Chapter Fifty-Six: Sinister Methods

Yang Fan wandered through the streets for a while, bought several sets of clothes, and returned to the inn, where he promptly fell asleep.

At the fourth watch, just past midnight, he awakened, dressed himself neatly, pulled a black robe over his attire to conceal the sword case, donned a face scarf, and slipped quietly out of the inn. He moved through the shadows, weaving between alleyways. Activating his earth sense, he walked unhindered and quickly found his target—a manor brightly lit, with guards patrolling constantly. The security within was even tighter.

"The heir of the Tianhe County Prince, Chu Zihao!"

Yang Fan did not approach, but even from a distance, he sensed several powerful presences inside the manor, none weaker than the sixth rank. There was even one stronger than Cao Kaijin, whom Yang Fan had slain earlier. As for those even more formidable? There were likely such existences, for he felt a creeping sense of danger.

He turned away, melting back into the darkness. Yang Fan, like a wraith, sped forward with the Windchaser steps. Using his earth sense to scan the surroundings, he soon locked onto another location—a manor housing more than ten people, each radiating a vigorous energy like a furnace, clearly martial artists and of considerable strength.

"Most likely members of the Divine Fist Sect," Yang Fan mused, but his gaze shifted elsewhere.

There, more than a dozen powerful figures lay hidden, watching the manor intently.

"Are they the heir's men?" Yang Fan pondered. How could he provoke them into battle?

"Why must they fight?" His eyes narrowed, a fierce gleam flashing within.

He unhooked the water flask from his waist, took a drink, hung it back, and patted it gently, murmuring, "Be patient, watch how I avenge you—avenge all of you!"

He infiltrated the area. There were twelve men, by the measure of their internal energy: one sixth rank, three seventh rank, and eight eighth rank—a formidable force.

At this moment, they were conversing in hushed tones.

"Captain, it's already past midnight. If we don't act soon, we'll run out of time."

"Do you remember our orders?"

"Of course. Find the opportunity, strike to kill."

"Is now a good opportunity?"

"This is the hour when sleep is deepest—how could it not be?"

"A good opportunity? Hmph! Once someone reaches the third rank, their senses become as keen as a cicada before autumn's breeze. If we enter the manor, they'll surely be alerted—no chance for a sneak attack. Don't forget, there may be those inside stronger than me, perhaps more than one. If we act, what do you think will happen?"

"Well... If that's so, why not simply besiege them?"

"Fool, we're inside the city!"

"But two nights ago, they struck first—what are we afraid of?"

"Ah, they caught us unprepared—that’s why they succeeded. Now, after that incident, do you think the Sky Patrol Guards aren’t watching us from the shadows?"

"Well... Captain, I just can't accept it. They're just sect disciples—how dare they challenge us!"

"Don't worry, they won't live long!" The captain suddenly grew alert. "Who’s there?"

A sudden, invisible ripple swept through, making his head buzz, blanking his mind, and filling him with terror and involuntary shivers.

"Swift step!"

"Windchaser!"

Yang Fan, who had approached unseen, unleashed his 'Intimidation' divine ability the instant he was discovered, then sprang forward.

Without preparation, they stood no chance against his intimidation. In a flash, Yang Fan was upon them, his Black Cloud Blade already drawn, slashing through the captain's neck and severing his head.

"Tempest Slash!"

His blade flashed like a waterfall, transforming in the darkness into the scythe of death, wildly harvesting lives.

Seeing the others break free from intimidation, he unleashed it again.

Within two breaths, he slaughtered them all.

"Satisfying!"

The pent-up ferocity eased with the carnage; Yang Fan felt lighter, exhaled a murky breath, dipped his blade in blood, and carved a crimson mark on the wall: The shame of the past avenged today; when next we meet, I’ll claim your head.

Using earth sense, he found they carried bank notes, quickly took them. Unfortunately, they amounted to only three hundred taels. Better than nothing.

Under the cover of night, he vanished without a trace.

He slipped back to the inn, though sleep eluded him.

In the courtyard, he contemplated the Tyrant Blade technique.

The next day!

Prince’s private residence.

The heir stepped out, stretched, and found the old steward waiting at the door, brows furrowed. “Something’s happened?”

He beckoned; a maid hurried over to wash his face and rinse his mouth.

“Master, Captain Wang hasn’t returned,” the steward said, bowing, his spirit slightly flagging.

“Hasn’t returned?” The heir paused. “With their strength, even if ambushed, we’d notice the commotion—how could support not arrive in time?”

“They were already dead when discovered. Judging by the scene, they were overwhelmed by a force so powerful they couldn’t even resist,” the steward bowed lower.

“Unable to resist?” The heir’s pupils contracted. “What level of strength?”

“Not even a fourth rank could do this. I suspect a third rank master; otherwise, there would have been noise, some trace left behind.”

“A third rank—does this mean someone’s declaring open war? The Divine Fist Sect shouldn’t be so bold.”

“Master, there’s more!”

“Speak!”

“At the site of Captain Wang’s death, some words were left—quite rude!”

“If you ramble, I’ll cut out your tongue!”

“Master, it read: The shame of the past avenged today; when next we meet, I’ll claim your head.”

“Heh, is this a challenge? How interesting!” The heir sneered. “The shame of the past refers to that old affair—still not let go, such a petty mind. It’s no wonder they can’t grow stronger. With that attitude, that vision, destruction is inevitable. Avenged today? The fire days ago, last night another incident, hence the ‘again’—emphasized deliberately. This person is strong but lacks ambition. When next we meet, claim my head? Ha! Bold indeed—a direct provocation, promising to kill me next time. How arrogant!”

He entered the hall, sat down, and sipped his tea.

“Tell me, if we kill this third rank martial artist, will the Divine Fist Sect rise in force?”

He shook his head. "No, no, no—they’ll likely be too frightened to leave their mountain. What I want is the sect’s annihilation. Old dog, how can we kill this third rank and also draw those old beasts out?"

“Master, how about making them bear a lifetime of shame, so bitter they’d wish to die?”

“Go on.”

“Capture all Divine Fist Sect members in the city, strip them naked, force the male disciples to couple with sows, and the female disciples with donkeys. Do it in the streets, announce they’re elite disciples—such humiliation, no one could endure.”

“You old dog, so vicious, so poisonous—ha ha ha, but I like it!” The heir laughed. “But we can’t do it under our name.”

“Master, the sect has enemies; finding a couple to play the part won’t be hard.”

“Good. Keep watch—don’t let them leave the city. Tonight, we act!”

“Yes, master!”