"For the sake of all life under heaven, please rest in peace."
Hearing these words in the rain, Fan Xian couldn't help but laugh. His laugh was not exaggerated. The corners of his delicate and pretty face that was half exposed outside the hat curled up slightly, carrying a glimmer of disdain and a glimmer of absurdity. This was his truest reaction in his heart. Probably even he had not thought that entering the Qing Temple in the rain would meet these Ascetic Monks. Furthermore, the temperament these Ascetic Monks exuded was so strange.
What was the Temple? There were not many people in the world who knew. The only person who had some understanding of that indistinct place was, without question, Fan Xian, who had accompanied Xiao En in death. In the days after his rebirth, he had guessed this question more than once. However, he had never been able to find any fundamental answers. Fan Xian knew many of the priests, Ascetic Monks, and monks who served the Temple. Among them, the most famous was, without question, the Imperial Advisor of Northern Qi, the person in charge of Tianyi Dao, Master Ku He. Presumably, even Master Ku He would not think that he had accepted the will of the Temple and would punish on behalf of heaven just because he pitied the toil of the common people.
Yet, the Ascetic Monks in the rain in front of him were serious and resolute in saying such words. Fan Xian couldn't help but laugh coldly to himself.
"Why must it be me who rests in peace, and not someone else?" Fan Xian slowly withdrew the smile on his face. Looking at the Ascetic Monks around him, he calmly asked, "If there is a god in the world, presumably in his eyes, all life is equal. Since that is the case, why must you target me? Could it be that the Ascetic Monks who serve the Temple are nothing more than scoundrels who bully the weak and fear the strong? "
These mocking words clearly had no effect on the Ascetic Monks. They continued to kneel calmly around Fan Xian's body as if they were worshipping him. However, the pure aura that had already condensed into one had already firmly controlled Fan Xian's figure in the field.
"It's not difficult for me to enter the palace to ask for forgiveness, but I need an explanation. Why am I the sinner?" Fan Xian slowly pulled off the rain hat connected to his collar and allowed the weak raindrops to slowly flow down his smooth black hair. Seriously, he said, "I originally didn't know that you, who were so unknown, were such fanatics. I can also understand the meaning you didn't say. It is nothing more than to unify the world and dispel decades of unease and the fires of war so that the people can live in peace. I don't understand. What makes you think that man will be able to perfectly fulfill your hopes and carry out the will of the Temple?"
Fan Xian turned his body slightly and felt that the heavy atmosphere around him was like a living thing. It was very smooth and smooth, without a trace of stagnation, nor did it reveal any loopholes that could be exploited. He raised his eyebrows slightly. He had not thought that these Ascetic Monks would be able to combine their individual realms of power to form such a powerful force when they worked together.
Perhaps this was the reason the Emperor had summoned these outwardly wooden but inwardly fanatical Ascetic Monks back to Jingdou.
From the first step into the Qing Temple, if Fan Xian wanted to escape the encirclement of these Ascetic Monks, he should have reacted at the first instant. However, he had already missed that opportunity and sunk into a heavy encirclement. Perhaps he had underestimated the power of the Ascetic Monks. More importantly, it was because he wanted to talk to the Ascetic Monks. Through these conversations, he could understand some things he wanted to understand, such as why the Ascetic Monks of the Qing Temple supported the Qing Emperor with all their might, completely ignoring the pressure the court and Royal Palace had put on the Qing Temple these years, and whether or not the Emperor had any connection to that illusory Temple.
In the rain, a dozen Ascetic Monks changed from kneeling to sitting cross-legged. They continued to surround Fan Xian in the center. Their expressions were wooden. It was as if they were no longer bothered by external things. There was a long silence. Perhaps these Ascetic Monks still hoped that Sir Fan could be convinced by them and not cause the Qing Kingdom, which was about to unify the world, to sink into turmoil. Thus, a voice rang out in front of Fan Xian.
An Ascetic Monk put his palms together. Raindrops hung on his weak eyelashes. He said slowly, "Your Majesty is a person who has received the Heavenly Revelation. We Wanderers should help Your Majesty unify the world and benefit the people."
"Tianqi? When? " Fan Xian asked with his hands behind his back. His expression did not change as he stared at the Ascetic Monk's old face. He could easily see that these Ascetic Monks were not young anymore.
"Decades ago." A voice rang out from behind Fan Xian. The answer was very vague. Fan Xian narrowed his eyes slightly and began to think quickly.
"Did an envoy pass on the Temple's will to you?" Fan Xian asked.
"Yes." This time, it was another Ascetic Monk who answered. His answer was clean and tidy, without the slightest hesitation. However, this answer made Fan Xian's eyes narrow even more.
The Temple occasionally sent an envoy to the world. This was in itself one of this land's greatest secrets. If he had not grown up by Uncle Wu Zhu's side and learned so many secrets from Xiao En and Chen Pingping, he would not have been able to ask these questions. However, these Ascetic Monks were not surprised to hear the word "envoy" from Fan Xian. It was as if they had long expected that Fan Xian knew some of the Temple's secrets. This matter surprised Fan Xian.
"But, the Great Priest is dead. Sanshi is also dead. Your companions on Dong Mountain are also dead." Fan Xian continued to speak calmly. Even the autumn rain could not hide the viciousness and mockery in his tone.
"Who wouldn't die?"
"Then, why didn't you die?"
"Because the Emperor still needs us."
"It sounds like you are very much like the girls in my brothel."
…
…
The atmosphere in the Qing Temple in the rain was strange. Fan Xian continued to calmly and continuously ask questions. The Ascetic Monks sitting around him each answered his questions. Their answers were wooden, steady, and orderly. They opened their mouths one by one. Of the 16 people present, it was as if only one person answered.
Fan Xian's heart gradually sank. It looked like these strange Ascetic Monks had practiced hard for many years and had reached a powerful realm in the art of connecting their minds. What chilled him even more was the information regarding the emissary of the Temple.
The last time the Temple envoy had come to the world was in the fifth year of the Qing calendar. This envoy had come ashore from the South. Along the way, he had indifferently learned the customs and habits of human society like a wild beast. In the process of this habit, many people in the southern provinces of the Qing Kingdom had died at the hands of this envoy. Perhaps it was a habitual indifference to life, or perhaps this envoy wanted to hide the news of his existence. In any case, the 13 yamens of the Ministry of Justice had paid a great price and still hadn't been able to touch even a corner of this mysterious envoy's clothing.
At the time, the Qing court only saw this person as a ruthless criminal with superb martial skills and didn't know his true identity. That was why the Ministry of Justice later asked the Overwatch Council for help. Yan Bingyun was cautious and asked Fan Xian to borrow the Tiger Guard.
Before the Overwatch Council could act, this Temple envoy had already arrived in Jingdou. He came to the alley beside the Fan manor and was stopped by Wu Zhu beside a noodle stand.
After a battle between commoner Grandmasters, the Temple envoy died and Wu Zhu was heavily injured. He disappeared and spent many years recovering on Dong Mountain. The remains of this emissary of the Temple were burned in the Qing Temple.
Fan Xian's gaze passed through the curtain of rain toward the barren plain behind the Qing Temple. His gaze was slightly cold. He thought of the scene of the Emperor and the Great Priest looking at the Temple envoy in the fire. For a moment, he didn't know what to say.
The Great Priest of the Qing Temple had been preaching in the swamps and wastelands to the south of the Qing Kingdom. Coincidentally, he returned to the capital not long before the Temple envoy entered the capital. Then, not long after the envoy melted into the fire, he died of a serious illness.
Was this a coincidence? Of course not. At least, Fan Xian didn't believe it. The matter of Uncle Wu Zhu being injured and the arrival of the emissary of the Temple were things he only learned later. After a long time, he could only vaguely find this far. At least, it proved that the Emperor had certainly reached some kind of agreement with the emissary from the Temple through the Great Priest of the Qing Temple.
In the fifth year of the Qing calendar, the Emperor hoped to use his illegitimate child as bait to lure the Temple envoy and Uncle Wu Zhu into mutual destruction. However, he did not achieve his goal. In order to bury this matter and not let Fan Xian know of it, the Great Priest had to die.
Fan Xian withdrew his gaze and looked at the Ascetic Monks in front of him. Naturally, he thought of the so-called Tianqi and the will transmitted by the Temple emissary. That emissary was presumably the one who came to the Qing Kingdom 22 years ago.
Looking at it now, that envoy had not only moved Uncle Wu Zhu out of Jingdou, he had also represented the illusory Temple and reached some kind of cooperation with the Emperor.
Cooperation between the Emperor and the Temple? Fan Xian furrowed his brows. The first time they worked together, they killed Ye Qingmei. The second time they worked together, they almost killed Uncle Wu Zhu. Everything was actually already very clear. The only thing he didn't understand was why the Temple, which ostensibly did not interfere in worldly affairs, would make such a choice in the human world.
The Ascetic Monks surrounding Fan Xian in the Qing Temple were all rather old. Over 20 years ago, they had already learned of the Temple's will. In their wild joy, they had loyally thrown themselves into the ranks of the Qing Emperor's service. During these 20 years, they had walked among the people, spreading what should be good teachings. They ate one mouthful at a time, drank one ladle at a time, and lived a hard but peaceful life. At the same time, presumably, they were also acting as secret agents for the Emperor.
Dongyi had submitted, the civil strife had been quelled, Chen Pingping had died, the weather was favorable, the people were at peace, the country was rich, and the army was strong. The Qing Kingdom's power had reached its peak. Other than Fan Xian, it seemed that there was no one else who could stop the Qing Emperor's march to unify the world. Thus, these Ascetic Monks returned to Jingdou and prepared to welcome that dazzling moment.
Thus, the Ascetic Monks wanted to persuade Fan Xian to forget his personal grudge for this great cause. For the sake of the righteousness of the world, he would forget one person's sorrow.
…
…
Fan Xian stood alone in the rain. Although the rain was light, it still gradually soaked through his clothes. These Ascetic Monks frankly told him what they had done these 20 years and explained the secrets hidden behind the Qing Kingdom's history. They sincerely wanted to persuade him. They wanted to use the will of the Temple, the people's submission, and the direction of the general trend to persuade Fan Xian not to make an enemy of the Emperor.
The Emperor was a wise ruler chosen by heaven and the ruler of the world.
"It's all nonsense." Fan Xian shook his head helplessly and wiped the rain from his face. Looking at the Ascetic Monks around him who were pleading with him, he said, "What exactly does this have to do with me? I'm just an official of His Majesty … No, I'm just a commoner now. I don't think anyone in the world would think that I can affect the general situation of the world. Isn't it a bit overreacting to force me into the palace or to send me to the grave? "
The Ascetic Monks met each other's eyes and saw the caution and determination in each other's eyes. They did not believe Fan Xian's words. One of them looked at Fan Xian and said sincerely, "Because you are her son."
Fan Xian was silent. He finally knew why the great array in the Qing Temple had come. If the Ascetic Monks in the Qing Temple served the Temple loyally and saw the Emperor as a leader chosen by heaven, then, without question, Ye Qingmei, the young girl who had escaped the Temple and stolen many things from the Temple, was their greatest enemy. Perhaps these Ascetic Monks did not know the inside story and did not need to know. They only needed the Temple emissary from 20 years ago to determine the nature of Ye Qingmei's actions for them to be deeply afraid of the woman who dared to look down on the Temple.
This kind of fear continued until 20 years later, when it extended to Fan Xian.
"If you kill me, what will the Emperor think?" Fan Xian smiled and said, "I think he must be very unwilling to see his son die in the hands of you swindlers. I am very worried for you."
All of the Ascetic Monks saluted in unison with unswerving expressions on their faces. No one replied, but the meaning they expressed was clear. For the sake of their goal, even if the Emperor killed them all afterward, they would keep Fan Xian here forever.
…
…
"I've heard everything I wanted to hear." The corner of Fan Xian's mouth twitched and he said with slight mockery, "I think that if I agree to enter the Palace, presumably you won't be at ease and will place some restrictions on my body. Of course, I can feign civility and agree to it first. At least I can keep my life. "
"It's just that you've misjudged one thing." Fan Xian gazed at them coldly and said, "I believe in the existence of the Temple more than you do. It is precisely because of this that my legs will not weaken the moment I hear the name of the Temple and kneel in the rain like you."
An Ascetic Monk sighed deeply and said bemoaning the state of the universe and pitying the fate of mankind, "People are born in this world and must always be fearful."
"The Emperor once said these words to me." Fan Xian lowered his head slightly and thought to himself that it was clear that the Emperor did not fear anything. The Temple? Emissary? These existences that mortals saw as illusory and terrifying were probably nothing more than a kind of power that could be used in the Emperor's eyes.
"Respect the heavens and the earth, but you cannot respect the will of others," Fan Xian said. "Concerning this point, you should learn from Master Ku He."
The Ascetic Monks were slightly surprised. They did not understand what these words meant. However, they saw Fan Xian, surrounded in the center, float up.
Fan Xian floated up in the fine autumn rain. The cloth robes on his body were slowly held up by zhenqi. Like a heartless bird, with a sudden sound, he swept toward the outskirts of the Qing Temple.
Without any warning, it was as if Fan Xian's body was being pulled by an invisible long rope and floated toward the main doors of the Qing Temple with astonishing speed. His speed in the air was incomparably fast, and his movements were particularly gentle. He moved through the rain like a swallow, rolling and floating away in the wind and rain.
However, his body had only swept out 50 feet when he felt an incomparably thick wall of air pouncing toward him.
The moment Fan Xian made his move, a dozen Ascetic Monks moved at the same time. One Ascetic Monk put his arm around another Ascetic Monk's shoulder. With a muffled grunt, he tossed the companion beside him out. Six or seven consecutive movements were executed smoothly. It was as if their minds had long been connected. These movements did not show any signs of being sluggish or out of place.
The Ascetic Monks' formation was an irregular circle. At this moment, they were tossed together. Seven people were quickly tossed toward the main doors of the Qing Temple. In the air, their hands did not leave, causing the Ascetic Monks below to move at the same time.
It was like a wave.
The irregular circle formed by a dozen Ascetic Monks instantly became one. It flipped in the drizzling air and rose into the air. Using the wave-like aura, it leaped over Fan Xian's rapidly flying figure and once again trapped him in the circle.
A circle flipped in the air and then landed on the ground. It was still a circle. Fan Xian was still in the center of the circle. After a moment, the rain continued to fall. The situation did not seem to have changed at all.
Other than everyone moving about 70 feet toward the main doors of the Qing Temple, the Ascetic Monks did not give Fan Xian any chance to attack first. They chanted in unison. Countless pairs of powerful zhenqi and determined palms slammed toward Fan Xian's body.
No one knew what secret method the Ascetic Monks practiced to be able to connect their minds and perfectly merge their true power together. The countless palms slammed forward like a shining god. In an instant, countless pairs of divine hands appeared. Indifferently and mercilessly, they wanted to eliminate the demon in front of them.
All of the space around Fan Xian was covered by the shadows of palms that blocked out the sky and the rain. It was like a large net falling down. It was impossible to see any gaps. This was the so-called beauty of harmony. When beautiful to the extreme, it was dangerous to the extreme.
…
…
The wall of Qi crashed toward him. Fan Xian forcefully twisted his body in the air. He forcefully absorbed the flow of air around him that he could feel from every inch of his skin. He forcefully circulated two great circulations. His body was forced to land on the ground, but the tip of his foot touched the wet ground. Tyrannical zhenqi gathered in his fist. He threw a punch toward the most powerful point in the thick wall of Qi.
In the instant that he was forced back into the harmonious situation, Fan Xian deeply smelled the scent of danger. Eight days ago, he had charged into the Jingdou execution field. He had stabbed an Ascetic Monk to death and forced back another. At the time, he had also paid the price of being hit three times. However, it was clear that the Ascetic Monks on the execution field had not displayed their greatest power.
Fan Xian knew where the Ascetic Monks' power lay. It was in their ability to perfectly gather their individual power into one. This was not a group fight. It was not even the perfect teamwork of the Sword Hut disciples. On the contrary, it was more like the murderous light condensed between the Tiger Guards' long knives.
When these Ascetic Monks formed a harmony, regardless of which Ascetic Monk Fan Xian faced, it was the same as facing them as a whole.
In Fan Xian's eyes, the invisible wall of Qi in front of him was as clear as a wall of white fog of varying thicknesses. He did not consider the consequences at all. He directly gathered all the zhenqi in his body and struck out with a Tyrannical force. The place he struck was the thickest part of the wall of Qi.
Using the strongest against the strongest, Fan Xian completely ignored the shadows of the palms that filled the sky. He knew that given his present strength, the other party would have to gather all of them together in order to be able to stand up to them. This was probably the rare powerful aura that a warrior had nurtured after experiencing a lot.
As expected, Fan Xian struck out violently toward the wall of Qi. The palms that filled the sky immediately disappeared. The shadow of one hand and the shadow of another quickly merged into one. Dozens of palms finally merged into one, a sparkling and glowing palm.
This palm collided viciously with Fan Xian's tightly clenched fist.
The air in the Qing Temple seemed to change shape with this collision. The fine drifting autumn rain was shaken into the air. On the large plain, not a single drop of rain could fall. The entire air was filled with a dry and murderous aura.
After a loud crash, the clothes on Fan Xian's right shoulder were torn to shreds and flew up like butterflies, revealing his trembling right arm.
The face of the Ascetic Monk he was facing was strangely red and bright. There were two arms on each of his shoulders.
A dozen Ascetic Monks were endlessly channeling zhenqi into his body along this bridge of Qi to help him resist Fan Xian's Tyrannical punch.
…
…
Fan Xian's face was deathly pale. The zhenqi in his body spat out violently, but he was still unable to break through his opponent's encirclement. The zhenqi coming from his opponent's palm was endless. It was like a wave, imposing, and incomparably turbulent. It gave one a feeling that it was difficult to resist.
With a splat, the Ascetic Monk facing Fan Xian's palm spat out a mouthful of fresh blood. It dripped down along his clothes. However, the Ascetic Monk's face grew redder and brighter. There was no sign of exhaustion or of being unable to bear the majestic zhenqi in his body. He only carried a trace of pity as he looked at Fan Xian in front of him. It was as if he was waiting for him to admit defeat, disperse his martial arts, and submit.
The Ascetic Monk walked and cultivated painstakingly in the most bitter places in the world. The tempering of the body and spirit indeed created an extraordinary cultivation.
Signs of defeat had already appeared, but Fan Xian's eyes remained icy cold. There was not a trace of panic. There wasn't even the excitement of fighting for his life. There was only calmness. Calmly, he looked at the Ascetic Monk close to him and stared into his shining eyes. It was as if he wanted to see the color he hoped for in his eyes.
Only Fan Xian knew that with just this exchange of fist and palm, the Meridians in his body had been shaken to an unbearable state. His large and small circulations spun rapidly as he desperately exhaled zhenqi along his fist. He was almost unable to hold on. In particular, the vital point of the mountain at his waist was beginning to heat up faintly. It was a sign of exhaustion.
After all, it was an injured and weak body. Fan Xian's most vital point was there. He had only rested for a few days in the Fan manor. During these few days, he had viciously used martial arts to kill people. His state of mind had not calmed down. He had not recovered to his peak.
Fortunately, his Meridians were different from those of a normal person. He had one more circulation than a normal person. That was why he could use his weak body to hold on for so long in front of the Ascetic Monks' harmonious power. If it had been Thirteenth Wang or Haitang, they probably would not have fared better than him.
However, Fan Xian still did not panic or despair. He only looked coldly into the Ascetic Monk's bright black eyes.
Finally, just as Fan Xian was about to be unable to hold on, a wretched green color finally appeared in the eyes of the Ascetic Monk close to Fan Xian's fist and palm.
It was a wretched green color that was completely at odds with the eyes of a normal person.
Then, two streams of black blood slowly flowed out of the Ascetic Monk's nostrils.
The Ascetic Monks around Fan Xian did not notice this. They only sat cross-legged in the surroundings with their heads lowered in meditation, endlessly activating the resilient zhenqi in their bodies.
…
…
A glimmer of understanding flashed through the wretched green eyes of the Ascetic Monk with the black blood flowing out. Glancing at Fan Xian, he finally understood why the young man in front of him was willing to listen to their pleas earlier in the rain. He was using this autumn rain to spread the poison.
The Ascetic Monk finally remembered Fan Xian's true teacher. He was the last disciple of that old poisonous creature.
The Ascetic Monk felt as if his internal organs were being bitten by insects. His throat began to hurt, and the corners of his eyes began to grow numb. He knew that the poison in his body was beginning to act up. If he stopped now, presumably, he could use the zhenqi in his body to suppress the poison. However …
It was impossible for a colorless, odorless, and insoluble poison powder to be too terrifying. This was an innate principle of nature and common sense that all martial cultivators knew. The Ascetic Monk also knew this. Thus, he was not worried about his fellow disciples. Other than him, who had faced Fan Xian head-on and thus had the poison take effect the fastest, the other disciples should be able to hold out longer.
The Ascetic Monk did not want Fan Xian to leave because he had already discovered that Fan Xian could not hold on much longer.
A glimmer of peace flashed through his wretched green eyes, as well as a glimmer of determination. With a muffled grunt, he completely abandoned the defense of his state of mind and opened up all of his meridians, allowing the zhenqi to pour in from both sides. Then, he pushed it along his arm toward Fan Xian's bare right arm.
All of it was done in one palm. He was willing to use his death to exchange for Fan Xian's death and the prosperity of the Qing Kingdom.
However, Fan Xian was not willing. A biting coldness flashed through his eyes. He knew that the Ascetic Monk had forcefully activated his zhenqi. The poison had entered his heart and could no longer be saved. He sunk his zhenqi into his lower body and relaxed his right shoulder slightly. Using the power of the Coffin-Breaker technique, he prepared to use his right arm to exchange for the death of the Ascetic Monk, the eye of the array, and then escape.
Faced with this dangerous situation of death, Fan Xian had the willpower and courage to break his arm to survive.
…
…
Other than Fan Xian, there were other people in this world who did not want to see Fan Xian die. The heart-chilling circle in the autumn rain rolled in a circle in the air. It was getting closer to the front door of the Qing Temple. At this most dangerous moment, the two words on the sign behind the Qing Temple's front door suddenly dimmed.
It was not that the sky had dimmed or that the two golden words had suddenly rusted. Rather, a shadow floated up and covered some of the light from the two words.
In an instant, the shadow passed through the rain and floated to the back of the Ascetic Monk facing Fan Xian without any obstruction. Miraculously, the shadow spread out behind the man's neck. Four limbs grew out and a sword grew out.
With a hiss, the tip of the sword pierced into the Ascetic Monk's neck like a venomous snake and came out through the soft bones of his throat. The sharp blade had already cut through the Ascetic Monk's windpipe, esophagus, and blood vessels.
The Ascetic Monk did not make any sound. He only stared fixedly at Fan Xian in front of him. The wretched green in his eyes was very strong, but his pupils did not shrink. It was as if he wanted to use his gaze to kill Fan Xian in front of him.
At the same time the shadow formed the sword, Fan Xian's empty and powerless left hand rose up with difficulty. His fingertips dug slightly, and the hidden crossbow bolt broke out of his sleeve. It pierced deeply into the Ascetic Monk's left eye, sending up a spray of blood.
This Ascetic Cultivator had the lifetime cultivation of a dozen Ascetic Cultivators gathered on his body. He was extremely powerful and thick. However, when he was attacked by two vicious killing moves at the same time, he still paused in the end.
It was this pause that allowed Fan Xian's left arm to twist strangely. His shoulder shook and swung. The Coffin-Breaker came out again and viciously smashed the end of the hidden crossbow bolt, smashing it deep into the Ascetic Monk's brain. The tip of the bolt went deep and ended his life.
With a whoosh, the rain became chaotic. The Ascetic Monk, who had sacrificed himself for benevolence, lowered his hand in disappointment.
Fan Xian opened his fist into a palm and brushed it against the top of his head. His entire body floated up. His left hand grabbed the shadow's clothes. Using his fastest speed, he sliced through the rain and left the Qing Temple in an instant.
…
…
From the time the two small golden characters on the horizontal plaque behind the Qing Temple's main door dimmed to the Shadow's attack and Fan Xian's floating body leaving the Temple in a harmonious manner, only a blink of an eye had passed. The Shadow's ruthless attack had not stopped, but Fan Xian did not allow his sword to enter a harmonious state again. Forcefully going against the flow, he left hand in hand with him.
It was only at this moment that the Ascetic Monks sitting cross-legged in the rain realized that something had changed. The Ascetic Monk in the center of the harmonious situation had already lowered his hand. He could no longer speak, but he continued to passively accept the infusion of power from his fellow disciples. His body abruptly trembled a few times in the rain and then fell down without a sound.
The Shadow had pierced through his neck, and Fan Xian's crossbow had pierced his brain. The poison had already entered his heart. In the end, he had suffered a backlash from the harmonious situation. Without question, this Ascetic Monk was dead. He could not be more dead.
The rain was already heavy and chaotic, randomly hitting the bodies of the Ascetic Monks. They silently looked at their comrade's body. A moment later, they bowed in silence and quickly jumped out of the Qing Temple, chasing after the two figures that were about to disappear into the distance in the streets.
No one knew if they would reflect on this. If the Temple's edict was truly the will of heaven, then why were they unable to kill Fan Xian after putting in so much effort and even being willing to sacrifice their lives for a righteous cause?
…
In the heavy autumn rain, Fan Xian and the Shadow were like two gray shadows moving swiftly through the rain, under the eaves, in the dim sky, and through the silent streets. Not long after leaving the Qing Temple, Fan Xian sensed that the clearly discernible aura behind him had caught up.
Jingdou's Qing Temple was three li outside. Usually, it was a very quiet place. Very few people passed by, and there were no private residences around that could be used. Today was another heavy rain, so there were no pedestrians taking shelter from the rain on the streets. This brought great inconvenience to Fan Xian and the Shadow's escape.
Fan Xian's pale face was covered in rainwater. He turned his head to glance at the middle-aged man beside him but did not see any expression on his face. Fan Xian knew that in the end, he had still underestimated those fanatical martyrs and the power of the divine path that had lasted for thousands of years on this land.
In the past, perhaps it was because Master Ku He and Northern Qi's Tianyi Dao had stolen all the glory, or perhaps the Ascetic Monks of the Qing Temple were not very eye-catching and only liked to preach in the most remote places, or perhaps the Great and Second Priests of the Qing Temple did not give people a sense of power, Fan Xian had never thought much of the Qing Temple.
However, today proved that this was a powerful enemy. Fan Xian even began to suspect that the knife formation the Tiger Guards used to defeat ninth-level aces was born from the miraculous combined attack of the Qing Temple.
Of course, if Fan Xian was still at his peak, he would not be in such a wretched state, particularly with his ability to escape so lightly. Born of the Overwatch Council, he and the Shadow, the foremost assassin in the world, would not think much of the pursuing Ascetic Monks.
Normally, he and the Shadow would hide their tracks and turn to carry out the most sinister and terrifying ambush against these stubborn Ascetic Monks.
However, he could not do so today. Because of the 1,000 li of running, the grief in his heart, the exhaustion of the days of hardship, and the heavy injuries he received on the walls of Zhengyang Gate and on the execution field, Fan Xian's condition had already fallen to rock bottom. Particularly when he had fought head-on against a dozen Ascetic Monks earlier, he no longer had the strength to fight back.
The expression of the Shadow beside him was cold and did not appear to be anything out of the ordinary. However, after many years of cooperation and closeness, Fan Xian could clearly see that the injuries on the Shadow's body were also very serious, perhaps even more serious than his own.
Fan Xian knew why. The Shadow had only been injured once. That injury had been caused by Sigu Jian.
…
…
After learning of Chen Pingping's death, Fan Xian could clearly guess what kind of reaction the Shadow would have. He was clearly in Dongyi, but he had returned to Jingdou at almost the same time as Wang Qinian. The speed at which this foremost assassin returned was faster than Wang Qinian and possibly even faster than Fan Xian.
With such a rush, the Shadow's injuries had presumably worsened. Fan Xian tilted his head and glanced at the Shadow but didn't say anything.
"Split up in front." The Shadow spoke in a raspy voice. It carried a strange tone. It looked like this assassin also knew that their present situation could not be worse. They had to split up and divert the pursuing soldiers.
Fan Xian nodded. He knew that if they split up now, the two of them would meet again soon.
At the end of the street, the Shadow suddenly passed into a small alley. Perhaps in a moment, he would become a wretched merchant hiding from the rain under the eaves.
However, before he left, he coldly said something that made Fan Xian's heart sink. His mouth began to taste bitter.
"When you are going to kill him, shout for me."
Because of the impact these words had on his state of mind, Fan Xian ran a little further than he had planned. The Ascetic Monks behind him followed from a distance, but Fan Xian was not worried. He passed through a small alley and came to the intersection of Dongchuan Street. He entered the main hall of Danbo Bookstore. When he came out through the back door, he had already become a scholar holding an umbrella.
He came to the door of the Imperial College and saw hundreds of umbrellas, thousands of umbrellas, and the fresh-faced and sunny students under the umbrellas.
…
…
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