The other attacker slammed into Xu Mian, locking him in a struggle. Zhen moved, but Xu Mian's evasive step sent the weaker attacker stumbling—directly into Zhen's path, the blade veering dangerously close. Too close to stop what came next.

  Shit!

  Zhen twisted his body at the last second, narrowly avoiding the attack. The wind from the blade whispered past his cheek, too close. His muscles tensed, instincts roaring to life.

  His eyes flickered over the battlefield. The ox-like man—seventh realm. The weaker one— was surprisingly at 8th stage of Qi Condensation.

  The weak man, off balance, stumbled forward. Zhen seized the opening, his palm striking like a hammer against the man's chest. The attacker gasped, staggered back, and crumpled to the ground.

  "Auntie!" Ning Xue's voice cut through the air.

  Zhen's gaze snapped toward Cui Hua. The ox-like man bore down, his sword gleaming, aiming straight for her heart.

  No!

  He surged forward, his pulse a war drum in his ears, but before he could close the distance, Cui Hua moved. With a sharp pivot, she sidestepped the fatal thrust, catching the man's wrist in a steel grip. 8th stage of Qi Condensation. Her knee shot up, smashing into his gut. The attacker grunted, spittle flying from his mouth, his grip loosening just enough.

  Cui Hua didn't hesitate. She wrenched the sword from his grasp and drove her elbow into his jaw. The crack of bone rang out as the man crumpled.

  The crowd erupted. Shouts of alarm, gasps of horror. Some stumbled back, their earlier excitement morphing into fear. Others turned and fled, eager to escape the growing chaos.

  Then the fake-poisoned man in front of him burst into strength as he jumped up. The ox man stirred awake again, the qi in the surrounding air shifting.

  A blast of fire erupted from the stronger attacker's palm, striking indiscriminately. Flames roared toward the crowd, consuming part of a shop in an instant. Screams tore through the air as panicked civilians scrambled for safety.

  Ning Xue struggled in the grasp of another girl, one of the same age, her eyes wide with alarm.

  "Clear the shop!" Cui Hua shouted, urgency lacing her voice as she turned to the panicked child workers.

  "But Auntie—!" Ning Xue protested, struggling against the grip of the girl.

  "Take the valuables and flee to the hiding place!" Cui Hua cut her off, her tone brooking no argument.

  Two of the older boys stepped forward, their eyes hardened. One of them spoke up, determination in his voice. "We can help!"

  Zhen didn't have much hope, but surprisingly, Cui Hua nodded. "Okay, Xiao Han and Xiao Gui will support me. The rest of you should scatter. Take Ning Xue and go!"

  The girl holding Ning Xue hesitated but then nodded, pulling her away. Several others turned and fled, vanishing into the chaos.

  Zhen wanted to question how they could possibly help, but the ox man suddenly butted in, his sword raised. The boys didn't hesitate—they grabbed a few staff from the shop, their grips firm with practiced ease.

  His eyes narrowed as they defended forcefully. Despite the absence of any visible qi, their attacks carried the power of fighters at the 5th stage of Qi Condensation.

  Doubt flickered in his mind— How was that possible? Had they cultivated a hidden technique? Or was there something else at play?

  But Zhen didn't have time as a blade flashed from the side. Instinct took over as he activated his Diamond Skin Technique. His skin shimmered, a golden sheen rippling across his body with the fractals hardening into an impenetrable barrier. He twisted away, narrowly avoiding the blade’s arc.

  Xu Mian offered a quick, apologetic glance before slipping back into the fight. His style was defined by elusive, fluid movements, like water coursing around obstacles. The faintest whispers of qi pulsed from his muscles with each shift and step. 8th stage of Qi Cultivation.

  Zhen pressed forward, but their opponent sneered and flipped his dagger, fire erupting along the blade’s edge. The flames coiled and twisted, alive with a will of their own, each slash leaving embers dancing in the air.

  Still, the Diamond Skin Technique held firm, his body impervious. But the enhanced defense had come at a cost—his offensive power had waned.

  Again and again, Xu Mian’s movements cut into his attacks—not deliberate interference, yet too frequent to be coincidence.

  Zhen’s brow furrowed. A prickle of unease tightened his spine. His gaze sharpened, tracking Xu Mian’s form more closely.

  He’s holding back.

  But a strangled gasp echoed from the other side.

  Zhen froze. The world around him seemed to slow, sound warping into something distant and hollow.

  Cui Hua stood a few paces away, her body trembling. A jagged blade with ferocious qi jutted from her abdomen, crimson staining her robes, spreading like ink on silk.

  Stolen story; please report.

  Xiao Han, with blood smeared across his face—clutched the hilt with shaking hands, his face twisted in fury. The sword piercing from Cui Hua’s back.

  Zhen took a moment to understand what had happened.

  "You—!" Xiao Gui started, his voice thick with accusation, but whatever he was about to say was cut off as the ox man’s blade came down in a brutal, beheading slash.

  Cui Hua exhaled sharply, her fingers twitching as if reaching for something—her knife, a weapon, anything—but her strength failed her. Her knees buckled.

  "No." Zhen's voice came out broken, barely a whisper. Then louder.

  "No!"

  Rage consumed him, raw and burning as his stars rotated speedily. He quickly separated himself from the flame wielder and slammed his fist into the traitor's throat. A sickening crunch. The boy gagged, eyes bulging, and collapsed like a lifeless sack.

  Zhen barely noticed. He caught Cui Hua before she hit the ground, cradling her against him.

  Her lips parted, a weak chuckle escaping. "Damn… got careless."

  "Hold on," Zhen rasped, pressing his hand against the wound as if he could keep her soul from slipping away. "Stay with me, you hear me?"

  But the ferocious qi inside the sword was rampaging through her body.

  Her eyes met his, something soft in them. "Zhen…" Her breath hitched, her body trembling. With a faint movement, she discreetly slipped a thick paper into his hands. "Take care of the others…"

  He shook his head, his vision blurring. "Don't worry. You won’t die. You won’t. You should take care themselv—"

  But the light in her eyes was already fading. Her grip on his sleeve loosened. Her chest rose—then fell.

  And did not rise again.

  Zhen's breathing grew ragged. A choked sound escaped him—a mix of grief and rage. She's gone… just like that. A cold dread washed over him. It was his first death in this world, the raw shock of it, the absolute finality, was a brutal awakening. He hadn't even begun to understand this world, and now… this. And this time, it was someone he’d considered a friend, however briefly.

  "Fellow Disciple!" Xu Mian's voice cut through his turmoil. "I need your help. He's too strong. We have to contain him, now."

  His head snapped up.

  Zhen's body trembled. His nails dug into his palms until they nearly broke the skin.

  "You," he breathed, the word thick with accusation.

  Xu Mian raised a brow. "Me?"

  "You planned this," Zhen snarled. "You set this all up." His voice cracked with fury, with grief. "She's dead because of you."

  Xu Mian, who had been engaged in what could charitably be called a half-hearted fight with the flame wielder, now ceased his movements altogether. "Oh. you realized now," he murmured, a hint of genuine satisfaction lacing his voice. "A pity, though. She was quite the spirited one." He gave a dismissive shrug towards the corpse. "But you're being unreasonable, fellow disciple. How about we share the spoils?"

  "You—!" Zhen's hands curled into fists. "I'll kill you."

  Xu Mian smirked as his strength increased to 9th stage of Qi Condensation. "I'd like to see you try."

  But before they could clash again—

  "HALT! IN THE NAME OF THE LAW!"

  The guards had arrived. Their shouts filled the air, the clanking of armor and unsheathing of weapons echoing through the marketplace.

  "You are quite lucky…" Xu Mian exhaled, as if the chaos around him were nothing more than a fleeting inconvenience. He dusted off his robes, then turned toward the two surviving scoundrels—the bloodied ox-like man, and the flame wielder.

  "Our task is done here, gentlemen," Xu Mian said, voice laced with satisfaction. "Disperse and don't get caught."

  He reached into his sleeve and withdrew two small pouches, tossing them effortlessly toward the men. Their eyes lit up, hands snatching the rewards midair.

  But the moment their fingers closed around the pouches—

  Pffft!

  The silk burst open, releasing a fine white powder that coated their faces, arms, and robes.

  Their expressions shifted instantly. From excitement to confusion. Then to terror.

  Their limbs twitched, bodies slackening as whatever it was, took hold. The flame wielder staggered, mouth opening in a silent plea. The ox-like man's knees buckled, his breath turning ragged.

  Xu Mian smiled.

  One moment, his hands were empty, the next, a sleek sword filled them. Its polished surface reflected the harsh light in a silent promise of violence. No shout, no cry. Just the whisper of steel cutting air as the blade blurred.

  Swish!

  A single slash.

  Two heads hit the ground.

  Blood sprayed across the dirt, soaking into the abandoned wares. The thump of severed heads hitting the dusty floor echoed strangely loud in the sudden quiet. The bodies remained standing for a moment, as if unwilling to accept their death—then collapsed lifelessly.

  Xu Mian flicked his blade, letting the crimson droplets splatter onto the ground before sheathing it once more.

  "All right," he muttered, glancing toward the distance. "The others should have captured the prize by now."

  Then, as if this was nothing more than an errand, he turned to leave and smirked. "Well, Junior Brother, I won't waste my time here."

  Zhen remained frozen in the empty shop. Not out of fear—but because his rage was too great, too consuming. He wanted to tear Xu Mian apart, to rip that smug expression off his face.

  But his fingers twitched around the crumpled paper in his palm.

  As his eyes fell on it, Xu Mian's words echoed in his mind. The others should have captured the prize by now.

  Zhen's pulse pounded as he unrolled the thick small paper. The moment his gaze landed on the inked symbols, his breath hitched as information appeared in his mind.

  A Mother-Child Tracking Talisman.

  He gripped the Mother-Child Tracking Talisman, his heart pounding. They'd taken someone. Cui Hua's last words echoed in his mind—she'd anticipated trouble.

  Zhen inhaled sharply. I'll take it as your last wish. No time to waste.

  The guards were already storming into the marketplace, weapons drawn, demanding answers.

  He turned toward them, masking his fury. With a swift motion, he fished out a spirit stone.

  "Lock down the shop," he commanded while throwing it toward the guards. "In my name, Li Zhen, nominal disciple."

  The guards hesitated for only a second before snapping to attention. The weight of his words left no room for argument.

  Then his gaze swept over the trembling shopkeepers, the scattered workers who were watching from some distance.

  "If anything is missing when I return—" His voice dropped to something dark, something dangerous. "Everyone here will pay."

  Silence.

  Even the wind seemed to still.

  Then, without another word, Zhen turned on his heel and strode away, his fist tightening around the tracking talisman.

  Whatever Xu Mian and his people had taken—whoever they had taken—Zhen would find them.