Chapter 31: One Can Avoid the Misfortunes Sent By the Heavens, But Not Those Bought Upon Oneself!

The cloaked man removed his hood, revealing his ghostly countenance. He regarded the seven men before him with calm eyes and said, “Lin Tan, your brother deserved his death. As for the reason, no one knows it better than you. But you are not like him. You haven’t committed any crimes. Leave now, and I will not pursue this further.”

There was no longer any doubt. This man was indeed the famed Slayer’s Saber, Long Fei. At the sight of him, Lin Tan and the others faltered, fear etched across their faces. Their reactions said everything about Long Fei’s reputation.

Lin Tan’s expression darkened as his gaze fell on Long Fei’s right hand.

“Long Fei, quit your bluff,” he sneered. “I can tell that your right hand is injured. You can’t even grip your saber properly, and with your current strength, you’re but a shadow of your former self. Sure you’re aware of that, no?”

Everyone’s eyes turned to Long Fei’s right arm, noticing that it hung limp at his side. Even in this perilous situation, Long Fei had yet to reach for his weapon, which meant his injury was serious.

“Indeed, my right hand is crippled, but my left can still kill. I’ll say this once more—leave now, or you will never leave.”

As he reiterated his warning, Long Fei’s expression remained calm, as though utterly unconcerned.

Lin Tan’s expression flickered with hesitation. He gritted his teeth, and his gaze hardened with murderous intent.

“Kill him!” he roared.

Along with Lin Tan, his men raised their sabers and charged.

Long Fei shook his head, his eyes narrowing as he said coldly, “One can avoid misfortunes sent by the heavens, but not those brought upon oneself.”

Swish!

In the next instant, Long Fei’s left hand shot out and seized the saber from the table. A brilliant arc of light burst upward, dazzling yet saturated with a suffocating, fiendish qi[1]. The fiendish qi rolled forth, and Lin Tan and his companions’ eyes widened in shock. A shudder passed through them as they faced the merciless edge head-on.

Clang!

Long Fei suddenly dropped the saber, his chest heaving violently. Sweat trickled down his forehead, and blood seeped from his arm, soaking his sleeve. That single strike had sapped most of his strength, almost exhausting him completely.

However, among the seven men before him, the four at the front, including Lin Tan, stood motionless, their eyes losing their light as blood poured from the deep gashes across their chests.

Thud!

All four collapsed to the ground, dead. Just like that, one stroke had taken four lives—such was the might of the Slayer’s Saber, Long Fei. Even while gravely wounded and wielding his weapon with his non-dominant hand, he stood unmatched.

The remaining three men trembled all over, their eyes wide with horror.

“R-Run!”

Their courage had died together with Lin Tan, so they turned to flee. However, the moment they rushed out of the inn, a heavy impact rang out.

BANG!

The three men were hurled back inside, their chests caved in as they struck the floor with a lifeless thud.

At once, every gaze turned toward the entrance. Several martial artists entered at a measured pace, led by a man in white. They were followed by several women, all strikingly beautiful. The white-robed man glanced once at the corpses, then calmly wiped his hands with a handkerchief.

“Fools. To falter halfway is unforgivable. They deserved death for that.”

Long Fei’s eyes narrowed as he looked fixedly at the man. “The White-Clad Scholar, Shen Lun. Was it you who sent Lin Tan and his men here?” he asked in a heavy voice.

Shen Lun’s gaze settled on Long Fei, a faint smile on his lips. “I wasn’t the one who drove them forward. Lin Tan was bent on revenge. I only passed along a bit of information. And it’s not like I lied. Great Hero Long, you truly are injured, and it looks quite bad. These fools may have been weak, but at least they served their purpose.”

Long Fei’s eyes grew cold as realization dawned. Lin Tan and his companions had been nothing more than pawns, used to probe his strength before Shen Lun dared to make a personal appearance.

Long Fei said, “Lin Tan sought vengeance because I killed his brother, but I harbor no ill will toward you, Shen Lun. Why, then, go to such lengths to take my life?”

The White-Clad Scholar Shen Lun took a longsword from his handmaid, running his fingers along the blade as he flashed Long Fei a smile.

“You’re right. There was no enmity between us. But perhaps you have forgotten. Seven years ago, you killed a woman. Her name was Shen Zhi. She was my sister.”

Long Fei frowned, forcing himself to recall. “Shen Zhi? Your sister? Seven years ago…

“Ah, yes, I remember the vicious woman who poisoned one hundred and eighty-six members of the Lu Clan in their manor. For the sake of a petty quarrel, she slaughtered an entire household. A viper like that could not be allowed to live.”

Shen Lun’s expression grew icy, and his tone seemed to freeze the air. “No matter what Shen Zhi did, she was my sister, the only family I had left in this world. Now, without her, I am utterly alone. So tell me, Long Fei… should I not kill you for that?

“Rest assured I will. Your death shall not be a quick one. You have a wife and a daughter, right? I’ll break your limbs, strip off your cultivation, and make sure you watch them die. Hahaha…”

Long Fei said nothing. He only tightened his grip on the saber with his left hand.

Bang!

Suddenly, several martial practitioners who had earlier been discussing Long Fei slammed their palms against the table and leapt to their feet, sabers flashing in their hands.

Righteous fury blazed across their faces as they shouted, “Wretch! Vengeance does not extend to wives and children! In the jianghu, grudges are settled blade against blade! What honor is there in dragging the family into it? Great Hero Long has spent his life striking down evil. Surely he has only slain those beyond redemption, those who deserved death. To strike a man when he’s wounded is most dishonorable!”

They turned to Long Fei. “Great Hero Long, we will lend you our strength. We will not allow such despicable scum to harm you.”

Swish, swish, swish.

Before their voices had even faded, Shen Lun raised his sword. Several dazzling arcs of light swept across the room, and in the blink of an eye, blood sprayed from the men’s throats.

Thud!

Their heads tumbled to the ground as blood spilled across the floor. Their bodies collapsed one by one, and a metallic stench quickly filled the air. The chivalrous, hot-blooded martial practitioners had not even managed to block a single strike before being cut down where they stood.

A deathly silence fell upon the inn, and terror clouded the eyes of everyone present. Shen Lun slid his sword back into its sheath, his face calm and untroubled. His eyes swept across the room as he sneered, “Noisy vermin. Pathetic fools. You can barely wield the blade, and yet you dare play the heroes? Let’s see it. Who else wishes to stand for Long Fei? Come, try it. Let us see whether your so-called hero can save you.”

Bang!

Long Fei suddenly slammed his saber into the ground, his chest still heaving as his voice thundered through the inn. “Enough! Shen Lun, the one you want dead is me. Leave the others out of this. Spare the innocent. If you want my head, then come and take it yourself.”

Shen Lun’s eyes met his, and the air grew heavy. The entire inn fell silent once more, as though death itself had descended.

1. Fiendish qi (煞气, shàqì) is a corrupted, hostile form of qi often born from slaughter, resentment, or demonic influence. Unlike spiritual qi, it corrodes the body and destabilizes the mind. ☜

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