Chapter Twenty-Nine: Who Is He?

The two of them raced through the forest, one chasing, one fleeing, occasionally crossing blades. Yang Fan was close to collapse. He had been running for who knew how long, with his pursuer always trailing behind, occasionally slashing at him. All he could do was defend, and every exchange left him wounded.

“Hey, if you want to kill me, at least give me a reason!” Yang Fan shouted as he ran.

It was suffocating—so quick to kill, without a word? Had someone issued a bounty on him? That couldn’t be, could it? He hadn’t committed any crime!

The black-robed figure behind him paid no attention to Yang Fan’s pleas.

In the black-robed man’s eyes, Yang Fan’s cultivation was inferior, his strength lacking. Though Yang Fan managed to block his sword each time, the force of impact left him injured again and again.

It was only a matter of time before Yang Fan fell. The black-robed man felt no urgency.

His mission target had been killed by the youth ahead; he would kill the youth and report back. That would suffice.

Meanwhile, Yang Fan ran desperately, fully aware of his predicament. If things continued like this, he would inevitably be defeated. Yet he couldn’t stop—he was no match for his opponent.

As he thought this, the black-robed man drew near once more.

Yang Fan heard the sound of the sword cutting through the air behind him. In desperation, he cursed under his breath, “Damn it, when will this end? What did I ever do to you?”

He spun around, unleashing his Thunderclap Blade technique—a three-blade combination. But as soon as his first strike met the black-robed man’s sword, it was knocked aside, and the remaining two strikes never materialized.

Yang Fan felt despair. He even considered using the system to boost his Qi Sea. He knew that once the Qi Sea opened and his energy circulated—even at its initial stage—it would keep him alive in this situation.

But what then? If he opened the Qi Sea before his bones were fully tempered, they wouldn’t withstand the power and might shatter. What would he become—a man with no bones left to hold him together? Yang Fan did not dare imagine it.

The black-robed man charged again. To Yang Fan's perception, his movements were slow, but he could see the trajectory of every sword strike. He knew where the blows would land and could counterattack if he dodged. Yet his burst speed was inferior unless he used the Shadow Leap technique, which placed a heavy strain on his body. It covered ten meters in a flash, but could not be used consecutively. Two bursts weren’t enough to kill outright. With such a short distance, Yang Fan could only raise his blade defensively, blocking the path of the attack.

He took another sword blow, spitting blood.

He had sustained internal injuries; the repeated impacts were too much for his organs.

At that moment, a surge of power erupted within him.

Yang Fan felt his wounded organs rapidly healing, a tingling sensation spreading through his body.

He slapped his forehead in exasperation. He always forgot about his abilities.

He possessed a lightning power.

If regular attacks couldn’t stop the black-robed man, what about elemental attacks?

Yang Fan didn’t have time to ponder the changes within him.

Quietly, he channeled his lightning and rushed toward the black-robed man.

This time, he would let his relentless pursuer know what it was like to touch a live wire.

After his latest sword strike, the black-robed man intended to continue his pursuit. As usual, Yang Fan would use the force of his sword to widen the gap between them.

But this time, Yang Fan ran toward him instead. Rushed straight at him?

The black-robed man wondered if Yang Fan had been struck senseless or was making a desperate last stand.

Either way, he was pleased. He disliked the endless chase through the forest.

As Yang Fan closed in, the black-robed man raised his sword to stab.

Yang Fan watched the trajectory, then suddenly unleashed Shadow Leap, shifting direction in an instant. His body brushed past the sword, with his blade already poised at his waist.

A hiss—

Blade and body passed each other.

A shallow wound appeared on the black-robed man’s body. The difference in strength made him feel a flicker of danger. He twisted slightly, avoiding a fatal strike. Though the wound was not serious, his combat ability remained intact.

The black-robed man was surprised. Why hadn’t Yang Fan used this technique before?

Yang Fan didn’t care for his surprise. He halted his charge, turned, and launched another Shadow Leap, his blade swinging once more at the black-robed man.

This time, the black-robed man was ready. Watching Yang Fan disappear, he began to whirl his sword.

His eyes couldn’t follow the path of Yang Fan’s Shadow Leap, but that didn’t hinder his counterattack. With sword light enveloping him, he needn’t worry about where Yang Fan might strike.

That was the theory, but in practice, no matter how fast his sword moved, Yang Fan could see the pattern.

As the black-robed man spun his blade, Yang Fan rushed into his guard, the impact forcing him back.

Yang Fan’s left arm was slashed by the sword’s light, blood streaming.

The blade entered the black-robed man’s abdomen.

“You think this desperate struggle can wound me? Our realms are worlds apart. At the peak of the Second Rank, I control my blood perfectly. Your two strikes are painful, but not enough to draw much blood.”

He pulled the blade from his abdomen. Aside from a spray of blood at the moment of withdrawal, there was no further bleeding.

A Second Rank martial artist at peak level could control his blood flow to refine his bones. When the blade entered, he shifted his body, avoiding vital organs and limiting the wound to flesh, directing his blood away from the injury. Nothing serious for him.

Yang Fan had killed Liu Qiang before with a single strike to the heart—no saving him.

Yang Fan didn’t bother with words. He’d made up his mind; no need for talk.

He charged again.

The black-robed man sneered. What use was it for someone without a weapon to rush him?

Without using Shadow Leap, Yang Fan sprinted straight at him, his powerful burst of speed closing the distance instantly.

The black-robed man swept his sword upward, aiming to disembowel him, but Yang Fan dropped to the side at the last moment.

The sword grazed his clothes, missing him.

Yang Fan didn’t rise—he rolled beneath the black-robed man, grabbing his feet with both hands.

Lightning surged from his hands.

At first, the black-robed man thought it was ludicrous—Yang Fan grabbing his feet? All he needed was to plunge his sword downward and the fight would be over.

But the moment Yang Fan seized his legs, everything changed.

The black-robed man felt nothing below his waist, then numbness above, his arms losing sensation, his body convulsing.

With a thud, he collapsed.

His hair stood on end.

As he fell, his mind remained clear. He couldn’t understand—what was happening?

A stun baton?

He saw Yang Fan pick up the fallen blade and bring it down on his head.

Darkness.

...

Yang Fan slumped beside the headless corpse, gasping.

The sword wound on his arm made him grimace.

His backpack had been lost during the chase; who knew where it was now?

The trauma medicine he’d bought from Ouyang Yunlei was in the backpack—gone.

He tore off his shirt, enduring the pain, and bandaged his wound.

When he finished, Yang Fan regarded the corpse.

“Who is this guy? Tried to kill me the moment we met? Was he Liu Qiang’s accomplice? But the intel said Liu Qiang worked alone. I nearly died this time. If I didn’t have lightning powers... I’ll have to pay more attention to them from now on. Even though I can’t project them yet, they were far more potent than when I fought the leopard.”

Muttering to himself, Yang Fan took out his phone.

He still had signal.

He called the Practitioner Administration Bureau, alerting them.

As he dialed, he kept a wary eye on his surroundings, ready for another attacker.

Yang Fan was genuinely frightened—this was the closest he’d been to death since starting his cultivation.

Compared to this, his previous trip to the island was nothing.

He waited for the Bureau’s arrival.

He didn’t want to move; his injuries were serious.

The visible wound was on his arm, but he had many internal injuries.

The chase and repeated sword blows had shaken his organs.

The successive Shadow Leaps strained his body, changing his movement patterns.

Now, pain filled every part of him.

Yang Fan decided that after this mission, he would stay at the academy longer. He wouldn’t venture out until reaching the Second Rank peak—the outside world was too dangerous. He hadn’t sought to challenge his limits, but a stranger had appeared out of nowhere, trying to kill him and forcing him into such a miserable state.

Angry again, Yang Fan kicked the corpse twice.

“Who the hell are you? What did I ever do to you?”

But corpses don’t answer.

Time passed; dusk began to fall.

Finally, the Practitioner Administration Bureau found Yang Fan. With his guidance, they located Liu Qiang as well.

Then everyone descended the mountain.

...

The next day, at Luoyang People’s Hospital.

Yang Fan slowly opened his eyes.

After descending the mountain, the Bureau had brought him to the hospital.

Upon arrival, he had fallen asleep.

“You’re awake?” a voice said beside him.

Yang Fan turned to see a young nurse changing his IV bottle.

Seeing him awake, she asked.

“Yes, is there any water?” he replied.

“Yes, wait a moment, I’ll get some for you,” she said, leaving the room.

Yang Fan looked around the pristine hospital room, his thoughts returning to last night.

The crisis had passed, but he truly wanted to know who had tried to kill him.

The Bureau had promised him answers; when they saw the black-robed man, their expressions had changed. Yang Fan was certain they knew something.