The sound of blades being unsheathed rang out with a sharp swish.
Several of the Daoist-robed disciples charged at Chen Fan in a flurry.
[Body Refinement Technique (80%)]
Holding his crutch in one hand, Chen Fan easily blocked their attacks.
With just a little extra force, he sent the Daoist-robed disciples flying to the side.
Before Er Biao could even react, he found a crutch pressing against his chest.
Both parties were equally stunned.
Er Biao couldn't believe that the usually silent and unassuming Chen Fan possessed such strength.
Chen Fan, on the other hand, was surprised by how weak Er Biao and the others, despite years of training under immortals, actually were.
It seemed like he barely used any effort to subdue them.
After a moment of stunned silence, Er Biao finally snapped out of it.
He stared at the crutch pressed against his chest, his expression shifting between shock and fury.
Attempting to push it away, he found himself wincing in pain as Chen Fan applied more pressure.
"You cripple, do you even know what you're doing?" Er Biao shouted at Chen Fan in rage.
Chen Fan shook his head calmly.
"I don't know. I only know you were about to kill me."
"You… the consequences of a mortal offending the immortal family…"
Thud!
Before Er Biao could finish his sentence, Chen Fan jabbed the crutch forward.
The sharp end of the crutch struck directly at Er Biao's chest, right over his heart.
The sudden impact sent Er Biao flying backward, crashing heavily to the ground. Blood began to gush from a hole in his chest, soaking his robes.
A thin line of blood trickled from the corner of Er Biao's mouth as he lay on the ground, looking utterly disheveled and in agony.
Though Chen Fan had held back enough not to kill him, the blow caused intense pain, leaving Er Biao trembling and weakened.
The remaining Daoist-robed disciples dared not speak. They hurriedly helped the injured Er Biao to his feet, their gazes dark and venomous as they stared at Chen Fan. Slowly, they retreated.
Wen's father and Wen herself, who had witnessed the entire scene, were left speechless with shock.
It took a long moment before they could fully process what had just happened.
Chen Fan had saved them.
Had it not been for Chen Fan, the aftermath of this incident would have been unimaginable.
They had long heard whispers that not all the immortals flying in the skies above were benevolent.
Some, it was said, specifically targeted virtuous women to use as "cauldrons," draining them of their vitality and throwing their lifeless bodies down mountainsides to be devoured by wild beasts.
Of course, these were only rumors, and Wen couldn't confirm their truth.
But her gratitude toward Chen Fan came from the depths of her heart.
"Thank you, Mr. Chen…"
Pop!
Before she could finish her sentence, Chen Fan uncorked his gourd.
He tipped it over, hoping to pour some wine into his mouth, but nothing came out except for a few murky drops that dripped down from the gourd's rim.
Chen Fan opened his mouth to catch them, savoring the taste with an expression of pure enjoyment.
After smacking his lips and exhaling deeply, his face turned a little despondent as he murmured:
"Out of wine again…"
At the tavern.
Wen refilled Chen Fan's gourd and even brought him an additional bowl of wine.
It was still warm.
"Mr. Chen, have a bowl of wine to chase away the dampness."
"Thank you. By the way, do you have any steamed buns?"
Wen paused for a moment, then replied quickly:
"Yes, yes we do."
Soon, a plate of steamed buns was placed on the table.
Chen Fan broke off a piece and dropped it into the bowl of wine.
As he watched the fluffy white piece of bun sink slowly into the liquid, he said:
"Pack up your things and leave this place."
Though Er Biao and his companions had been easily dealt with, they were still disciples of the immortal family. There was no way they would let this father and daughter off so easily.
The best course of action now was to leave—go as far as possible.
"What about you, Mr. Chen?" Wen asked softly.
"Me?" Chen Fan pointed at himself with a self-deprecating smile.
"A cripple like me? The farthest I've ever traveled is into someone else's trap. I've never even left Windrise Town. Where else can I go?"
As he spoke, Chen Fan placed his suona on the table with a light tap.
A suona and a crutch—these were all he had.
Wen, sensing that Chen Fan had no intention of leaving, hesitated for a moment before gathering her courage to speak:
"Mr. Chen, why don't you come with us?"
"Come with you?"
Chen Fan seemed a little surprised. He opened his mouth to reply but was distracted when he noticed that the bun in his bowl had absorbed all the wine.
Without another word, he lifted the bowl to his lips.
The bitter wine and wine-soaked bun melted in his mouth, sending a comforting warmth coursing through his body.
For a moment, the damp, decaying weather didn't seem so dreary anymore.
His taste buds and stomach both felt fully satisfied.
After setting the bowl down, he let out a loud burp, then reached into his pocket and placed a few copper coins on the table.
He picked up his suona and crutch and packed up the two remaining buns on the table.
After walking a few steps, the innkeeper hurried after him and pressed the coins back into Chen Fan's hand.
"Consider the food and drink on the house."
Chen Fan didn't hesitate to accept the coins, thanking the innkeeper before stepping out of the tavern.
"Mr. Chen, take care!" Wen called after him as she watched his retreating figure.
But her father gently tugged at her sleeve.
"Go pack up your things. If we wait any longer, it'll be too late."
Hearing this, Wen felt little attachment to the town.
There wasn't much here worth staying for.
Her only lingering concern was for the crippled Mr. Chen.
Alone, with no family, relying on his music to make a living, yet living with such carefree ease.
Deep down, Wen admired Chen Fan. Now, that admiration was tinged with a faint, indescribable gratitude.
After leaving the tavern, Chen Fan initially planned to return to the broken temple and take a nap.
But after walking for a while, he realized it might not be a good idea.
Instead, he found a noodle stall by the roadside and sat down.
He pulled out a few copper coins but didn't order any food.
He was already full.
The stall owner recognized Chen Fan and didn't charge him, letting him sit there as he pleased.
It was the rainy season, and the streets were quiet with few passersby.
There were even fewer customers coming for noodles, so Chen Fan's presence didn't impact business.
Occasionally, he would play a tune or two on his suona, which might even attract some customers.
But as he sat there, he dozed off, his body leaning against the counter.
He slept until the middle of the night, when the patter of rain woke him.
Opening his eyes, he found the surrounding area pitch-black. The stalls had all closed, and no one had bothered to wake him.
Chen Fan didn't mind.
But he suddenly remembered that he might have forgotten to shut the temple door before leaving.
His face darkened with concern.
Though there wasn't much worth stealing in the broken temple, it was still his home.
The drizzle continued, and the canopy of the noodle stall offered him some shelter from the rain.
Chen Fan glanced around, wondering when this rainy season would finally end.
The constant rain had cast a shadow over his heart, one he couldn't seem to shake off.
But then he thought to himself, After the rain comes sunshine.
The thought lightened his mood slightly.
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out one of the buns he had taken earlier. It had gone a bit stale, but that didn't affect Chen Fan's appetite.
With a bite of the bun and a sip of wine, he felt a sense of satisfaction.
Suddenly, the sound of footsteps approached, growing louder and nearer.
Chen Fan could clearly hear the splashes as someone walked through puddles, accompanied by the clinking of metal.
He frowned, a little annoyed.
He hadn't even finished his bun yet.