Yefutidaolu

Chapter 450 Weaving a Web
With the little boy in tow, Gao Jian traversed half of the capital city in a few flashes and arrived at a chaotic area in the west of the city. This place was neither as transcendent as the Floating Immortal Island nor as elegant as the area around the Imperial Academy. The air was filled with the smells of cooking, cheap alcohol, and a faint stench of blood.

He placed the little boy on a rooftop where he could see the house in front of him, yet it was relatively safe.

He neutralized all the impact along the way, so the child didn't even feel anything.

When he arrived here and landed, his eyes were still dazed.

Only a few seconds after landing, he realized what had happened, his face turning deathly pale, lost in thought.

Perhaps they were afraid that Gao Jian would send him back.

Gao Jian didn't say a word.

The next moment, he took a step forward, and his figure appeared like a ghost in front of the tightly closed gate of the mansion. He didn't even push the door open; he simply raised his hand and placed it on the rather heavy-looking wooden door.

Without a loud bang or a burst of energy, the door, along with the latch behind it, seemed to be instantly eroded and disintegrated by an invisible force, turning into a cloud of fine wood dust that fluttered down.

Gao Jian's figure stepped into the courtyard as if unveiling the night.

This place is in Hulin.

It has no official name, and to outsiders, the people inside claim to be associated with "Hulin".

Hu Lin was once a powerful and renowned martial artist. With his broadsword and fearless ruthlessness, he built a formidable foundation in the capital city, a place teeming with hidden talents, thanks to his sixth-level cultivation.

At its peak, he had over a hundred men under his command, controlling several streets of shady businesses, and was renowned for his influence.

However, the world of martial arts ages us all.

The Tiger, now with graying temples, may still seem as formidable as ever, his fists and feet still fierce, but his spirit is different. He has begun to reminisce more about the past, recalling the passion and glory of yesteryear. His management of his forces has lost its former drive and ambition, replaced by a sense of complacency and stagnation. Naturally, the atmosphere within his faction has become somber, conservative, and even somewhat apathetic.

It was late at night. The doors and windows of the east wing were tightly shut, and the lights were dim. Apart from the occasional soft clanging of blade rings during weapon maintenance, there was no other sound. Although it was a warm spring night, the courtyard was filled with an inescapable sense of desolation, originating from the very nature of the martial world.

Who knows how tense and arduous the lives of these heroes of the martial world, who spend their days licking blood from the edge of a knife and drinking wine from large bowls, are, constantly on guard against the retaliation of their enemies, the investigations of the government, and the infighting among their peers? They can hardly find a day a year when they can truly relax and get a good night's sleep.

Therefore, most of them have no home, nor are they able to have one. Although they are never short of women to warm their beds, they do not have wives.

But life in the martial arts world is indeed colorful and colorful, full of brotherhood, righteousness, and the joy of revenge. Those moments of glory and splendor are enough to make people's blood boil and unforgettable.

Therefore, there are still many people who would rather sacrifice their life's stability and happiness in exchange for the recognition and excitement of sword fights.

And now, here comes the brilliant insight.

In the inner courtyard, in the deepest bedroom, Hu Lin, though old, still possessed the instincts of a martial artist. Almost the instant Gao Jian burst through the door, he suddenly opened his eyes, his gaze sharp and piercing, as if the sleeping tiger had been abruptly awakened.

Without the slightest hesitation, he pushed aside the six young concubines huddled around him. His movements were swift as lightning, and in the blink of an eye, he had already dressed in simple, neat clothes and casually picked up the thick-backed nine-ringed golden sword leaning against the headboard.

The next moment, his imposing figure swept out of the bedroom like a whirlwind and appeared in the front yard, facing Gao Jian who had just stepped into the yard.

Under the moonlight, the two stood ten feet apart.

Hu Lin was tall and imposing, with a robust frame despite his age. He held a golden knife, exuding a powerful and imposing aura. His sharp gaze was fixed on Gao Jian, especially on the unremarkable rusty knife in his hand.

He felt a chill run down his spine; the person who could break in so silently was no ordinary individual.

Soon, the other brothers arrived, and everyone reacted quickly.

Gao Jian simply looked at him calmly, his rusty knife pointing diagonally at the ground. He didn't exude any powerful aura, yet he made Hu Lin, a veteran of many battles, feel unprecedented pressure.

"Who are you? What brings you to my residence in the dead of night?" Hu Lin's voice was loud and clear, with a metallic quality, as he tried to take the initiative in terms of momentum.

Gao Jian did not answer his question, but merely raised his eyelids, his gaze passing over Hu Lin as if scrutinizing every corner of the mansion.

The little boy collapsed to the ground, breathing rapidly like a broken bellows.

The mansion he once regarded as a den of dragons and tigers, filled with endless fear, was now open to the public.

Gao Jian didn't even turn around to look at the little boy's pale face. His voice came calmly: "Do you understand? Getting angry at Fei is a sign of weakness. A capable person would go find the culprit."

After speaking, he drew his knife.

There was no earth-shattering opening move, no surging burst of energy. He simply carried the rusty, seemingly fragile sword and walked forward.

The first to rush forward was "Quick Knife Ah Qi." He had once been a border scout, renowned among spies for his swift knife skills. After retiring, he followed Hu Lin, and his blade had claimed at least eighty to a hundred lives. His knife was incredibly fast, so fast that only a flash of cold light could be seen as it pierced Gao Jian's throat. With this very blade, he once, while drunk, severed the tips of three hundred incense sticks that had fallen simultaneously.

But Gao Jian's knife is "slower".

It moved so slowly, as if it were just a casual lift, that it landed perfectly in front of her throat.

A soft "ding" sounded.

Ah Qi felt a numbness in his wrist, and then discovered that his hundred-refined steel blade, starting from the point of contact, shattered into iron dust, as if weathered for millions of years. He stared blankly at his empty hand, not understanding what had happened, when an invisible force passed through his body, and he collapsed limply, his eyes still holding the ruthlessness of when he drew the blade and a trace of bewilderment.

"Iron Tower" Baron roared as he charged forward. He was nine feet tall, and his martial arts skills were unparalleled. He had once single-handedly carried a battering ram and smashed open a city gate. His muscles were as tough as cast iron. He swung his fists, carrying a force powerful enough to shatter stone tablets, and pressed down on Gao Jian like a wall.

Gao Jian did not dodge; the rusty knife remained pointed diagonally at the ground.

Just as Baron's fist was about to strike, the tip of the rusty knife seemed to casually flick upwards.

The pressure point was placed on Baron's chest, specifically the Tanzhong acupoint.

There was no bloodshed.

Baron's protective aura, strong enough to withstand heavy artillery fire, vanished silently like a bubble in the sunlight. His massive body stiffened abruptly, his forward momentum halted abruptly, and he crashed to the ground, raising a cloud of dust. His formidable martial arts skills failed to withstand this seemingly effortless "point."

The two assassins leaped out of the shadows. They were twin brothers, perfectly in sync, skilled in combined attacks, their daggers cunning and deadly; countless masters had fallen victim to their sneak attacks. Like two true shadows, one on the left and one on the right, they blocked all of Gao Jian's escape routes.

Gao Jian finally made a move.

He simply turned around in the same spot.

As he turned, the rusty knife traced an arc. This arc, though slow, seemed to encompass all the light and life around it.

The moment the Twin Fiends' daggers touched the arc of light, they silently broke in two.

Their prized agility appeared clumsy and laughable before this arc of light. The arc of light swept across their bodies, leaving no wounds or bloodstains, but their eyes instantly dimmed, like puppets whose souls had been ripped from them, as they fell straight to the ground, lifeless.

Hu Lin watched all of this unfold.

He watched as his old brothers, with whom he had once drunk heavily, risked their lives, and fought their way through mountains of corpses, fell one by one like paper before the man wielding the rusty knife, utterly powerless to resist.

He recalled those days when he and a dozen others, relying solely on their courage and a single blade, carved out a place for themselves in the western part of the capital. Back then, Quick-Blade Ah Qi's blade could remain dry even in the rain; Iron Tower Baron could carry a giant log and charge for a mile; and the combined attack techniques of the Ghost Shadow Duo were praised even by the guards of the capital's inner palace…

The past is like smoke, and the glory is gone.

Now they are old and dull-witted, and can only guard this legacy, reminiscing about the past while engaging in shady dealings, even going so far as to kidnap children...

A mix of sorrow, anger, and despair welled up in Hu Lin's heart.

"Roar--!"

He let out a roar like a wounded tiger, unleashing his full power without reservation. His sixth-realm cultivation was pushed to its limit, and the nine-ringed golden saber in his hand emitted a piercing hum. The nine golden rings on the saber vibrated violently, gathering all his life's power and all his remaining pride, transforming into a dazzling golden saber aura that seemed capable of splitting mountains, slashing down towards Gao Jian!

This was his swan song, the tiger's last fang!

Faced with this earth-shattering strike, Gao Jian finally slightly raised his eyelids.

It was as if time had stopped for a moment, or as if space itself had been slightly distorted.

The incomparably powerful golden blade aura vanished silently, as if wiped away by an invisible giant hand, three feet above Gao Jian's head.

Hu Lin remained frozen in his chopping posture.

The nine-ringed golden saber in his hand, starting from the tip, the blade made of refined gold, shattered at a visible speed, like rotten wood, and fell to the ground with a clanging sound.

Hu Lin looked down at his empty hands, then at the rusty, seemingly untouched knife in Gao Jian's hand.

He got it.

They've messed with people from a completely different world.

The last glimmer of light in his eyes vanished, and his massive body collapsed backward like a mountain collapsing and a jade pillar crumbling, leaving him breathless.

The tiger finally fell in its own forest, but this forest was no longer the one it knew.

The cold moonlight illuminated the desolate scene of devastation and silence.

The once-glorious world of martial arts was gently wiped away by a rusty knife on this night.

"What kind of martial arts world is this? It's all just scheming and despicable stuff." Gao Jian waved his hand dismissively.
Hu Lin and his gang certainly have their stories. Those stories might contain tales of chivalry and revenge, of unrestrained song and dance, of brotherhood forged on the edge of death, and of harrowing struggles for survival. But Gao Jian is too lazy to listen to any of that.

They don't deserve it.

Gao Jian turned his head and walked towards the little boy who was still slumped on the ground, absent-minded. The shadow once again enveloped him.

"Do you understand?" Gao Jian's voice remained cold.

The little boy stared blankly at Gao Jian. Everything that had just happened was too fast and too beyond his comprehension. He hadn't seen the specific process clearly, only vaguely catching a few flashes of light. Then, those villains who had once seemed as invincible as mountains in his eyes fell like harvested straw.

Fear still gripped his mind, but it seemed to be mixed with an indescribable sense of bewilderment.

Seeing that he didn't answer, Gao Jian didn't bother to ask any more questions. He simply reached out and grabbed his arm, and just like when he came, he vanished from the blood-soaked and deathly silent mansion in a flash.

The next moment, the two reappeared in the temple under the cold moonlight, standing in front of Fei Xiang and the anxiously waiting little girl.

Fei Xiang clasped his hands together, his azure face devoid of joy or sorrow. He simply looked at Gao Jian and the little boy he had brought back, and sighed softly. In that sigh was a hint of melancholy, as if he had seen the inevitability of fate.

Gao Jian then turned to face Fei Xiang, his tone direct: "Sometimes, it's better to be faster. You're so slow and indecisive."

Fei Xiang shook his head: "This humble monk only hopes that those who are saved can be saved completely... Your insight is excellent. Alas..." His unfinished words turned into a long sigh.

"Gao Jian" curled his lip.

There was no point in saying more. He didn't linger, turned around decisively, and walked out of the temple, his shadow stretching long in the moonlight.

The little boy, finally recovering slightly from the shock, watched Gao Jian's departing figure—

The moonlight cast Gao Jian's shadow on the bluestone slab, which gradually lengthened and faded as he walked away, eventually merging into the darkness outside the temple gate.

In the courtyard, only Fei Xiang's long sigh remained. The little girl tugged at him and asked, but the little boy just stared blankly at that place. In the huge blank in his heart, which he didn't know how to fill, the scene was left forever imprinted in his mind.

Fei Xiang looked at the little boy, understanding dawning on his mind. He sighed again, a long and heavy sigh.

Perhaps, this era truly is one of bloodshed.

He suppressed these chaotic thoughts, walked to the little boy's side, and slowly squatted down. His azure body radiated a soft glow in the moonlight, completely different from the cold and oppressive aura emanating from Gao Jian.

He reached out and gently patted the little boy's head with a comforting warmth, his voice gentle: "Don't be afraid anymore, it's all over now." He paused, then asked, "What's your name? Where's your sister?"

“I…I’m Zhang Xiu.” He pointed to the little girl next to him who was tightly clutching his clothes. “She…she’s Zhang Ling.”

Fei Xiang smiled gently and nodded: "A good name. From today onwards, settle down here in peace."

He stood up, took Zhang Ling's small hand, and gestured for Zhang Xiu to follow.

But he desperately wanted to know that his life, from this night onward, had already changed.

The entanglements of cause and effect are like a woven web, making it difficult to escape.

(End of this chapter)