Chapter 11: Poison Hand

Zhang Jian had just stepped out of the room when he heard, as if the air above his head were splitting, a chill like a silk ribbon lashing down toward his head.

That was Jian Yao's saber.

The snow‑white blade light was like a full moon.

His Hundred Victories Force was something Zhang Jian knew extremely well; the sharp blade light slashed toward his head, and the cold light that followed from the blade‑sword collision.

The sound of metal clashing arose.

This sound rang out close to his body, making one's hairs stand on end, but Zhang Jian felt his hot blood boiling.

"This must be what they mean by 'the more skilled, the bolder'!"

Zhang Jian somewhat understood those martial artists; many carried lethal weapons, and a killing intent arose spontaneously.

Possessing martial power inevitably makes one confident.

Of course, excessive confidence is arrogance.

His thoughts flashed like lightning, and Zhang Jian's ears twitched; from the very first clash he faintly sensed the direction in which the two forces converged on the blade and sword, and a thread of extremely crafty force shocked Jian Yao's tiger's mouth.

He could even smell a trace of blood with his spiritual sense.

The young swordsman wielding a green‑bladed sword was clearly stronger than Jian Yao.

That was not surprising.

Because the one who made the move was that pair of senior brother and sister whom Zhang Jian had met once before.

Internal refinement martial artists at the Nurturing Origin stage.

Jian Yao completely ignored the wound on his hand; explosive Yi Jin force burst from his feet, shattering the stone tiles beneath him, and he lunged into the air, slashing fiercely at the young swordsman.

Zhang Jian looked over and, at that moment, seemed to see layers of red‑hot qi wrapped around Jian Yao's ring‑pommel saber.

That was a special force formed by body‑tempering martial artists.

Although the path of body tempering trains the bones and tendons, once one has cultivated the Yi force, it also forms a special power that coordinates one's qi and blood, refines the essence, and is forged into a special force.

This force is completely opposite to the force produced by internal refinement.

Even at the beginning it possesses an extremely overbearing, crafty power.

But compared to the inner breath formed by internal refinement, it lacks a measure of the richness that nourishes the five viscera and six bowels and nurtures the life essence.

Yet in its early explosive phase it far surpasses that.

But when an internal‑refinement expert reaches the Nurturing Origin stage, this advantage gradually cancels out.

Jian Yao unleashed his Golden Crow Sword Technique like a red‑colored storm, and even while airborne he struck blow after blow, launching a fierce assault at the young swordsman.

The young swordsman always wore a faint smile, his sword light clear and empty; the sword qi he radiated dispersed, impervious to water, and no matter how fiercely Jian Yao attacked he could not break through—until, in his fury, the young swordsman seized an opening.

In an instant he gave a cold laugh, and matchless Nurturing Origin Strong Qi burst from his sword tip, shattering the blade light; with a close‑quarters Iron Mountain Lean he directly used his powerful inner breath strong qi to send Jian Yao flying ten‑plus meters, toppling a lotus‑lamp pillar.

Jian Yao stumbled up from the ground, his internal organs injured, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.

"Excellent skill—truly a hero among youths!"

Zhang Jian frowned slightly; although he lacked experience, he also knew that Jian Yao ultimately lost due to insufficient force.

He was lacking one stage—there really was a gap.

This also had something to do with killing techniques; although Jian Yao had extremely rich combat experience, his opponent appeared to be from a prestigious clan, and his killing techniques were extremely 'skillful'!

However, Zhang Jian noticed that, though both were at the Nurturing Origin stage, the young swordsman's condensed Nurturing Origin Strong Qi seemed noticeably 'different' from his own.

In his eyes flickered some red sparks of lightning, which instantly retracted.

Beside them, Zhang Yi drifted over, glanced at the wounded Jian Yao, his expression unmoving, merely gazing faintly at the two on the roof.

As he drifted down, the moment his gloomy, piercing gaze fell upon him, the young swordsman instantly felt his whole body as if plunged into an ice cave.

This feeling instantly caused his complexion to change dramatically.

A seeming extremely cold yin force seemed to follow an intangible intent, pressing deep into his soul to freeze him in place.

This is a mental intent!

In that instant the young swordsman could not bear it, directly swung his long sword, actually taking the initiative to attack, choosing to oppose that terrifying oppressive feeling.

Clang—clang!!

The sword sounds rang out; his scabbard flew straight from his hand like a blade, instantly embedding three feet into the ground.

A blade of cold sword qi drifted toward Zhang Yi.

This was a substantive Nurturing Origin Strong Qi; combined with the sword move, it instantly became like a vast cold mist chopping toward Zhang Yi.

But greeting him was a hand as white as jade, and that apparition appeared like a ghost beside the young swordsman.

"Senior brother, be careful!"

Beside them, the slender, graceful woman lost her color, finally drew her long sword; the sword trembled slightly, lifting threads of cold light that flew toward Zhang Yi's silhouette, but Zhang Yi paid no heed, casually thrusting a palm forward—his palm glowed with profound jade, and a fierce profound‑jade cold swept over.

The woman's visage changed; she hastily withdrew her sword, her form shifting into a fleeting phantom that left the spot.

Boom—rumble!!

All around, bricks and tiles turned to powder, while at the edges frost specks condensed into a vast expanse of snowy white.

"Profound Jade Ice‑Fire Palm—Poison Hand Zhang Yi?"

Gu Xiu'er watched this scene, secretly feeling that something was amiss.

Poison Hand Zhang Yi is a notorious heretic of the Northern Lands, a peer of their master's generation, famous for over a decade.

The Profound Jade Ice‑Fire Palm is lethally toxic; anyone struck by it must die.

They could scarcely imagine that this famed left‑path heretic would be hiding in the Zhang household.

Their thoughts raced, and Gu Xiu'er cried out loudly:

"Senior, please don't misunderstand; we two juniors entered the Zhang household only to ……"

Zhang Yi's face was cold, expressionless, as he said: "I don't care what you're after; since you two have injured members of the Zhang household, first save your lives from my hands before mentioning anything else!"

He leapt into the air, bringing a sky‑full of cold air, recklessly charging at the young swordsman—like a great hawk swooping on prey, his black robe fluttering, his whisk scattering icy rain‑like steel needles that fell upon the young swordsman.

He made a move without any intention of holding back.

Duanmu Yan sensed that all-encompassing chill, and secretly groaned.

That all-encompassing profound jade chill was overly domineering.

Whether it was cultivation or skill, he was far inferior to this underworld tycoon; he feared that after blocking just a few moves he would be overcome ruthlessly.

Gu Xiu'er also secretly regretted; they, as senior and junior disciples, had been entrusted by someone to come scout the Zhang clan's strengths and weaknesses, but they never expected the Zhang clan to be full of hidden talents, and upon just entering they were detected and surrounded.

Now they even encountered the fearsome vicious person Dushou Zhang Yi.

Her bright eyes swept over the arena, and her gaze instantly fell on Zhang Jian, who was watching the show with great relish beside her.

"What's up, you got into trouble while eating melon?"

Zhang Jian's five senses were extremely sharp; upon feeling Gu Xiu'er's gaze, his heart stirred, and he instantly appeared completely unaware, harmless as a person and beast.

Only a point of fierce red light gathered deep in his palm; he was also ruthless, calculating that if Gu Xiu'er dared to rush over and seize the 'hostage', he would concentrate his power and strike with a palm, delivering a cruel blow.

Gu Xiu'er indeed felt some hesitation at this moment; her mind flashed with her master's evaluation of Dushou Zhang Yi.

This person is vicious, cunning, and extremely scheming.

A thought flashed; seeing that Duanmu Yan could barely hold on, he immediately raised his voice again and said:

"Senior Brother Duanmu, stop! Since we, the two junior and senior disciples, were rude first, we naturally are willing to surrender and offer compensation!"

"Senior, our master is Wang Yuanlang, the West Wind Swordsman of the Upper Origin Sect; please, for our master's sake, give us a light punishment as a warning, and we, the two junior and senior disciples, are willing to accept it!"

Saying this, she directly sheathed her sword and clasped her fists.

Duanmu Yan, facing Zhang Yi's extremely fierce palm strike, heard the words, his eyelids twitched, but after thinking, he still gritted his teeth, chose to trust Gu Xiu'er, sheathed his sword and assumed a posture of no resistance, preparing to endure the blow head-on.