The man in the green robe held an oil-paper umbrella leisurely in his left hand. Raindrops slid down in strings like a beaded curtain, slightly concealing his face. Only the pale temples revealed the trace of time’s passage.
Yet at this moment, within Wu Hengjian’s vision and senses, aside from the umbrella and the man himself, there was nothing else in the entire world. The heavy rain that poured magnificently suddenly faded away, as if water stains wiped from a mirror. Clouds and the long street simultaneously vanished into emptiness, leaving only darkness.
Thump, thump, thump—Wu Hengjian’s heartbeat involuntarily quickened, like war drums beating, evoking an indescribable sense of danger.
The man in the green robe before him was terrifying!
Extremely terrifying!
Such thoughts wildly echoed in Wu Hengjian’s mind, as he felt this was the strongest enemy he had ever encountered in his life.
In the past, he had met Grandmasters, though never in direct conflict. He had never known what it felt like to face a Grandmaster’s oppressive presence. Compared to the Soul-Stealing Demon Lord he once encountered, who nearly cost him his life, the pressure from this opponent was far greater.
Blood rushed rapidly back to his heart, then surged outward. Wu Hengjian subtly felt his limbs weakening, and a sense of helplessness surged within him, leaving him with no will to fight.
Was he already on the verge of defeat merely from the pressure of the opponent’s aura and mental dominance? Wu Hengjian, after all, was an experienced martial artist at the External Scenery level, and he desperately tried to shake off this influence.
Suddenly, the green-robed figure in his pupils rapidly enlarged, filling his vision, as if it had instantly drifted before him. Then, with his left hand holding the umbrella and his right hand extended forward.
This palm was white, glowing faintly, slender yet powerful, slicing diagonally like a blade.
With this strike, Wu Hengjian’s senses strangely returned. The sound of rain filled his ears, and splashing droplets met his eyes. The wide, long street was covered with a layer of water, washing the stone slabs and connecting the buildings on both sides.
But everything seemed so slow—the rain fell like thick honey, drop by drop; the mist expanded like a dying old man, inch by inch; the sound of the rain stretched out, almost lulling him to sleep.
The delayed nature of the environment, the world, his body, and his senses blended harmoniously, making Wu Hengjian unable to detect anything amiss. However, the right palm slicing diagonally maintained a normal speed, highlighting the slowness as strange and eerie.
A palm imitating the surface qi movement of Sword 23, learned through observation!
Of course, it was only a modified and weakened version by Jiang Zhiwei.
Certainly, it was only similar in appearance.
Though seemingly slow, it was in fact an illusion. At its core was the “Undying Seven Illusions” palm technique, derived from the essential principles of the A-nan Breaking Precepts Blade Skill!
How could this be? How could such a palm technique exist? Wu Hengjian’s thoughts slowed, seemingly helpless but to await his doom, watching helplessly as the palm struck down upon him, an unprecedented danger in his life, making the green-robed man appear godlike or demonic!
Yet he was no ordinary foe. At the critical moment, he forced himself to raise both hands, assuming the posture of a whale swallowing, opening his mouth, revealing darkness, and spinning rapidly.
Then, he inhaled deeply.
Instantly, the primal energies of heaven and earth, the rain, and the palm force all rushed toward his mouth, his body, and his hands, like rivers flowing into the sea without end.
The rain curtain was torn apart, the palm force was disrupted, and the long street seemed to whirl up a storm, drawing everything into its vortex, with Wu Hengjian at the center as its core and source!
The illusion vanished. Wu Hengjian saw the world clearly—the scattered clouds and rain, and further down the alley, the green-robed man holding the oil-paper umbrella. He appeared middle-aged, with white hair at his temples, deep-set features, refined yet aged, standing silently as if he had never moved or attacked.
At that moment, he saw Meng Qi leisurely step forward. The movement carried an inexplicable sensation, as though he had traversed the sea of suffering in a single stride, directly arriving at the opposite shore—appearing right before him—and lightly flicking out a palm strike. It disregarded entirely the whale-swallowing stance and the surrounding dark suction force.
This palm carried no wind, no force, not even stirring the heavens, falling as gently as a single leaf.
Yet Wu Hengjian’s pupils rapidly constricted, even more uncontrollably than when his senses had dulled. For this palm, though seemingly simple, was utterly unpredictable—seeming to strike everywhere and nowhere at once, making it impossible to know how to block, parry, or evade!
Heaven and earth, only I am supreme; omnipresent, yet invisible!
Even without being a Buddhist, Wu Hengjian could sense the deep Chan meaning within the palm intent, along with the terrifying aura of destruction and the defilement of decay. Strangely, they were unified within the Chan meaning, neither this nor that, neither one nor two!
The palm and I are one!
As this thought arose, Wu Hengjian felt utter despair, the sense of danger even greater than before. Even if he gathered his strength and struck back, he could not stop this palm.
There was simply no way to block it!
Suddenly, his face contorted with fury, teeth clenched, no longer holding back. From his forehead abruptly emerged a pitch-black mark, filled with the aura of decay, slaughter, and blood, instantly dispersing the Chan intent and condensing demonic energy.
Crack!
The white, powerful palm withdrew, appearing directly beyond multiple defenses, striking Wu Hengjian’s forehead with an aloof, self-contained manner, causing blood to gush from his head, his mind to reel, and his soul to tremble.
Had it not been for the protective force from the black demonic mark, the consequences would have been unimaginable!
Even so, the black mark had already faded, transforming into ink-like light, merging with the surging demonic energy from Wu Hengjian’s body, rising abruptly, and swiftly fleeing toward the harbor.
“Huh…” Unexpectedly, Wu Hengjian’s last resort exceeded Meng Qi’s expectations, causing him to hesitate slightly before transforming into a rainbow streak, darting through the rain curtain in pursuit.
On the long street, the water washed the stone slabs once more as raindrops fell, quickly restoring the scene to its original state. The battle between two External Scenery experts had caused no collateral damage, revealing the extraordinary control and eerie nature of their confrontation!
The ink-like light silently plunged into the sea, diving rapidly and fleeing far away. Yet Wu Hengjian’s sense of danger did not diminish in the slightest. It seemed as if the divine and demonic man in green was only a step behind, soon to catch up, as if a thorn were lodged in his back!
The danger drew closer, intensifying. As Wu Hengjian could no longer suppress his despair and fear, suddenly, his entire body felt light, and the feeling mysteriously vanished.
Surprised, he sensed ahead a ship emerging from the sea, a seven-story tall warship, magnificent and imposing, with banners at both ends bearing different characters:
“Donghai Sword Estate”;
“He”!
It turned out to be a ship from the Donghai He family—truly a stroke of fate! Wu Hengjian exhaled in relief, feeling a surge of gratitude. No wonder that terrifying green-robed man had dared not continue the pursuit.
At this moment, a silk thread with a hook descended before him. Looking upward, he saw an old man with sparse, yellowish hair standing by the ship’s edge. His aura was deeply restrained, showing no fluctuations. Without looking directly, one would not even sense his presence.
Seeing his position exposed and with a terrifying enemy behind, Wu Hengjian dared not evade. He obediently ascended, flying onto the deck.
“The Young Master invites you in,” the old man with yellowish hair said indifferently, continuing to fish.
Following the instructions, Wu Hengjian stepped into the cabin, where he saw someone sitting by the window.
Even seated, he towered half a head above ordinary men. His eyebrows were like swords, his eyes like deep pools, his posture relaxed yet confident, as if nothing in the world could trouble him, no enemy could disturb his peace.
“Greetings, Young Master,” Wu Hengjian knew the man before him was “Invisible Sword” He Jiu.
“What happened in Linhai City that caused you to flee so urgently?” He Jiu asked directly.
Wu Hengjian’s heart stirred, recounting everything from his suspicion about the unnatural death of Old Master Yun to the ambush by the mysterious and terrifying green-robed figure, omitting nothing. Though he did not explicitly say it was an assassination attempt, the implication was clear.
He Jiu lightly tapped the table before him, musing, “The two palm techniques from the green-robed man were each deeply profound and difficult to fathom. The first resembled the techniques of the Xuantian Sect. The second, I have never encountered before and cannot identify. Do you have any clues?”
Wu Hengjian shook his head: “I have not heard of any similar experts either.”
He Jiu took out a jade slip inscribed with talismanic characters and asked Wu Hengjian to imprint the details of what he had seen into it, so they could identify the opponent based on the aura and physical features.
Otherwise, merely describing him as a man in a green robe with a slow gait, deep-set features, white hair at the temples, refined demeanor, and holding an oil-paper umbrella would leave thousands of possible candidates across the land!
Wu Hengjian also wished to identify the attacker. After a brief examination, he pressed the jade slip to his forehead, transferring the mental images.
He Jiu glanced at it, expression unchanged, then tossed the jade slip out the window, where it was hooked and dragged away.
Shortly after, an aged voice came: “Based on the aura and appearance, it must be the old Poisonous Hand Demon Lord.”
“Him? His power has greatly increased; he cannot be underestimated.” He Jiu murmured to himself, his tone filled with interest, as if eager to test the current strength of the Poisonous Hand Demon Lord.
Underestimating him? He was truly godlike or demonic! Wu Hengjian thought inwardly, then said, “I have left the Left Path and am being hunted by evil forces. I have always kept my movements hidden, confident that I am not easily targeted. For the Poisonous Hand Demon Lord to intercept me means someone must have tipped him off!”
“Do you suspect anyone?” He Jiu asked with a smile.
Wu Hengjian pondered before replying, “In recent days, I have met elders from the Zhu, Tie, and Yun families. If anyone leaked my location, they are the most likely. But unless they possess secret tracking techniques, I should have noticed any surveillance…”
“Then who knows where you were hiding?” He Jiu remained calm and confident.
“The thirteenth master of the Yun family, Miss Yun Qi, and a local ship guild leader, a close friend who arranged my hiding place.” Wu Hengjian impartially listed those who knew.
He Jiu continued his calm questioning, helping Wu Hengjian organize his thoughts.
…
At the harbor shore, Meng Qi stood beneath the rain, holding the oil-paper umbrella, gazing at the ship on the sea.
“Interesting,” he murmured softly, then turned, stepping slowly into the rain, disappearing into the mist.
Earlier, the final black demonic mark from Wu Hengjian bore a striking resemblance to the Devil Monarch from the past!
Though not identical, it was clearly of the same lineage!
Had it been passed down from someone who entered the Devil’s Grave earlier than himself and Gu Xiaosang, or was there another hidden truth?
Originally, Meng Qi had not cared much about the outcome of this matter, merely wanting to gain trust quickly and approach the Su Maiden Sect. Yet now, matters related to the Devil Monarch had surfaced, making things somewhat intriguing!
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