Chapter 73: Chapter Seventy-Three: Flowing Cloud Sleeves

Watching the head fall, Pei Yuhuan, clutching it in the Primordial Qi Great Grasp, could only mutter: “That’s my brother!”

Qian Chen smiled faintly: “Perfect. You two can keep each other company. The journey to the Yellow Springs won’t be lonely…”

The Primordial Qi Great Hand squeezed—and crushed him to death!

Bursting into the Jinchuan Sect, in the time it took to drink a cup of tea, at least a hundred figures surged from every peak; anyone who dared attack Qian Chen was cut down by his sword, driven by his desire to minimize innocent casualties…

Qian Chen knew that from the moment Pei Junhu had insisted before him that his Dao heart was unshakable and demanded a Daoist contest, this slaughter had become unavoidable. No matter how much he compromised, Pei Junhu would only escalate his pressure—there was not the slightest chance of reconciliation.

Even if Qian Chen forcibly defeated him and spared his life, it would only draw a wave of Jinchuan Sect’s elite to hunt him down.

Because what he held had reached the point where Pei Junhu would risk his life to seize it… At that time, the Jinchuan Sect’s Sect Master would still strike, and these Jinchuan disciples—perhaps innocent, perhaps dying for no reason—would still obey their sect’s orders and fight him to the death.

Then Qian Chen could simply flee, but wouldn’t the Jinchuan Sect, entrenched as local tyrants in Jiuzhen Commandery, target everyone connected to him—the villagers of Sanyang who had received his kindness, the Jiangs, the County Magistrate Cui Dan—to pressure and hunt for his whereabouts?

That’s when true harm falls upon the innocent… They are the innocent ones.

As for these Jinchuan disciples, they may die unjustly, but they are by no means innocent.

All Qian Chen could do was strike with the swiftest speed and cruelest force until no one dared rise against him—that was the only mercy he could offer… To spare the innocent now, he must act with thunderous resolve and lightning speed, severing the Jia family’s resistance before they could react.

If you break an enemy’s limbs and rob him of resistance, you need not kill him—and thus reduce slaughter.

If you kill fiercely enough to terrify them into inaction, casualties will naturally drop—and so will the karmic debt… This logic is flawless!

Thus, every Jinchuan disciple who rushed to challenge Qian Chen was slaughtered at the sect’s gate; soon, none dared approach again.

By the time the terrified Jinchuan disciples finally thought to report to their Sect Master, hearing that both his sons had been casually slain, Pei Boyu collapsed with a thunderclap in his ears, nearly fainting. He roared: “Where are Elders He Chun and Wang Liang, who guard the gate? And the several Pei clan elders?”

“Did you just watch that murderer run rampant?”

The reporting disciple trembled violently, forcing himself to speak: “Elder He rushed out the moment the man entered, accompanied by three Pei clan elders—two of them had formed Golden Cores, though only eighth or ninth rank… They were slain in a single strike. Elder Wang saw it and turned and fled!”

“Wang family, Wen family—you dare kick a man when he’s down!” Pei Boyu raged helplessly.

He wronged them—when the enemy stormed the gate, how could they possibly have sat back to watch the tiger fight? The Jinchuan Sect’s reputation meant everything to these cultivation clans. How could their Golden Core elders be so foolish as to harbor internal strife while the enemy attacked?

They were merely terrified—terrified to the bone, trembling with fear, utterly devoid of courage to strike back.

The sect’s reputation was precious as life—but still not worth one’s life.

So the two families’ elders sat motionless, frozen like statues; under their lead, the Jinchuan disciples quickly scattered, refusing to stand before Qian Chen…

Now, within the Jinchuan Sect, not a single true disciple remained who wasn’t from one of the three families. The outer disciples of other surnames had no loyalty to these three. Once the few loyal disciples died, the Wang and Wen family disciples, under their elders’ orders, sealed their caves. The Pei clan found themselves utterly isolated and gathered toward their pillar—the Sect Master.

Pei Boyu had just regrouped the scattered Pei clan disciples when a clear voice rang from outside the hall: “Sect Master Pei, are you within? The wanderer Qian Chen has come as promised to claim the wager!”

The voice was calm, ordinary—but seven out of ten Pei clan disciples couldn’t help trembling slightly at the sound.

From that calm tone, they sensed a chilling killing intent etched into their very bones!

As some Pei disciples hesitated, Pei Boyu burst into loud laughter—yet not a trace of joy resided in it, only bone-deep hatred, so venomous that even the nearby True Person Sun felt a chill run through him.

Pei Boyu laughed: “Good! Very good! For this wager, you’ve wiped out my entire Pei clan!”

He stepped outside the hall and saw a slender youth, beside whom the black-gold swordlight curved like a crescent moon, radiating an elusive, lively aura as it circled the boy. The youth held an oiled paper umbrella before the hall; its thin veil of clear light repelled the torrent of thunder and fire spells like gentle rain, utterly impervious.

Qian Chen stood sideways to the hall; only when someone emerged did he slowly turn his head.

Two sworn mortal enemies, with not the slightest chance of reconciliation, met—and struck instantly with full force.

Pei Boyu swept his sleeve—blocking the sun, covering the sky. That single sleeve engulfed half the heavens; the Jinchuan Sect’s towering, vast main hall vanished behind the surging, sky-enveloping sleeve—let alone Pei Boyu’s own figure!

This sky-shrouding sleeve shadow concealed him completely.

One sweep of the sleeve, like the Yangtze and Yellow Rivers, swept across the heavens, carrying countless sands; the stone steps before the hall shattered entirely under the force, as if bearing ten thousand jin, sweeping down in a single blow.

Qian Chen’s Heaven Net Umbrella dropped a veil of clear light…

He held back his restless swordlight.

Qian Chen had already recognized that the sky-covering sleeve was a perfected-level magic treasure—superior to all his own treasures, and concealing a devouring ability. Combined with Pei Boyu’s superior magic power, if he released his flying sword, it wouldn’t even stir a ripple—it would be swallowed and suppressed by the sleeve.

This treasure’s defense was utterly flawless.

Pei Boyu hid behind the sleeve; any spell or treasure Qian Chen launched would be swallowed before reaching him. This defense through absorption and suppression left Qian Chen feeling utterly helpless.

Yet Qian Chen remained calm. Though the sleeve was powerful, it was not true “Sleeve of the Void”—it could not absorb cultivators whose magic power approached Pei Boyu’s. If Qian Chen relied solely on his own power, he might be swallowed and suppressed within moments. Hundreds or even dozens like him could be easily crushed by this treasure.

But with his external elixir enhancing him, he could resist the faint suction emanating from the sleeve’s mouth.

Thus, Pei Boyu relied on the perfected-level Flowing Cloud Sleeves for defense, yet had no offensive capability.

Yet these Flowing Cloud Sleeves were the ancestral treasure of the Jinchuan Sect—only degraded to a magic treasure because no Nascent Soul True Person had ever refined them. How could past Jinchuan Sect Masters not know this weakness?

Only to hear Pei Boyu sneer—suddenly, the sleeve’s suction reversed into expulsion; countless brilliant golden sands erupted from its mouth, swirling with the sleeve’s motion toward Qian Chen…

These countless sands were all post-heaven Geng Metal, among them twelve sand mothers capable of splitting into millions—forged from Geng Metal’s primordial essence.

Gold sands naturally erode protective auras and even cultivation power, and can drag magical treasures into their endless flow. A handful of sand falling like this was like countless tiny knives—even an iron man forged from a thousand-year frozen iron would be stripped of its outer layer.

Qian Chen’s eyes gleamed slightly; he raised his Heaven Net Umbrella—the veil of clear light, though worn by the relentless erosion of sands, suffered only minor damage.

After all, it was the Dry Heaven One Qi Pure Gang—the most resilient form of Dry Heaven Gang Qi.

Qian Chen pointed again, releasing the Dragon Sparrow Ring from his wrist; it expanded into a circle the size of a water vat, spinning with five-colored light, swallowing every grain of sand rushing toward him. But Pei Boyu merely increased the Flowing Cloud Sleeves’ absorption power, pulling the Dragon Sparrow Ring taut and wrapping another strand of golden sand around the jade ring.

Thus, the Dragon Sparrow Ring could no longer swallow the sands.

Among these countless sands, twelve sand mothers could, under Pei Boyu’s control, split into twelve streams of sand—he wanted to see if Qian Chen had twelve magic treasures!

Pei Boyu’s Flowing Cloud Sleeves absorbed magic treasures with unmatched ease, shielding him perfectly.

Geng Metal Divine Sands erode all things, sharp and deadly.

Qian Chen’s Heaven-Blue Heaven Net Umbrella stood firm as a fortress; the protective brilliance of the Dry Heaven One Qi Pure Gang was so perfect that even the ever-successful Geng Metal Divine Sands could not threaten him in the slightest. For a time, both sides’ defenses were impenetrable—locked in stalemate.