They're all dead?
Bai Chuan raised his eyes, his gaze falling on the leader of the men in black. A sickly, almost friendly smile even appeared on his pale face. His voice was gentle, as if he were attempting a final exchange:
"Young hero... cough cough... I wonder what I have done wrong to provoke such a commotion? Let's talk this out, there's no need..."
Before he could finish speaking, a cold glint flashed in the eyes of the leading man in black, clearly indicating he had no intention of talking, and he suddenly raised his weapon! At the same time, more than a dozen figures around him, like cheetahs receiving a command, launched attacks from different directions simultaneously!
Sword light, blade shadows, and the shrill cries of magic instantly intertwined into a deadly net, completely enveloping Bai Chuan's frail figure. Judging from their seamless coordination and ruthless determination, they clearly wouldn't rest until he was dead.
If it were an ordinary Nascent Soul cultivator, or even a sword cultivator specializing in combat, facing such a relentless siege from more than a dozen experts of the same level, they would probably find it difficult to withstand and would be defeated and killed in an instant.
But all rivers are different.
He is a medical practitioner.
Moreover, he was a healer who had sensed something was wrong as soon as he entered the forest and had quietly laid a backup plan.
Throughout his journey, though he appeared to be walking with faltering steps, in reality, his sleeves fluttered, emanating a colorless and odorless aura.
The fine, dust-like medicinal powder had already quietly diffused into the surrounding air. This poison was called "Dispersing Power Miasma," which he had carefully crafted. Anyone who inhaled it would have their cultivation reduced by nearly half in the time it takes to drink a cup of tea. If they did not obtain the unique antidote within the time it takes for an incense stick to burn, their meridians would reverse, they would bleed from all seven orifices, and all their lifelong cultivation would be wasted, leaving them as useless as cripples.
He hadn't even had a chance to test the effects of such a vicious and ruthless poison after it was developed. Now, so many volunteer test subjects had come to him; wouldn't it be a waste not to use them?
His earlier attempt to communicate was merely a delaying tactic, waiting for the poison to take effect within the time it takes for an incense stick to burn. At that point, these people would die without him even needing to lift a finger.
Unfortunately... the other party wasn't even willing to give him that much time.
Bai Chuan sighed softly, seemingly with some regret.
Oh well, if I can't wait, I can't wait.
With a flick of his wrist, his gleaming white sword twirled gracefully, and instead of retreating, he advanced to meet the onslaught of deadly attacks head-on!
Perfect timing, he probably hasn't stretched his muscles in a long time.
"Cough cough...cough..." He suppressed the itch in his throat as he drew his sword.
The sword flashed like lightning, swift and precise.
The moment the men in black tried to circulate their spiritual energy, they were horrified to find that it was stagnant and unsustainable. Their originally surging attacks suddenly became weak and feeble. They could only barely raise their weapons to desperately parry the ghostly swords that came at them.
Baichuan's sword was incredibly fast, faster than anyone had anticipated. Although he wasn't a sword cultivator, his comprehension and talent in the way of the sword were second to none.
The leader of the men in black finally noticed the deadly anomaly, and was horrified to discover that his cultivation was rapidly declining! A look of disbelief and fear just appeared in his eyes.
But it was too late.
A cold white light flashed across his neck!
He couldn't even see the trajectory of the sword; he only felt a chill in his throat, followed by a gush of warm liquid! His eyes widened as he futilely clutched his neck, blood gushing out like pearls from a broken string between his fingers.
After delivering a fatal blow to the throat, Bai Chuan didn't hesitate for a moment. Just as blood was about to splatter onto his white robes, he sidestepped, skillfully avoiding the bloodstains, and simultaneously thrust his longsword forward, precisely piercing the heart of another black-clad man attempting a flank attack.
As the man in black collapsed, his face bore the same distorted expression of horror and bewilderment as the leader's.
He was clearly... just a sickly person...
Underestimating one's opponent is a sure path to death in a duel between cultivators.
A dozen or so Nascent Soul cultivators, whose cultivation levels had plummeted due to a strange poison, were like lambs to the slaughter in front of Bai Chuan, who was going all out. They were dealt with without much effort.
Swords flashed, figures clashed, accompanied by suppressed groans and the splattering sound of blades piercing flesh.
In just a short while, the once menacing woodland was reduced to a deathly silence.
Crimson blood dripped slowly from the tip of the jade-white sword, leaving a small dark stain on the leaf-strewn ground.
Bai Chuan, carrying that inconspicuous bamboo basket, stood quietly amidst the dozen or so corpses lying haphazardly, his plain white robe still clean and tidy.
His pale face was expressionless, showing neither the excitement of killing nor the disgust of discomfort; he was as calm as if he had just completed a trivial task.
He looked down at the blood droplets remaining on the tip of the sword, then casually drew his fingers in the air. A cleansing talisman flashed, and the longsword was instantly as clean as new, with no trace of blood left.
"Tsk." Bai Chuan's brows suddenly furrowed slightly, as if he had remembered something.
They killed them too quickly... They were so busy testing their swords and poisons that they forgot to leave a single survivor, or at least observe their fighting style, in order to deduce the mastermind behind it all.
Now that's great, the man is dead and gone, and he has no way of finding out who wanted him dead.
"A miscalculation," he muttered under his breath, a rare hint of annoyance in his voice. Then, he bent down and carefully plucked a wild rosebud that had miraculously survived the fight, placing it in the bamboo basket on his back. Then, as usual, he coughed softly and slowly, with the same leisurely pace he had taken, left the forest that had just been stained with blood.
As for the dozen or so corpses that were gradually growing cold...
He didn't even glance at it.
He killed someone, but didn't bury the body.
They were thus carelessly abandoned on the spot, becoming an abrupt and bloody footnote in this tranquil woodland.
Inside Chaohui Hall.
"They're all dead?"
Sili raised his eyes and looked at the disciple below who was reporting tremblingly, a hint of doubt flashing in his eyes.
The healer from Cangmin Mountain named Baichuan was only at the early Nascent Soul stage and looked like a sickly man nearing the end of his life. This time, he sent only the most outstanding late Nascent Soul cultivators, handpicked from within the sect, including many experienced sword and saber practitioners with impeccable teamwork. How could they have been completely wiped out?
"Yes, Sect Leader, they're all...all dead." The disciple's voice trembled as he reported, his head bowed even lower.
"Has the body been thoroughly examined by someone?" Si Li's voice deepened.
"It's been checked," the disciple hurriedly replied. "All were killed with a single sword strike, the attacks were extremely ruthless and precise... but, but..."
"Just what?"
"However... the fatal wounds on those senior brothers' bodies are all surrounded by... a thick, impenetrable pure demonic energy!"
"Demonic energy?" Sili's brows furrowed instantly.
Demonic energy?
Could it be that they encountered a powerful demon before finding that sickly person and died at the hands of the demons?
But the timing and location are too much of a coincidence.
And... the demon race?
Sili instinctively sensed something was wrong, but his thoughts were in turmoil, and he couldn't pinpoint the source of that unease. He waved his hand, somewhat irritated, signaling the disciple to leave.
In the empty and solemn Chaohui Hall, he was the only one left at this moment.
Sili leaned back in the large, cold chair in the head seat, supporting his chin with one hand, his fingertips unconsciously tapping the smooth armrest.
If it was indeed the Demon Clan who did it... Within the Tianyan Mountain territory, besides that mysterious Demon Clan Elder whose actions are so unpredictable that even he can't fathom the depths of his power, there probably wouldn't be anyone else who has the ability and dares to act in this way.
But Sili racked his brains and couldn't remember where he had offended this scoundrel recently.
Why would he suddenly interfere and disrupt his plans?
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