Chapter 547: Farewell to an Old Acquaintance

Chen Mu's thoughts shifted slightly, altering his flight path as he dove downward toward the source of the fighting.

He halted five hundred zhang above the ground, standing midair, his spiritual sense spilling like mercury over the battlefield below.

It was a sandy stretch beside a swiftly flowing river.

Three warriors clad in black martial attire, their faces covered with black cloth, surrounded a white-robed man in a triangular formation.

The white-robed man's long hair streamed wildly with his violent movements, revealing a face with sharp, angular features and eyes as piercing as a hawk's.

In his hand he held a spirit sword radiating cold light; his swordplay was broad and unrestrained, brimming with mad, reckless intent—each strike was vicious, trading blows for blows, utterly disregarding his own defense, forcing his three attackers into frantic disarray.

"Shi Kuangsheng?"

Chen Mu felt a flicker of surprise—he recognized the man.

Shi Kuangsheng, the prodigy disciple of the Bai Jianmen, one of the Six Great Sword Sects.

Years ago, he had come to Nanyun Fucheng for a divine weapon.

At that time, Chen Mu was still a Postheaven cultivator, while Shi Kuangsheng was already a renowned Late-Stage Innate expert across the entire prefecture.

Years had passed, and this man had successfully broken through to the Earth Altar Realm; from his aura fluctuations, he was clearly at the "Crossing the Divine Bridge" level.

Yet his fighting style remained unchanged, even more wild—his death-defying ferocity made the three Earth Altar warriors surrounding him find him exceedingly troublesome.

The three men attacking Shi Kuangsheng were no weaklings.

One wielded a dao, his aura dense and stable—he was an Earth Altar "Three Flowers Converging on the Crown" cultivator, his dao techniques seasoned and ruthless, the primary attacker.

The other two: one wielded twin swords, his movements agile, his blades taking unconventional paths.

The other wielded a soft whip, cunning and venomous, targeting the lower body.

Both were "Crossing the Divine Bridge."

Shi Kuangsheng, fighting alone against three, slightly inferior in cultivation to the main attacker, nonetheless held the upper hand through his fearless, mad sword intent and exquisite swordplay.

He deliberately took a dao energy slash from the black-clad dao-wielder, leaving a deep wound down to the bone on his left shoulder, but seized the opening to thrust his sword straight through the throat of the twin-sword black-clad warrior!

Pfft~

Blood sprayed.

The twin-sword black-clad warrior's eyes bulged in disbelief as he clutched his throat and slowly collapsed.

The dao-wielding black-clad warrior's eyes burned with rage, his dao strikes growing fiercer.

The whip-wielding black-clad warrior also roared in fury and rage, lashing his whip wildly.

But Shi Kuangsheng's aura surged even higher; ignoring his wounds entirely, his swordlight danced like a mad demon, forcing both men into steady retreat.

The dao-wielding black-clad warrior received a slash across his chest, blood gushing—he finally decided to flee, exchanged a glance with the whip-wielder, feinted once, then turned and bolted into the dense forest.

The whip-wielding black-clad warrior likewise broke off combat and followed close behind.

Shi Kuangsheng stood leaning on his sword, breathing heavily, making no move to pursue.

Blood poured from his left shoulder wound, his face pale, yet his eyes remained bright and sharp, scanning the surroundings warily.

【Corpse detected. Collect?】

"Yes."

Chen Mu's thoughts shifted slightly, remotely retrieving the fallen items of the twin-sword black-clad warrior—just an ordinary True Qi Card.

He had no ties with Shi Kuangsheng; there was no need to reveal himself or offer aid now.

Seeing the battle below had ended and Shi Kuangsheng was no longer in immediate danger, Chen Mu ascended higher and continued flying toward the Han'nan Dao, Hengzhou direction.

Two days later, Chen Mu entered Hengzhou territory.

As he passed a relatively flat trade road connecting two Fuchengs, his spiritual sense once again detected fighting and the scent of blood ahead.

A caravan was being attacked by dozens of ferocious bandits.

The caravan guards lay dead or wounded, goods scattered everywhere.

Standing at the front, holding the line, was a young woman in her early twenties.

She wore tight-fitting martial attire, her figure slender and graceful; her lovely face now wore a frosty, resolute expression as she swung her long sword, her blade movements dense as rain, overlapping in layers, engulfing the several bandits before her.

Her sword technique was exquisite, carrying a unique rhythm and depth.

"Zheng Family's 'Covering Rain Sword'?"

Chen Mu had intended to fly past directly, but recognizing this sword art, he raised an eyebrow—he identified its origin.

Looking again at the caravan's banner—it was indeed the character "Zheng."

His gaze settled on the face of the lead woman; he faintly recognized familiar contours.

"Zheng Qianrou?"

A faint smile touched Chen Mu's lips.

Years ago in Nanyun Fucheng, he, Zheng Qianrou, Tang Tianhao, and others had all been part of the same generation of young prodigies—though not close, they had known each other.

At that time, Zheng Qianrou, like him, was only fifteen or sixteen, a rising star of the Zheng Family.

Years had passed, and Zheng Qianrou had also successfully entered the Innate Realm; from her aura, she was around Third Stage Innate.

Yet the bandit leader she fought was a burly, broad-faced giant wielding a demon-headed great dao, his cultivation having reached Fifth Stage Innate.

His dao technique was powerful and heavy, laced with cruel intent.

Though Zheng Qianrou's swordplay was refined, her cultivation, strength, and combat experience were far inferior; under the bandit leader's furious assault, she was barely holding on, her body now bearing several wounds, her clothes soaked in blood.

Just as the bandit leader sneered, spotting an opening, his demon-headed great dao sliced through the air with a shrill whistle, aiming to cut Zheng Qianrou in half at the waist!

Zheng Qianrou's pupils shrank sharply; she raised her sword to block—but there was no escape; despair flickered in her eyes.

At this critical moment—

Shh!

A faint, nearly inaudible sound of air parting came from high above the sky.

Then, an exquisitely condensed, invisible yet supremely sharp sword qi—like a blade of judgment falling from the heavens—struck with pinpoint accuracy upon the bandit leader's right wrist, where he raised his demon-headed great dao.

Pfft!

A soft sound.

The bandit leader felt no pain at all—only a numbness in his wrist—then his hand holding the knife, along with the heavy demon-headed greatsword, severed cleanly at the wrist.

The cut surface was as smooth as a mirror!

"Ahh—"

The delayed, searing pain made the bandit leader let out a pig-like scream; he clutched his severed wrist, staggered backward, his face filled with terror.

Zheng Qianrou, having narrowly escaped death, instinctively seized the opportunity and unleashed her ultimate technique.

A dense barrage of sword movements engulfed the bandit leader; "pfft," "pfft," several sounds—his throat was slashed open. He stared wide-eyed, face twisted with unfulfilled rage, then collapsed dead.

Zheng Qianrou finally looked up toward the sky.

There, high above, a figure in blue robes stood with arms crossed, sleeves fluttering, as if he had never moved.

The sunlight was blinding; she could not make out his face, but the profound, mountain-still, unfathomable aura sent shockwaves through her spirit.

The other bandits were stunned by this sudden turn of events, staring in terror at the sky.

Someone shouted—then all the bandits scattered like birds and beasts, crawling and rolling into the dense woods beside the road.

The merchant caravan's members, having survived the ordeal, looked up at the figure in the sky, then at their Young Lady.

Zheng Qianrou, enduring her injuries, bowed respectfully toward the sky, her voice trembling with relief and gratitude.

"Your humble servant, Zheng Qianrou, thanks you, Elder, for saving my life. May I know your esteemed name? The Zheng family will surely repay you abundantly!"