Chapter Forty-One: At the Foot of Wudang Mountain

He was crouching behind, silently moving his right hand behind his back like Lin Kuang, but in the end, he was still discovered.

He slowly stood up, his right hand still hidden behind his back, his left hand hanging at his side, saying nothing.

“An assassin?” Lin Kuang murmured. In the darkness, he sensed no aura from the body before him. His eyes showed a hint of surprise—could his strength still be enough to attract the attention of an assassin?

The assassin before him took a step forward, silent and soundless, moving in a straight line. A lingering shadow slowly dissolved in place.

“So fast!” Lin Kuang’s expression grew grave. The Fei Mo Sword trembled, its blade widening.

Frowning, a flash of white light appeared before him as he stepped forward to block.

The Fei Mo Sword immediately spun once. Only then did Lin Kuang see clearly that the right hand held a dagger.

From the side, the figure thrust toward the black-clad man’s arm. Seeing the danger, the man in black stepped back with his right leg, bent forward, and wielded the dagger toward Lin Kuang’s lower body.

Lin Kuang snorted coldly, executed a backflip, landed firmly, and immediately looked forward.

In a blink, the shadow vanished!

Lin Kuang hurriedly glanced around. The wind howled as the Fei Mo Sword was raised again; firelight flickered. Lin Kuang stepped back once more.

His chest rose and fell rapidly as he took a deep breath. The Fei Mo Sword was raised again, cutting once to the left and once to the right. Blood-red sword qi appeared again, but this time it split into two thin streams of sword energy, no longer overwhelming but rushing directly in two different directions.

“Hmph!”

The black-clad man grunted, the two sword lights instantly dissipating. His body surged forward again; the dagger pressed close to his arm, both hands seemingly empty.

“His internal strength is less than ten percent now, almost depleted by us. You can risk it all!” Haopo whispered urgently, sensing the danger.

The black-clad man suddenly halted, lowered his head faintly, and sneered coldly.

He charged forward once more, each dagger strike dripping with blood, moving at near-maximum speed, sword lights flashing everywhere. Lin Kuang’s face darkened; with every attack, he was forced to retreat a step.

“I only came to take Lin Ruoxi away. You must know who I am—I am her grandfather!” Lin Kuang’s voice was low and anxious. This assassin was unexpectedly one of their own.

He had long heard of a famed military assassin who moved as lightly as a feather, whose stealth techniques were honed to perfection.

Most notorious was the assassination of a warrior at the early stage of Gang Jin, who had no chance to resist—one strike, a certain kill.

Lin Kuang considered himself stronger than that fallen early-stage Gang Jin warrior. After all, even Gang Jin warriors vary in strength, and his greatest reliance was the Fei Mo Sword in his hand.

Gang Jin warriors transform internal energy into Gang, rendering them nearly impervious to blades and spears.

The legendary assassin’s one-hit kill was unbelievable, but Lin Kuang was not arrogant enough to fight when his internal energy was mostly drained!

Avoiding the assassin’s strike was the best choice.

Haoyun picked up a spear from the ground, his gaze piercing as he looked at the black-clad man.

“What do you think?” Haoyun asked.

“We can’t let him take... Ruoxi...” Haotian said haltingly.

Haoyun made a gesture to Haopo, eyes fixed on the towering mountain peak.

Wudang Mountain.

“Damn it!” Lin Kuang saw that they were stubborn as ever, his anger boiling inside.

But the assassin pressed relentlessly! How could he find the time to take Ruoxi away?

Haoyun took out a special small vial, opened it, sprinkled some on the wound, and bandaged it simply.

“First, wake Ruoxi!” Haotian said anxiously.

“You’re still thinking about her now? Forget it!” Haoyun snorted coldly but turned reluctantly to rescue Ruoxi.

Haotian smiled faintly—this was brotherhood! But this time... at that thought, a heavy stone seemed to lift inside him, never to fall again.

“Ruoxi!” Haoyun grasped Ruoxi’s shoulder and shook her gently, but she showed no response.

He shook harder. Ruoxi’s face changed color; her stomach gently heaved, and she spat out a mouthful of clotted blood.

Haoyun furrowed his brows deeply and asked, “Are you alright?”

“What’s wrong with me?” Ruoxi touched her belly, her face full of confusion.

“You’ve fallen into demonic possession!” came a voice from afar. Ruoxi looked up—it was Moshang, sitting on the ground with a severed arm.

“Damn it! Since you’ve forced me to this point, I’ll show no mercy!” Lin Kuang’s face twisted with rage as internal energy surged through the Fei Mo Sword.

From the hilt to the tip and then through Lin Kuang’s hand, a blood-red flowing light instantly enveloped him. His red pupils resembled the killing god from hell.