Chapter 256: Female Brat Zi: Thanks for the Invite, I Was Just Picked Up from a Bat

Mistress Miejue walked over at the sound, coldly sizing up the two:

“Who are Itachi?”

“Why are Itachi here?”

Zhang Wuji bowed hastily: “I am Zeng Aniu, and this is Zhuer. We’re merely passing through.”

His words were earnest, but Ding Minjun, standing nearby, sneered and whispered to Mistress Miejue:

“Master, these two are demons of the Evil Cult.”

The moment she finished speaking, Yin Li let out a cold snort, her eyes turning icy, her foot tapping lightly as she closed the distance in an instant, palm aimed straight for Ding Minjun’s throat.

The strike came too fast and too brutal—if Mistress Miejue hadn’t reacted swiftly, Ding Minjun would have been dead on the spot.

Mistress Miejue swept her sleeve, and the Yitian Sword was already drawn, a flash of cold light lashing toward Yin Li.

Yin Li was no match; within a few moves she was subdued, her wrist twisted and pinned by Mistress Miejue.

Seeing Yin Li captured, Zhang Wuji panicked and moved to rescue her.

At that moment, an invisible hand seized his body, lifting him into the air and flinging him straight to Luo Jie’s side.

“Thud!”

Luo Jie grabbed him by the neck, as if lifting a chick.

Mistress Miejue’s eyes flickered with shock: “Master Luo, your Dragon-Taming and Crane-Controlling skill is extraordinary.”

In the martial world, Dragon-Taming and Crane-Controlling arts, even at their peak, could only snatch objects or enemies from five or six feet away, or wrest weapons from hands.

Yet Luo Jie, standing dozens of zhang away, had plucked him over with a mere gesture.

His martial prowess was truly inconceivable.

Luo Jie merely smiled: “Not at all, just crude tricks.”

What was this, Dragon-Taming and Crane-Controlling?

This was telekinesis.

Zhang Wuji, held aloft by one of Luo Jie’s hands, couldn’t move, his face flushed crimson.

He struggled a few times, realizing he couldn’t even speak—his heart pounded in terror:

What kind of martial art is this?

He hadn’t even sealed any meridians, yet I’m paralyzed and mute.

I’ve never heard of such a thing.

Ding Minjun seized the moment: “Master, these remnants of the Evil Cult can’t be spared—let’s execute them here and now to uphold justice.”

Hearing this, Luo Jie smiled faintly and spoke:

“This young man’s internal energy is pure and yang—hardly the mark of an Evil Cult member.”

“Let’s question him first before deciding.”

Mistress Miejue nodded slightly, turning to Zhang Wuji:

“What is your name?”

“Who is your master?”

Zhang Wuji felt his chest loosen—he could move again—and answered quickly:

“I am Zeng Aniu; my master is an unnamed escort guard from a small village…”

As he spoke, his eyes darted, his voice unsteady.

Who was Mistress Miejue?

She saw through his lie at once—she had been about to press further.

Then, suddenly, a commotion came from afar.

Everyone turned to see a man in a white robe with green stripes sprinting into the camp.

His figure moved swiftly, like a bat gliding through the air.

Before the Emei disciples could react, he struck them down with a single palm.

He snatched up Zi, who had been watching from the corner, and turned to flee.

Zhou Zhiruo rushed forward to intercept him.

But he merely flicked his palm lightly—and Zhou Zhiruo flew backward like a broken kite, crashing hard to the ground.

“Green-Winged Bat King Wei Xiaoyi!”

Mistress Miejue paled, drawing the Yitian Sword again.

Luo Jie also saw Zi being held by Wei Xiaoyi, his brow furrowing.

The next instant, Wei Xiaoyi, mid-leap over the dunes, suddenly froze—as if hitting an invisible glass wall.

Then he plummeted straight down, crashing onto the sand with a dull thud.

Luo Jie waved his hand—and Wei Xiaoyi’s body flew straight to him.

Without hesitation, Luo Jie swung a heavy punch.

“Boom!”

With a thunderous crash, Wei Xiaoyi’s chest exploded, blood spraying everywhere; his body collapsed like a rag, lifeless.

The entire scene fell silent.

Zhang Wuji’s mouth hung open, nearly biting his tongue.

Zhou Zhiruo slowly rose, clutching her chest, face filled with shock.

Mistress Miejue stared deeply at Luo Jie, clasped her hands: “Master Luo, Itachi truly conceal your depths.”

Luo Jie waved his hand, humbly: “Lucky, lucky.”

As he spoke, he casually sealed a few meridians on Zhang Wuji and tossed him to the nearby Emei disciples.

“Watch him. Don’t let him run.”

Luo Jie walked to Zi, lifted her from the ground, and tapped her head:

“Speak.”

Zi felt her throat loosen—her voice returned.

But she was dazed, staring blankly at Wei Xiaoyi’s corpse, her lips trembling.

She had almost become the bat king’s dinner.

She murmured: “That… that was the Green-Winged Bat King?”

Luo Jie nodded: “Correct. Itachi nearly got drained dry.”

Zi swallowed hard, her face pale.

Born in the Star Pavilion, she had heard of Wei Xiaoyi’s infamous reputation.

Luo Jie smirked: “Aren’t Itachi going to thank me?”

Zi fell silent for a few seconds, then whispered: “Thank Itachi.”

Luo Jie smiled: “That’s better.”

Zi: “...”

She truly dared not be defiant anymore.

At that moment, Mistress Miejue had already begun treating the wounded with her disciples.

Zhou Zhiruo’s face was pale, her lips blue—she had suffered severe internal injury.

Mistress Miejue frowned, channeling her energy to heal her.

“Zhiruo was struck by the Ice-Cotton Palm—cold energy has entered her body.”

“My Emei Nine Yang Art can dispel it, but…”

She glanced around—many other disciples had suffered the same injury.

If she healed them one by one, she’d exhaust most of her internal energy.

And the upcoming battle at Bright Peak demanded her full strength.

Healing now would drain her power—unacceptable.

So she decided: “Don’t treat them now. We’ll heal them after returning to the mountain.”

Nearby, bound Zhang Wuji noticed many Emei disciples afflicted by the cold energy.

He hesitated, unsure whether to intervene.

Just as he wavered, a voice spoke: “Let me handle it.”

Everyone turned—Luo Jie walked forward calmly.

Mistress Miejue frowned: “Master Luo, don’t waste your own energy.”

Luo Jie smiled: “It’s just a minor ailment.”

He stepped forward, lifted Zhou Zhiruo, placed one hand on her back, and gently activated his internal energy.

Instantly, Zhou Zhiruo felt a scorching, searing heat surge from her back.

This energy wasn’t gentle like Emei Nine Yang Art—it was ruthless, sweeping through every meridian in an instant.

The cold, stiffened channels in her body were washed clean by the heat; within a single breath, the cold energy vanished entirely.

She opened her eyes, color returning to her face, her spirit revived.

(End of Chapter)