Chapter 4

Mo Xian left Hu Family Village under the cover of night, not noticing that once he stepped out of the village's boundaries, everything behind him became blurred. The entire Hu Family Village vanished without a trace, as if it had never existed in the world.

Mo Xian did not look back; he was unaware of all this. In the darkness, he walked further and further away.

In the room, Lu Yi quietly appeared, watching him leave. It was for the best that he left quietly like this. For Lu Ruyi, this was the best outcome.

She thought of Huiming, who should be around eight or nine years old by now, but where was he? His sect did not allow him to have any contact with a demoness. Besides, did he even remember the demoness who had suffered for him?

The sky had already brightened, and Mo Xian had already crossed two mountain ridges. He could no longer see the valley where Hu Family Village was located. The mountains stretched endlessly before him. After walking for most of the night, he was also exhausted.

He saw a large tree with a clean stone underneath. Looking around, the trees were not dense, so he closed his eyes and rested on the stone, soon falling into a deep sleep. Although he was in a dream, he remained vigilant.

An hour passed, and in a daze, Mo Xian seemed to hear something. His eyelids twitched, but he did not open his eyes. However, he was already awake. By his hearing and senses, he knew someone was approaching.

The person's steps were unsteady; he was injured and severely wounded, breathing heavily. Who was he?

The person also noticed Mo Xian. At first, he was stunned, looking at him suspiciously. Then, he was overjoyed. "Heaven helps me! I was injured in a fight, my foundation shaken, and I couldn't make it to a place with people. Heaven does not abandon me."

His spirit lifted, and he quickly approached Mo Xian. Mo Xian felt a chill approaching and was alarmed. But as a killer, he had lived in a world of intrigue since he could remember, never relaxing for a moment. His right hand, hidden in his sleeve, had already quietly gripped a short sword.

However, Mo Xian did not expect the person to stop abruptly, about four or five feet away.

"Borrow your essence and spirit, summon your soul, I command, let the essence return, I follow the order of the Nine Nether Spirits!" As the incantation was spoken, Mo Xian suddenly opened his eyes and saw the person holding a small banner, covered in talismans, with black smoke extending towards him.

At the same moment Mo Xian opened his eyes, his body leaped up, and his right hand's short sword flashed like the sun, releasing a surge of killing intent.

The black smoke was momentarily halted by the killing intent, but the time was short. In just a few feet, Mo Xian's short sword had already pierced the person's throat.

Although Mo Xian felt a brief weakness and resistance as his arm passed through the black smoke, the person ultimately fell to the ground, his eyes filled with disbelief.

Mo Xian sensed the person's malice and did not care what the person had done to him. As long as the person posed a threat to Mo Xian, or even if there was just a suspicion, Mo Xian would not hesitate to act, killing everything in its infancy. This had become an instinct from his years of training as a killer.

After killing the person, Mo Xian felt a wave of fatigue. He was puzzled by his own physical weakness. He did not know that if not for his decisiveness and the low level of the enemy, who was also severely injured, Mo Xian would have met his end there.

Mo Xian then examined the body on the ground. It was a Taoist priest, but his body was covered in several wounds, one of which was over two feet long on his side, with the flesh torn open. The bleeding had stopped, but the wound was clearly blackened.

Seeing such wounds, Mo Xian, who had seen many life and death situations, still drew a sharp breath. How had he managed to make it here?

Mo Xian carefully searched the body. In a cloth bag, he found four books, a short sword, some talismans, a small jade bottle, and some silver coins.

Mo Xian also picked up the small banner the person had been holding. It looked unremarkable, but Mo Xian knew that it had been covered in black smoke earlier.

Seeing nothing else of value, Mo Xian simply buried the body and left the place. He did not rush to read the books. They were now his. Two seemed to be martial arts manuals, and two appeared to be religious texts.

Mo Xian walked for several miles before starting a fire by the roadside, roasting a rabbit. He began to read the books in his hand. One was the *Huangting Jing*. Mo Xian flipped through it, seeing it was full of seven-character poems. He read it, but many parts were incomprehensible, seemingly describing the spirits of the human body, such as the spirit of the eyes and the spirit of the liver. He frowned and put the book away, knowing it was probably a Taoist scripture.

The other book had *Muni Sanpan Jing* on its cover. The content was even more mysterious, containing both medicinal formulas and magical techniques. However, many of the cultivation terms, such as the three channels and seven wheels, were not explained. The medicinal formulas, however, were quite good, capable of replenishing vital energy and strengthening the body, such as Tiger Bone Marrow Ointment and Nine Flowers Vitality Pills.

Could these ointments and pills extend his lifespan? Since his life force was already depleted, it was worth a try, Mo Xian thought.

The third book was a boxing manual, which suited Mo Xian perfectly. It was a secret manual of Xingyi Liuhe Quan, divided into Xingyi Wuxing Quan and Xingyi Shier Xing. The six harmonies were: heart and intention, intention and qi, qi and strength, shoulder and hip, elbow and knee, and hand and foot.

At first glance, the boxing techniques seemed very simple, straightforward, but upon closer inspection, they became increasingly profound. Mo Xian had a deep understanding of martial arts, although he pursued a single strike to kill. The sword technique he practiced, Rijian, was extremely swift but also damaging to himself, using his life potential as a cost. However, Xingyi Quan was simple yet combined health preservation and combat effectiveness.

Mo Xian's heart stirred, and he secretly decided to stop practicing Rijian and switch to Xingyi. Although he did not care much about his life, if there was a chance, he still hoped to live longer. The image of a woman, Lu Ruyi, floated in his mind.

He read the book seriously, not even noticing that the rabbit had burned. After a while, he looked at the half-burned rabbit and laughed bitterly, gnawing on it.

The last book was a sword manual, *Yungong Jianfa*. It was very ancient and simple, divided into five techniques: drawing the sword, striking the sword, thrusting the sword, parrying the sword, and washing the sword. Each technique looked simple but had endless variations.

Mo Xian found it strange. The Taoist priest did not seem to be strong in martial arts, unable to block his sword. Had he not learned these two techniques?

Mo Xian did not know that the *Muni Sanpan Jing*, which he found hard to understand, was what the Taoist priest had practiced. If not for the Taoist priest's severe injuries, Mo Xian would have been injured by him. The two martial arts books were just something the Taoist priest had obtained casually and did not take seriously.

Mo Xian put aside his doubts, stood up, and began practicing based on the two books.

He had escaped death, and the Underworld Hall thought he was dead. He would not let the Underworld Hall off. Now he was in the shadows, while the Underworld Hall was in the open. He was not a gentleman; he would seek revenge. With only ten years left to live, he would make the Underworld Hall pay, even if it cost him his life.

A month later, in Jiang Family Town, located northwest of Luoyi, there was a school called Jiang Family Academy. It was not a famous academy, but it was the largest in Jiang Family Town, with seven teachers. The youngest was Jiang Hao, who was charming and often held a fan with a painting of a lady, finely crafted, not inferior to the work of a master. He was known for his expertise in classics and poetry, standing out in the Jiang Family Academy.

He usually appeared aloof but was approachable and respected by his students, who called him "Shan Chang" (Headmaster). The term "Shan Chang" originally referred to the head of an academy, but in recent years, outstanding teachers in some academies were also called "Shan Chang." The fact that Jiang Hao was called "Shan Chang" showed his status in the students' hearts.

The next day was a fine day. Jiang Hao looked at the evening sky, fanning himself, a smile on his lips.

He strolled on a small hill behind the academy. The students had already left, and he watched the townspeople, who had been busy all day, now only a few vendors packing up. He did not find it amusing.

They were truly a group of ignorant ants, busy but unaware that the world was not as they imagined.

Suddenly, his body stiffened, his hand tightened, and he became tense.

"Ghost of Pursuit, you're still the same," a voice said calmly.

The Ghost of Pursuit, Jiang Hao, recognized the voice but could not place it. He slowly turned around, his aura unbroken, but when he saw Mo Xian, his eyes widened, and he laughed. "Ghost of Explosion, you have a strong life. Since you escaped, you should have changed your name and gone into hiding. I didn't expect you to dare to show up!"

Before he finished speaking, his fan snapped open, and the Red Powder Skeleton Yin-Yang Change, his ultimate technique, was activated. As the fan moved, the lady on the fan turned into a skeleton, and pink smoke rose, enveloping him. The trees around him burned, leaves falling and swirling, with an unstoppable force, rushing towards Mo Xian.

Mo Xian also moved, standing tall and roaring like a tiger in the mountains. In Jiang Hao's eyes, Mo Xian transformed into a large tiger, the wind and clouds stirring, and a faint smell of blood in the air.

The Tiger Form of the Twelve Shapes of Xingyi, straightforward but unstoppable.

Jiang Hao was greatly surprised and involuntarily stepped back. In fact, Mo Xian had only learned the basics, but he was originally ranked higher than Jiang Hao, and this technique was new to him, making him nervous.

Xingyi emphasized intention and momentum. Jiang Hao's retreat only increased the momentum of Xingyi, and his spirit was instantly suppressed.

Seeing the situation turn against him, Jiang Hao's fan flipped, and several blue flashes appeared, releasing poisonous needles. The killers of the Underworld Hall did not fight fairly; they used any means necessary to take their enemy's life.

Mo Xian, trained in the same way, was proficient in this. Seeing the poisonous needles, his body suddenly shrank, using the Monkey Form of the Twelve Shapes, and the needles missed by a hair's breadth.

As soon as the poisonous needles were released, Jiang Hao's fan flipped again, and the black gold fan bones whistled out. Without waiting to see the result, he leaped into the air, ready to flee if his attack missed.

Just as Jiang Hao leaped, a sword cry rang out, and a sword light flashed. Mo Xian's first move of the *Yungong Jianfa*, the drawing of the sword, was already upon him.