Chapter Eighteen: Deadly Prelude

Thunder Gale was inwardly shocked. The reputation of Starfire Sect in Yizhou was certainly not undeserved—a single Protector had managed to defeat three of their men in short order, even killing one.

As Thunder Gale turned his head, his heart was gripped by even greater fear. Over there, Celestial Starshine was holding off two opponents at once. At some point, Brother Lai had already collapsed motionless to the ground, leaving only Brother Wheel still locked in a desperate struggle.

With a furious roar, Thunder Gale swung his Azure Dragon Blade down at Ghost Rain Maple, the blade whirling through the air. Ghost Rain Maple recognized this as an exclusive external technique of the Overlord Blade Sect; even augmenting his inner strength might not be enough to deflect it.

“Damn it!” Ghost Rain Maple cursed under his breath, once again channeling his inner force to bolster his strength—though at the cost of depleting his reserves.

A crisp “ding” rang out as a burst of sparks illuminated the darkness. Thunder Gale, both man and blade, was knocked to the ground. Ghost Rain Maple himself was forced several steps back by the shock.

As he staggered, a corpse on the ground suddenly moved—it was Zhang He’s first move.

Never act lightly; when you do, make it count. This was Zhang He’s creed.

A streak of greenish light rose from the ground like a venomous snake. It wasn’t fast, but the subtlety of the attack was indescribable—it felt as if Ghost Rain Maple had walked straight into the point of Zhang He’s sword of his own accord.

Though Ghost Rain Maple was a master of foresight, he hadn’t anticipated this at all.

A muffled “thud”—the back of Ghost Rain Maple’s knee was struck by the sword. His body went weak; he knew his opponent had pierced a vital acupoint. His health dropped by just over fifty points—not much—but his agility plummeted more than fifty points in an instant.

In “Dynasty,” attacks didn’t just reduce health. Strikes to vitals, acupoints, or weak spots also diminished other attributes.

Ghost Rain Maple reflexively slashed backward, but Zhang He was prepared. With the Frost Blade in hand, he reversed the point upward toward Ghost Rain Maple’s throat, heedless of his own safety.

This was a classic tactic—“besiege Wei to rescue Zhao.” Only now did Ghost Rain Maple realize his opponent’s swordplay wasn’t the fastest, but the transitions and fluidity were masterful—skills only a veteran would possess, with formidable fundamentals. This man was far superior to fools like Thunder Gale; he was the true threat among their foes.

Ghost Rain Maple forcibly recalled his sword, but Zhang He’s style shifted once more. Even Thunder Gale and the others could hardly believe their eyes—Zhang He darted forward, holding the sword by the tip and offering the hilt as if handing the weapon to Ghost Rain Maple.

Aspirin, lying on the ground, nearly screamed aloud. Was this lunatic out of his mind?

But Zhang He's eyes were sharp as blades, his expression resolute—there was nothing mad about him, only an unshakable calm and composure.

Even Ghost Rain Maple was stunned—what kind of sword technique was this? He’d never seen anything like it. Even the legendary Solitary Nine Swords couldn’t possibly employ such a move, could they?

Yet the hilt was suddenly right in front of him. Instinctively, Ghost Rain Maple raised his sword to parry, but with a flick of Zhang He’s wrist, the Frost Blade spun miraculously, its edge slicing open Ghost Rain Maple’s lower abdomen with a sharp hiss.

Red damage: “-46!”

The terror in Ghost Rain Maple’s heart was unimaginable. Humans always dread the unknown. He knew he’d encountered a true master today, but even if he’d come face-to-face with a GM, he still had to hold on. He stabbed once more at Zhang He’s shoulder, but Zhang He’s forward momentum didn’t let up—he dove to the ground, slipping right between Ghost Rain Maple’s legs.

As he passed, another flash of green light—Ghost Rain Maple fell to one knee. The veins at the back of his right knee had been slashed; this time, both agility and constitution suffered. Critical yellow damage: “-108!”

Aspirin and Dark Fragrance Adrift, in ghost mode, watched with a mix of shock and delight. That little brother from Taiwan truly possessed remarkable swordsmanship. Who said masters were invincible? Catch a flaw, and even a novice can claim your life.

As Ghost Rain Maple turned, Zhang He once again offered him the sword hilt.

“Want to try that again?” With the earlier lesson in mind, Ghost Rain Maple wasn’t about to fall for the same trick, though he still couldn’t fathom Zhang He’s approach. Suddenly Zhang He tossed the sword into the air, leaving Ghost Rain Maple momentarily dumbfounded.

Now, Ghost Rain Maple’s mental state had completely shifted to the defensive. He instinctively believed another lethal move was coming—his opponent’s unorthodox tactics had put him on edge, robbing him of the fluid dominance he’d wielded at the start.

This feint was the real threat. As Ghost Rain Maple’s attention fixed on the spinning Frost Blade, Zhang He threw caution to the wind and lunged forward, fingers curved into a claw. First he seized Ghost Rain Maple’s wrist, then up the arm to the elbow, and finally gripped the shoulder.

This was the “Five Elements Hand”—a basic martial art derived from animal movements: Tiger and Crane in tandem, Viper Strikes Forth, Leopard Descends the Mountain, Eagle Snatches Prey, and Dragon Sweeps its Tail. Its purpose was to immobilize an opponent and sap their attributes, especially agility.

Ghost Rain Maple could clearly feel his strength and agility waning. Yet Zhang He’s seemingly brilliant move betrayed his inexperience; the “Five Elements Hand” was essentially the same as Shaolin’s Minor Grappling or the Six Doors’ Arresting Hand. In the hands of a Shaolin disciple or a Silver Constable, Ghost Rain Maple’s agility would have dropped to zero, leaving him completely helpless.

But Zhang He’s strength was clearly lacking. Though he grasped his foe, the debuff came slowly. An old hand like Ghost Rain Maple adjusted within two short seconds.

Seeing Thunder Gale’s broadsword sweeping toward them again, Ghost Rain Maple threw caution aside. With a piercing cry, he channeled all his inner strength into raw power, his body surging with energy. Zhang He felt as though he’d seized a steel plate and was flung aside.

Clang!

Ghost Rain Maple braced himself against Thunder Gale’s blade, forcing him to the ground as well.

But then Ghost Rain Maple sensed something above him—a mud-caked longsword was plunging straight down.

“Die!” Ghost Rain Maple roared, cleaving the sword aside, then in a flash slashing out again. Mudball’s chest erupted in blood as he tumbled into the grass.

Before he could rise, Ghost Rain Maple’s Starfire Palm struck once more, engulfing Mudball in flames. Mudball never got up again.

Now Ghost Rain Maple was spent—though the fight had not been especially fierce, the drain on his inner energy was severe; he was running on empty.

A wave of regret welled up inside him. With his abilities, he could have easily handled everyone present. But he’d misjudged the situation, mistaking Zhang He for a truly formidable master, and Thunder Gale’s earlier Broadsword Overlord strike had seemed so dire that, under pressure, he’d unleashed all his inner strength to repel both foes—when it really hadn’t been necessary. Now Zhang He lay unconscious on the ground, Thunder Gale was paralyzed with numbness, and Mudball’s ambush had forced him to expend his last reserve of Starfire Palm. If another formidable enemy appeared now, he’d be doomed.

Yet fate is always cruel. A blinding light surged from the darkness—Ghost Rain Maple deflected five willow-leaf throwing knives but then saw two Split Water Daggers thrusting straight for his eyes. The attacker’s intent was ruthless, aiming for the most vulnerable points.

But if the upper body is attacked, the lower is left exposed.

“Out of my way!” Ghost Rain Maple shouted, advancing instead of retreating, and kicked Zhong Shuman flying.

Suddenly, Ghost Rain Maple’s head snapped upward. All noise from Skyscraper Path vanished; the world was silent once more.

His eyes were wide, filled with disbelief, terror, and denial. An ornate, delicate sleeve arrow was lodged in the center of his forehead—the true killing blow.

A perfect strike. Green damage: “-333!”

The feminine-looking sleeve arrow had claimed his last 230 points of constitution. Ghost Rain Maple crashed into the grass, his heart a torrent of regret and venom. He’d never expected to fall to a group of novices, his hard-won official silver stolen once again.

Zhong Shuman, sprawled on the ground, saw stars before her eyes. That fifth-tier kick nearly knocked her out. Yet, as she’d been launched through the air, her last-ditch sleeve arrow hadn’t failed her—many a bandit or thief had fallen to that trick, and it had saved her more times than she could count. She hadn’t planned to use it, but with the way things were going, if Ghost Rain Maple wasn’t stopped, the whole team would have been wiped out.

Several minutes passed before Thunder Gale could finally struggle to his feet. Gasping for breath, he kicked Ghost Rain Maple’s corpse. “Hell, weren’t you the big shot? Look who’s down now.”

Zhong Shuman clutched her chest, breathing hard—fifth-tier opponents were on another level; that kick almost knocked her out cold.

She glanced around, checked the team list—Dark Fragrance Adrift, Pretentious Punching Bag, Mudball, Xiao Xiang, and Brother Lai were all dead.

Aspirin was recovering, and Brother Wheel, covered in blood, had made it back. Celestial Starshine hadn’t died—he’d slipped away with his tail between his legs.

At this moment, Thunder Gale propped up the now-conscious Zhang He, who had barely escaped death after being sent flying.

But everyone surviving knew full well that their victory was thanks to Zhong Shuman finishing off the true threat—yet it was Zhang He, the unremarkable novice, who had turned the tide and created the opportunity for the final, fatal blow.

Thunder Gale no longer saw Zhang He as a novice. “Brother, you alright? How’s your health? Can you walk?”

Pale-faced, Zhang He nodded weakly, then opened a cargo box on a wheelbarrow. A pile of gleaming gold lit up all of Skyscraper Path.

In the darkness, Brother Wheel’s voice rose to a near scream, wild with excitement. “Brothers, we’ve struck it rich! Damn, so much gold! I love gold! I love you all…”