After leaving the back mountain, Ji Yan wandered aimlessly, his expression unfathomable, his eyes deep and complex, making it impossible to tell whether he was in a good or bad mood.

For miles around, even the cicadas were silenced by the fear.

Ji Yan was very annoyed.

Even though I've traveled a long way, the hamster's cry of "I like you" still lingers in my ears, like a poppy, creeping in inch by inch, confusing my mind.

He lowered his eyes and stared at the hand that was stroking Chen Jiao's hair for a long time, a faint hint of confusion flashing across his arrogant and ruthless eyes.

Ji Yan casually plucked a leaf. The leaf, infused with her inner energy, was like a sharp knife. It cut her palm, and blood flowed incessantly, trickling down like broken pearls, staining the flowers and grass at her feet red.

Since he ascended to the throne, countless beauties sent to the palace have spoken of their love for him, each saying sweeter than the last, their eyes revealing a greed and desire that is more disgusting than the last. So he killed them all, leaving none alive. All the hypocrisy in the world deserves to die, including him, of course.

But Shen Jiao's eyes were too pure, like a lake formed by melting ice and snow, with clear water to the bottom, where spring is warm, flowers are blooming, and all things are growing. He tried to find the disgusting desires of the world in them, but they clearly reflected him, this filthy person who should not exist.

Ji Yan raised her blood-soaked hand, and as if remembering something, she suddenly chuckled, her gaze gradually turning cold. "So filthy."

He gathered his thoughts and continued wandering aimlessly.

Along the way, he would occasionally encounter male disciples who would angrily shout at him, "Who are you? Why are you here? Get out of here right now, or don't blame me for being impolite!" But the tyrant would kick them away without controlling his strength, and the disciples would faint instantly before they could even scream.

These were disciples specially assigned by the Cloud Mist Sword Pavilion to patrol. The Tyrant kicked them several times like he was kicking a football, but because he kicked them too fast and accurately, he didn't make a sound. There were few people here, and no one noticed anything was wrong even though the number of patrolling disciples was reduced by half.

Ji Yan continued to stroll leisurely through the so-called forbidden area of ​​the Cloud Mist Sword Pavilion, and unintentionally discovered a sapling that was too short and not very attractive, so she uprooted it.

I found a flower with only five petals. Why not six? I uprooted it.

Why is this grass green? I pulled it up by the roots.

He acted recklessly, and was soon discovered again. The disciple was extremely angry, his eyes blazing with fury. "Where did this little thief come from! How dare you be so insolent! These are Junior Sister Rou Rou's favorite flowers. If you kneel down and apologize, I might let you go."

The tyrant ignored him. He had only intended to pluck one flower to satisfy his craving, but seeing the Sword Pavilion disciple's angry eyes and how concerned he was, he curled his lips, waved his hand, and plucked the flower clean.

The blood in my palm would stop flowing and then start flowing again, dripping onto the flower stamens—a scene both bloody and beautiful.

The disciple was so angry he jumped up and down: "You dare move again?"

It moves even if it's just a little bit.

After Ji Yan finished plucking the flowers, he saw that the saplings next to him were still standing straight. He was a bit of a perfectionist at times, so he plucked the saplings as well.

The disciple, Boran, flew into a rage: "Dare you move again and see what happens!"

Ji Yan trampled down the last remaining grass.

The disciple was so angry that his teeth were chattering. He couldn't hold back any longer and charged at Ji Yan with his hoe, yelling, "You ungrateful little thief! Let me tell you, meeting me is your misfortune. Today, you're dead!"

Entrusted by his junior sister Hu Rourou, he came to take care of the flowers and saplings every day at a set time. The only tool he carried was a hoe.

However, a hoe is enough to deal with a pretty boy.

Unexpectedly, as soon as he got close to the tyrant, he was immediately slapped away. Not only that, the tyrant also took the hoe and used it to strike the disciple in the direction he flew. With the sound of the wooden pestle piercing the cloth, the disciple was immediately pinned to the high wall and swayed back and forth, his pupils dilated, and he was so scared that he wet himself.

Ji Yan didn't care at all. She glanced at him as if he were an idiot and continued to stroll around, moving from the ground to the rooftops.

The tyrant wandered alone on the roof of the Cloud and Mist Sword Pavilion for a long time, kicking whichever tile he didn't like, without any rhyme or reason. As a result, one of the tiles flew into the half-open window opposite and crashed with a loud "bang".

"What the hell? Are you sick? Why did you hit me? Luckily I'm quick, or I would have fallen for your tricks, you brat."

"I think you're the one who's sick. Are you blind? Can't you see I'm a cripple with two missing arms? How am I supposed to smash you like that!"

"Being blind is a waste of life."

"..."

A sudden burst of incessant chatter filled the room.

The tyrant pressed his advantage, kicking a few more pieces until he saw the two arguing people fighting fiercely before he stopped.

...

The most skilled disciples of the Cloud Mist Sword Pavilion have all gone to participate in the martial arts tournament. The disciples left on the mountaintop are either beginners with limited skills or have suffered accidents that left them physically disabled but determined.

Unbeknownst to anyone, the tyrant was leisurely strolling on the rooftop. The disciples who had been hit rushed out in a rage, ready to hurl insults, but they couldn't find who was playing the prank. They huddled together in twos and threes, speculating whether it was haunted.

"It must be haunted! Otherwise, who would have smashed it?"

"I've heard from the older generation that childish people love to cause trouble for others."

As Ji Yan listened, a mocking smile curled at the corner of her lips. This was the so-called number one sect in the martial arts world? How boring.

He stood on the rooftop, his black robe billowing in the wind, causing golden petals of roses to shimmer in the setting sun, making his pale face appear both alluring and extremely arrogant.

A few Sword Pavilion disciples suddenly felt a draft overhead. Looking up, they discovered that the roof had several large holes that had appeared out of nowhere, and several lively little birds were chirping and flying in and out of the holes, having a great time.

Where did the tile go?

What's going on?

Just then, the disciple who had been nailed to the high wall finally came to his senses and cried out for help, "Quickly notify the Pavilion Master, the Sect Leaders and the Senior Brother, strengthen the defenses, search the whole mountain, there are assassins, there are assassins!"

The patrol disciples who had been knocked unconscious earlier slowly regained consciousness and immediately split up to check the Sword Pavilion's confidential documents.

The disciples finally realized that things were not so simple. It was not a ghost at all, but a mischievous assassin who loved to play pranks. The disciples were furious and humiliated. They cursed and swore as they sent people to inform the Sword Saint of Qinglang, the sect leader and the senior brother.

The Sword Saint of Qinglang originally had a magnificent and imposing pavilion, but he often got lost. When the Sect Leader Songheng and his wife were still alive, he would often mistake the house for the wrong one and stumble upon scenes that were inappropriate for children. This not only affected the relationship between the couple, but he himself also felt particularly embarrassed.

So, the Sword Saint of Qinglang built a small wooden house by the roadside. However, as he continued to get lost as always, one small wooden house after another was built. The disciple who brought the news did not know which house the Sword Saint of Qinglang was staying in this time, and his legs were about to break.

It wasn't until dark that they found the flowing white hair and... a fair-skinned and beautiful young girl amidst the ruins.

The disciple was almost in tears and had no time to wonder who this unfamiliar girl was. "Sect Master, you should go and see! I heard the assassin has already headed to the arena."