Chapter Fifty-Three: Third Rank

It was a red python, as thick as a water barrel, and the blood energy pulsing within its body was astonishingly dense.

"Earth Spike!"

Yang Fan erupted as well.

Suddenly, a massive spike of earth shot up before him, skewering the python straight through and lifting its body high.

With a wet, gory sound, Yang Fan leapt into the air. His Dragon Scale Blade traced an arc, severing the serpent's head in a single stroke. Twisting his body, he dodged a volley of arrows, landed with his foot on the snake’s corpse, and dropped down swiftly.

"Swift Step!"

"Chasing Wind Step!"

Yang Fan had already locked onto the man who had been giving commands earlier.

This was a sixth-rank warrior. The moment he landed, he exploded into motion, leaving only a blur as he vanished from sight, deftly evading the attacks of the encircling fighters.

"Damn!" The man sensed danger. As he retreated, he roared, "Three Blazing Swords!"

In an instant, the blood energy within him erupted like a volcano, unleashing a torrent of deadly force. Three sword strikes flashed in the blink of an eye, sealing all paths forward.

"Mountain Cleave!"

Yang Fan’s blade fell—this was the first form of the Overlord’s Triple Slash. Gathering his blood energy, he unleashed it in a unique manner, shattering the sword light and sending the man flying.

The instant his opponent hit the ground, Yang Fan summoned another earth spike, impaling the man and killing him on the spot.

"Swift Step!"

"Chasing Wind Step!"

His next targets were the ten archers.

His speed was unmatched, his techniques many, and before the remaining fighters could form a proper encirclement, he had already rushed out, turning the tide and cutting them down in return.

None of them could withstand his onslaught.

He was unstoppable.

At last, only a little over twenty were left. Terror etched on their faces, they scattered in all directions, desperate to escape.

Their courage had shattered.

"Splitting up is only courting death!"

Yang Fan invoked his "Intimidation" ability again, instantly causing seven or eight foes to faint on the spot. With a fifty percent awakening rate now, his power had soared.

After dispatching these, he set off after the others.

With Swift Step and Chasing Wind Step, his speed was unmatched.

It wasn’t long before Yang Fan came to a halt.

He had slain them all. Using "Earth Sense," he probed the surroundings but found no hidden threats, so he erased all traces of the battle.

A brief search yielded nothing of value, so he sped away.

Standing atop a sharp ridge, Yang Fan paused.

By now, night had fallen in full.

He hesitated.

In the end, he pressed on.

Nothing else mattered much; there were no lingering attachments.

What he wanted most was a hot bath and a hearty meal—these days had been too bitter.

Now that his strength had taken form, and with "Earth Sense" to probe for danger, Yang Fan was bold and confident, striding swiftly through the night.

A low, eerie sound...

Above, a massive bird appeared—a night owl—diving straight at him.

With a single wave of Intimidation, he forced it to the ground and dispatched it with an offhand slash.

He considered stopping for a roast, but then spotted a distant light.

It was far off.

Beyond the next hill—an ordinary eye would never have seen it.

"Is someone there?"

Delighted, Yang Fan pressed on, soon arriving at the spot.

With Earth Sense, he detected a familiar aura, which filled him with joy.

But he stopped in his tracks, for someone appeared ahead—an old man, his blood energy coiled and hidden within. If not for Earth Sense, Yang Fan might have missed him entirely.

Yang Fan recognized him—it was the elder, one of Nangong Wentian’s mysterious guards.

"Who goes there?" the old man thundered, his voice booming like muffled thunder, blood energy erupting within him like a volcano. In Yang Fan’s Earth Sense, it was as if a miniature sun was burning inside the old man.

"So strong!"

Yang Fan was shocked.

He had once judged this old man to be only seventh or eighth rank, but now he realized the man was far beyond the fifth rank.

Fourth rank?

No—perhaps even third.

Yang Fan truly understood now: powerful warriors could condense their blood energy and hide their presence; without an eruption, it was nearly impossible to gauge their strength.

"There must be other ways to discern such things," Yang Fan thought rapidly.

He locked this knowledge firmly in his heart—Earth Sense was not omnipotent.

"It’s me, Yang Fan of the Hall of Benevolent Healing!" Announcing his name, he approached, clasping his fists. "May I ask how I should address you, elder?"

"It’s you, boy!" The old man was startled, giving Yang Fan a once-over, then glancing toward the deep mountains in puzzlement. "Didn’t you return to town? Why are you coming out of the wilderness?"

"There was an accident, so I entered the mountains. Is Brother Nangong well?" Yang Fan replied simply, then asked after his friend.

"Not well."

"What happened?"

"You’ll see soon enough. Come on!"

"Very well."

They walked on, but the old man did not lower his guard.

Yang Fan was wary as well.

He could not have imagined the old man was this formidable—Nangong Wentian’s origins must be extraordinary.

He had once guessed the man was from the county seat.

He now realized he had been completely mistaken.

Inside the valley.

A campfire burned, torches blazing.

The atmosphere was tense and oppressive.

There was a distinct smell of blood.

Just then, Nangong Wentian and others emerged, all visibly on edge.

"Brother Nangong!" Yang Fan called out with a smile, walking over.

"Xiao Fan!" Nangong Wentian was shocked. "Why are you here? Were you fleeing as well?"

"Fleeing?" Yang Fan was taken aback, then he caught sight of Steward Wang.

The steward’s face was ashen, his left arm severed.

Though the wound was bandaged, blood still seeped through.

"What happened?" Yang Fan felt a surge of unease.

He did not see Yang Dahu either.

They had entered the mountains as a group of over a hundred—now, only thirty or so remained.

"Xiao Fan, thank heavens you’re safe!" Steward Wang stepped forward. "Young Master, I haven’t had a chance to tell you—Xiao Fan left town a few days ago, so he doesn’t know what happened there."

Yang Fan’s expression changed.

"Xiao Fan, let’s talk in the tent," Nangong Wentian said, glancing at the night sky, then ushered him inside.

"Brother, could I trouble you for some food first?" Yang Fan didn’t question further but rubbed his belly with a smile.

The ancients said: In the face of great matters, maintain calm; with calm comes stability, with stability comes clarity, with clarity comes success.

"Of course."

Nangong Wentian was a little surprised.

He noticed Yang Fan was different today—no longer cautious before him, but more confident, or perhaps more assured.

Not only he, but everyone else in the tent sensed it too.

There was still some roast meat and a few flatbreads left. Yang Fan ate as he spoke. "When I returned to town, I found newcomers from the county acting with arrogance and violence, even killing some of our neighbors. I killed them all. That night, I went to the county seat, intending to kill the county captain to prevent future trouble, but found someone else had already struck. I also discovered them conducting a ritual to an evil god. The county captain was slain by that powerful stranger, but I was discovered hiding in the shadows and had to flee for my life into the mountains. Only today have I managed to return."

He gave a succinct account, omitting certain details.

Even if many suspected the truth, it was still best to keep a layer of cover.

"The county captain conducted a ritual to an evil god, and was killed? Then you were hunted as a loose end, but you escaped?" Nangong Wentian was stunned.

So were the others.

They looked at Yang Fan oddly, for the aura he revealed was only about ninth rank—how could he have escaped the hands of someone who slew the county captain?

If this was not a lie, then the boy must have had a great stroke of fortune, and his strength was far more than ninth rank.

He was hiding his power!

"It matches exactly what I heard," Steward Wang confirmed, though he remained doubtful.

"A county captain, conducting a ritual to an evil god... Steward Wang, tell us in detail," Nangong Wentian sensed the gravity of the situation.

"I was about to," Steward Wang replied wryly, glancing at Yang Fan and hesitating. "I barely survived and just arrived here, having told the young master about the situation in town..."

He paused.

Yang Fan just watched him.

"Last night, the Blood Wolf Bandits came to town and went on a killing spree. Even our Hall of Benevolent Healing was not spared. In the end, they set fire to everything..." Steward Wang suddenly broke off.

He had sensed a terrifying murderous intent.

"What did you say?" Yang Fan’s eyes turned crimson.