Chapter Twenty-Five: More Humble Than Humble!

After three rounds of drinks, Wang Yuanba spoke: "Think of my noble son-in-law, harmed by the Qingcheng Sect, and even my precious daughter... It is fortunate that Master Ren intervened; otherwise, I fear Pingzhi might have met an unfortunate end."

Ren Yi set down his wine cup and smiled faintly. "What is it you wish to say?"

Wang Yuanba replied, "No hidden meaning. It simply seems that you are still guarding against my Wang family."

Ren Yi shook his head and chuckled. "Not at all. There is nothing to guard against."

Wang Yuanba smiled. "Good, good. Since you trust the Wang family, allow me to say a few more words."

Ren Yi looked at him with a strange expression. "Go on."

Wang Yuanba asked suddenly, "I have a concern. I have long heard of your reputation as a divine healer. Yet, in earlier years, you carried no weapons and never practiced swordsmanship. Why is it that since leaving Fuzhou, you carry a sword, and a remarkable one at that?"

Ren Yi said indifferently, "And what business is that of yours?"

Wang Yuanba’s face turned ugly, and this time, he made no effort to hide it.

Sitting nearby, Wang Jiaju, the youngest son of Wang Zhongqiang, sneered, "You are hiding something. I suspect your sword must hold some unspeakable secret!"

Ren Yi sighed softly and said in a haunting tone, "As a disciple of Wudang, how could I not know swordsmanship? It is just that since I left the mountain, I have been lax in my studies. In recent years, it is not that I have never used Wudang sword techniques; I have simply channeled them through my palms and fingers without using a blade, so no one noticed."

Another person at the table, Wang Jiajun, the son of Wang Bofen, scoffed, "But the techniques you used to kill Yu Canghai and the disciples of the Songshan Sect were not Wudang sword techniques. How do you explain that?"

Ren Yi said calmly, "The 'Thirteen Styles of Heaven-Shattering' and the 'One Thousand and One Styles of Turning Clouds and Rain' are my own creations, not Wudang techniques!"

Wang Jiaju mocked, "Heaven-Shattering and Cloud-Turning? Why not just say you obtained the Bixie Sword Manual?"

Ren Yi shook his head slightly and remained silent.

Qu Feiyan stood up abruptly, shouting, "What did you say?"

Wang Jiajun continued, "My aunt’s family ancestral 'Bixie Sword Manual'—everyone in the martial arts world knows this."

Wang Jiaju interjected, "Coincidences in this world are rare. Since you, Master Ren, left Fuzhou, you not only began to carry a sword but your swordsmanship has become godlike. You claim it is self-created... Ha! Do you take us for three-year-old children? Do you think we would believe that?"

Ren Yi sneered, "You fools, how could you ever understand such things!"

Qu Feiyan giggled, and the expressions of the others darkened further.

Wang Jiajun said coldly, "Master Ren, I advise you to admit it! If you hand over the manual, our Wang family can decide not to pursue the matter of you stealing the martial arts within it! Otherwise..."

Ren Yi asked, "Otherwise what?"

Wang Jiaju replied, "Otherwise, you will not be leaving our Wang estate."

Ren Yi smiled. "Relying on you?"

Wang Jiaju said, "We were well-prepared for the terror of your swordsmanship. There are many martial arts heroes in this hall, and two hundred experts outside. Is that enough?!"

Ren Yi flicked a finger, striking him in the center of his chest... it came without the slightest warning!

The "Finger of Inverted Divinity" was originally created by Ren Yi to regulate blood circulation for those with blockages. Its force can disrupt the flow of blood and qi; it can save lives, but it can also take them.

The strike landed instantly, and as he withdrew his finger, he remained as calm as if nothing had happened, continuing to lift his cup and sip his fine wine.

Wang Jiaju’s face turned the color of liver. His blood and qi reversed, and within moments, blood gushed from his eyes, ears, mouth, and nose.

"Juju!"

He collapsed onto the table. Everyone in the hall stood up and backed away. Even Wang Yuanba, upon seeing his own grandson in such a state, retreated, not daring to act rashly, and cried out in grief, "You killed him!?"

Ren Yi said indifferently, "He displeased me, so I killed him."

Suddenly, the hall fell silent. Their movements stopped; no one drank, no one ate, and no one spoke. Every eye was fixed upon him.

Wang Yuanba hissed, "You devil! Our Wang family treated you with hospitality, and you repay us with murder?"

Ren Yi smiled. "It was indeed a very 'hospitable' reception!"

Wang Jiajun shouted, "The heroes of the Central Plains are all here! How dare you be so arrogant! You had best hand over the Bixie Sword Manual you stole from my aunt and uncle."

Qu Feiyan cried out, "Brother Ren would never take that piece of trash manual!"

Wang Jiajun roared, "Enough talk! Will you hand it over or not?"

The Lin family had been nearly wiped out by the Qingcheng Sect, and the Lin couple had died at the hands of the "North-of-the-Desert Camel" Mu Gaofeng. The Wang family had not sought revenge, yet now they were coveting the Bixie Sword Manual.

Undeniably, the Wang family was devoid of virtue or ability, yet they had raised a cry that drew many followers.

Someone in the hall shouted, "This devil is so arrogant he doesn't know he's courting death."

"Ha! Let us capture him first. The devil has slaughtered our righteous brothers; it is said he killed fifteen people in Weinan Town alone."

"Truly inhumane. Very well, let us take him, and after we extract the location of the Lin family's 'Bixie Sword Manual,' we shall avenge our fellow martial artists!"

Cries rose up in a chorus, and the hall was filled with shouts!

Ren Yi stood up. The moment he did, the voices ceased instantly. His reputation preceded him; even with their superior numbers, they were terrified of his invincible sword.

He patted the head of the girl, whose face had turned pale. She looked up at him with concern.

Ren Yi did not look at her, but scanned the room and said softly, "Does anyone wish to leave?"

No one answered, only a wild laugh followed. Wang Yuanba finished laughing and roared, "Attack!"

Suddenly, the roof creaked, and eight figures swooped down like swallows.

Eight men, eight blades. They dove down with the force of a gale, their blades flashing a sky full of light that rained down upon the room.

Ren Yi drew his sword!

Amidst the sea of blade light, a single streak of sword light suddenly emerged.

As the sword light swept forth, the blade light instantly lost its luster. It was like a shooting star across the black night sky. In the fleeting moment of its passage, no one could ignore its brilliance, its stunning beauty.

Where the sword light passed, all blade light vanished instantly. No one saw what had happened.

Only the sword light remained bright.

A series of sounds—eight blades clattered to the floor around Ren Yi. The eight men also fell, but upon hitting the ground, they were each split into two halves, from head to crotch, sixteen pieces in total.

The sprayed blood filled the air like a mist. Amidst this crimson haze, Ren Yi stood holding his iron sword, looking at them.

He looked at them, and they all looked at him.

The iron sword in his hand was mere common, inferior metal, yet it suddenly became extraordinary, as if it had gained life and spirit.

The sword changed, and the man seemed to change as well. With a light glance, a sense of world-dominating power radiated from his body. He appeared as high and unreachable as a fallen immortal, as arrogant and absolute as a god.

A strange power emanated from him, causing all who looked upon him to tremble in fear.

Everyone held their breath. Wang Yuanba realized things had gone terribly wrong and was about to shout to boost morale, but Ren Yi swung his sword first.

Light, effortless, and graceful—he struck eight times in an instant.

Swordsmanship was created to kill, and his sword was a killing sword, but it possessed something more—not merely the profoundness of technique, but something ineffable.

Eight strikes in an instant, and eight men fell to the ground. The very world seemed startled by the killing intent of his sword; dark clouds obscured the sun, and the sky itself turned black.

"Everyone attack together! Do not fear him; he is only one man!"

Ren Yi held his sword and walked forward step by step, blood slowly dripping from the blade. The scene was bleak and hauntingly beautiful.

Countless eyes stared fixedly at this not-so-young man. He ignored them, as if they were not there, his pace steady.

A dozen men leaped up and swarmed him. Their various weapons unleashed killer strikes. They seemed to have forgotten their goal of capturing him; they only remembered, only wanted, to kill him.

Because they were truly terrified. When gripped by extreme fear, this is what happens. Only by killing Ren Yi could they regain their courage and return to being "heroes."

Ren Yi stopped. His body did not move, his eyes did not move. Only his hands, his arms, and his sword moved.

That single sword pierced through all their weapons, its tip striking their fatal points. With a line of blood trailing behind the blade, the dozen men fell to the ground.

Ren Yi leaped with his sword, his figure vanishing, and the sword light surged through the air.

In an instant, sword light and blood light blinded everyone. He killed as easily as shearing weeds; human life beneath his sword became more insignificant than the most humble thing.

No one could keep up with his speed, and no one could withstand his sword.

When the sword light flashed before your eyes, you could not evade, for it was too fast; you could not dodge, for there was no escape; and you could not parry, for even a parry could not stop it.

This was Ren Yi’s sword. This was, absolutely, not a sword that any mortal could wield!