Chapter 100

The Demon's Blade (100)

Facing Ban Yehai, Guo Yan opened his mouth.

"At least..."

Their gazes met, and Guo Yan grinned.

Even as he coughed up black blood, poisoned and pickled, he wore a satisfied smile.

"...the road ahead won't be lonely."

With those words, Guo Yan's figure slowly tilted, then collapsed like a rotten wooden pillar.

"Ah..."

A sigh involuntarily escaped Ban Yehai's lips.

He was the only one left alive in the hall.

Just then, in his daze,

"How did you learn that sword technique?"

"…!"

Startled by the sudden cold voice in his ear, Ban Yehai turned around in shock.

About ten feet away,

A figure stood there like a ghost, unnoticed until now.

"Who are you...?"

A cold light flashed in Chao Ailiang's eyes.

In an instant, Chao Ailiang was already in front of Ban Yehai.

"Ah!"

Threatened by his presence, Ban Yehai instinctively swung his broken sword.

A red sword qi surged from the broken sword and flew toward Chao Ailiang's chest.

But Chao Ailiang was a master of a different caliber from Guo Yan.

Clang!

With a light gesture, Chao Ailiang dissipated the sword qi and grabbed Ban Yehai's hand holding the sword.

Crack.

"Ah!"

A scream burst from Ban Yehai's lips.

His hand was crushed and flattened in an instant!

Seeing this, Ban Yehai's heart sank.

He had momentarily forgotten about the expert who had thrown away his sword in the life-and-death struggle, but now he realized who it was.

Even though the Jianghu had many extraordinary people like grains of sand on a beach, such a master was rare.

At least, he had to be of the level of the Five Great Sects...

'Could it be?'

Ban Yehai's eyes widened in shock.

"X, Xueshu Zunzhe!"

A desperate cry of horror burst from his lips.

While new disciples might not recognize him, Ban Yehai, who had been in Qingcheng for a long time, immediately recognized Chao Ailiang.

The Blood Catastrophe that shook the foundation of Qingcheng!

Due to this incident, all the core masters supporting Qingcheng Sect met their end.

"I heard you were dead..."

Chao Ailiang's cold voice cut through Ban Yehai's shocked question.

"I asked how you learned that sword technique."

Stunned by the overwhelming aura, Ban Yehai stammered.

"It was a sword technique bestowed by the Sect Leader."

"What is his dao name?"

"Qingming. Qingming Shanren."

"Qingming...? Shanren?"

Confusion appeared in Chao Ailiang's eyes.

It sounded familiar, but he couldn't match it with any specific memory.

"What is the name of that sword technique?"

Shaking his head, Ban Yehai replied.

"I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"It never had a name from the beginning."

Ban Yehai gestured to the secret manual he had dropped in front of the hall.

"It was recorded inside that."

Chao Ailiang released Ban Yehai's hand and walked toward the hall.

He picked up the manual from the floor and examined its contents.

"…!"

Chao Ailiang's eyes trembled uncontrollably.

'Dan Yun Chi Xia Ba Shi (Eight Styles of Crimson Clouds and Red Mist)!'

This was not an unknown sword technique.

How could he not recognize it after all these years? This was his master's unique technique.

Moreover...

The familiar handwriting was undoubtedly his master's.

A cold blue flame began to flicker in Chao Ailiang's eyes.

He finally understood what had happened.

The group from Qingcheng Sect who had taken his master's life.

"Was it this?"

At the time, why had Qingcheng Sect colluded with the government to chase his master?

The moment the long-standing mystery was solved.

They had not moved because of the righteous cause of eliminating the heretical sects or exterminating the Tangma.

From the beginning, they had been after his master's secret manual.

Chao Ailiang glared at Ban Yehai, his boiling anger fully revealed.

"I never intended to get involved from the start."

Qingcheng's First Hall and the Dark Dragon Gang.

It was a clear and understandable situation for two sects to clash over interests and harm each other.

Even if Guo Yan survived, he could be killed quietly without a trace.

There would be no evidence of his involvement in this matter.

This was the result of his best efforts to help Dan Aoxian obtain the invitation.

But everything went wrong at the last moment.

Ban Yehai had seen the sword technique that felled Guo Yan.

The seventh move of Dan Yun Chi Xia Ba Shi, Sha Rui Hua Yu (Sharpness Transformed into Rain).

How could he forget the move he had imprinted in his mind countless times as a child?

Step.

Chao Ailiang took a step toward Ban Yehai.

Ban Yehai, meeting Chao Ailiang's gaze, was rooted to the spot, unable to move.

"Gr...r..."

A suppressed groan escaped Ban Yehai's lips.

The killing intent was so intense that it felt like his body was being torn apart.

His mind went blank under the presence of Chao Ailiang, who stood with eyes like the bottomless abyss.

Chao Ailiang extended his hand.

Click.

The broken sword on the floor flew toward Chao Ailiang as if drawn by a magnet.

Holding the sword with his inner energy, Chao Ailiang channeled more power into it.

Chao Ailiang pushed his inner strength to the limit and poured it into the sword.

"This is the true Sha Rui Hua Yu."

With those words, Chao Ailiang swung the sword.

"…!"

Ban Yehai's eyes widened.

A terrifying rain of red sword qi poured down before him, so overwhelming that it made him forget the fear of death.

The power of the sword technique, as if leaping across decades, was truly awe-inspiring!

Under the true form of Dan Yun Chi Xia Ba Shi, Ban Yehai instantly turned into a mist of blood and scattered.

The fierce sword qi, still retaining its power, swept through the area.

Trees, rocks, and buildings were obliterated by the red wave of sword qi.

Crack.

At that moment, the sword in Chao Ailiang's hand shattered into pieces.

An ordinary sword could not withstand the immense inner strength required for Dan Yun Chi Xia Ba Shi.

Staring at the red afterimage of the sword qi dissipating before him, Chao Ailiang muttered softly.

"Master..."

Chao Ailiang looked down at the secret manual in his hand, then turned away, leaving half of the hall obliterated.

Silence once again descended on the area.

The thick scent of blood lingered in the darkness.

The night mist, the only thing left to comfort the souls of the dead, swirled in the air.

* * *

On his way back to the courtyard, Chao Ailiang kept thinking about the dao name mentioned by Ban Yehai.

'It sounds familiar...'

But the name "Shanren" was not in his memory.

Entering the courtyard, Chao Ailiang noticed a hall with a light on.

Realizing it was Yan Shanren's quarters, he quietly approached.

Stepping into the open door, he saw a neatly arranged altar and Yan Shanren's back, burning incense with utmost respect.

After placing three sticks of incense, Yan Shanren turned around and was startled to see Chao Ailiang standing silently in the room.

"You scared me! Make some noise when you move!"

"Why are you offering incense to our master?"

Chao Ailiang's question made Yan Shanren chuckle.

"Between us, if he's your master, he's mine too, isn't he?"

Indeed, Yan Shanren had been burning incense every day without fail.

Feeling a bit embarrassed, Yan Shanren scolded Chao Ailiang.

"Your friends are all old and frail, but you're still young. What wind blew you here for a solitary night walk?"

"Just a bit."

Seeing Chao Ailiang's evasive response, Yan Shanren held back his words.

Chao Ailiang walked to the altar and gazed at the memorial tablet with his master's name.

He burned incense and bowed.

At that moment, he noticed a small wooden statue, about the size of a palm, rolling around at the bottom of the altar.

Originally, there were seven, but now only one remained, the others having returned to their owners.

Chao Ailiang suddenly felt a strange sensation.

Picking up the wooden statue, he examined the characters carved on the back.

"…!"

Qingmingzi.

A cold flame flickered in Chao Ailiang's eyes.

It was him.

One of the seven who had killed his master.

Qingmingzi, the youngest of the Qingcheng Seven, the elite of Qingcheng Sect at the time.

"Hah..."

Chao Ailiang let out a dry laugh.

"No wonder it sounded familiar."

Qingmingzi was now known as Qingming Shanren.

Grinding his teeth, Chao Ailiang remembered the unforgettable memory.

His eyes were already transported back decades.

Swish.

A young boy carved a wooden statue, drenched in the cold rain.

It was the cold rain signaling the end of winter.