Chapter Nine: The World's Fastest Sword!

The sky was nearing darkness. In the deathly, silent gloom, the sound of weeping drifted from the inn, carried by the wind.

Inside, six candle flames illuminated two figures. One sat alone, drinking in silence, lost in thought; the other lay sprawled across the table, dead drunk. It was only because he had passed out that the crying had finally ceased—he had been weeping for a long, long time.

Lin Pingzhi had wept as he begged Ren Yi to take him as a disciple, wept as he pleaded for revenge, and wept as he recounted the tragedy that had befallen the Lin family.

To ensure their only son’s survival, Lin Zhennan and his wife had sent Lin Pingzhi away first; there had been no news of the couple since. The entire Fuwei Escort Agency had been wiped out by the Qingcheng Sect. The former young master of the Lin family was now nothing more than a pathetic little beggar.

Anyone could look down on him, anyone could scold him; even the waiters at teahouses and taverns looked at him with undisguised disdain. He no longer possessed the arrogance of the young master of the Fuwei Escort Agency.

But no matter how much Lin Pingzhi said to Ren Yi, Ren Yi refused every request. His acquaintance with the Lin family was fleeting—or perhaps one could not even call it an acquaintance. He had said all there was to say; if Lin Zhennan had not been careful enough, who could he blame?

As the wine went down, words flowed, and the one who talked too much eventually fell asleep. Ren Yi, however, remained as quiet as the sword on the table, as still as an inanimate object.

He sat there motionlessly, watching the candle flames. Suddenly, the flames flickered, and a dozen men with white cloths wrapped around their heads strode in.

Though they wore coarse hempen garments, they held sharp swords.

Ren Yi continued to drink, sitting perfectly still. The group surrounded him in an instant. Then, the men parted, and a Taoist priest in green and white robes stepped through.

Seeing the priest, Ren Yi immediately smiled. "Given your short stature, you must be Yu Canghai."

Yu Canghai glanced at the drunken man on the table. He was taken aback by the remark, then erupted into a rage. He had come intent on murder, his fury already burning, and this comment made his eyes glow with a desire to devour the man alive.

Born inferior, he had been mocked since childhood. But after becoming the leader of the Qingcheng Sect, who in the world dared to laugh at him? It had not happened for decades, yet this man dared.

Yu Canghai roared, "Do you think that just because you claim to be a disciple of Wudang, I dare not kill you?"

Ren Yi chuckled lightly, "You came here to kill me?"

Yu Canghai hissed, "That is right!"

Ren Yi nodded, "Then why have you not yet made your move?"

Yu Canghai growled, "I only wanted you to die understanding why."

Ren Yi smiled again, "Are you still looking to reason with me?"

Yu Canghai barked, "In Fuzhou, you first took the life of my son. Later, seven of my disciples fell by your hand. Now, here in Hengshan City, you have committed murder again, and nine more of my Qingcheng disciples have perished because of you. Including my beloved son, that is ten lives. Do you admit it or not?"

Ren Yi nodded, "It was indeed me who killed them."

Yu Canghai said coldly, "It is good that you admit it. Everyone, you have heard him. Even if Wudang and Shaolin are the leaders of the righteous path, the Qingcheng Sect is not to be bullied. I, this old priest, am going to kill this villain; I ask that none of you interfere."

As he spoke, Dingyi, Tianmen, Songmen, Liu Zhengfeng of Hengshan, and several disciples of Huashan walked into the inn.

After he finished speaking, even Tianmen and Songmen, who might have wanted to help, remained silent. Only Liu Zhengfeng spoke up: "Nephew Ren, you have always practiced medicine and performed good deeds in the pugilistic world. Why would you be at odds with the Qingcheng Sect? Is there some misunderstanding?"

Ren Yi looked at him and said, "They attacked me, wanting to kill me... Is there anything wrong with me killing them in return?"

Yu Canghai laughed in extreme fury, "If you had not first taken my son’s life, why would my disciples have tried to kill you?"

Ren Yi replied, "That little dwarf had no filter on his tongue, so I merely taught him a lesson. It was your own disciples who were so obsessed with the Lin family’s Bixie Sword Manual that they ignored the need to seek medical treatment to survive. Who can you blame for that?"

Yu Canghai roared, "You little turtle, you still dare to quibble?"

Ren Yi said indifferently, "Then let us not speak anymore."

"You..."

With anger seizing his heart, how could he find the words to speak further?

Yu Canghai did not strike, but the dozen Qingcheng disciples surrounding Ren Yi immediately drew their swords.

The sword wind surged, the brilliance dazzling. Flowers of light bloomed like stars in the night sky, thousands upon thousands of points raining down upon him. Ren Yi was enveloped in cold light, his entire body seemingly locked in by the tips of their blades.

In an instant, it seemed he would die under the chaos of the blades. Everyone thought so—and then everyone saw a single flash of light streak out from within the cold glare!

Thirteen long swords had woven a sky of icy light, yet as that sword light surged, it suppressed the cold shimmer entirely.

Wherever the blade passed, the cold light vanished instantly. One only heard a series of sharp clangs—*ding, ding, ding, ding, ding*...

Thirteen long swords were forced back by a single stroke, thirteen Qingcheng disciples were pushed back by a single stroke, and even Yu Canghai was so horrified by this earth-shattering sword technique that he retreated several paces.

Ren Yi stood up. Everyone looked at him, and then at the sword in his hand!

It was an ordinary iron sword. Yet, when he drew it, everyone witnessed the most peerless swordsmanship in the world!

Just as they stood dumbfounded, before they could speak, they saw Ren Yi drain his cup, smile slightly, and say, "Gentlemen, are you prepared... to journey to the Yellow Springs together!?"

As the words fell, he stepped forward, his white hair and blue robes transforming into a phantom.

The phantom was unpredictable, ethereal, and traceless. As it swept past, the iron sword swung casually. In an instant, the "Thirteen Earth-Shattering Forms" created by Ren Yi flowed from the tip of the blade, transforming into thirteen peerless strikes.

Under these thirteen strikes, which reached the pinnacle of speed, droplets of blood misted the air, blinding everyone’s eyes.

The sword light accompanied the blood, and when the red mist cleared, the thirteen Qingcheng disciples had already fallen into pools of gore.

Silver hair and pale hands—a pale hand gripping a scarlet sword!

Yu Canghai’s face turned even paler. He looked at the corpses on the floor, then finally raised his head slowly to gaze at the dripping blade in Ren Yi’s hand.

"You... you..."

For a moment, Yu Canghai was unable to speak. When he saw Ren Yi’s gaze fall upon him, his body trembled. "You... what do you want?"

Ren Yi chuckled softly, "If I speak of reason, you should listen well. Regardless of whether you are convinced, you should endure it. Likewise, if I draw my sword, I will never speak of reason. Now, you can only go down to join them on their journey."

A flash of cold light suddenly struck. The sword in Yu Canghai’s hand lunged forward, aimed directly at Ren Yi’s chest. The attack was sudden and fast, the movements dreamlike.

As Yu Canghai’s hand moved, he unleashed the Qingcheng Sect’s ultimate technique, the "Pine Wind Swordplay." The blade was as vigorous as a pine and as swift as the wind. He executed the technique so tightly that not a single gap was exposed.

Ren Yi’s sword also struck.

The iron sword came out, a single thrust straight ahead.

Yet, this one strike pierced directly into Yu Canghai’s web of sword light. No one could see how it entered; there was only a single "ding."

The airtight, gapless sword light vanished, but the lightning-bright blade remained.

Yu Canghai’s eyes widened in shock. He had not expected Ren Yi to shatter his Pine Wind Swordplay with a single strike. Terrified, he immediately withdrew his sword, ceasing all attacks and scrambling backward.

As he retreated, the sword light pursued him!

The plain, unremarkable iron sword seemed to drift away, becoming completely traceless. No one could see how the strike was launched or from where it came.

When he saw the first strike, Yu Canghai had already felt it was the fastest sword in the world. When he saw the second, he realized the first was not the fastest after all.

Only now did Yu Canghai finally know what a true "fast sword" was—the fastest sword under heaven!

A flash of lightning, a streak of a rainbow, gone in an instant.

The plain iron sword lingered for a mere dragonfly-touch against Yu Canghai’s throat before being sheathed, vanishing entirely.

It was as if the strike had never been made.

Once the iron sword disappeared, Yu Canghai stood still. He remained there, his sword still in his hand, but his eyes were wide, filled with an incredible bewilderment and an indescribable terror.

He stood there, and seemingly nothing had happened. Those watching had seen... well, they had truly seen nothing. There was no change. Why did Ren Yi sheath his sword?

No one understood. Even Dingyi, Tianmen, Songmen, and Liu Zhengfeng did not quite grasp what had occurred; they only guessed at some things—some very terrifying things.

Blood slowly began to seep from Yu Canghai’s throat. At first, it was very faint.

Only then did the crowd realize that the blood had not yet flowed because there had not been enough time. Suddenly, with a "pfft," the throat burst open, and blood sprayed outward.

Yu Canghai was dead. He fell to the ground. No one made a sound; they did not even dare to breathe.

Ren Yi held the scabbard, turned, nodded slightly to the group, and walked out of the inn.