The Prodigal Disciple of Mount Hua: Seizing All Opportunities

Faced with the encirclement and attack of the Qingcheng Sect members, Chen Qianyang seemed to be at a disadvantage.

however.

The pursuit and counterattacks of these days have not broken him; instead, they have sharpened his sword to an even greater edge.

He was just waiting.

Waiting for an opportunity.

"Zheng—"

Just as the Qingcheng Sword Formation was about to reveal a slight flaw in its rotation...

Chen Qianyang sped away.

No longer on the defensive.

The icy true energy within his body erupted suddenly, surging into the longsword in his hand along his meridians.

The sword was instantly covered with a layer of white frost, and the temperature of the surrounding air dropped slightly.

【Dugu Nine Swords - Breaking Sword Style】!

This sword strike is both incredibly fast and chilling!

"Whoosh!"

The sword light, like an ice dragon, ruthlessly crashed into the junction of the sword formation.

That was a break in Hou Renying's and Hong Renxiong's collaboration.

The shock lasted only a moment.

The flaw has been revealed!

It only takes a moment.

But that was enough for Chen Qianyang.

The cold light cut in like a knife slicing through butter, then gently lifted.

Hou Renying felt a bone-chilling coldness travel along the sword, and half of his body went numb instantly, causing his originally precise sword moves to slow down by half a beat.

That half-beat could mean the difference between life and death.

"laugh!"

Chen Qianyang's sword tip grazed his wrist.

Hou Renying screamed and the longsword slipped from his hand.

The sword formation has been breached!

Chen Qianyang moved into the crowd like a ghost.

At this moment, he was like a god of death.

The Frost Qi can slow down the enemy's movements, and when combined with the Dugu Nine Swords to exploit their weaknesses, it can finish them off.

He weaved through the crowd, each strike of his sword leaving a trail of blood mist.

Blood blooms!

"what!"

"My hand!"

Screams echoed throughout the room.

The sword formation, which had been perfectly aligned just moments before, instantly crumbled into pieces.

"You little beast! Stop being so arrogant!"

The Qingcheng elder, who had been holding the fort, finally couldn't sit still any longer.

Peng Changhai held an extremely high position in the sect. In terms of seniority, even Yu Canghai had to address him as "Uncle-Master".

The reason for leading this group here was to capture this young man from Mount Hua in one fell swoop.

But I never expected this kid's swordsmanship to be so strange and unpredictable.

It's no wonder that Yu Canghai would unexpectedly suffer a setback.

This kid really does have some skills.

With a roar, he leaped into the air, his ghost-head sword slashing down with the force of wind and thunder!

This sword strike was powerful and heavy, unlike the light and agile style of the Qingcheng sword technique.

Clearly, he had taken advantage of the opponent's weak internal strength and wanted to use brute force to overcome skill, splitting Chen Qianyang and his sword in two.

"Well done!"

Chen Qianyang did not retreat but advanced.

He abruptly stopped and swung his longsword upwards.

The moment the sword tip touched the Ghost Head Greatsword, it coiled around it like a serpent, drawing an arc along the opponent's force.

Using minimal force to achieve maximum effect!

Peng Changhai felt a sudden lightness in his hand; the fatal sword strike had deviated from its intended direction and landed heavily on the empty ground.

Rock fragments flew everywhere.

It is in that instant when the old force is exhausted.

Chen Qianyang's sword had already pierced through.

It was just an ordinary, unremarkable thrust.

The target, however, was aimed directly at the throat.

Peng Changhai was terrified and tried to parry with his sword, but found that he was already a fraction too slow.

A chill swept over me.

A bone-chilling cold!

Unbeknownst to him, the extremely cold and sinister true energy had already invaded his wrist, freezing his reactions.

"You idiot, you little devil!"

Peng Changhai's eyes widened, filled with resentment.

"die!"

"Pfft!"

A cold glint pierced his throat.

Blood gushed out, staining half of Chen Qianyang's body red.

Peng Changhai, an elder of the Qingcheng Sect.

He died with a single sword strike!

"Elder!"

The remaining "Three Beauties of Qingcheng" and their disciples watched with eyes wide with rage.

The two men's attacks were so swift that the Qingcheng disciples had no time to help.

Fear surged uncontrollably into my mind.

He was clearly frightened by this scene.

Even the elders are dead?

Elder Peng is a well-established figure, and his martial arts skills are no weaker than Yu Canghai's.

However, with just one move, Elder Peng, who was famous throughout Sichuan and Long for his heavy sword skills, died.

Is this kid a devil?

Chen Qianyang drew his sword and flicked the blood off the blade.

He turned around and looked coldly at the rest of the people.

At this moment, he was covered in blood, his eyes were as cold as knives, and he exuded a suffocating chill.

"Keep going!"

This rhetorical question became the last straw that broke the camel's back.

"Run! Run!"

Someone shouted.

The remaining Qingcheng disciples no longer cared about revenge or the sect leader's dying wish, and scattered and fled.

Chen Qianyang stood still and did not chase after him.

He did indeed use a lot of his internal energy in that sword strike just now.

Along the way, my spirit has reached its limit.

These Qingcheng disciples are very difficult to deal with. If I hadn't seized the opportunity to capture the leader of the thieves, I would have been in trouble.

Once the sword formation resumes operation, the outcome is still uncertain.

After all, with his current strength, facing an attack of this level is still too much of a stretch.

I suppose it's because I lack experience in this area.

He looked at the fleeing figures with a deeper meaning in his eyes.

These Qingcheng disciples should be sent to tell the martial arts world that Chen Qianyang is not a piece of meat to be slaughtered at will.

If you have the guts, you can give it a try.

As for whether fear could overcome greed, he didn't know.

Sheathed the sword.

As the sun sets, the afterglow is like blood.

Chen Qianyang stood alone on the street of the deserted town, surrounded by corpses lying in disarray.

He looked down at his blood-stained hands and a self-deprecating smile curled at the corner of his mouth.

Reputable and righteous sects?

In this cutthroat world of martial arts, these four words are sometimes cheaper than the corpses scattered on the ground.

"But this can't go on."

Chen Qianyang muttered to himself.

I am not afraid, but these flies are too much trouble. It would be bad if they attracted some reclusive old ghosts.

The decision has been made.

He turned and walked deeper into the town.

That damned Qingcheng Sect killed their own horse.

I'll have to walk to the next town.

.......

In the remote border region of southern Jiangxi, there is an unassuming inn.

The windows were tightly closed, shutting out the noise from outside.

Chen Qianyang sat in front of the bronze mirror, looking at his somewhat haggard face reflected in it.

The endless harassment and ambushes of the past few days have truly drained his physical and mental strength.

Now it seems that the name "Chen Qianyang" is really too hot to handle.

If you go out with this face, flies from miles around will swarm to you because of the smell.

He was really fed up.

Chen Qianyang had a sudden thought and remembered the skill he had never used before.

[The Changing Face]

He took out a small porcelain jar from his pocket; it contained a specially made ointment.

Pick up a small amount with your fingertip and apply it evenly to your face.

The ointment was cool and penetrated the skin, bringing a strange tingling and itchy sensation.

He closed his eyes, and a face he had already conceived came to mind.

After a while, he opened his eyes.

The spirited young man in the mirror was gone.

Instead, there was a stern-faced old Taoist priest with high cheekbones.

His gray hair was messily tied into a topknot, and a few sparse strands of goatee hung on his chin.

Those eyes were now filled with nothing but arrogance and gloom, exuding an incomparably cold and hard pride.

Chen Qianyang twitched the corners of his mouth at the mirror.

The old Taoist priest in the mirror also revealed a forced, insincere smile.

"good."

His voice was deliberately made hoarse and unpleasant.

"From today onwards, let this humble Taoist priest keep you company."