Chapter 143

The wind howled, yet Wu Yinglong waited a good long while without the slightest stir.

The moment he opened his eyes, he happened to see the black-robed cultivator's sword edge, a mere inch from his forehead — yet that inch was like a chasm, impossible to cross.

Stream after stream of fresh blood suddenly flowed from the black-robed cultivator's ears, nose, mouth, and tongue, dripping drop by drop; when the ground was a patch of crimson, blood also trickled slowly along the sword body to the sword tip, falling onto Wu Yinglong's nose bridge.

Wu Yinglong only felt his nose grow warm; he blinked, and the scene before him left him stunned.

"Thud!"

Three breaths later, the black-robed cultivator collapsed stiffly to the ground, body rigid, breath gone; he opened his mouth as if struggling to speak, but nothing came out, his face full of pain, dying with eyes unclosed.

"Dead... dead?!"

Wu Yinglong stood frozen, staring blankly at this scene; a good long while passed before he reacted.

After taking a deep breath, Wu Yinglong wiped the bloodstains from his nose bridge, then knelt toward the direction of Qiyao Pavilion, his tone sincere, his expression grateful:

"Thank you, Senior, for the grace of saving my life; this junior Wu Yinglong is endlessly grateful. Today's kindness is engraved in my heart; if I rise to prominence in the future, I will never forget Senior's support!"

"Yinglong will remember; I owe Senior a life!"

Wu Yinglong was no fool; in this world, those with both the reason and the strength to act for him — perhaps only that mysterious, unfathomable Ancestor of Qiyao Pavilion.

"This transaction counts as a profit!"

Wu Yinglong turned danger into safety; feeling his legs go slightly weak, he also let out a deep breath of relief.

He knew that after this lesson, for a very long time to come, no one would dare target him again.

"Perhaps Senior also wanted to use this to warn those people?"

He shook his head; this thought flashed through Wu Yinglong's mind, but he did not dwell on it; regardless, the other party had saved him, and this kindness was unforgettable.

He glanced at the black-robed cultivator's corpse on the ground, gave a cold smile, took the storage bag from it, did not continue to deal with it, cast a gloomy look around, then strode away with great strides.

The difference was, before he left cautiously; now he left openly and confidently.

"This person's storage bag, I'll hand it over to Qiyao Pavilion later..."

Not until an incense stick's time later did three figures appear; looking at the black-robed cultivator's corpse on the ground, they remained silent.

Among the three figures, one had a strange stature; looking closely, he was missing his left arm — it was precisely Chen Ronghua.

Beside Chen Ronghua stood a man clad in a cyan long robe, middle-aged in appearance, face like a jade crown, lips as if painted red, physique lean.

In his every movement he carried an inexplicable charm; most importantly, his cultivation aura, distinct from Qi Refining, was like a blazing great sun, standing among the crowd, exceptionally radiant.

Observing his features, they bore a striking resemblance to Chen Ronghua between the brows — it was precisely his father Chen Yang, whose Dao title was Chen Yangzi.

The other person was tall and slender, dressed in white robes whiter than snow; beneath sword brows neither thick nor faint, narrow eyes like flowing spring water, gentle as a spring breeze.

Nose like a hanging gallbladder, straight as distant blue-green mountains; thin lips pale in color, corners of the mouth slightly hooked, making him appear all the more dashing and unrestrained; even facing Chen Yang, he showed not the slightest restraint, smiling lightly:

"Dao Friend Chen Yangzi, it seems this Qiyao Pavilion Ancestor is indeed Golden Core."

"This Jing Rong's cultivation, even among Qi Refining Peak, was not bad; yet he died from a Divine Sense eruption — the person never even showed up, from such a distance, just relying on this one move; without a Golden Core's Divine Sense, it would be impossible." Hearing this, Chen Yang fell silent, his eyes revealing contemplation, flashing a trace of gravity.

Just now, Jing Rong — that dead black-robed cultivator — in the instant he nearly touched Wu Yinglong, a towering Divine Sense erupted from his body, swiftly attacking Jing Rong's spiritual soul.

It did not allow Jing Rong any resistance at all; unstoppably it wiped away all his life force, and he fell right there.

This method, Chen Yang himself knew very well; relying on Foundation Establishment, it could not be done.

"A Golden Core Daoneng who suddenly appeared? Interesting."

Regardless of what Chen Yang and his son thought, the youth murmured to himself; his tone held little reverence or wariness, rather considerable interest.

"No matter where he popped out from, let this matter pass like this."

After a long while, Chen Yang's complexion returned to calm, and he said lightly.

Not a shred of emotion could be heard.

"Oh? Just like that? These strange spirit beasts that suddenly appeared, and an inexplicable Golden Core Ancestor..."

The youth smiled in surprise, with an attitude of enjoying the spectacle without minding how big it gets, continuing leisurely: "If Dao Friend Chen Yangzi has need, I can do my best to help."

"No need to trouble Dao Friend Shen; my affairs do not yet require Wanxiang Sect to intervene."

Chen Yang's eyes narrowed slightly unintentionally; in the depths of his eyes, a trace of wariness flashed.

He knew very well that the person before him, though appearing gentle, in terms of ruthlessness was even above him; as for his surface Qi Refining cultivation? Merely a disguise; his true cultivation was likely also Foundation Establishment.

Perhaps not equal to himself, but not far off; even among Foundation Establishment, he himself counted as a top-tier existence.

Shen Xingchen, hearing this, merely smiled faintly, waved his hand: "Dao Friend Chen Yangzi, what are you saying? This has nothing to do with Wanxiang Sect; it is merely my Shen Xingchen's personal friendship."

Chen Yang was noncommittal. Personal friendship? His status as a Core Disciple of Wanxiang Sect's Inner Sect already determined that his words and deeds could not merely represent himself.

He sounds agreeable now, but if he truly offends that Golden Core Ancestor in the future, Shen Xingchen has Wanxiang Sect behind him — no matter; I would be left without support.

He glanced once more at Jing Rong's corpse dying with eyes unclosed; Chen Yangzi expressionless, waved his hand — the corpse turned to ash and smoke, leaving not a trace.

Only then did he turn to Chen Ronghua behind him and say coldly: "This matter ends here; do not think of continuing retaliatory actions; if you stir up trouble then, I won't be able to save you."

"Consider it buying a lesson; also a good chance to restrain your temper; otherwise one day you won't even know how you died."

"But..." Chen Ronghua froze, looking at his bare left arm, gritted his teeth, unable to speak; resentment surged in his eyes.

"But what?!"

Chen Yang frowned, a slap *pa* onto Chen Ronghua's face; this slap was very forceful, his face visibly swelled red.

"Don't you understand the principle that the bird sticking its head out gets shot? What, still thinking of revenge? What cultivation do you have — weigh it yourself! If you have the ability, cultivate to Golden Core for me! Day after day, still think you haven't caused me enough trouble?"

Chen Yang scolded loudly, full of hating-iron-not-becoming-steel sentiment.

Chen Ronghua touched his swollen face, head lowered, not daring to make a sound.

(Chapter End)