章節 4: Crisis On Fang Family 4
On the seventh day, the atmosphere at the Fang Residence was the most oppressive it had ever been. The threat of destruction had been dismissed by many as mere bluster, but as night fell, tension gripped everyone.
The night sky was a dark, liquid expanse, and the cold wind howled through Southern Hills City, once lively but now eerily quiet, occasionally broken by the distant barking of dogs.
Fang Wang sat atop the eaves, his hand resting on a treasured sword that Li Jiu had procured after three days of searching. The sword was renowned for its ability to cut through iron effortlessly, a true divine.
His gaze fell on a distant rooftop where his cousin, Fang Hanyu, stood tall and resolute, sword in hand. Fang Hanyu appeared poised and calm, his long hair and robe billowing in the wind, exuding the presence of a seasoned warrior ready for battle.
"Impressive skills. He's not just a premier martial artist; he's a true prodigy," Fang Wang thought, admiring his cousin's prowess.
In the martial world, practitioners were classified into several realms: non-proficient, third-rate, second-rate, first-rate, pinnacle, and the legendary Martial Mythical Realm. Pinnacle masters were rare, often belonging to major sects and rarely seen outside. First-rate masters could dominate entire regions.
Fang Wang had reached the Martial Mythical Realm by sixteen, a legendary status in his own right, though it had been overshadowed by his encounter with the Cultivation World.
Facing the imminent threat, Fang Wang felt neither fear nor panic. Instead, a deep passion burned within him. He had yet to kill an enemy in his martial practice, having always stopped short during sparring matches.
His confidence stemmed from his mastery of his martial arts and his Great Perfection of the Aerial Sword Art. He believed that with Zhou Xue—now a reborn Immortal Venerable—at the Fang Residence, they had a strong chance, especially given her understanding of the Cultivator-mortal disparity.
As the night deepened, the croaking of frogs filled the courtyards, and the Fang Residence's retainers patrolled the grounds. Even local officials had been alerted and were on guard.
In the courtyard, Zhou Xue sat at a stone table, methodically wiping silver darts. Her expression was as cold as the moonlight reflecting off the blades, and a hint of malevolence lingered in her gaze.
Elsewhere..
Atop the eastern city wall of Southern Hills City, silhouettes leapt up like soaring eagles or skimming geese, swiftly infiltrating the city.
The last figure landed on the wall, overlooking the vast Southern Hills City. His blue robe fluttered, and despite his broad shoulders and thin waist, his long hair was casually tied with a cloth strip. He appeared to be in his early forties, holding a horsetail whisk, giving him the appearance of a Taoist. Yet, his eyes revealed a serpentine coldness.
"As expected of one of Great Qi's most prosperous cities in the south, it will surely enable the Infernal Soul Flag to resurrect," he muttered to himself, a hint of ruthlessness in his tone. Then, he leapt into the vast night, disappearing from view.
...
In the brightly lit main hall of the Fang Residence, Fang Meng sat at the head of the table, surrounded by the residence's lords and ladies.
Despite nearing seventy, Fang Meng, with his white hair and formidable presence, appeared as an elderly lion. His gaze was sharp and calm as he scrutinized the night sky beyond the door.
"It's the hour of the Rat, and no invaders have attacked. It appears to have been a false alarm."
"I told you, don't blindly trust a couple of kids' words."
"Isn't Fang Wang usually quite clever? How could he believe such rumors? The Fang Residence is the Duke's Mansion; who would dare to attack? They'd risk their own lives."
"Quiet down; what do you women understand? The sky isn't even fully dark yet; we can't let our guard down!"
"Father, I am increasingly uneasy," said one of the lords, clearly agitated.
The lords, all of whom were Fang Wang's uncles, had serious expressions. The ladies, in an effort to ease the tension, tried to maintain calm.
Fang Zhen, the fourth lord, had a significant impact with his words. His military experience and survival instincts gave him a heightened sense of danger.
Fang Meng's irritation flared. "I have been a soldier all my life. Just because I've retired doesn't mean anyone can provoke me without consequences. Anyone who dares to come will face death. This matter won't end here!"
Fang Meng had his suspicions about who might be behind the threat, but he kept them to himself.
Suddenly, a scream pierced the night—an alarmed cry from a maid.
Fang Shi, Fang Wang's eldest uncle, darted out in response, disappearing from sight.
The remaining lords—Fang Zhe, Fang Jin, Fang Zhen, and Fang Yin—rushed outside the main door. The ladies huddled together, visibly startled but not yet panicked.
Fang Meng, supported by his wife, struggled to his feet, his face lined with worry.
Outside, the Fang Residence was soon engulfed in chaos: screams, combat shouts, and the clash of swords.
Perched on the eaves, Fang Wang observed as black-clad figures infiltrated the residence from various directions. The number of enemies was more than he had anticipated. He quickly targeted the fastest-moving intruder.
Meanwhile, Fang Hanyu also sprang into action, while Zhou Xue remained seated at the stone table, her demeanor calm and collected.
A black-clad figure landed in the courtyard, wielding a long saber and wearing a mask that revealed only his eyes. The figure's gaze fixed on three terrified maids, who scrambled toward the house.
Without hesitation, the black-clad intruder charged.
A sudden, sharp noise cut through the night. The intruder halted abruptly, and a pebble, stained with black blood, struck the wall before falling to the ground.
The intruder fell backward, a bloody hole in his forehead. His lifeless eyes, wide open in death, reflected Fang Wang's image fleetingly.
Running swiftly along the estate wall, Fang Wang tossed pebbles with precision, each one claiming the life of a black-clothed intruder. His agility and accuracy were unmatched, each pebble finding its mark with deadly effectiveness. Despite his efforts, the vastness of the Fang Residence meant he couldn't eliminate all the enemies quickly.
Zhou Xue had informed him of the presence of six peak-level masters among the invaders. The Fang Residence lacked peak-level masters, making it nearly impossible to deal with these elite fighters, even with the help of numerous guards and soldiers. Fang Wang decided to target these peak-level masters first, aiming to minimize the casualties of the Fang Residence before confronting the cultivator.
Suddenly, he noticed a powerful surge of energy collapsing an entire loft. He turned and rushed towards the source.
In the midst of a fierce battle, Fang Hanyu struggled against a formidable foe. The black-clothed opponent wielded a long saber and wore a bronze mask, revealing only his eyes and nose. Fang Hanyu had been pushed to his limits and was now bleeding heavily. He had been defeated almost instantly.
Fang Hanyu's long hair was disheveled as he tried to recover. Looking up with difficulty, he managed to utter, "The Pinnacle!" His words conveyed the realization of facing a Pinnacle-level master.
The masked man, cold and detached, raised his long saber, which began to emit a chilling frost. His eyes revealed no mercy.
Fang Hanyu, despite his severe injuries, stood his ground, trying to fight back. He asked, "Who are you? Who is behind this attack?"
The masked man replied coldly, "You don't need to know. Soon, everything will be irrelevant to you."
Just then, Fang Wang appeared, having used the Shadowless Step to approach swiftly. He materialized between Fang Hanyu and the masked man, his white robe flowing around him as he moved. His face, though still bearing traces of youth, now showed a mature determination.
The appearance of Fang Wang shifted the dynamic of the battle. The masked man halted, momentarily surprised. Fang Wang's intervention had changed the focus of the confrontation, giving Fang Hanyu a brief respite.
The masked man's gaze fell on the scabbard in Fang Wang's right hand. Narrowing his eyes, he said, "Impressive footwork. To see you so young, a truly peerless talent. Compared to you, the brat behind you is quite ordinary."
Upon hearing this, Fang Hanyu didn't think much of it; he merely gazed at the back of Fang Wang. Of course, he remembered this younger cousin; however, after many years apart and with the imminent disaster of their home, he had not found the opportunity to reconnect with Fang Wang.
"That footwork just now... He's also trained in martial arts?" Fang Hanyu wondered in surprise. Since returning, he had also asked his father about Fang Wang's experiences. This younger brother had always stayed in the Fang Residence, so from where had he acquired such high-level footwork?
Fang Wang locked eyes with the masked man and suddenly drew his treasured sword. As the bright blade left its sheath, the pupils of the masked man dilated suddenly.
Within his wide eyes, a sword grew larger. He instinctively raised his saber.
Splat—
Blood splattered; Fang Wang emerged behind the masked man, his right hand holding the sword pointed obliquely at the moon. Slightly lifting his chin without turning back, he said softly, "In my presence, you're quite ordinary as well."
每周推薦票狀態
-- 推薦票
榜單 
-- 推薦票