"Trying to run now? It’s too late."

Fang Han’s voice was calm and steady, yet it carried an undeniable finality.

He executed the Wind and Cloud Escape again, his body transforming into a pale green streak of light. He caught up to the frantically fleeing Gao Xiao in an instant.

Hearing the sudden rush of wind behind him, Gao Xiao was scared out of his wits. He swung his blade backward in a desperate attempt to hinder Fang Han’s pursuit.

But this hasty slash was completely without form, riddled with openings.

Fang Han didn’t even bother with any exquisite Sword Techniques. He simply executed a straightforward thrust.

The Cloud Splitting Sword struck like a viper, faster than thought, and landed with pinpoint accuracy on the weak point of Gao Xiao’s scimitar’s spine.

"CLANG!"

A crisp ring!

Gao Xiao felt an irresistible force travel up the blade, and his entire arm instantly went numb.

No longer able to hold on, his scimitar flew from his grasp with a CLATTER. It spun through the air and embedded itself in a nearby tree trunk, the blade still humming and vibrating.

His weapon lost, Gao Xiao was terrified. His footwork fell into complete disarray, and he stumbled, nearly falling over.

Fang Han’s eyes were ice-cold, devoid of any pity. For someone who wanted him dead, the only option was to pull out the weed by its roots.

With a flick of his wrist, the Cloud Splitting Sword became a streak of green light, like a bolt of lightning piercing the darkness, as it shot toward the center of Gao Xiao’s back.

Gao Xiao felt the fatal sharpness behind him and desperately tried to twist away.

But with his spirit broken and Inner Qi scattered, how could his movements not be a step too slow?

"SHLICK!"

The dull sound of a blade entering flesh echoed through the silent mountain forest.

The Cloud Splitting Sword effortlessly pierced through Gao Xiao’s Protective Inner Qi, entering through his back and emerging from his chest.

The tip of the sword brought with it a spray of warm blood.

Gao Xiao’s forward momentum came to an abrupt halt. All the terror and despair on his face froze in an instant.

He looked down, staring in disbelief at the blood-drenched sword tip protruding from his chest. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

The light in his eyes faded like a receding tide. Finally, his head lolled to the side, and his breathing stopped completely.

Fang Han slowly withdrew his longsword. Gao Xiao’s body collapsed limply to the ground, only a few yards away from Tu Gang’s corpse.

Two Fourth Grade Stewards from the Netherworld Pavilion, who had been so confident in their plan to corner and kill Fang Han, had both fallen to his sword in just a few dozen moves.

"SHING—"

With a flick of his wrist, Fang Han shook the warm blood from the Cloud Splitting Sword and returned it to its sheath.

He walked quickly to Tu Gang’s still-warm corpse and bent down to search it carefully.

Soon, from a hidden pocket pressed against the man’s chest, he pulled out a booklet.

The booklet felt slightly heavy. Its cover was made of some unknown dark brown animal hide, tough to the touch with a strange, cool sensation.

There were no words on the cover, only some faint, indecipherable natural patterns.

’So this is the secret manual everyone was fighting over?’

Fang Han’s interest was piqued, and he casually flipped through a few pages.

The pages were yellowed with age, but their special texture had kept them from decaying.

Inked on them were incredibly complex diagrams of the human body, accompanied by dense annotations in tiny, fly-headed script.

The figures in the diagrams were in various bizarre poses, and within their bodies were depicted several Qi Circulation pathways, completely different from ordinary Cultivation Techniques. They were profound and abstruse.

Just from a cursory glance, he felt a heavy, solid aura wash over him—an aura that felt as if it could move mountains.

The concepts were lofty, the power application refined. This was a Body Hardening Martial Arts Training, but it was by no means an ordinary one.

’What Level of Cultivation Technique is this?’

Fang Han muttered to himself. Although he couldn’t determine its specific Grade right away, he was already certain it was at least an extremely profound Body Hardening Martial Arts Training.

He stopped looking and carefully tucked the booklet into his robes, then turned and walked quickly toward Zhao Jin, who was leaning against the roots of a tree, barely breathing.

Approaching him, he knelt on one knee and took out gauze and the secret-formula Golden Wound Medicine from the pack Lan Yuexin had prepared.

The situation had been too critical earlier; he had only had time to feed Zhao Jin an Elixir to protect his heart meridian and stabilize his injuries.

Now, Zhao Jin’s face was still ashen, but his eyes were a little clearer. His wounds, however, were still seeping blood.

"Steward Zhao, bear with me."

Fang Han said in a low voice, skillfully tearing away the clothing stuck to the flesh on Zhao Jin’s shoulder and ribs, revealing the gruesome, gaping wounds underneath.

He first carefully washed away the clotted blood with fresh water, then evenly sprinkled the Golden Wound Medicine powder, which gave off a sharp, bitter medicinal scent, onto the wounds.

"HISS—"

As the powder touched the wounds, Zhao Jin’s body trembled violently. He let out a suppressed groan, and his forehead was instantly covered in cold sweat.

Fang Han didn’t stop, quickly and steadily wrapping the wounds in layers of clean gauze.

After he finished, Zhao Jin’s breathing, though still faint, had at least stabilized somewhat.

He struggled to open his eyes and looked at Fang Han. His lips moved, and his voice was as hoarse as a broken bellows:

"Th-thank you, Nephew Fang... for saving my life..."

"It was my duty."

Fang Han asked in a low voice, "Steward Zhao, what is the origin of this secret manual? What could it be to make two Netherworld Pavilion Stewards chase you all this way to seize it?"

A complex look flashed in Zhao Jin’s eyes—relief at having found the manual, mixed with the lingering fear of nearly dying for it.

He took a few gasping breaths, gathered a bit of strength, and said intermittently:

"This manual... is called the Xuanwu True Skill. It is a Martial Art created over two hundred years ago by a rogue Grandmaster of astounding talent who belonged to no sect, ’Grandmaster Xuanwu.’ It’s a Grandmaster Level Body Hardening Technique..."

"A Grandmaster Level Technique?!"

Fang Han’s pupils contracted sharply at his words.

After discovering how profound the technique was, he had at most guessed it was a top-level Body Hardening Technique.

He never imagined it would actually be a Grandmaster Level Technique.

He subconsciously pressed the animal-hide booklet in his robes, feeling its once-slight weight now as heavy as a mountain.

Zhao Jin continued:

"I was following a secret order from the Sect. After more than a month of following fragmented clues... I finally found it at the place where that Grandmaster passed away."

"I thought I had acted in secret, but somehow, word got out. The Netherworld Pavilion found out and sent Gao Xiao and Tu Gang, two elite Late Stage Fourth Grade Stewards, to intercept and kill me... I fought hard but was no match for them, so I could only flee..."

Fang Han’s heart sank.

The situation was far more serious than he had initially anticipated.

If it were just an ordinary, valuable manual, it would be reasonable for the Netherworld Pavilion to send two Stewards to snatch it.

But this was a Grandmaster Level Technique!

Knowing the Netherworld Pavilion’s methods, it was impossible that they would only send two Stewards.

The more likely scenario was that these two Stewards were simply the closest and had arrived first.

The real experts, such as... an Elder Level figure from the Netherworld Pavilion, were probably already on their way!

’We can’t stay here!’

Fang Han made a snap decision. They had to return to the Sect immediately. Every moment they delayed, the danger grew.

He helped the weak Zhao Jin to his feet.

"Steward Zhao, forgive my impertinence, but we must return to the Sect at once!"

Zhao Jin also understood the stakes. He grit his teeth against the intense pain and nodded in agreement.

Fang Han hoisted Zhao Jin onto his back, using torn strips of cloth to secure him in place.

"SWOOSH!"

He took a deep breath, and the Inner Qi of his Profound Wind Technique erupted within him as he executed the Wind and Cloud Escape.

His body became a barely perceptible wisp of green smoke, speeding toward the Qingxuan Sect with all his might.

The night was deep and the forest silent, with only the sound of wind whistling past his ears.

"SWOOSH!"

Fang Han pushed his speed to its absolute limit while simultaneously circulating his Spirit Smelling Technique at full power, vigilantly sensing all movement around him.

On his back, Zhao Jin would occasionally let out a stifled groan of pain from the jostling, but he always clenched his jaw and endured it.

Time slipped by in their desperate flight.

Several hours later, the eastern sky began to show the first pale light of dawn, and the hazy twilight dispelled some of the darkness.

They were now quite far from the site of the battle. Just as Fang Han breathed a small sigh of relief, thinking they were safe for the moment—

An unfamiliar, tyrannical, and aggressive aura suddenly swept toward them from a great distance behind, like an invisible storm.

This aura was far stronger than Gao Xiao’s or Tu Gang’s, and it even gave him the same sense of pressure he felt when facing one of the Sect’s Elders.

’An enemy is catching up!’

Fang Han’s expression changed drastically, his heart sinking.

He hastily pushed his Wind and Cloud Escape to its peak, burning through his Inner Qi to spike his speed again in an attempt to pull away.

However, the presence behind him was closing in at an astonishing rate. The distance between them was shrinking at a speed visible to the naked eye.

If he were alone, he was confident he could escape with his speed. But carrying someone on his back severely hampered him.

In the time it takes for an incense stick to burn, the terrifying presence had closed to within a hundred yards!

Fang Han could even feel the icy killing intent within that aura, like a physical blade scraping against his spine.

He knew he couldn’t escape.

He came to an abrupt stop, gently set Zhao Jin down, and leaned him against a large tree.

Then he spun around, his Cloud Splitting Sword instantly unsheathed and held before him. His gaze was as heavy as iron as he stared in the direction of the approaching presence.

He saw a figure flicker like a phantom a few times, crossing several dozen yards in an instant.

It landed lightly, a few yards in front of Fang Han.

The newcomer was a young man, appearing to be in his early twenties, dressed in the well-tailored True Inheritance Robe of the Netherworld Pavilion.

On its dark fabric, strange flame patterns were embroidered in silver thread, which reflected faintly in the growing morning light, adding a touch of demonic charm.

His face could be considered handsome, but his narrow eyes held an undisguised arrogance and gloom.

His nose was high-bridged but had a sharp, hawk-like curve, and his thin lips were pressed into a hard, cold line.

He just stood there casually, but the aura he naturally exuded seemed to merge with his surroundings, carrying a heart-pounding pressure.

’It’s Meng Xian, seventeenth on the Celestial Pride List!’

Fang Han’s gaze met Zhao Jin’s, and he saw the same deep horror reflected in the other’s eyes.

Comparing him to the portraits provided by the Sect, the person before them was indeed Meng Xian, the top-level prodigy ranked seventeenth on the Netherworld Pavilion’s current Celestial Pride List!

Meng Xian’s gaze first swept casually over the heavily injured Zhao Jin, his expression indifferent, as if looking at an ant.

Then, it locked firmly onto Fang Han.