Chapter Thirty-Five: Arcane Arts, Sixth Rank, Ghost Marsh

Yang Fan did not conceal anything and recounted what had transpired with Liu Kaizong in the secret chamber. He described the redwood carvings, the sacrificial rituals, and the horns that had begun to sprout from Liu Kaizong’s head. However, he omitted the details surrounding Liu Kaizong’s berserk transformation, and said nothing about their fight.

“How dare he worship a demon!” Xiang Yangkai’s face was filled with shock and then murderous intent. “You did well to kill him!”

“To consort with demons is to betray humanity!” Yang Fan blinked and continued, “Brother Xiang, you’re a sixth-rank cultivator, aren’t you?”

“That’s right.”

“Sixth rank, a middle-tier martial artist. No wonder you’re so strong!” Yang Fan clicked his tongue in amazement. He suspected that Xiang Yangkai was not just any sixth-rank, but one at the very peak—otherwise, he wouldn’t have been so hard to deal with.

In the martial way, the nine ranks were roughly divided: seventh to ninth were the lower three, fourth to sixth the middle three, and first to third the upper three. Xiang Yangkai was the first middle-tier expert Yang Fan had ever encountered.

“Brother Xiang, who’s the power behind you? Why plot against Nanshan Town?” Yang Fan pressed, his body tense, blood surging.

“Do you really want to know? Listen well—my master is…” Xiang Yangkai’s voice broke off as he stamped his foot. Dirt flew, and his figure shot forward like an arrow.

His sword flashed like a streak of light, aiming straight for Yang Fan’s throat.

“Brother Xiang, that’s not very aboveboard of you.” Yang Fan had been on guard all along. At the instant Xiang Yangkai moved, the force of his ‘Intimidation’ struck directly at his opponent’s mind.

Xiang Yangkai’s body stiffened, and blood dribbled from the corner of his mouth; he had already bitten down on the tip of his tongue as a precaution. Yet, even so, he was dazed for a split second.

Swish—

At that moment, Yang Fan struck, his blade falling like a violent wind, like a sudden storm—swift and ferocious.

But Xiang Yangkai’s reactions were lightning-quick. He blocked each of the three consecutive blows with his sword.

Before his opponent could counter, Yang Fan abruptly retreated.

“Swift Step!”

As his foot struck the earth, a surge of power shot up from below, propelling him forward at a breakneck pace. He raced toward Cloud Mist Mountain.

“A legendary technique? Truly gifted by heaven,” Xiang Yangkai mused. “Fifteen years old, already eighth-rank, and yet with such explosive power.”

“If it weren’t me, if it were a seventh-rank, or even an ordinary sixth-rank, they’d have been slain for sure!”

“Such a prodigy—since he’s an enemy, he must be killed.”

“Killed at any cost!”

Thoughts spinning, Xiang Yangkai’s killing intent blazed. He let out a cold snort, leapt forward, and landed more than ten meters away. The blood within him boiled, his legs thickened, and his speed increased a notch.

“My cultivation is higher than yours, my strength greater, my endurance superior, and now my speed is faster too. Brother Yang, you can’t escape. Why not stop running and join us? Then there’ll be no need for bloodshed,” Xiang Yangkai threatened and enticed. “At fifteen, you’re already eighth-rank and possess a legendary technique—genius is too weak a word. Anyone would try to win you over, for your value is immeasurable.”

“What is a legendary technique?” Yang Fan retorted.

Had he not sensed the cold gleam in his pursuer’s eyes thanks to his ‘Earth Sense,’ he might have believed him.

“It means a special ability. For example, you can shake my mind, make me lose focus. If you fought someone at your own level, you’d be invincible,” Xiang Yangkai explained. “Brother Yang, stop running.”

“Tell me who your master is, and I’ll stop.”

“Brother Yang, now you’re just making things difficult for me.”

Yang Fan laughed coldly. “Ever since I revealed Liu Kaizong’s demonic worship, you were never going to let me go. This matter is too grave. I suspect what you want most is to cut all ties with Liu Kaizong, am I right?”

“You’re quite clever,” Xiang Yangkai sighed.

“But you’re only a subordinate. Why risk your life for someone else?” Yang Fan tried to persuade him. “With my ability, I might well turn the tables and kill you—especially once we’re deep in the forest, where anything can happen. Is it worth risking everything for a bit of pay? If you die, will he weep for you? Will he care for your family? Each person comes into this world free and unique. Don’t just live for others—live for yourself as well. In the end, if you die, who will remember? Only your parents, your wife, your children. At best, your master will toss you some coin, or maybe a technique. But with your strength, you’d be respected anywhere. Why sell your life?”

Xiang Yangkai remained silent.

Yang Fan’s heart sank. Martial artists were known for their resolve, but any ordinary person would at least be moved by such words. Yet this man remained cold and indifferent.

A deathsworn?

At the very least, someone much like one.

This was going to be trouble.

Yang Fan had already plunged into the depths of the mountain, with only fifteen meters separating them.

Suddenly—

Xiang Yangkai leapt more than ten meters high and pounced. In midair, his sword shot toward Yang Fan’s back—a full-force strike, the blade gleaming like a stream of light.

After such a long chase, a sudden attack like this would catch anyone off guard, making it nearly impossible to evade. Even if one dodged the blade, there was still the airborne assault to contend with.

But Yang Fan twisted his body, dodging the piercing sword with ease, and spun to slash at his foe.

“What sharp senses, what speed—this isn’t good!” Xiang Yangkai’s pupils contracted. He bit his tongue again, but just then the Intimidation swept over him, muddling his mind for a heartbeat. The sharp pain snapped him back to his senses.

Seeing the blade slicing through the air, he threw out an arm and struck the flat of the blade, using the recoil to hurl himself sideways, landing swiftly on the far side.

“If you’re set on killing me, then come!” Yang Fan’s eyes were cold as ice.

He turned and left.

He had tried to use the situation to his advantage, hoping to deal Xiang Yangkai a grievous blow, but his opponent’s combat experience was simply too rich. He had even developed ways to counter the Intimidation.

The forest grew darker, especially beneath the trees, where not even a hand could be seen before one’s face. But for Yang Fan, this was no hindrance.

Xiang Yangkai’s pace slowed as well.

Yang Fan also slowed down. He wouldn’t allow his pursuer to lose his trail.

Wild raspberries? He plucked one and popped it in his mouth to stave off his hunger, then took a moment to drink from the water pouch at his waist.

“A hundred meters ahead to the left is a wildcat!” Yang Fan’s heart skipped a beat and he changed direction, leaping over the wildcat’s head and startling it.

When Xiang Yangkai arrived, the wildcat pounced on him, only to be killed with ease.

“What a pity.” Yang Fan, who had been waiting for an opportunity to strike, could only sigh and continue on. The wildcat that once filled him with dread was now a trifling thing.

He pressed ever deeper, until he found himself in the heart of the forest. In the east, a faint light appeared on the horizon—dawn was breaking.

Yang Fan now stood atop a ridge, climbing along the steep cliff face. Even as he plucked wild fruits to keep up his strength, he was breathing hard.

“Will you keep chasing me?” Leaning on a rock, he turned to ask.

“What do you think?” Xiang Yangkai also panted, sweat streaming from his brow.

“Then let’s continue. We’ll see whether I collapse first and let you kill me, or you tire out and I turn the tables!” With that, Yang Fan pressed on, senses razor-sharp.

“My strength far exceeds yours, and I’ve used little energy. But you? After fighting at the Liu estate and crossing mountains, how much strength do you have left?” Xiang Yangkai sneered, trying to shake Yang Fan’s resolve. He regulated his breath and continued after him.

Suddenly, a stone shifted beneath his feet and slipped away. He jammed his sword into the rock and leaped up again. Looking down at the bottomless chasm, Xiang Yangkai shuddered.

“Was it my own carelessness, or did he have a hand in it?” Xiang Yangkai glanced at Yang Fan, who was still moving ahead, suspicion gnawing at him.

He resumed the chase.

Up ahead, Yang Fan inwardly lamented the missed opportunity, but knew that unless he could strike with absolute certainty, he must not act rashly again.

A huge bird appeared overhead, its wings spanning more than ten meters. It circled the two men a few times, then, sensing their danger, flew away.

Down the mountain they went, deeper into the great wilderness. The sun had fully risen in the east, and a thin mist drifted over the land, lending it an ethereal air.

A smile flickered across Yang Fan’s face.

Up ahead, the fog was thick, and in the sunlight, it shimmered with strange colors.

It was miasma.

He plunged straight into it.

“Miasma!” Xiang Yangkai reached the same spot. This time, he hesitated, but the thought of the consequences drove him to take out a porcelain vial, from which he poured a pill and swallowed it.

A moment later, he too entered the miasma.

It roiled and surged.

Yang Fan activated his Breath-Devouring Divine Art, drawing wisps of miasma into his body, refining them for a burst of energy. Instead of growing weaker, he felt more invigorated.

The mist thickened further; even with his keen eyesight, he could see nothing beyond twenty meters.

The trees shrank, becoming stunted. Patches of marshland appeared, choked with reeds and teeming with mosquitoes. Poisonous snakes slithered everywhere.

“This is Ghost Marsh—I can’t believe I’ve made it here.” Yang Fan’s expression changed.