Li Sifeng moved with lightning speed. Yue Zhenchuan, the man whose name shook the martial world of Guzhou, was a veteran of countless battles—yet even he was caught off guard. Instinctively, he tried to retreat, but Li Sifeng had already grabbed a fistful of his robe at the chest.
In that split second, Yue Zhenchuan raised his knee, trying to strike Li Sifeng mid-air and halt his momentum.
There was a sharp sound—bang!
Li Sifeng was thrown backward. He hit the ground hard, staggered, and fell on his rear. In his right hand was a torn scrap of cloth stained with blood—ripped from Yue Zhenchuan's chest.
Yue Zhenchuan himself stumbled back several steps before steadying his stance. Looking down, he saw five bloody claw marks across his chest. The sight made his face darken.
Raising his gaze, Yue Zhenchuan's expression twisted into something cold and cruel. He ground his teeth and said, "Kid, you're ruthless. Since when did Qingxiao Sect produce a monster like you?"
The martial world was full of geniuses, but he had never met one barely in his teens who could injure him. His anger mixed with disbelief.
Li Sifeng shouted, "You two, get up the mountain now! I'll hold them off and catch up later!"
Li Sijin opened her mouth to argue, but Xu Ning yanked her arm and ran.
Yue Zhenchuan didn't chase them. Two little girls around ten years old were no threat, and the sect's mountain gate was still a long distance away.
"Do you even know who I am?" Yue Zhenchuan sneered. "Across all of Guzhou, not many dare to speak to me like that."
Li Sifeng pulled a dagger from his belt, pointing it at Yue Zhenchuan with mock arrogance. "You're not the first to say that. Last guy who did ended up begging for his life after just one move."
Inside, his heart was pounding. He could tell this man was nothing like his previous opponents—this one was dangerous.
Yue Zhenchuan snorted coldly and lunged forward. A powerful surge of inner energy burst from his body, whipping the air into violent currents that coiled around him like serpents. His hands turned into claws as he struck repeatedly at Li Sifeng.
Li Sifeng dodged as fast as he could.
Ever since breaking into the first layer of the Nurturing Essence Realm, his reflexes had sharpened tremendously. His speed and agility had reached a level far beyond ordinary martial artists. Against anyone but his third senior brother, he had never felt pressure before—everyone else seemed slow.
But now, facing Yue Zhenchuan, his heart trembled with fear. The man was too fast. Every time he tried to counter, he found himself dodging desperately instead.
He soon backed up to the edge of a dirt slope, nowhere left to retreat. Fortunately, his Gale Technique training kicked in. He ducked under Yue Zhenchuan's arm, twisted his body like a fish leaping upstream, and sprang backward—light as a feather—landing atop the slope.
Yue Zhenchuan spun around. He couldn't see the boy at first, then caught sight of Li Sifeng standing above him, smirking down. Rage twisted his face.
"Bah!"
Li Sifeng spat, hitting Yue Zhenchuan squarely in the face before turning to run.
Caught off guard, Yue Zhenchuan took the spit full on. For a second, he just froze, dumbfounded.
In the next moment, the forest behind him erupted as the Seven Peaks Alliance warriors charged forward. They had seen the boy's acrobatic leap over Yue Zhenchuan's back and were stunned—many thought they'd imagined it until one shouted in disbelief.
Wiping the spit from his face, Yue Zhenchuan's eyes went red. He turned and bellowed, "Up the mountain! Kill every last one in Qingxiao Sect!"
Then he leapt high, his lightness skill carrying him swiftly into the forest canopy.
Meanwhile—
Li Sifeng darted through the woods like a leopard, swift and silent. He vaulted fallen logs and rocks with both hands, moving so fluidly that even wild beasts couldn't match his speed.
But his pursuer wasn't a beast—it was a master of the martial world.
Looking back, he saw Yue Zhenchuan gliding from branch to branch. Each step seemed to send him flying dozens of feet forward, like an eagle soaring through the trees.
The distance between them was shrinking fast.
Gritting his teeth, Li Sifeng drew upon his inner energy. Unconsciously, his control over the Gale Technique improved with every stride. Movements he'd never dared attempt before came naturally now, and he didn't stumble once.
A rush of wind exploded behind him—whoosh!
He instinctively turned his head, catching a glimpse of Yue Zhenchuan diving down like a hawk, iron palms outstretched.
There was no time to dodge. The blow struck his back squarely. Blood burst from his mouth, and his body was hurled forward, crashing through a thicket before vanishing into the bushes.
…
Sunlight streamed through the forest canopy.
Jiang Zhaoxia sat cross-legged in a clearing, surrounded by nine floating swords. Each sword pointed downward, trembling faintly. His palms rested on his knees, facing upward, and his robe fluttered gently in the air.
Since dedicating himself to the Supreme Sword Defense Technique, his progress had been extraordinary—advancing a thousand li a day. He could now control nine swords at once.
He came here every day to train alone. The clearing sat along the only path leading to Qingxiao Sect, far enough to be quiet yet close enough for him to act as a first line of defense.
"Third Senior Brother! Something's wrong!"
A panicked cry echoed through the woods. Jiang Zhaoxia's eyes snapped open. He turned and saw Li Sijin and Xu Ning running toward him.
Li Sijin's face was streaked with tears. His heart sank instantly.
With a wave of his hand, the nine swords flew back into the scabbards on his waist, clinking heavily as he rose to his feet.
He strode toward the two girls, meeting them halfway.
"There are many enemies coming up the mountain! My brother's holding them back! Third Brother, you have to save him!" Li Sijin cried, her voice trembling.
Jiang Zhaoxia's expression hardened. "Which direction?"
Li Sijin turned and pointed down the slope.
Without another word, Jiang Zhaoxia dashed off, calling back over his shoulder, "You two—get to the sect immediately! Don't stop for anything!"
Watching Jiang Zhaoxia's figure disappear swiftly into the forest, Li Sijin turned to Xu Ning with worry etched across her face. "There are so many enemies. Can Third Senior Brother handle them alone?"
Xu Ning didn't answer. Instead, she urged sharply, "Go up the mountain and tell Master now. I'll follow after him."
"Can you handle it?" Li Sijin hesitated, her voice trembling.
Xu Ning shot her a glance. "Stop wasting time. People will die if we're late."
Li Sijin bit her lip. Thinking of her brother possibly being in danger, she clenched her fists, turned, and started running up the mountain.
Xu Ning took a deep breath, her eyes firm with resolve, then dashed after Jiang Zhaoxia into the woods.
…
Jiang Zhaoxia rushed down the mountain at full speed, channeling his qi to perform the Gale Technique. The strain on his vitality was immense, but he didn't care.
All along the way, memories of Li Sifeng as a child flashed before his eyes. From the moment their master brought the little boy up the mountain, Jiang Zhaoxia had disliked him. Filthy, snot-nosed, always pestering Senior Brother—it had been endless annoyance.
That impression only began to change over the last couple of years. Now, as they took charge of Qingxiao Sect together, Li Sifeng's decisiveness and courage had completely overturned his old prejudice.
He had come to see the boy as someone with true potential—someone worth nurturing, someone who could one day stand beside him to support their senior brother.
And now, with Li Sifeng's life in danger, all those thoughts of a bright future were about to shatter. His killing intent burned uncontrollably.
He pushed himself faster and faster, so fast that the world around him blurred into streaks of green and brown.
After what felt like forever, figures appeared in his vision—a crowd of men in azure robes scattered through a pine forest, standing motionless like vengeful spirits waiting at the gates of hell.
His gaze locked on one figure. His pupils contracted. Blood filled his eyes.
Yue Zhenchuan was standing there—his boot pressing down on Li Sifeng's face again and again. Li Sifeng lay motionless on the ground, twitching under the blows, his life or death unclear.
"You bastard!"
Jiang Zhaoxia's furious roar tore through the forest. His right hand reached for his waist, drawing a sword with a sharp, ringing clang that sliced through the air. The sound turned every head among the hundreds of Seven Peaks Alliance disciples.
Yue Zhenchuan turned, grinning with a twisted, cruel smile. Seeing the young man storming toward him, he wasn't alarmed—in fact, he smiled wider, the madness in his eyes flaring.
"Perfect timing! This brat's already done for. Let's see if you can entertain me!"
He let out a wild laugh, kicking Li Sifeng's body aside before charging forward. Behind him, the Seven Peaks disciples drew their weapons and fanned out, circling to block Jiang Zhaoxia's retreat.
Suddenly—
Yue Zhenchuan froze mid-charge. His pupils dilated as he saw the swords behind Jiang Zhaoxia's back rising into the air one after another.
Nine swords floated around him, their blades spinning, forming a deadly orbit. For a moment, Yue Zhenchuan's expression shifted from fury to shock, as if he'd just seen a ghost.
…
Inside the study, Li Qingqiu was writing down cultivation manuals by hand, carefully recording every technique he had learned. Beside him stood Li Dongyue, grinding ink for him with full focus.
"Senior Brother," Li Dongyue said softly, "I think my handwriting is awful. How can I make it look better?"
Li Qingqiu smiled faintly. "In a few months, I'll have Yuchun invite some scholars up the mountain. They'll teach you all to read and write properly."
The literacy level in Qingxiao Sect was pitifully low. Teaching his juniors and sisters to recognize words when they were little had nearly driven Li Qingqiu insane. The Seven Sons of Qingxiao came from mountain villages—they too were uneducated.
Even after transmigrating into this ancient world, Li Qingqiu still valued education deeply. Books, he believed, trained the mind and broadened one's horizons. They were the embodiment of heaven and earth's wisdom.
"Then can we buy more books?" Li Dongyue asked eagerly. "We've read all the ones Master and Grandmaster left behind. They're getting boring."
"Of course," Li Qingqiu replied calmly, multitasking as he spoke and wrote.
Then suddenly, his brush stopped mid-stroke.
Before him, glowing words appeared in the air:
[Due to Qingxiao Sect successfully repelling an invading force, the Dao Lineage has endured a tribulation. You have gained 1 Fate Selection Opportunity.]
'Repelled an invading force?'
His brows furrowed. 'What happened?'
He didn't feel joy at the reward—only unease. For something to qualify as an "invading force," it meant there had been many enemies.
And the fact that he hadn't heard any commotion meant the battle had occurred far from the sect itself.
'Could it be down the mountain?'
He set the brush aside immediately, his voice firm. "I have something to check. Guard this place. Don't let any disciples sneak in."
Before Li Dongyue could respond, he was already out the door.
Once outside the courtyard, Li Qingqiu activated the Gale Technique and sprinted down the mountain.
He hadn't gone even a li (≈500 meters) when he saw Li Sijin running toward him, panting heavily. Seeing him, she nearly burst into tears, quickly recounting everything that had happened.
He didn't waste a single second comforting her. Following her directions, he charged down the slope.
Along the way, the same anxiety that had consumed Jiang Zhaoxia gripped him. He opened the Dao Lineage Interface, confirming that the disciple count hadn't decreased. Only then did his heart ease slightly—but he still checked the panel every few moments to make sure.
After the time it took for one stick of incense to burn, he reached a pine forest—and his heart froze.
There, amid the carnage, he saw Jiang Zhaoxia, Xu Ning, and Li Sifeng. The ground was littered with corpses, blood splattered across the trees.
Jiang Zhaoxia sat on the ground, covered in blood, holding Li Sifeng in his arms. Xu Ning slumped nearby, breathing heavily, her hair messy but her injuries less severe.
Li Qingqiu's chest tightened as he rushed forward. Kneeling beside them, he pressed two fingers under Li Sifeng's nose.
There was still breath.
He exhaled shakily in relief—but when he looked again at his two blood-soaked juniors, fury burned in his eyes.
Jiang Zhaoxia looked up weakly, his voice hoarse. "Senior Brother… you were right. The martial world and the battlefield really are different. Forget armies of thousands—even just facing a few hundred fighters… my swords all broke."