Chapter Thirty-Six: The Sword of Murder

Seeing Chen Fan’s ferocity, the burly bandit leader was no longer calm. He hurriedly charged forward, wielding twin axes with wild force. The axes cleaved through the air, true energy erupting from his body, surging with violent power. Even Chen Fan was wary of this display of strength, his figure turning and darting away in a flash of lightning.

Boom!

True energy rippled like a shockwave, smashing into the earth, sending dirt flying and shaking the ground.

“What tremendous power!” Chen Fan narrowed his eyes. This man’s true energy could leave his body, at least at the fourth level complete, likely a fifth-level martial expert in the Bone-Tempering realm. Among bandits, he was formidable indeed—no wonder he was king.

Chen Fan’s strength had soared; while he did not fear a fifth-level expert, he was in no hurry to face the brute directly. Instead, he continued to rely on his exquisite footwork, circling the man and steadily harvesting the lives of his henchmen. The man’s strength was immense, but his movement was ordinary, and he could only eat dust in Chen Fan’s wake. His true energy lashed out again and again, but he could not even touch Chen Fan’s sleeve, smashing countless trees instead.

Once Chen Fan confirmed the bandit leader posed no real threat to him, his heart settled.

Swish, swish!

Swordlight swept across the field. Though his Nine Yang Dominating Tiger Fist was at a higher realm, it could not match the lethality of the Three-Foot Sword when wielded against foes. The black blade flashed like a death warrant; corpses and limbs flew, blood spraying as men fell like wheat before the scythe.

Under the chaotic flicker of torches, the blood gleamed fiercely. At last, fear took hold—someone screamed “demon,” turned, and fled. Panic spread through the ranks.

The burly leader’s eyes blazed red with fury. “You brat! Do you dare face me head-on?!”

Chen Fan beheaded a fleeing man with a single stroke. With his sword withdrawn, none remained save the leader. Chen Fan licked the blood from his lips and advanced. “As you wish.”

Through this round of assault, Chen Fan had already discerned the man’s fighting style: wide swings, overwhelming momentum, but lacking in agility and finesse—his movement was terribly crude. Chen Fan did not fear him, yet knew this was not an opponent to fell in a single exchange. He had slain the others first, creating a duel and ensuring his safety.

Chen Fan’s mastery extended beyond footwork. Though only at the fourth level of martial cultivation, his strength rivaled that of the bandit king. Not lacking in force, and with a higher realm, dealing with the brute was not difficult.

He maneuvered deftly, swordlight slicing the bandit leader again and again. In just twenty or thirty exchanges, Chen Fan had wounded him five or six times. Blood sprayed.

The leader, knowing Chen Fan’s movement was formidable, realized escape meant certain death. He clenched his teeth and battled on, cursing inwardly: "Damn it, if you’re so powerful, why did you flee at first sight?"

But regret was useless now. He desperately swung his axes, barely holding on. Yet the wounds mounted, blood loss growing, his attacks slowing...

Meanwhile, Chen Fan’s endurance was unflagging, his sword still keen.

The longer he fought, the more exhilarated he felt. The swordlight in his hand grew ever faster.

Swish!

A black flash, red liquid spraying—Chen Fan severed both arms from the bandit king.

“Arrgh—!” The mountain bandit chief howled in agony.

Thud! Both axes flew from his hands, crashing to the ground.

Chen Fan launched a kick, sending the leader sprawling. Then he advanced, sword poised.

Suddenly, a shrill cry rang out: a thin, dark man leaped from the thicket, dragging a disheveled young woman. “Stop! If you don’t want this girl dead, let my brother go!”

Chen Fan’s gaze was resolute, as if he hadn’t heard, his sword never pausing. Without hesitation, he plunged it through the bandit king’s throat.

Swish!

Blood erupted. The bandit king collapsed.

Then Chen Fan turned, ignoring the hostage entirely. His figure flashed, lightning-quick, rushing toward the thin man.

The black-skinned man’s expression changed dramatically; he’d never seen such a person and realized, “You’re not after the girl—”

Before he could finish, Chen Fan’s sword struck his throat with precision. His long knife clattered to the ground and he died in an instant.

Chen Fan showed not a trace of hesitation to the end; the thin man had only been holding the girl, never truly intending to kill her.

Thud!

The girl fell to the ground, unharmed, but at the sight of carnage and scattered limbs, she screamed in terror.

Chen Fan arched his brow at her, then turned an ear to listen. With sword in hand, he dashed toward the source of remaining sounds.

One must root out weeds to the last stalk—who knew how many bandits lurked in the shadows? Chen Fan dared not be careless.

The girl watched as Chen Fan vanished into the night, her heart gripped by fear. She trembled, not daring to make a sound, curling up tightly in the grass and covering her mouth.

Half an incense stick later, a figure appeared, torch in hand.

The girl held her mouth tightly, but heard the man say, “Come out.”

It was Chen Fan.

He had finished off all the remaining bandits in the vicinity and had collected any valuables from their camp.

“Where are you from? Shall I escort you home?” Chen Fan looked kindly at the timid girl, his manner gentle and warm. Gone was the cold disregard for human life.

She lowered her head, tugging at her hem. “My servants…”

Chen Fan shook his head. “I’m sorry, all your servants are dead.”

There were several corpses in the bandit camp, but no other survivors.

The girl hung her head, sobbing. “I’m from… Yan Capital…”

Chen Fan was slightly surprised.

…

Dawn crept across the sky.

Chen Fan rode his horse at full speed, bloodstains still marking his clothes, and entered Yan Capital.

The girl he had rescued was the daughter of a merchant family in Yan Capital. She had learned only basic martial skills, and her outing with her household servants had ended in disaster when they encountered the infamous local bandits.

With bone-tempering strength, the bandits had no regard for her family’s status, and simply abducted her. The ruins were merely a temporary hideout for the gang.

Chen Fan delivered her safely home, receiving generous hospitality and gifts from her family. Though wealthy, they were not a martial clan, so Chen Fan had no particular requests; he accepted some silver and bade farewell, returning to White Cloud Dojo.

He immediately boiled water for a bath, scrubbing the blood and filth from his body.

He had missed a day of Blood-Nourishing packets, so his martial skill training efficiency had slowed.

“I must hurry to perfect Three Thousand Thunder Movement in its subtle form, so I can begin training Nine-Star Origin Core!”

Though his Nine Yang Dominating Tiger Fist was already at a high level, he had not immediately begun training Nine-Star Origin Core. After careful consideration, he started instead on the second tier of Star Body Tempering Technique.

Secret arts could be trained later when there was an opening, but external skills like Star Body Tempering Technique—which permanently enhanced physical strength—ought to be cultivated sooner.

His progress in Three Thousand Thunder Movement was nearing completion; a breakthrough was imminent.

His gaze moved to the next training slot, Three-Foot Sword.

When he had first begun training Three-Foot Sword, it had proved ferociously effective, allowing him to slaughter dozens of bandits, including a fifth-level Bone-Tempering bandit king.

This killing-oriented skill had already seen breakthroughs, more than once. Its training efficiency had doubled, and as a martial technique, it could be augmented by bathing, making the process even faster.

Unfortunately, his Nine Yang Dominating Tiger Fist, which had once seen a breakthrough under the guidance of Master Xing Zheng, had not advanced during his pursuit of the bandits, despite repeated use.

It seemed his previous breakthrough was not linked to comprehending the essence of “kill” in the fist technique.

“This Three-Foot Sword is truly formidable… Satisfying the requirement by killing one, then ten—what if I kill even more with this skill? Could I fulfill some hidden condition?”

A skill that once would have taken over a year to master now could reach proficiency in three or four months.

Chen Fan had broken through several times, but the difficulty of meeting the next hidden requirement would surely increase. He had no intention of going on further killing sprees.

“I wonder if, when I reach the subtle realm, I’ll need another slaughter to break through?”

This skill was bloodthirsty and powerful, and with the advantage of the black sword, even more terrifying. If he could reach the subtle realm, it would certainly surpass his fist technique.

Its true intent was simply “kill”—abstract, but perhaps the easiest to comprehend.

To slay formidable foes or monsters—the choices were many!