhere.
On the eastern wall of Southern Hills City, figures leaped up like soaring eagles or skimmed over waves like geese, slipping into the city.
The last figure stood atop the wall, overlooking the vast Southern Hills City. His green robe fluttered, his waist was slender, and his shoulders broad. His long hair was casually tied with cloth, and although he appeared to be in his early forties and carried a horsetail whisk that made him look like a Taoist, his eyes gleamed with the chill of a venomous snake.
"Worthy of being one of Grand Qi's most prosperous cities in the South, it will surely revive the Soul Burning Banner."
The Qingyi Daoist murmured to himself with a smile curling his lips and a hint of ruthlessness in his tone. He then leaped up, vanishing into the vast night.
...
In the great hall of the Fang Residence, the lanterns were brightly lit. The residence's gentlemen and ladies were all present, with the master of the house, Fang Meng, taking the seat of honor.
Near seventy, Fang Meng's white hair marked his venerable years. He sat like an aging lion, propping himself on his cane, his gaze sharp and calm as he looked out into the night.
"It's midnight, and no bandits have attacked. It really was a false alarm."
"I knew it, who would take the words of two children seriously?"
"Fang Wang is usually so smart, how could he believe such rumors? The Fang Residence is the Duke's Mansion; those who dare to intrude will lose their heads."
"Quiet down. What do you women know? It's not even daybreak yet; we can't let our guard down!"
"Father, the uneasiness in my heart is only growing stronger."
The gentlemen were Fang Wang's uncles, and their expressions were grave, while some ladies feigned ease in an attempt to lighten the mood.
Fang Zhen's words moved his brothers, as he had military experience, having climbed out from a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood. His sense of danger was far superior to that of the others.
Fang Meng grunted, "I've spent my life on the battlefield, and now I've retired to a simple life, having surrendered military power. But that doesn't mean just anyone can provoke me. Whoever dares come will die, and this won't end here!"
His anger was palpable. Across the vast lands of Grand Qi, who would dare target a Fang State Duke's Mansion so recklessly?
And who had the capability?
Fang Meng had his suspicions but did not voice them.
Suddenly!
"Ah—"
A scream from the east, a maid's voice filled with terror.
Fang Shi, Fang Wang's eldest uncle, immediately rushed out, disappearing from everyone's sight within a few strides.
The remaining four gentlemen of the Fang Residence—Fang Zhe, Fang Jin, Fang Zhen, and Fang Yin—quickly stepped outside the main door, looking around. Their wives, although startled, did not panic, merely huddling together, shivering.
Fang Meng coughed several times and slowly stood up with the assistance of his wife.
Screams, shouts of killing, and the sounds of clashing swords soon rose from all corners of the Fang Residence.
Perched on the eaves, Fang Wang saw mysterious black-clothed figures infiltrating the Fang Residence from all directions. The number of enemies was greater than he had imagined. He rushed toward the one with the fastest movements.
At the same time, Fang Hanyu also sprang into action, while Zhou Xue still sat patiently by the stone table.
Clack!
A black-clothed person vaulted over the courtyard wall and landed on the ground, a knife in his right hand and his face covered with a black cloth, revealing only his eyes. His gaze turned to three maids in the courtyard, who, upon seeing him, screamed in fear and ran towards the house.
Without a word, the black-clothed person dashed toward them.
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Whoosh—
A sound of breaking through the air came, slicing through the night sky, causing the black-clothed person to stop abruptly. Behind him, a pebble fell onto the wall at the corner, creating a thumb-sized indentation before hitting the ground. Bathed in moonlight, the bloodstain on the pebble appeared black.
The black-clothed person then fell backward, his head hitting the ground hard, eyes wide open in death, unseeing. His forehead had been pierced by a bloody hole, a sight deeply unsettling.
Within his dilated pupils, the reflection of Fang Wang flashed by.
Moving swiftly along the courtyard wall, Fang Wang occasionally threw a pebble, which he had prepared in advance. Each stone could easily take the life of a black-clothed person wreaking havoc in the Fang Residence.
Fang Wang changed directions now and then, aiming wherever the black-clothed persons appeared, with none able to withstand a single strike from him.
The Fang Residence spanned a vast area, akin to a city within a city. With the black-clothed assailants scattered about, Fang Wang could not eliminate them all quickly; as he moved, he also kept watch on the distance.
Zhou Xue had mentioned that besides the cultivator, there were six top-tier experts from the Imperial City invading this time. Fang Residence did not have any top-tier experts; even with thousands of house servants and soldiers' assistance, it was still difficult to kill six top-tier experts.
Fang Wang intended to deal with the six top-tier experts first, then confront the cultivator, to minimize the casualties of the Fang Residence as much as possible.
Suddenly, Fang Wang saw a powerful surge of energy in one direction, which even caused the collapse of a loft. Without hesitation, he turned and rushed over.
Clang!
Blade met sword, and Fang Hanyu was sent staggering backward, dragging two long trails on the ground with the tips of his feet. He bent forward sharply, planting the sheath of his sword into the ground, then half-knelt, blood pouring unstoppably from his mouth.
He had been defeated in the initial clash!
Fang Hanyu's long hair was slightly disheveled, and as he struggled to raise his eyes, his gaze was filled with shock and horror. Gritting his teeth, he spit out two words, "Top-tier!"
Under the night sky, amidst the chilly wind, the black-clothed person standing before Fang Hanyu was holding a fine iron long saber. Unlike the others, he wore a bronze mask that revealed only his eye and nose area.
The masked man looked down at Fang Hanyu with cold indifference and snorted, "To have reached such a level of skill at a young age, the Fang Residence has indeed produced a genius. Alas, tonight you shall meet an untimely end."
He lifted the long saber in his right hand, and chilling frost seemed to emanate from the blade.
Fang Hanyu looked on stubbornly unwilling to accept his fate. Before this night, he had witnessed a top-tier expert—it was their sect leader, a grandmaster famous throughout Grand Qi's martial community. The sect leader had once given him guidance, deepening his understanding of the vast gulf between a first-rate expert and a top-tier one.
Despair encroached upon his heart; although Fang Residence was the Duke's Mansion founded by a military family, it housed no top-tier expert. His eldest uncle, Fang Shi, was strong, but only at the pinnacle of the first-rate.
"Who exactly are you? Who is pulling the strings behind the scenes?"
Fang Hanyu asked in a heavy voice, struggling to stand up, his hand gripping the treasured sword trembling.
Having only just crossed swords, his internal organs had been severely injured by the enemy's True Qi; despite this, he refused to shrink back because this was his home.
The masked man stepped forward, the saber's glint reflecting the frosty light, flickering beside the rubble.
"What need has a dying man for the truth? All the affairs of the mortal realm shall soon be of no concern to you,"
the masked man said coldly. He lifted the long saber at an angle, the chilling energy rising from the blade like fog, blurring his silhouette.
Fang Hanyu tossed aside his sword sheath and then wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth with his hand, assuming a sword posture, ready for a do-or-die battle.
Even if he couldn't kill the opponent, he aimed to wound him and buy more time for the Fang Residence.
Just then,
the masked man suddenly halted his advance. As Fang Hanyu puzzled and wondered, a voice—both familiar and strange—came from behind him:
"You're right, but have you ever considered that you might be the dying one?"
Fang Hanyu instinctively turned his head, his peripheral vision just catching a figure that swept past him like a startled swan.
It was Fang Wang!
He approached swiftly with Shadowless Step, leaving a trail of afterimages, positioning himself between Fang Hanyu and the masked man.
Fang Wang, clad in a closely-fitted white garment, had grown taller, his figure now tall and handsome, though his face still bore a hint of boyishness. His expression held a determination not found in ordinary youths.
The masked man's gaze fell upon the sword sheath held in Fang Wang's right hand, and he narrowed his eyes, saying, "Excellent footwork. You are indeed extraordinary for your age, making the person behind you seem quite ordinary by comparison."
Fang Hanyu, upon hearing these words, wasn't inclined to ponder them; he merely gazed at Fang Wang's back in a daze.
He certainly remembered this younger cousin, but having not seen each other for years and with the imminent threat of their family's destruction, he had not had the chance to catch up with Fang Wang after returning.
"That footwork just now... has he learned martial arts, too?"
Fang Hanyu thought in surprise. After his return, he had inquired about Fang Wang's experiences from their father. His younger brother had always been at the Fang Residence, so where did he learn such high-level footwork?
Fang Wang stared at the masked man and suddenly drew his treasured sword. As soon as the blade left the sheath, the pupil of the masked man sharply dilated.
In his eyes, a sword grew larger and larger; he reflexively raised his saber.
Splurch—
Blood splattered as Fang Wang appeared behind the masked man, sword raised in his right hand, pointing obliquely at the full moon. He tilted his head slightly upward, not even looking back as he said softly, "You are no more than ordinary in my eyes."
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