Chapter 7: Three Swords of Peerless Brilliance!

Daoist Tiansong had already carried Chi Baicheng away, and Tian Boguang had not stopped them. Now he looked at Ren Yi and laughed.

“I have long heard of Wudang’s Divine Healer. Meeting you today must be fate. Why not come over and have a few cups with me, Brother Ren?”

Ren Yi shook his head and did not answer. Instead, he looked toward Linghu Chong of the Mount Hua Sect.

“You have more than a dozen wounds on your body. I imagine he gave them to you.”

Linghu Chong nodded, but the little nun spoke up.

“Senior Brother, Senior Brother Linghu was injured because of me. It was all my fault, so… so…”

Ren Yi suddenly asked, “Are you Yilin?”

The little nun blinked her lovely eyes.

“You—you know me?”

Ren Yi smiled. “I know your father, the monk Bujie.”

Yilin’s lips parted slightly, and she stared at him blankly.

“My father?”

Ren Yi offered no explanation. Instead, he said to Linghu Chong, “Five of the cuts on your body were deep enough to kill you. It seems he truly wanted to be your friend. Otherwise, you would already be dead.”

Linghu Chong glanced at Tian Boguang and gave a cold snort.

“I am honored by your regard, Brother Tian, but I, Linghu Chong, would never dare presume to be your friend.”

Tian Boguang threw back his head and laughed, entirely unconcerned.

“Why so angry, Brother Linghu? The man you dislike is gone. Sit down, sit down! Let us continue drinking.”

Just as he sat down, Ren Yi rose to his feet.

Seeing this, Tian Boguang laughed loudly.

“Good! Today, besides Brother Linghu, Brother Ren will also—”

His voice abruptly cut off.

With a sweep of his sleeve, Ren Yi sent the long sword Chi Baicheng had left behind flying into his hand.

Tian Boguang’s laughter ceased at once. His expression turned cold.

“So even Wudang’s Divine Healer intends to cause trouble for me.”

Ren Yi replied calmly, “I merely felt the urge to test my skill after seeing your swift saber. But if you cannot withstand three of my strikes, you will die.”

Tian Boguang’s swift saber had just shaken everyone present. Even the senior disciple of the Mount Tai Sect had been no match for him. How could Linghu Chong have imagined that this celebrated physician and divine healer of Wudang would dare provoke the lecherous bandit—or that he would speak with such outrageous arrogance?

To Linghu Chong, this was not merely arrogance. It was ignorance.

Even his own master, the Gentleman Sword Yue Buqun, might not be able to defeat the bandit within fifty moves. Yet Ren Yi was talking about three?

Tian Boguang was momentarily stunned, then burst into laughter.

“Hahahaha! I never thought I had misjudged you as well. I took you for an interesting fellow, but it seems you are nothing more than a fool.”

“Draw your sword! I would like to see Wudang’s swordsmanship.”

The sword was already in Ren Yi’s hand. It was a very ordinary weapon. Though its edge appeared exceedingly sharp, it possessed no illustrious history to boast of. A sword without history was merely common iron—even scrap metal.

Ren Yi said indifferently, “After three strikes, if you are still alive, I will let you leave.”

Tian Boguang gazed at him with a broad smile. His expression was one of unmistakable mockery, as though he were looking at a madman.

He remained seated, his saber still sheathed. His relaxed posture revealed absolute confidence in victory.

But in the very next instant, his calm, self-satisfied expression turned to terror.

Ren Yi raised his sword and thrust.

There was no warning, no preparatory stance. It was as though the sword needed no gathering of strength, as though the entire technique consisted of a single thrust.

Only one thrust—and the sword shot straight forward with astonishing speed.

Its edge drove ahead, its gleam swift beyond belief. The strike had reached the utmost limit of speed. It was also the most terrifying sword stroke Tian Boguang had ever seen in all his years upon the martial path.

He had no time to draw his saber. For the first time in his life, he was too slow to unsheathe it. He had only just moved when the sword’s gleam was already upon him.

The sword came too quickly—faster than the wind, because it had already pierced through the wind and produced a shrill, razor-sharp whistle.

He could not draw his saber. He could only retreat.

Tian Boguang sprang backward, kicking the chair beneath him forward with one leg.

The sword’s gleam vanished in an instant. No one saw how it disappeared. They saw only the chair split cleanly into two pieces.

Tian Boguang retreated more than ten steps, putting two zhang between them. At last, he found an opening and drew his saber.

The moment the saber’s light rose, the sword’s gleam fixed upon him once more.

It was the same impossibly swift sword, the same terrifying flash.

Tian Boguang wanted to parry, but he did not know how. He wanted to evade, but he could not move quickly enough. He wanted to strike, but that was even more impossible.

He could only retreat again—seven steps in succession.

At last, a gap appeared. At last, he was able to strike.

The single-edged saber swept forth, its radiance filling the air. It descended like a bolt of lightning.

This was the fastest stroke he had ever unleashed, the swiftest move in his Gale Saber Technique. He had never once failed with it.

Yet before the saber had even fallen, the sword had already broken through its momentum.

The saber could descend no farther.

The sword was pressed against his throat.

Ren Yi’s sword—and Tian Boguang’s throat.

Slowly, the saber lowered. It slipped from his hand, fell to the floor, and pierced the wooden boards.

Cold sweat beaded Tian Boguang’s forehead. His face had gone pale, and his lips trembled. He stared at the sword he had just dismissed with contempt. Only after a long while did he speak.

“I—I have never seen a sword so fast.”

Ren Yi said calmly, “Perhaps I should not kill you. Let the Great Monk come and deal with you himself.”

Tian Boguang did not understand, but he knew that he had survived. The sword had left his throat and been tossed carelessly onto the floor.

“I, Tian Boguang, will forever remember the mercy that spared my life. From this day onward, whenever I see a Wudang disciple, I shall give him a wide berth.”

With that, he snatched up his saber, leapt through the window, and vanished into the bustling streets below.

When Yilin saw Tian Boguang flee, she was just about to thank Ren Yi, but he had already disappeared from the second floor.

“Junior Sister Yilin, he has already left.”

A trace of regret touched Yilin’s pretty face.

“That big brother has gone? I still wanted to… Ah! No, no, I must find Master and Senior Sister. They have not seen me and must be frantic with worry.”

Linghu Chong looked at the somewhat dazed little nun and could not help finding her amusing. Then his gaze fell upon the long sword on the floor, and he suddenly became lost in thought.

Those three strikes had shaken him profoundly.

He had long heard of Wudang’s Divine Healer, but he had never expected that a mere disciple of Wudang could possess such dazzling swordsmanship. Linghu Chong could not help wondering whether his own master would be able to withstand that man’s swift sword.

***

After leaving Wild Goose Return Tower, Ren Yi felt droplets falling from the sky. The rain had arrived without warning, and soon a sudden downpour swept over the streets.

The storm drove away every passerby, yet Ren Yi continued walking through the rain, lost in thought.

There was a saying: If your words cannot astonish the world, it is better not to speak; if life cannot bring you happiness, you might as well die.

Should he simply act as he pleased?

As a disciple of Wudang, he was bound by many restrictions. But he had only twelve years left to live. If he did not indulge his nature and roam freely, would that not be a betrayal of the heaven-defying talent he had been born with—and for which Heaven itself seemed jealous?

Suddenly, someone’s curses drifted faintly through the sound of the rain.

Ren Yi followed the voice, passed around the main street, and entered a narrow alley.

Deep within the alley, he saw a disciple of the Qingcheng Sect kick a hunchback to the ground. Another Qingcheng disciple thrust out his sword and held it against the hunchback’s chest, laughing.

“You little bastard, where do you think you’re running? If you tell me the secret of the Evil-Quelling Sword Manual right now, then call me Grandpa of the Qingcheng Sect three times, I, Luo Renjie, might just spare your worthless life.”

The hunchback looked very young. Mud mixed with rainwater streaked his face, and blood seeped from the corner of his mouth.

But as the rain washed over him, his features became clear.

He was Lin Pingzhi, the young heir of the Fortune Escort Agency.

Ren Yi looked at Lin Pingzhi, and Lin Pingzhi saw him as well.

“Brother Ren… Brother Ren, save me!”

In just four short days, the Fortune Escort Agency had fallen into such ruin.

Ren Yi sighed softly and continued forward.

But the moment the two Qingcheng disciples saw the white-haired man in blue robes approaching, they began trembling from head to toe.