The secret has been exposed.

Under the watchful eyes of the crowd, Fan Qiuming was about to escape this place with Zhao Xinying, but everything was seen by the eldest son of the Wang family standing nearby.

Suddenly, he hurled a throwing knife, which shot straight toward Fan Qiuming’s back.

The crowd gasped in shock, unable to believe the young master of the Wang family had the audacity to attack Fan Qiuming.

But no one was more alarmed than Fan Qiuming himself—he knew he’d been discovered! He wanted to intercept the blade, but with his hands full, he could only watch as the knife sliced through the rope behind him.

The instant the rope was severed, both Fan Qiuming and Zhao Xinying lost their support and tumbled down.

“Ah!” The sudden loss of balance startled Zhao Xinying.

Fan Qiuming caught her as they landed, the scene causing another wave of astonishment among the onlookers.

The eldest Wang son’s face took on an expression of sudden understanding, a look of disdain flickering in his eyes.

“Huh? Ah! Master—”

Suddenly, from above, Yun Ling lost her balance when the rope was cut and fell from the rooftop, landing squarely on top of Fan Qiuming once more, pinning him beneath her.

This bizarre turn of events left the entire assembly speechless.

“Fake? It was fake?” Someone’s exclamation snapped everyone to their senses.

“Seize him!” Master Wang, now alert, pointed at Fan Qiuming and called for his servants.

“Hurry, catch him! How dare he disrupt my son’s wedding?”

“Damn, we’ve been exposed. Time to run.”

Fan Qiuming scrambled to his feet, grabbed Yun Ling and Zhao Xinying, and made for the walls. He couldn’t yet fly, but scaling walls and leaping across rooftops was within his abilities.

On the way, Yun Ling transformed back into a phone, which Fan Qiuming stowed in his pocket. Zhao Xinying’s bridal veil slipped off during their flight.

Just one glance, and a line surfaced in Fan Qiuming’s mind: “Clouds dream of raiment, flowers long for the face; spring breeze brushes the threshold, the dew is thick and rich.”

But now was no time for reverie; Fan Qiuming snapped back to his senses and led her in a dizzying chase through the Wang estate.

“Where are we? Why does this look familiar?” Fan Qiuming eyed the wall, curiosity piqued.

“You’ve passed here three times already! Don’t tell me you’re lost again!” Zhao Xinying said with exasperation.

“Uh… really?”

He paused, leaped onto a rooftop, and surveyed the surroundings. The Wang family’s men were hot on their heels.

The eldest Wang son suddenly appeared and vaulted onto the roof, his hand clawed like a dragon’s, striking at him.

Fan Qiuming dodged with Zhao Xinying in his arms, seized the attacker’s hand, and said, “You’re strong, but you lack technique!”

With that, he flung the young master’s arm aside and kicked him off the roof.

Below, the servants rushed to catch their young master and slowly set him down.

Yet he pushed them away, face flushed with indignation. “Get off me! Damn it.”

Now everyone could see it: though his cultivation wasn’t high, Fan Qiuming’s strength surpassed them all.

“Sorry, but today I’m stealing the bride, and none of you can stop me.”

Fan Qiuming smiled down at the crowd.

“Stop him!”

At that moment, Master Wang rushed out from the neighboring courtyard, several sword-wielding men at his heels.

“All of you, together.”

No sooner had he spoken than the men leaped onto the roof, encircling Fan Qiuming and Zhao Xinying.

“Five at the fifth level of Qi Refinement—tsk, tsk. Master Wang is truly wealthy! To hire so many cultivators just for a wedding.”

Fan Qiuming glanced around, a hint of scorn in his words.

“How much is Wang paying you? I’ll give you double!”

He took a small pouch of spirit stones from his storage ring and tossed it to the man standing before him.

But the man didn’t open it. Under everyone’s gaze, he tossed it back to Fan Qiuming.

“Sorry, we have our principles. We’re not the kind of people who betray for money.”

“All right then.”

Fan Qiuming shrugged and put the spirit stones away. Clearly, a peaceful resolution was out of the question; a fight was now inevitable.

“I rather admire your integrity, so I’ll go easy on you!”

He set Zhao Xinying down, shielding her behind him, tightened his mask, and lowered his sword point.

His short hair stood out conspicuously among the others.

“Hmph, arrogant!”

One of the encircling men, unable to bear Fan Qiuming’s scornful look, lunged at him.

Fan Qiuming parried and, seizing the moment, flicked his sword upward. The force sent his opponent’s sword flying from his grip.

He followed with a downward swing, but used only the flat of his blade to knock the man unconscious.

“Junior Brother—!”

The others cried out.

“Come at me together! It’ll save us all time.”

Fan Qiuming pointed his sword at them.

“Damn it, you dare look down on us? Together, form the sword array!”

The five immediately shifted positions, surrounding Fan Qiuming.

But Fan Qiuming didn’t give them the chance, striking first to disrupt their formation.

Yet the man behind him slashed with his sword. Fan Qiuming spun to block, exposing his back to another attacker, who seized the opportunity to strike.

Just as the blow was about to land, another sword appeared, intercepting the attack from behind.

Looking up, Fan Qiuming’s left hand was holding the Azure Spirit Sword.

Fan Qiuming glanced over his shoulder and smiled. “Ambushing isn’t a good habit.”

With that, he crouched, a sword in each hand crossed before his chest, then leaped and spun, arms spread wide, becoming a whirlwind.

The fierce sword wind struck all five assailants, slashing them and sending them tumbling from the rooftop. Fortunately, Zhao Xinying had kept her distance and was unharmed.

Fan Qiuming had been merciful, avoiding fatal blows.

“Damn you, who are you?”

One of the cultivators, having fallen to the ground, still demanded to know his identity.

“Me? I’m just a passing cultivator. Bai Shiquan! Remember the name!”

With that, Fan Qiuming sheathed his swords back into his storage ring, scooped up Zhao Xinying, and left.

He couldn’t resist a parting taunt. “Until we meet again!”

Watching Fan Qiuming depart, Master Wang was seething with indignation but could do nothing; the six men he’d hired had all failed, so he would fare no better.

The eldest Wang son pounded the ground with his fist, snarling, “Bai Shiquan, just you wait!”

In Fan Qiuming’s arms, Zhao Xinying stifled a laugh. “You even pinned it on someone else as you left—you really are full of mischief!”

Fan Qiuming removed his mask and stowed it away, smiling silently.

Only after they had put the Wang estate far behind did he stop and set Zhao Xinying down.

“I can only help you this far. The Wang family probably won’t dare trouble you now. My part here is done—I should take my leave.”

“With this, our debts are settled. Until we meet again.”

He had no wish to linger, eager to find a way home. He turned to go, but Zhao Xinying grabbed him from behind.

“Since you’ve come to steal my wedding, you are now my husband. If you’re leaving, take me with you!”

Hearing this, Fan Qiuming froze, frowning.

“I only helped you to repay your kindness to me. Besides, I already have someone I love.”

He gently pried her hands loose and stepped away.

“I don’t mind. At worst, I can be your concubine.”

Hearing this, Fan Qiuming was truly stunned.

“We haven’t even known each other for two days. Why do this? If fate allows, we’ll meet again—just not now.”

Seeing Zhao Xinying standing there in a daze, Fan Qiuming jumped onto the rooftop and left.

She hurried after him, but he was far too fast for her to catch.

“Fan Qiuming, you bastard!” she shouted, but even if he heard, he did not look back.

Unable to catch up, she slowly came to a stop, watching his distant figure, her eyes filling with tears. She sank to her knees on the spot.

“You bastard…”