Chapter 505: A Simple Favor

And it wasn't ordinary fighting—

It was the thunderous clash of Qi, the crisp clang of swords and blades, screams and roars, all mixed together, growing clearer.

The convoy halted.

Wang Hu raised his hand; everyone held their breath.

Moments later, a guard ran back from the front, face pale: "Chief Wang! Two groups are fighting ahead—they've spilled onto the road!"

Wang Hu's face darkened: "Who are they?"

"I… I don't know. One side wears black, the other gray—neither looks like decent people!"

Wang Hu gritted his teeth, about to order a detour, when a deafening crash suddenly came from ahead.

Boom!

Accompanied by the crash.

A massive tree crashed down, landing squarely in the middle of the road, blocking the way.

Immediately after, a blood-soaked black-clad man flew out from the forest, slammed onto the ground, twitched twice, then went still.

The sounds of battle from the forest grew nearer.

Wang Hu's face changed instantly; he yanked his heavy-backed broadsword from his waist and barked: "Everyone, fall back! Form a defensive line!"

The guards, well-trained, swiftly gathered, shielding the caravan and Xia Lin's group behind them.

The merchants turned pale with fear; some cowered behind their carts, others trembled, too terrified to move.

Zhao Song and the other young men had never seen anything like this—their faces were ashen, their legs shaking.

Li Wan gripped Xia Lin's sleeve tightly, her knuckles white.

"Don't be afraid, don't be afraid…" Xia Lin whispered reassurance, though his voice trembled too.

Chen Mu stood to the side, his gaze fixed on the dense forest ahead.

Within the forest, the battle cries grew nearer, fiercer.

Sword flashes and blade glimmers flickered between the trees; the clashes of Qi echoed like thunder.

Screams rang out intermittently—some fell, others fled.

Another massive tree crashed down, striking the ground and sending up a storm of dry leaves.

Then, seven or eight figures burst from the forest, fleeing toward this side.

They wore gray robes, drenched in blood, faces twisted with terror.

Behind them, over a dozen black-clad figures gave chase, swords and blades flashing, radiating murderous intent.

"Help! Help!"

The gray-clad men spotted the guard convoy, as if grasping a lifeline, sprinting desperately toward them.

Wang Hu's face turned ashen; he roared: "Stop! Don't come closer!"

But the gray-clad men paid no heed—only thoughts of escape drove them.

The black-clad pursuers closed in faster, reaching them in an instant.

One gray-clad man was caught—a flash of steel, his head flew high, blood gushing!

"Ahh—"

Zhao Song screamed in terror, his legs buckling, nearly collapsing to the ground.

The other young men were equally pale, trembling uncontrollably.

Xia Lin forced himself to stay calm, pulling the students back—but they couldn't retreat far; behind them were the carts, with nowhere left to go.

Wang Hu gritted his teeth, swung his sword, and roared: "Prepare to fight!"

The guards drew their weapons in unison, eyes locked on the approaching black-clad figures.

But everyone knew—they were no match.

Each of those black-clad men was at least Late Innate Stage; the leaders even radiated the aura of Earth Altar Stage.

On Wang Hu's side, only he himself was Early Earth Altar Stage—the rest were Mid to Late Innate Stage.

If they fought, they wouldn't last a single cup of tea.

The black-clad men reached them, saw the convoy, and showed no sign of stopping. The leader sneered, raising his blade and bellowing:

"Kill them all! Leave no survivors!"

Over a dozen figures lunged forward, blades flashing like snow, murderous aura surging skyward.

Wang Hu gritted his teeth, ready to fight to the death—

At that moment, a figure darted past him, charging straight toward the black-clad men.

A plain blue cotton robe, an ordinary face, Qi level barely Mid Innate Stage.

It was that young man named Bu!

Wang Hu's pupils shrank sharply; he roared: "Bu Young Master! Come back! You—"

His words cut off abruptly.

The blue-robed figure had already plunged into the black-clad crowd.

Then, an unbelievable scene unfolded.

The young man's form flickered, evading three swords and blades slashing down at once, then casually slapped one black-clad man in the chest.

The black-clad man flew backward, crashing into a tree, spewing blood, then slumped lifeless to the ground.

Another kick—struck the knee of a second black-clad man. Crack! The leg snapped backward; the man screamed and collapsed.

Then, he reached out, seized the wrist of a third black-clad man holding his sword, and twisted gently.

The wrist snapped on impact; the sword fell to the ground, caught mid-air by the young man's reverse grip, then swept across—blood sprayed from the fourth black-clad man's throat; he fell, eyes wide.

His movements were astonishingly fast, yet seemed slow—each step clear, each strike simple.

But these simple movements left the black-clad men with no way to evade or block them.

In the blink of an eye, four of the five black-clad men at the front had fallen, one rendered useless.

The remaining black-clad men froze.

Every member of the escort team froze.

Wang Hu opened his mouth wide, his eyes filled with disbelief.

Mid Innate Stage?

Is this Mid Innate Stage?

Xia Lin and his disciple were utterly stunned.

Zhao Song rubbed his eyes, doubting he had seen wrong. Li Wan covered her mouth, her eyes wide as saucers.

The black-clad leader's face changed drastically; he shouted harshly: "These are tough targets! All of you, attack together!"

The remaining seven or eight black-clad men surged forward, swords and knives flashing, attacking the green-robed figure from all sides!

The young man remained calm and unhurried.

He shifted his body, slipping through the blades and swords, striking one with a palm that sent him flying. Another shift, and he kicked another down. Another shift, he seized a blade, spun it around, and slashed another down.

His movements were as light as the wind, yet each step landed precisely where no one expected.

His techniques were simple and direct, yet every strike targeted a vital point, leaving the black-clad men defenseless.

In barely a dozen breaths, the seven or eight black-clad men lay scattered on the ground—some dead, some wounded, none able to rise again.

Only the black-clad leader remained, gripping his blade, standing frozen, face ashen, trembling all over.

He stared at the green-robed young man, voice shaking: "Y-you… who are you?"

The young man did not answer, only took one step forward.

The black-clad leader, terrified, retreated three steps, then suddenly turned and fled!

He ran swiftly, vanishing into the dense forest in the blink of an eye.

The young man did not pursue; he merely stood with his hands behind his back, gazing at the direction of his escape, his eyes calm as still water.

The forest fell utterly silent.

【Corpse detected. Retrieve?】

"Yes!"

……

The escort team stared blankly at the scene, unable to speak for a long time.

Wang Hu swallowed hard, looking at the green-robed figure, his eyes filled with awe.

Mid Innate Stage?

Try to fool ghosts!

Clearly a Earth Altar Realm cultivator—and a strong one at that!

Several youths were utterly awestruck.

Zhao Song's legs still trembled, but his eyes burned brightly, fixed on that figure as if gazing upon a priceless treasure.

Xia Lin drew a deep breath and stepped forward slowly, bowing deeply to the figure.

"Young Master Bu… this old man had no eyes to see."

The green-robed young man turned around—it was Chen Mu.

Chen Mu raised his hand slightly, his tone still calm: "Mr. Xia, no need for such formalities. It was nothing."

Nothing?

Xia Lin smiled bitterly.

What had just happened could not possibly be described as "nothing."