Wandering Swordsman |

Meanwhile, the fleeing Diancang Sect disciple ran frantically, finally escaping the temple fair's area. He stopped, panting, beside a large tree, glancing back at the distant Wudang Mountain, a complex expression flashing in his eyes. He knew his actions were completely exposed, with no turning back. But he didn't regret it, because he firmly believed his choice was right—he was willing to pay any price to achieve his goal.

Just as he was about to continue his escape, he suddenly heard footsteps coming from behind. He turned around alertly and saw several fellow disciples running towards him, their faces filled with anger and disappointment.

"Senior Brother Yang Min, you've gone mad!" a young disciple roared. "You actually dared to plot against Zhou Xinlian of the Emei Sect! What exactly are you trying to do?"

It turned out that the escaped Diancang disciple was named Yang Min. At this moment, a cold smile appeared on his lips, and his eyes revealed an almost manic obsession: "Everything I do is to uphold the Great Dao in my heart. If I can't have her, I will destroy her; if I can't destroy her, then I will destroy the entire order of the martial arts world! You wouldn't understand."

Having said that, Yang Min turned to leave, but was stopped by several fellow disciples. The two sides faced off for a moment, the atmosphere tense to the extreme. A suffocating atmosphere filled the air. A mountain breeze swept through the forest, carrying a few withered leaves that swirled and fell in the sunlight.

Suddenly, Yang Min drew his sword and flashed forward like a ghost, aiming straight for the throat of the disciple at the front. The disciple hastily prepared to fight back, and the two exchanged several blows in an instant, their swords flashing and sparks flying.

Seeing this, the other Diancang disciples stopped talking and drew their swords to attack. The five of them formed a circle, their sword strikes fierce and relentless. Although they were from the same sect, there was no longer any camaraderie between them.

The battle erupted with extreme speed. Yang Min was highly skilled in martial arts, and his swordsmanship was ruthless; every strike carried a deadly intent. His swordsmanship combined the swiftness of the Diancang sword with sinister energy, making his moves unpredictable and difficult to defend against.

"Thirteen Wind-Breaking Slashes!" one of the disciples shouted, his longsword transforming into a silver dragon as it swept out horizontally. The sword wind howled, heading straight for his left shoulder.

However, Yang Min seemed to have anticipated this. He lowered his body and took an uncanny step, slipping through the gaps in the sword wind and thrusting his sword at the chest of another disciple. The latter reacted slightly slower, was slashed and staggered backward.

"You're no longer the senior brother we knew," a disciple gritted his teeth, his eyes filled with grief. "You've been blinded by demonic influence!"

"Demonic obstacles?" Yang Min sneered. "You are the pathetic worms bound by the so-called righteous path!"

As Yang Min spoke, he shifted his stance and suddenly accelerated his swordplay, managing to suppress the five men and force them to retreat in defeat.

At that very moment—

A dark figure suddenly emerged from the depths of the forest, moving with incredible speed, appearing among the group in the blink of an eye. Then, with a flick of his sleeve, the figure scattered a handful of grayish-white powder towards the five Diancang disciples!

"Watch out!" someone exclaimed.

But it was too late.

The powder drifted in the wind, landing on the faces, clothes, and arms of several Diancang disciples. However, the disciples felt no discomfort after being touched by the powder, so they didn't pay it any mind. Instead, they raised their swords and watched the dark figure in front of them warily.

Just as the dark figure slowly raised his head, revealing a thin and sinister face, a flash of astonishment and anger crossed the eyes of the oldest of the five Diancang disciples. He recognized the mysterious figure at a glance—it was Zeng Wei, the Tang Clan traitor who had been wanted by the Martial Alliance for a long time.

"Zeng Wei!" roared the eldest disciple, his voice echoing through the silent forest. "How dare you show your face here! Don't you know you're wanted by the Martial Alliance?"

Zeng Wei's lips curled into a cold smile, his eyes revealing an almost insane confidence. "Hmph, a chase?" he said dismissively, "Those third-rate martial artists sent by the Martial Alliance are no match for me."

At this moment, Yang Min stood aside, his eyes gleaming, secretly pleased with himself. He had spent a large sum of money to hire Zeng Wei beforehand, with the aim of creating chaos after his successful assassination of Zhou Xinlian, thus allowing him to escape unscathed. Now, although his attempt to kill Zhou Xinlian had failed, he was able to escape smoothly thanks to his prior hiring of Zeng Wei to create chaos. Thinking of this, a barely perceptible cold smile unconsciously appeared on his face.

Zeng Wei took another step forward, the grayish-white powder in his hand replaced with a light blue powder, which he then sprinkled onto the Diancang disciples. As the light blue powder was released, a pungent odor filled the air. "You self-proclaimed disciples of prestigious sects," he mocked, "always so high and mighty, yet unaware of the dangers of the martial world. Today, I'll let you taste the power of Tang Clan poison!"

At this moment, the disciples of Diancang were completely unaware of the danger, only thinking that the light blue powder should be the same as the grayish-white powder, having no effect whatsoever.

However, when the pale blue powder adhered to the disciples and covered them with the grayish-white powder, the disciples of Diancang suddenly froze, their faces showing pain. Then, one by one, they began to frantically scratch their skin, emitting low groans.

"Ah...it itches so much..." A disciple dropped his sword, his eyes bloodshot, and scratched his arm until it bled.

"This powder is poisonous!" another disciple exclaimed, his voice trembling.

The five Diancang disciples retreated hastily, but it was too late. Their eyes turned bloodshot, countless tiny red spots appeared on their skin, and their faces were contorted with pain. Instinctively, they all dropped their swords, their hands gripping their skin tightly, as if trying to tear the endless pain from their bodies.

Another, slightly younger disciple tried to remain calm, but his voice still trembled: "Senior brother, what should we do?"

Seeing this, Yang Min quickly sheathed his sword, preparing to leave. However, just as he turned to leave, the older disciple of Diancang Sect used his last ounce of strength to shout, "Yang Min, you actually associate with a traitor of the Tang Sect! The Sect Leader will not let you get away with this!"

Upon hearing this, Yang Min paused slightly. He had originally intended to spare his fellow disciples, after all, they had once shared a bond. However, these words were like a thorn, instantly igniting the killing intent within him. A cold glint flashed in Yang Min's eyes, and a cruel smile curled at the corner of his lips. "You've reminded me, if you die, no one will know."

Without hesitation, Yang Min drew his longsword, his figure flashing as he pounced like a ghost. His swordsmanship was incredibly fierce, each strike carrying deadly intent. His longsword drew a strange arc in the air, aiming straight for the throat of the Diancang disciple.