Chapter 64: No Beef

The hundreds of martial artists present looked at one another, unsure whether they should feel joy or sorrow.

The good news was that, within their lifetimes, they had witnessed a master of the third rank—a tale to boast of for years to come.

The bad news was that this master stood among their enemies.

For a moment, silence reigned. The power of a third-rank expert was beyond their comprehension; few among them had ever witnessed such a battle. Let alone the notion of taking down one of that rank themselves.

“So what if he's a third rank? At his age, he can't be higher than that—no more than just a third rank!”

Someone, hidden among the crowd and unwilling to show his face, shouted loudly:

“If we all attack together, before he exhausts his inner strength, he can't possibly kill us all!”

“Yes! What of the third rank! He’s fought so many matches—he must be exhausted by now! Even if we have to pile up bodies, we can bury him under them!”

“Right! Since he’s willing to help that fiend with the murderous weapon, he can’t be a good person! Against such evil, we needn’t abide by the codes of chivalry! Everyone, together!”

“Charge!”

“Kill!”

Their shouts rang out, the crowd brimming with righteous fury, rolling up their sleeves and preparing to throw themselves into the fray, each face contorted with determination.

Yet for all the bluster, not a single soul dared step forward.

…

…

It was a rather awkward scene.

Xia Ningshang couldn’t help but laugh, covering her mouth. “I never imagined the martial world could look like this. It’s rather amusing.”

Ji Huo smiled, “When it doesn’t concern them personally, people can be bold. But when their own lives are at stake, this is what you get—let alone when a certain death awaits.”

Having finished boiling water, Xia Ningshang carried the kettle over, pouring hot water into the teapot. She gave Ji Huo a playful glare and laughed, “Lucky you. If my brother knew I served you tea, he’d die of envy.”

“Your brother?” Ji Huo’s interest was piqued. “I didn’t know you had a brother.”

“There’s a great deal you don’t know.”

She glanced at the martial artists gathered a hundred paces away. Earlier, she had worried this fool wouldn’t have the stamina to withstand so many attackers at once. She hadn’t expected the situation to develop as it had: a lone man and his sword had deterred countless martial artists from daring to approach. Truly, the courage of one man blocking a thousand.

Her heart eased a little and she muttered in complaint, “My brother’s obsessively protective. Always worried I’ll be tricked. No matter where I go, he interrogates me endlessly—it’s maddening.”

So, a classic overprotective brother… Ji Huo smiled, “If I had a little sister wandering the martial world, wounded, I’d go mad with worry too.”

Gesturing at the dark mass of people opposite, he teased, “If your brother saw the current situation, he’d probably explode on the spot.”

Xia Ningshang winked mischievously and whispered, “That’s why I keep my veil on so tightly, haven’t you noticed?”

The two continued their idle conversation as the sun set ever lower, and still, no one dared to make a move.

As dusk approached, Xia Ningshang wandered into the winding canyon and soon returned with a wild rabbit, which she handed to Ji Huo.

A campfire was soon blazing, and the two of them, unbothered by the crowd, roasted and ate their meal in plain sight, utterly unconcerned.

“Damn it! Enough is enough! If none of you go, I will!” a burly man muttered.

“Exactly! Who’s afraid of whom? He’s not made of iron! We’re hundreds of heroes—can we really be cowed by a mere boy?”

Thus, another dozen or so men charged forward.

A dazzling, bloody light flashed.

“Ahhhh!”

And then, they were all dead.

…

…

Once more, a heavy silence fell, until a burly man frowned and asked doubtfully, “Damn it, that kid’s sword looks like a regular forged blade you’d pay five taels to a blacksmith for, so how does it slice through iron like it’s nothing?”

Another chimed in, “Did you notice? The aura around his sword grows redder with every strike. At noon it was just a faint pink, but now it’s as crimson as blood.”

This question stirred the crowd’s memory of Ji Huo’s earlier feats. Finally, a veteran martial artist recognized the technique and cried out in alarm, “That’s the Killing Heart Sword Art! Don’t just rush in!”

Others caught on, shouting, “It really is the Killing Heart Sword! Stop attacking! Damn! How does he know that technique? Isn’t that the Assassin Hall’s greatest secret? Is he one of them?”

“Not necessarily. Something happened to the Assassin Hall—they’ve vanished without a trace recently.”

A newcomer to the martial world, still green, asked an elder, “What’s the Killing Heart Sword Art?”

The old man, gazing at Ji Huo as he lounged in the distance, gave a bitter laugh,

“We really kicked a steel plate this time! The Killing Heart Sword Art is the Assassin Hall’s ultimate technique. It’s unique in that, after a kill, it generates killing intent within the body for a short time. With every life taken, the sword’s power grows, and each swing turns the blade a deeper red.”

“It’s the epitome of feeding slaughter with slaughter. He’s killed nearly a hundred people today… If we let him continue, even third-rank experts may not withstand a single blow from him.”

“That terrifying?” Someone gasped. “A technique like that exists? If you killed hundreds, or even thousands, would you be able to slaughter a Grandmaster outright?”

“You wish. The Killing Heart Sword Art is extremely difficult to master—it was created for assassins. Without dozens of lives on your hands, you can’t even begin to practice it. In the beginning, the sword intent it generates is minimal; only as one reaches the higher levels does it grow.”

The old man frowned, “I’ve heard the Assassin Hall’s chief only reached the ninth level of the Killing Heart Sword Art, and even then, it wasn’t this terrifying. Could it be this youth…”

He trailed off, but the others had already guessed.

So, the man before them wielded the Killing Heart Sword Art at its highest level—Perfection.

After the carnage he’d wrought today, who would dare step forward?

Had they realized sooner and sent several third-rank masters to face him before he had a chance to feed his sword with blood, perhaps they’d have stood a chance.

But now, with his sword intent fully formed, even if a third-rank expert was lurking in the crowd, it might be too late…

At that moment, a young man in a blue robe strode confidently out from the gathering.

“So young, and yet so bold?”

“There’s still someone brave left!”

With a gentle smile and a folding fan in hand, he cut a dashing figure. He stopped about fifty paces away, bowed, and introduced himself, “I am Zhang of the Tang Clan—”

A flash of red light.

A heartbeat later, he was split in two, a cloud of pink mist billowing from his corpse. The mist was laced with deadly poison, and in moments, his body was corroded to nothing.

Ji Huo sheathed his sword with a look of disdain. “I don’t eat beef.”

From the distant crowd came snickers of contempt.

“What was that about?” a young man asked.

“That thief from the Tang Clan tried to use poison—fifty paces is their effective range. But he ended up killing himself instead. Serves him right.”

A bald man gleefully declared, “Nothing I hate more than those Tang Clan underhanded tricks. Good riddance!”