Chapter 8: Chapter Seven: Breakout

A flash of light suddenly streaked toward the southeast corner of the manor, illuminating a middle-aged fatty—Gu true qi, seventh among the inner-disciple pupils of Dongyang Sect.

From his sleeve, Gu true qi sent forth a pearl the size of a fist, which spun swiftly as it met the flashing light, instantly detonating a cloud of smoke across the sky.

“Cursed scoundrel!” Gu true qi instantly understood the enemy’s intent—this attack was never meant to strike him, but to mask the escape of those inside the manor.

He understood, yet could not counter it in time; the smoke spread in all directions, shrouding the entire Jinping Manor in darkness, rendering anything beyond a zhang away invisible.

Gu true qi shouted: “Ye Shi-di, Su Shi-di, retreat from the manor, hold your respective positions, intercept the scoundrels—any resistance is to be met with lethal force!”

Responses came from the south and southeast: “By your command, Shi-xiong!”

The three Foundation Establishment elders of Dongyang Sect retreated backward; the heroes within the manor did the same. The Zhang clan elder who controlled the manor’s protective array was unknown to be alive or dead—the array had long ceased functioning, and the Tengqiang , towering over a zhang high, could not hinder the heroes’ escape. Recognizing the positions of Dongyang’s three inner-disciple pupils, they moved in the opposite direction, fleeing frantically toward the northwest, bursting out of the smoke from the manor.

Liu Xiaolou was fleeing too, but his cultivation was too weak, his movements slow—he lagged behind the crowd. If he escaped like this, he had a high chance of being caught by Dongyang’s high-level elders arriving in response; his heart filled with panic, even despair.

The Jinping Manor had been reduced to ruins—how many Zhang clan members had died? Though he had taken no lives, would Dongyang Sect listen to his explanation when meting out punishment? Killing him wouldn’t even be enough to quell the “public outrage!”

His master had attended many Hero Gatherings and once told Liu Xiaolou: “Once you accept a Hero’s Invitation, you must be prepared to be abandoned—no one will come to save you at the critical moment. If you’re not willing to be the sacrificial lamb drawing enemy power, why would they invite you to share the spoils?”

Liu Xiaolou certainly understood this, but to die on his very first invitation—it was unbearable!

Calm… calm…

His cultivation was too weak; even if he escaped with the crowd, he’d inevitably be at the rear. Those who escaped couldn’t outrun Dongyang’s Foundation Establishment elders—but if they could outrun him, that was enough. So following the crowd was the worst strategy.

After brief deliberation, he gritted his teeth, turned around, and sprinted toward the junction between the southeast and south—where the two Dongyang Foundation Establishment elders stood, leaving a gap. When they chased the fleeing crowd, they’d likely circle around the manor—this was his chance.

Of course, he didn’t know if Dongyang had sent only three Foundation Establishment cultivators—or if others were present. But judging from what he knew, even if others existed, they were unlikely to be Foundation Establishment. Either way, his choice was far better than facing a Foundation Establishment cultivator directly!

Liu Xiaolou sprinted through the smoke; in this life-or-death moment, his Qi Refining Second Layer cultivation was pushed to its limit—his movement and perception far surpassed his usual state, narrowly avoiding trees, steps, piles of rubble, and people…

“Huh?”

“Who?”

“Oh no…”

“You nearly knocked into me…”

“Stop him!”

“Where? Where?”

Liu Xiaolou swung his arms hard, took long strides, stood tall—and burst through to the manor’s edge, where a broken Tengqiang rose before him, one zhang five or six tall.

What once required kicking off halfway up to scale, he now cleared with a simple leap.

His Qi Refining Second Layer cultivation, stagnant for three or four years, was showing signs of breakthrough?

Liu Xiaolou had no time to ponder—he leapt over the wall and kept running, instantly emerging from the thick smoke, breathing fresh air, seeing the star-strewn sky and layers of black mountain silhouettes against the night.

A sharp cry rang out from nearby on the left: “Scoundrel, don’t run! Surrender now, or be killed on the spot!”

“Still running? Don’t you fear death?…”

“I’ll let you run? Give me your life!”

Of course he’d run—how could he possibly stay and surrender?

Liu Xiaolou summoned his true qi and sprinted, swift as a galloping steed. He could feel—the pursuer behind him was not one of Dongyang’s three Foundation Establishment elders. This was his chance.

At first he feared being caught quickly, but after fleeing several li, the pursuer still hadn’t caught up. He glanced back—and saw the man ten zhang behind, relentlessly chasing.

In his hurried glance, the man wore a faintly colored ribbon tied across his forehead, shouting continuously for Liu Xiaolou to stop and surrender—his voice sounded very young.

Perhaps he, too, was in early Qi Refining?

After fleeing over ten li, they entered unknown deep mountains, yet the pursuer still didn’t give up. Liu Xiaolou grew frustrated, and suddenly a thought surged: Should he turn and strike back?

First, to delay the enemy; second, to see if the man carried any valuable items?

But his master had warned: Never lightly provoke disciples of major sects—even the weak ones. If they dare walk the world, they likely carry powerful magic treasures or Dao techniques.

Could his low-grade ordinary Sanxuan Sword withstand it?

As he hesitated, he suddenly saw a figure seated against a tree, gasping heavily—familiar, unmistakably the man who had tried to steal his spirit herbs back in the Jinping Manor treasure vault—the “suspected schemer.” How had he escaped here, and why was he resting?

Liu Xiaolou dashed past him like a gust of wind, instantly alerting the man, who soon gave chase.

The man clearly recognized Liu Xiaolou, running alongside him, panting: “Young brother… huff… did Dongyang… huff… catch up?”

Liu Xiaolou panted back: “Yes…”

The man instantly sped up, leaping ahead several body-lengths—his cultivation was clearly superior.

Liu Xiaolou gritted his teeth and chased hard: “Brother, don’t panic… huff… it’s just one… probably… a Zhang clan descendant… weak cultivation…”

Hearing Liu Xiaolou’s explanation, the man slowed again, glancing back frequently—but the mountain path was rugged, impossible to see anyone.

“Just one?”

“One…”

“Not Dongyang’s seven, eight, or nine?”

“No… anyway… weak cultivation…”

“Which mountain faction are you from?”

“Pai Sect.”

“So you’re a brother of the Sect! Excellent… why have I never seen you?”

“Which branch are you from?”

“I’m from the Seventh Branch. My surname is Ma.”

“Greetings, Brother Ma… huff… I’m from the Ninth Branch. My surname is Li…”

“Ah, I see…”

As they spoke, their breaths grew ragged, and the pursuer gradually closed in—dawn was breaking, and his figure and face were now clearly visible.