Clang! The sound of swords being unsheathed rang out sharply.
A group of Daoist-robed disciples, along with the severely injured Er Biao, escorted an elderly man in a yellow robe as they slowly emerged from the far end of the road.
Er Biao had that familiar obsequious grin plastered on his face.
"That wench surnamed Wen—her beauty isn't just unmatched in Windrise Town, but in all of Qingyun County, she's in a league of her own. There's no way those courtesans in places like the Blossoming Pavilion could even compare."
The yellow-robed elder raised his hand, signaling for silence.
"I have worked hard for many years. I am but a single step away from entering the Body Refinement Realm. This cauldron is of utmost importance—there can be no room for failure!"
Including Er Biao, all of the Daoist-robed disciples immediately bowed, their voices filled with reverence.
"Yes, Elder!"
The weapons in their hands clanged softly, blending with the sound of the rain, creating a chilling, murderous aura.
As they moved forward, a limping figure suddenly appeared in the drizzle.
The figure moved unsteadily, hobbling along as though he were a lone leaf in the rain, tossed about by the wind, ready to fall at any moment.
"That cripple?"
Er Biao squinted through the night rain and recognized Chen Fan.
"You still dare to show up?!"
Once he realized who it was, Er Biao quickly raised a hand to point at Chen Fan, his tone a mixture of false bravado and genuine fear as he addressed the yellow-robed elder beside him.
"Elder, that's him! He's the one who ruined your plans earlier today!"
"Oh?"
The yellow-robed elder's eyes narrowed slightly.
"This boy seems to have some skill, but those who oppose the Liuyun Immortal Sect never come to a good end."
Chen Fan, upon hearing this, turned and spotted Er Biao.
He grinned.
"Well, if it isn't Er Biao. Fancy seeing you again."
Despite his soaked clothing and disheveled hair, Chen Fan casually ran his fingers through his hair, smoothing it down as he muttered to himself, "Even stepping out to buy wine, I have to run into such bad luck."
Then, turning back with a bright smile, he said to the group:
"The road is slippery when it rains. Be careful not to sprain an ankle."
Er Biao's fury boiled over at Chen Fan's nonchalant attitude.
The yellow-robed elder, for his part, had never encountered someone so brazen in his life.
His eyes flickered with anger, and just as he was about to order his men to attack, the sound of a creaking door interrupted the tense standoff.
The door to the tavern opened, and Wen and her father stepped out, holding an oil-paper umbrella and carrying bags of gold and silver.
The sudden movement broke the stalemate.
Chen Fan chuckled, glancing at Wen and then back at Er Biao and his group.
"So, this is what all the fuss is about. How about this—I'll mediate. Give me some face, and we'll call it even. What do you say?"
"Give you face? What face do you have?"
Er Biao exploded in anger, drawing his sword in one swift motion.
In the rainy night, the blade gleamed like a bolt of lightning, briefly illuminating the surrounding area.
The flash of light cast a fleeting reflection of Chen Fan's hunched figure—still the same crutch, still the same suona at his side.
Within moments, the other Daoist disciples also unsheathed their swords.
In that brief instant, Chen Fan had enough time to unhook the gourd from his waist and toss it backward to Wen, saying in a steady voice:
"Warm me a pot of wine. I'll drink it later."
Wen caught the gourd and, staring at Chen Fan's rain-blurred figure, couldn't help but ask in a trembling voice:
"Mr. Chen, what about you?"
"You go ahead. I'll finish my wine and catch up."
In the blink of an eye, the swords closed in.
Chen Fan had no time to answer further.
He felt the energy within his body stir violently, warming him from the inside out.
[Body Refinement Technique (80%)]
In that moment, Chen Fan felt an immense power coursing through him, his entire being brimming with untapped energy.
Left with no other outlet, he raised his crutch.
What once seemed like a simple walking stick now swept through the air, unleashing a powerful force like an invisible blade.
If one were to slow down the scene, even the raindrops in midair shattered into smaller droplets, dispersing into mist under the force of his strike.
A sword aiming for Chen Fan's chest was deflected with a single swing, clattering to the side.
Clang!
The blade snapped into two pieces, and the Daoist disciple wielding it gasped in pain as the sound of cracking bones reached his ears.
Looking down, he realized his arm was broken.
The rest of the disciples didn't fare much better. In just a matter of moments, all of them lay sprawled in the rain, defeated.
The yellow-robed elder, who had yet to make a move, observed Chen Fan's actions with sharp, piercing eyes.
As his men fell one by one, he finally spoke, his tone cold:
"I'll admit you have some skill. But you're still too green. With just a single move, I'll show you what a true immortal is capable of!"
As he finished speaking, the elder raised his arm slightly, clenching his fist.
A faint, swirling energy began to gather around his hand.
But in the next instant, a crutch flew through the air.
Taking advantage of the elder's focus on gathering energy, the crutch pierced straight through his chest without any resistance.
The yellow-robed elder's eyes widened in shock as his strength left him, the gathered energy dissipating entirely.
As he collapsed to the ground, he used the last of his strength to look at Chen Fan, blood spilling from his mouth as he stammered:
"Body… Refinement… Realm?"
Chen Fan, now crutchless, hopped over to the elder's fallen body.
He reached down and pulled the crutch from the elder's chest, which only worsened the old man's condition.
With a final shudder, the elder's eyes rolled back, and he stopped breathing.
The rain quickly washed the blood from the crutch as Chen Fan stood in the downpour, his thin figure hunched as always, as though he could never quite straighten his back.
Body Refinement Realm?
He had no idea what that meant.
After all, he was just a cripple.
Phew.
Chen Fan let out a long breath, shivering slightly from the cold.
Even though it was the fifth or sixth month of the year, he felt a chill deep in his bones, likely from the exhaustion of the fight.
There was no denying it—the Body Refinement Technique was useful.
At the very least, it shut up unreasonable people.
Glancing around at the bodies on the ground, Chen Fan ignored Er Biao and the others, brushing off his clothes as he hobbled back toward the tavern.
Inside, the soft glow of candlelight illuminated a small table where a freshly filled gourd of warm wine awaited him.
Beside it lay a dry blue robe and a slip of paper.
The note detailed Wen and her father's destination, along with a single line: "We'll wait for you."
Chen Fan glanced at the note before placing it on the candle flame.
The paper caught fire instantly, burning to ashes before his eyes.
He changed into the dry robe and sat quietly in the empty tavern, sipping his wine.
Time passed, and the rain finally stopped.
Chen Fan stood, stepping into the night and leaving the tavern behind.
The direction he walked was the exact opposite of the one Wen and her father had taken.
He didn't do all this for some sense of justice or to gain fame or fortune.
He did it because, one bitter winter long ago, he'd drunk a bowl of wine-soaked bread.
Perhaps it was the wine gourd at his waist that stirred something deep within him—a heart that had lain dormant for too long, awakened by the warmth of the drink.
In that moment, the seasons seemed to change, and the gloom in his heart lifted just a little.
As the first rays of dawn lit the horizon, painting the sky with hues of gold, Chen Fan stood at the edge of the road and looked up.
"Well, would you look at that—it's sunny."