Chapter Thirteen: The Blood-Clad Harbinger

The two monsters in the field, having just suffered heavy blows, realized that this man’s cultivation was exceptionally profound and that he was not someone to be trifled with. They eyed the tall, thin figure warily, as if sensing a great danger, reluctant to make any rash moves. Their ghostly claws probed forward cautiously, but their feet dared not advance, the emerald glow in their eyes flickering restlessly.

Without wasting words, the tall, thin man took a single step forward, startling both creatures into retreating a pace. Then, circling around him, they prowled in a wary orbit. With his hands clasped behind his back, the man’s demeanor was unruffled, as if he were merely strolling through a courtyard. He drifted lightly to stand before one of the monsters, raised a palm, and struck with a movement that seemed as gentle as a caress.

“Golden Thunder above, command all laws! Five-Palm Divine Power, shattering mountains and stones! Might of eight directions, descend upon me! Swift!”

In a sudden burst, his aura surged to the heavens. The force of it was like an invisible wall, pressing down so hard that it was hard to breathe; all present felt a tremor in their hearts. At the moment he struck, the man uttered an incantation, and his palm blazed with thunderous power, flashing down like lightning onto the monster’s skull.

There was a thunderous explosion; the shadow of the palm fell, and the monster’s head was blown to pieces in midair, raining blood all around. The headless body struggled twice, then slowly toppled to the ground, a gaping wound the size of a bowl at its neck, the edges ragged as if sawn through, a bloody mess.

Seizing his advantage, the tall, thin man showed no mercy. His robe billowed though there was no wind. Turning swiftly, he unleashed another palm strike at the remaining monster; a massive shadow hurtled toward it with a howl.

“Hmph, where do you think you’re going?”

The monster appeared to fear the palm’s radiance immensely; it sprang backward with all its might. But as the glowing palm drew ever closer, the green light on its body flashed wildly, encasing it completely.

Another thunderous blast. The green light was instantly dissolved upon contact with the palm, vanishing without a trace. The enormous palm struck the monster’s back, exploding its body into two halves, flesh and blood spraying everywhere, the scene even more ferocious and grisly.

“This… this is the Daoist Five-Thunder Palm!” Han Shizhong stared, dumbfounded, then declared with certainty, “No mistake, this is indeed the Five-Thunder Palm. Who would have thought I’d witness such a thing here today? His cultivation is far beyond imagination—today we have been granted a new lease on life. Even if that person himself comes later, there’s nothing to fear. But who, truly, is this master?”

Scarface was even more stunned, gazing at the rain of blood in utter shock. He had talked so much and slashed with his blade, yet failed to fulfill his wish, only to watch this man kill two monsters with a single palm each, splitting them clean in two—two halves!

“Is he even human? He’s more terrifying than a monster! With such power, he must be akin to a celestial. No wonder he looks down on us—how insignificant we must seem.”

“Now that’s a true master among masters! No wonder someone like him would never spare a glance at the likes of us,” Scarface muttered as he shook his head in awe, recognizing they were not even on the same plane.

Han Shizhong, the Tiger Beyond the Pass, stared at the carnage before him, momentarily dazed. Suddenly, a memory surged up from the past, and his face grew increasingly grim, his demeanor uneasy, as if recalling something dreadful. His voice trembled, the final words barely audible: “You… you are… no, sir, you are the Blood-Robed Impermanence...!!”

“Blood-Robed Impermanence?” Scarface repeated in confusion, although he dared not say it aloud, merely mumbling. He’d never heard the name before; his own master had never mentioned it.

The tall, thin man brushed his sleeve lightly, instinctively dusting off his robe, as if nothing had happened. His face remained calm, but his voice was icy, a cold laugh escaping him: “Ha! Quite right. Your skills may be lacking, but your eyesight is keen. Not many in this world know my name.”

Hearing the tall man confirm his suspicion, Han Shizhong broke into a cold sweat, his face shifting through several shades. He bowed deeply: “Your great name is renowned, sir. We are indebted for your timely action. My disciples and I will follow any command, come fire or flood, without hesitation.”

“Hmph. I had no intention of saving you. It’s just that Zhao Cliff Village is three miles away. If you’d died here, your corpses would have roamed and drunk blood, harming innocents. Besides, I have questions for you.”

“Yes, yes, of course, you are right, sir! Whatever you wish to know, I will answer in full, withholding nothing,” Han Shizhong said quickly, wiping the sweat from his brow.

The tall, thin man raised his hand, stretching his palm before the two men. His tone was cold: “Where is it?”

“It? What do you mean?” Both men were completely at a loss, bewildered, having no idea what the tall, thin man was referring to.

“Naturally, the item from the tomb. What else?” he replied impatiently.

“All the items from the tomb are here—a few burial goods, a lump of gold…” Scarface began.

The tall man’s expression darkened, and he sneered: “I mean the Soul-Summoning Bottle—what else!”

“Sir, you wrong us! Though my eyesight is poor, I have some knowledge. I recognized that was a Demon-Subduing Altar, and it was suppressing the contents of the Soul-Summoning Bottle. How could I dare touch it and invite disaster? At the very sight, I withdrew with my disciples at once, not daring to linger. But still, something went wrong…” Han Shizhong explained earnestly.

“Oh?” Now the tall, thin man looked at Han Shizhong with newfound respect—he had recognized the Demon-Subduing Altar and knew not to meddle with the Soul-Summoning Bottle. “At least you have some sense, and know the dangers. Had you touched that bottle, you’d have been annihilated on the spot.”

But the tall man seemed uneasy. He reached out, his left hand’s five fingertips radiating with light as he formed a hand seal with his right, chanting: “By urgent decree, return at once, spirits of the Ding Armor. Manifest great power, reveal your might in five directions! Know what I seek, bring me what I desire, swiftly, go!” As he finished, the light on his left hand blazed, and he slapped his palm against the ground. Beams of light drilled into the earth, tunneling toward the thieves’ passage, disappearing from sight in moments.

Less than a quarter of an hour later, the tall, thin man suddenly opened his eyes. The points of light shot back at him, darting into his sleeve and vanishing.

Scarface, curious, whispered, “Master, what trick was that?”

“Silence! That was the Ding Armor Transport Technique, you fool,” Han Shizhong snapped, glaring at Scarface, fearing his loose tongue might offend the tall man.

At that moment, the tall man’s brows furrowed tightly, and he exclaimed softly, “Damn, so I have indeed fallen for a diversion. The Soul-Summoning Bottle is already in someone else’s hands.”

Seeing the sharp glint in the tall man’s eyes, Han Shizhong realized that trouble had come—and not a small one.