Chapter 123: 118 Three Years

The sun and moon shuttle back and forth, time flies like a white horse passing a crack, year after year.

In the first year, Tang Zhao studied step by step and progressed step by step. Within one year, he learned all the basic Rune Formulas and made steady progress in his Internal and External Arts, already capable of being properly called a "Knight-Errant."

In the second year, Tang Zhao began to craft his own Art Tools, fully developing the add-ons for his Glasses, upgrading his entire repertoire of martial arts, and even swapping various resources for better ones. With the help of these add-ons, his progress suddenly accelerated; he perfected his Internal and External Arts at an abnormal speed, subsequently practiced the Mysterious Technique, and officially stepped into the realm of a Loose Practitioner. That same year, he began his training as an intermediate Sword Talisman Master and, by the end of the year, created a high-quality Art Tool with a Fuhufushi. He also brought in a few senior sisters and brothers as partners and opened his first shop at the foot of Jiugao Mountain.

In the third year, Boss Tang exchanged a large number of Art Tools through the shop's business, making his finances increasingly abundant, and his progress accelerated once more. By chance, he further developed new add-on functions for his Glasses, and his speed of progress exploded upward again. Martial arts, Rune Formulas, and entrepreneurship were all advancing at an unbelievable speed.

Everyone at Zhuoyu Villa was shocked by his unreasonable performance, where the further he went, the faster he progressed, but time did not flow only for Tang Zhao; others were also experiencing and progressing in their own ways.

Winter departed and spring arrived; another winter had passed, and it was the season of early spring.

The snow on the mountain was still thick, but the snow at the foot of the mountain had already melted; the stream flowing from the mountain carried thin shards of ice, and on the riverbanks, the grass was a fresh, faint green, appearing and disappearing.

On the newly repaired yellow earth road at the foot of the mountain, a young man in his early thirties walked in a hurry, striding forward at a run.

His face was covered in the dust of travel, clearly having covered a long distance, but his speed remained undiminished; although he was only walking, his swiftness was no less than a fast horse, clearly possessing remarkable light-body skills.

Suddenly, a sharp cry came from the sky, and the shadow of a bird of prey swept across the firmament.

The young man heard the sound and looked up, his gaze following that shadow all the way to the horizon.

"Whoosh—"

An arrow shot toward him from behind.

The young man had long since sensed it; he rolled on the ground, dodged the arrowhead, turned and stood up, stared at a cluster of bushes behind him, and shouted, "Get out here!"

Before the words had faded, five or six men in white robes burst out from the bushes, half-surrounding him, and shouted loudly, "Little thief, you can't escape now!"

The young man lowered his voice and said, "I didn't intend to flee!" With a *swish*, he drew his sword from his waist.

It was a broad, large sword; the blade shimmered with a dull metallic luster, appearing as if it had already rusted, no longer as sharp as it had been in years past.

The leader of the white-robed men caught sight of the large sword, a look of disdain appearing on his face, and said, "Little thief, so you're a pauper, no wonder you steal everywhere. It's a pity you chose to steal from my Baixiong Mountain. To break ground on the head of the Grand Duke, you truly have the gall of a dog; go, tear him to pieces!"

Several white-robed men each drew their blades and pounced forward. Two other white-robed men stood by to guard the flanks, their hands tucked into their sleeves.

The young man was not afraid; he raised his sword and swept it horizontally, first to protect himself, then to wait for an opportunity to attack the enemy.

The white-robed men were numerous; although none used swords, their blade techniques were very proficient, and their strikes were ruthless and dangerous, seemingly using some kind of Sword Array coordination between them.

The young man was forced into a flurry, and suddenly he used his sword to strike directly against the white-robed men's blades.

Only a *crack* was heard, and half a blade flew out; it had actually been snapped by a single sword strike. It turned out that the giant sword, despite its unremarkable appearance, was actually a sharp blade. The young man, having succeeded in one strike, pressed his advantage, swinging the sword left and right; wherever the giant sword danced, weapons broke upon contact, and no one could stop him.

The lead white-robed man shrieked, "The brat's blade is sharp, don't block it head-on! Quickly, use the hidden weapons!"

The group of white-robed men split to the sides, revealing the white-robed men who had been guarding the flanks; the two men simultaneously flicked their sleeves, and all sorts of hidden weapons flew out like raindrops.

The young man hurriedly stopped his forward momentum, waving his sword to block, parrying left and right, knocking away many, but the two white-robed men stood in tricky positions, and the hidden weapons covered every angle without a blind spot, forcing the young man into a desperate struggle, unable to defend. The young man tried several times to rush up and kill one first, but their companions interfered from the side, and he was unable to advance even an inch.

Before long, the young man let out an "Ah," his left hand dropping down, clearly injured.

The white-robed men nearby were overjoyed and unleashed another rain of hidden weapons; the young man fought while retreating until he reached a large tree by the road, his back against the trunk, no longer needing to worry about his rear, only then barely managing to hold on. Not long after, he was struck by an arrow in the leg and had to lean against the trunk to stand straight.

Seeing that he was surely going to die, the white-robed men were in no hurry to deliver the killing blow; they held their weapons and surrounded him, shouting, "Little thief, hand over the goods, and we'll give you a quick death."

The young man remained calm and said, "Do you think I'm afraid of death?"

A white-robed man sneered, "Trying to be a hero with us? Death is the easiest thing. I'm afraid it won't be that easy to die. For instance, I want one of your eyes first—" He poked forward with the tip of his blade.

Suddenly, the white-robed man's eyes bulged, as if struck hard from behind, and his whole body fell forward.

At the same time, the group of white-robed men watched as a light flashed, and that white-robed man was already lying on the ground; with so many people and so many perspectives, no one had seen who made the move.

There's a ghost!

These people were all thugs who licked blood from the edge of a blade; they had long since stopped believing in ghosts and gods, not even believing in Yin Ghosts, but the eerie scene before them could only make them feel it was a ghost.

Woo—woo—

It was that sharp cry again.

That was the cry of an owl!

The owl is also known as the funeral-announcing bird, specifically reporting bad news; although its cry was not particularly shrill, it was full of ominousness. At this moment, everyone who heard it felt even more terrified!

One funeral cry, several streaks of light!

The streaks of light seemed to come from another world; in the blink of an eye, it had already happened and vanished.

Thump! A body collapsed.

The white-robed man standing in the very center was stunned; in the time it took for a few sharp cries, there were suddenly no standing people left before his eyes. He looked around in a daze, the surrounding area was an empty space, and there wasn't a single shadow of a person.

Suddenly, his back felt a pain, his vision went black, and he himself collapsed to the ground.

Before dying, he looked down at the blood gushing from his chest, and only one thought remained in his heart: Didn't the others not see blood? How could I be bleeding... bleeding...

The young man pulled his long sword from the last person, the tip of the sword propping up the ground, struggling to support his body, and shouted loudly, "Is that Eighth Senior Brother?"

Someone in the distance called out, "Eldest Senior Brother, it's me."

A fifteen or sixteen-year-old boy in white clothes ran over from afar.

The boy came toward the Sunlight; at a glance, one could not yet see his features, seeing only the boy's figure melting into the morning Sunlight, bright and warm.

The young man felt dazzled, closed his eyes, and opened them again, only then seeing the boy's face clearly.

The boy's features were upright and clear, his appearance handsome and dashing, a pair of eyes shining with flowing light, bright as the morning sun; although his height was only above average, because his physique was well-proportioned, he appeared slender, and within his gentle, scholarly air, he could not hide the youthful spirit like the scorching sun.

The young man was momentarily unable to recognize him, disbelievingly saying, "Ninth Junior Brother?"

The boy reached him in a few quick steps and said, "It's me, Eldest Senior Brother, you can't recognize me after just one year? How are your injuries?"

The young man only then remembered he had been hit by hidden weapons, pressed his wound, and said, "It's nothing..."

The boy hurriedly helped him cut his clothes to check the wound; the young man leaned against the tree and smiled, "I truly didn't recognize you. I've only been down the mountain for a year, but it seems like ten years have passed on the mountain. When I left, I remember you were still a child, half a head shorter than me; now that I see you, you've grown so much, you're as tall as me. That's great, you look more like an adult now."

The boy Tang Zhao smiled, his smile carrying a bit of childishness, revealing fifteen? He had indeed grown a few inches. His appearance hadn't changed much. "But you, Senior Brother—" He saw at a glance that the young man's expression was haggard, and his temples were actually streaked with gray; he was secretly shocked and fell silent for a moment.

The young man was naturally the Eldest Senior Brother of Zhuoyu Villa, Shi Chunqing; he said gently, "Not only have you grown taller, but your martial arts have also increased a lot. Just now, before the person arrived, the sword arrived first; is that the Sword Art?"

Tang Zhao said, "Yes. I just learned it not long ago. I was watching you fight from afar, and since I couldn't make it in time, I let the sword come first." That streak of light just now was, of course, the Sword Light; with an Art Tool, one could use the Sword Art, and Tang Zhao certainly did not lack Art Tools.

Shi Chunqing sighed, "So fast, so fast. Before I left the mountain, you were still a little Knight-Errant, just learning the Mysterious Technique, and hadn't yet cultivated Qi. In one year, you've even learned the Sword Art, and you must have cultivated your Qi by now, right?"

Tang Zhao nodded; he remembered that because his senior brother lacked the talent to study both martial arts and Rune Formulas simultaneously, he had focused mainly on Rune Formulas, and his martial arts had always been mediocre, and he hadn't cultivated Qi, so he didn't mention much in front of his senior brother, only saying, "It looks like the wound isn't poisoned, but it's better to be careful. Our shop is nearby; I'll help you to the shop to rest for a while."

Shi Chunqing frowned and said, "I know your shop. But I must hurry back to the mountain—" Just as he finished speaking, his body could no longer hold up, and he gradually slumped down.

Tang Zhao caught him and said, "How many days ago were you injured? Although it healed at the time, the wound has ruptured again now, and the bleeding won't stop; you must properly apply medicine and bandage it. The shop is right ahead, let's go to the shop. I will then call Eighth Senior Brother to come down the mountain and take you up." Having said that, he hoisted Shi Chunqing onto his back without further ado and ran forward. At the same time, a grey owl swooped over and landed on Tang Zhao's head.

Although Shi Chunqing was losing blood and his wound was painful, his tone was full of ease: "This is Junior Sister's owl, right? She gave it to you? It's already so obedient to you. Just now when I saw it fly by, I thought Junior Sister had come."

Tang Zhao also said in a relaxed tone: "I can't exactly say she gave it to me; it's just something useful for the shop. Senior Sister also holds the position of Director at the shop, so she provided a lot of owls for logistics."

Shi Chunqing said: "Is that the little shop of yours that sells the works of Disciples? You were still preparing it when I left; it's already opened now? What was it called again, I remember it was—"

At the end of the road sat a spacious shop building, its entire body in three colors of white, red, and black, the combination quite dazzling, with stripes of color twisted together as if about to spin; the signboard was actually perched on the roof, with four large characters—"White Jade Shines Bright". Below it were three smaller characters, "Boutique Shop", and it also hung a large owl portrait, with the owl holding a red blade of grass in its beak.