Chapter 25: Flee? I Believe That With a Sword, I Can Kill-Escolha uma de três opções diariamente e torne-se um Espadachim Imortal Supremo(Quatro Bolos)

"Corpse refinement, guardians, and extreme defensive capabilities—truly bizarre, but my sword is specifically forged to sever such freakish things."

In a single thought, Yang Le had already sliced the nearest guardian in half at the waist. To ensure there were no strange methods of resurrection, he went a step further. He drove his sword deep into the guardian's skull; though the blade lacked a grandiose aura, it was sharp enough. As it pierced through, the guardian's seemingly impenetrable skull proved as brittle as paper. With a slight twist of his wrist, Yang Le thoroughly pulverized the brains within.

"Master, there is no need for such trouble. These guardians produced by the art of corpse refinement are essentially human; once severed at the waist, they are undoubtedly dead." Watching this, Li Qi'er spoke up, both startled and concerned. Since the targets were already dead, there was no need to go to such lengths.

"Caution in all things is never a mistake," Yang Le replied. After finishing the deed, his cold, piercing gaze turned toward the remaining guardians on the field. He lunged forward, sword in hand, his movement like a swimming dragon. In a matter of seconds, his blade swept across the necks of the remaining guardians. Accompanied by intense sword aura and silent killing intent, all their heads fell to the ground, and their massive frames crashed down, splashing the grey, compacted snow. The muddy ground was left with deep indentations where the bodies landed.

"It is merely a trivial matter, but it resolves a major headache. I am simply used to it," Yang Le said, ignoring the others as he proceeded to crush the brains inside the fallen guardians' skulls with his blade. For good measure, he added a strike to each of their hearts. When it comes to killing, it must be done thoroughly.

He had to admit, these guardians were the hardest things he had ever had to kill, their defensive strength even surpassing the demon-hide of Zhangsun Ji. But the sword in Yang Le's hand... was sharper still.

"What is your origin?" the Grey Daoist demanded. "There are no sword sects in the Great Qian, and the noble clans would never practice such a lackluster path as swordsmanship. The Great Qi has none either; their martial arts are like a barren desert—if not for the isolation of their formations, they would have been swallowed by the Great Qian long ago. Speak, where exactly do you come from?"

If Yang Le's previous act of killing Lin Jingyu with a single strike had merely piqued the Grey Daoist's curiosity—after all, they were both seventh-rank martial artists, and an exceptional talent could occasionally achieve such feats—the instantaneous slaughter of his meticulously cultivated guardians, carried out with such ease, was, in the Grey Daoist's eyes, nothing short of absurd. It had exceeded his expectations.

"I am a lone wanderer. You are the first person to ask me of my origin," Yang Le smiled, then pointed his sword at the Grey Daoist. "Old man, prepare to die."

"Hahaha, confidence is a good thing for a young man, but when it turns into arrogance..." Seeing that Yang Le would not speak, the Grey Daoist stopped asking. He flicked his horsetail whisk with one hand, his grey-white eyes fixed on Yang Le. "Too much arrogance is simply seeking death."

It did not matter if he wouldn't speak; once he captured this boy, he would have plenty of ways to uncover his background. "This girl is also a natural furnace, ha ha! My luck today is truly excellent; it seems the heavens favor me!" He glanced at Li Qi'er standing beside Yang Le, his face twisted into a hideous grin. First, a rare bone talent arrives in Cangzhou, and then there is this young girl who can be traded for treasure. Now, he had two perfect puppets. This was a stroke of fortune the Grey Daoist had never even dared to dream of.

"That laughter is quite annoying," Yang Le said indifferently.

"Master, are you going to attack now?" Li Qi'er assessed the situation and said earnestly, "This old Daoist is not simple. He is in the sixth-rank Blood-Nurturing Realm, his strength is restrained, and his techniques carry a heavy, bloody aura. It would be best to avoid his锋芒 (sharp edge)."

"Your master, however, thinks this fellow is ripe for the killing!" Before Li Qi'er could finish, Yang Le had already made his move. His calm eyes locked onto the Grey Daoist, and the black blade in his hand began to swirl with a faint green sword aura. He raised his hand and lifted his sword to face the enemy.

What of the sixth rank? The sword in Yang Le's hand had already told him: he could be killed.

"Is he really this reckless?" If anyone else had said this, Li Qi'er would have already been planning an escape route, ready to protect herself at the slightest sign of trouble. Since the Liu family and the Great Qian's Directorate of Astronomy had slaughtered her entire family, Li Qi'er no longer trusted anyone. If Yang Le had said this before, she would have simply prepared to bet on the idea that the Directorate of Astronomy was full of incompetent fools, ready to drag Yang Le away at a moment's notice.

Li Qi'er did not trust anyone, but she trusted her master. After all, in the ten years she had wandered the Great Qian, this was the first time she had ever heard someone speak as if humans and demons were no different. Besides, without Yang Le, she would have no one left to teach her the sword.

"Then let me see the might of my master."

Li Qi'er watched Yang Le intently, her eyes filled with the same anticipation as a young girl from a wealthy family seeing a performer about to take the stage. Seventh-rank cutting down sixth-rank—the number of people in the Great Qian who could do this could be counted on one hand; they were all geniuses from the Central Plains. This definitely did not include this Cangzhou swordsman, Yang Le. Li Qi'er should not have believed it. But Yang Le had already done too many things she wouldn't have believed without seeing them with her own eyes. This time, Li Qi'er believed.

"Among the seventh rank, your sword makes you invincible, but you are only seventh rank after all." The Grey Daoist was surprised to see Yang Le attack, but a second later, his expression turned to one of disdain and contempt. He flicked his whisk, ready to strike. "You are courting death."

The gap between the seventh and sixth ranks, while seemingly only one grade, was actually the chasm between the Lower Three Ranks and the Middle Three Ranks. The Lower Three Ranks—Skin-Refining, Bone-Forging, and Meridian-Opening—were for those just entering the martial path, building strength and blood to reach the peak of human capability. The Middle Three Ranks—Blood-Nurturing, Mountain-Moving, and Spirit-Connecting—involved cultivating internal energy, nourishing blood, and fusing martial aura, allowing them to deflect weapons with their own bodies.

A seventh-rank martial artist was merely a toy in the eyes of a sixth-rank one. And the Grey Daoist did not consider himself the weakest of the sixth rank; he was but one step away from the fifth-rank Mountain-Moving Realm.

"Oh, but the seventh rank..." Yang Le had reached the Grey Daoist, his blade pointed forward. Only then did he speak slowly. "...is truly enough to kill you."

"Sword Style Seven: Sever."

The Great Way is simple; sword techniques are like the wind—as long as they can kill, they are enough. Wielding his sword, Yang Le struck first. He rushed toward the Grey Daoist, his movement fast, his sword faster. In the blink of an eye, the blade was already upon the Grey Daoist.