Chapter 25: Fame Rises, A White-Clad Figure Like a Soaring Swan

Mountain ranges rose and fell, the breeze stirring the forest into gentle waves of green. Beside a mountain stream, Fang Hanyu leaned against a large boulder while Zhou Xue tended his wounds. Zhou Xingshi stood not far away, vigilantly watching their surroundings.

“Two hours have passed. Why hasn’t he caught up yet? Could something have happened to him?” Zhou Xingshi couldn’t help but turn back and ask, his own life tied to Fang Wang’s; nothing worried him more than the thought of Fang Wang meeting with misfortune.

“Don’t worry, he’s not dead,” Zhou Xue replied calmly as she wrapped Fang Hanyu’s injuries.

“How can you be so sure?”

“I have my ways of knowing—just as I was certain this one wasn’t dead before.” Zhou Xue’s words left Zhou Xingshi stunned. Thinking back, before they had found Fang Hanyu, Zhou Xue had been unwavering in her conviction that he still lived.

Could it be that she had done something to both Fang Wang and Fang Hanyu?

Though Zhou Xingshi believed Fang Wang was the stronger of the two, he found Zhou Xue infinitely more dangerous and unfathomable.

After a while, Zhou Xue rose, looking down at Fang Hanyu. “Your body is ruined, but I have a way for you to be reborn from the ashes—even stronger than before. But you’ll have to endure great hardship. Are you willing?”

At her words, Fang Hanyu immediately looked up, gritting his teeth. “I’m willing! I don’t want to be a cripple for the rest of my life! No matter how much it hurts, I won’t flinch!”

“Very well. When Fang Wang returns, I’ll take you somewhere. There, I’ll heal you.” Having said this, Zhou Xue walked to the creek to wash her hands.

Zhou Xingshi’s curiosity grew—could someone as gravely injured as Fang Hanyu truly be reborn? And clearly, Zhou Xue had a profound cultivation background even before joining the Grand Abyss Sect.

So the three waited there by the mountain stream for Fang Wang’s return.

After half an hour, the sound of something slicing through the air reached them. Zhou Xue and Zhou Xingshi turned to look, both exhaling in relief and breaking into smiles.

It was Fang Wang.

He arrived on a flying sword, the Azure Sovereign sword in hand, its blade stained with blood. His white robe was now crimson, his waist heavy with blood-red pouches—storage bags, no doubt.

He cut a dire figure, yet Zhou Xue and Zhou Xingshi were unconcerned. As long as he could still ride his sword, he was not dead.

Landing, Fang Wang sent his sword into his storage bag. Zhou Xingshi hurried over, asking with concern, “Are you all right?”

For some reason, Fang Wang felt awkward. Shouldn’t Zhou Xue be the first to show concern? Why was it a man instead?

“I’m fine. Not injured, but my spiritual energy is nearly spent,” Fang Wang replied.

Even with the consummate cultivation of the Profound Yang Nerve, after two hours of intense battle, he was running dry—after all, his opponents were all cultivators.

Zhou Xingshi nodded and stepped aside.

Zhou Xue approached, checking his wounds. Smiling, she asked, “How strong is Li Hongshuang? Having fought him, your horizons must have broadened.”

Seeing Fang Wang return safely, pride swelled in her heart. After all, she had passed her teachings on to him and now regarded Fang Wang as her disciple.

To escape alive from the hands of Qingchan Valley’s top genius after less than a year of cultivation—such a feat was extraordinary.

“Very strong. My horizons have indeed broadened,” Fang Wang admitted.

Zhou Xingshi was secretly astonished. As the scion of an aristocratic family, he knew Li Hongshuang well: not their peer, but a monstrous talent, with greater natural gifts and a longer cultivation history than Fang Wang. That Li Hongshuang failed to defeat Fang Wang only increased his respect for him.

After Zhou Xue finished her examination and found no signs of poisoning, she finally relaxed.

“By the way, is there a way to keep a head from rotting? I want to take it back to the Grand Abyss Sect as proof and for merit,” Fang Wang suddenly asked, producing a bundle from his waist.

Zhou Xue frowned. “At a life-or-death moment, you were worrying about that? Weren’t you afraid Li Hongshuang would catch up?”

“Not at all.”

“Other than Li Hongshuang, none of the Qingchan Valley disciples in this area are worth mentioning. They’re all under his command. Qingchan Valley must be grooming him. The heads of his lackeys are useless—just throw them away.” She waved her hand, only now remembering Fang Wang was but seventeen, with a youth’s immaturity.

“As it happens, it’s Li Hongshuang’s head.” Fang Wang raised an eyebrow, his face calm, though inwardly he was delighted.

“What?” Zhou Xue froze, Zhou Xingshi also turned, eyes wide.

With a flick of Fang Wang’s right hand, Li Hongshuang’s head tumbled out, landing upright, his eyes bulging in death—a chilling sight.

“It really is Li Hongshuang… you…” Zhou Xue stared at the face, then up at Fang Wang, unable to hide her astonishment.

Zhou Xingshi looked as though he’d seen a ghost.

Li Hongshuang, with hundreds of Qingchan Valley disciples at his back, beheaded by Fang Wang alone?

Impossible!

Even seeing the proof, Zhou Xingshi could hardly believe it.

“You fought him—how strong was he? Did he use his life-bound spirit treasure? His is a great banner…” Zhou Xue’s brows knit in concern.

Fang Wang rolled his eyes. “Of course. Did you think I killed an impostor? It wasn’t easy—nearly cost me everything.”

Zhou Xue took a deep breath and fell silent. She crouched down, produced a vial from her storage bag, and sprinkled powder over Li Hongshuang’s severed head.

Fang Wang glanced at Fang Hanyu. “Hanyu, I’ve avenged you. I killed at least three hundred Qingchan Valley cultivators along the way. How’s that for brotherhood?”

Fang Hanyu was at a loss for words. He’d already learned how powerful Li Hongshuang was. For Fang Wang to slay such a formidable foe—thanks seemed inadequate, praise insincere. All he could do was nod slightly.

Fang Wang looked at Zhou Xue, Zhou Xingshi, and Fang Hanyu. All had fallen silent, and he couldn’t help but pout.

Not enough of a reaction! Shouldn’t they be gasping, exclaiming in terror?

“By the way, before I left, I burned Li Hongshuang’s body. He won’t come back to life, will he? Cultivators can seize bodies, and I worried he might use some corpse-possessing technique,” Fang Wang said as Zhou Xue stood, rewrapping his spoils.

“With the head here and the body burned, there’s no coming back,” Zhou Xue replied.

The Profound Yang Nerve’s true flame…

She marveled inwardly. To be caught by that flame was to be utterly destroyed.

Who could have foreseen that the future lord of Qingchan Valley would die this way?

She suddenly felt that Fang Wang’s existence would bring about immense changes. She, too, having been reborn, knew the future would be shaped by their hands.

Later, Fang Wang bathed in the river and changed into clean robes. They set off once more, Zhou Xue leading them to a place of great opportunity, where she would also heal Fang Hanyu.

On the way, the atmosphere grew subtly tense. Zhou Xue and Zhou Xingshi kept stealing glances at Fang Wang, though neither spoke, making him increasingly uncomfortable.

Little did he know, beneath their calm exteriors, both were in turmoil.

Zhou Xue marveled that, because of her, a peerless genius had appeared—one who had never existed in her previous life.

Zhou Xingshi was simply numb. They’d both formed their spirit roots on the same day, yet the gap between them was now a chasm.

…

In a roadside inn, Gu Li sat with three fellow disciples around a table, sipping tea. Every table on the first floor was occupied.

“So many people. The legacy of the Extreme Vast Sect has truly spread far and wide. All the better—more people makes our rescue mission easier,” Zhou Bo remarked.

They were all disciples of the Third Branch, having come as a group. After Fang Wang had gently refused Gu Li’s invitation, she still felt uneasy and had joined Zhou Bo’s team.

Wearing a conical hat and yellow robes, Gu Li looked every bit the wandering heroine. With her head slightly bowed, her features were hidden.

Just then, a man in plain clothes burst in, shouting, “Big news! Big news! The direct disciple of Qingchan Valley, Li Hongshuang—the most gifted of the current generation—has been killed by a disciple of the Grand Abyss Sect!”

The inn erupted in chaos.

Here, the patrons were no ordinary folk but all cultivators—mostly itinerant ones, though some might be disciples of the Nine Great Sects in disguise.

“Li Hongshuang was at the ninth level of Spirit Formation! Even most of the Grand Abyss Sect’s top disciples wouldn’t dare face him. Killing him is tantamount to declaring war on Qingchan Valley!”

“With Li Hongshuang dead, this is going to cause an uproar.”

“Tsk, tsk. Li Hongshuang wasn’t just backed by Qingchan Valley—his Li Clan once founded the dynasty that ruled these lands a thousand years ago.”

“Hmph. Dead is dead—he was a devil cultivator anyway.”

The scattered cultivators argued heatedly. Someone called out to the messenger, “Waiter, do you know who killed Li Hongshuang? Any more news?”

It turned out the messenger was the inn’s waiter. He stood with hands on hips, grinning. “I do, actually. It’s said the disciple who killed Li Hongshuang used the Soaring Rainbow Sword Art. Do you know its origins?”

At once, someone sprang up. “I do! That’s the supreme skill of Yang Yuanzi, Third Branch Peak Master of the Grand Abyss Sect. A hundred years ago, he forced his way into Qingchan Valley and escaped unscathed, all with that sword art. Was it him? But I’ve never heard of any disciple mastering the Soaring Rainbow Sword Art—only Yang Yuanzi himself.”

“Half right, half wrong. The one who killed Li Hongshuang did use the Soaring Rainbow Sword Art, but he’s very young—definitely not Yang Yuanzi. According to surviving Qingchan disciples, the killer was dressed in white and displayed thirty-two sword moves. A true genius, yet unknown. Now, those disciples are calling him the White-Clad Soaring Rainbow. Qingchan Valley has already sent a Nascent Soul level master to track him down,” the waiter replied, setting off another wave of lively debate.

Zhou Bo turned and asked in a low voice, “White-Clad Soaring Rainbow? Has anyone in the Third Branch inherited that legacy?”

He had been in the Third Branch over ten years and had never heard of any disciple receiving Yang Yuanzi’s true transmission—not even Senior Brother Li Yu.

The other two Third Branch disciples shook their heads. Gu Li remained silent, but for some reason, a name suddenly came to her mind.

Could it be him?

Impossible… He’s only been cultivating for such a short time…