C6 Mo Blade Shuo Yunfei

Chang Qianyu's gaze settled on the black-robed elder. His hair was streaked with gray, and a prominent scar stretched from his left eye, across the bridge of his nose, to the corner of his mouth. The man's frame was lean, cloaked in a dark robe adorned with the embroidery of a long saber. In every movement, he seemed no different from an ordinary man.

The elder offered a faint smile, then turned and nodded to Wan Tiangang before leading Chu Tian towards the exit.

"Think you can just leave?" Chang Qianyu bellowed, his spiritual power surging. He soared into the air and reached out to grab the elder from behind.

The entire Rising Dragon Pavilion was engulfed by Chang Qianyu's palpable aura of deadly intent. Coldtalons' prestige had been challenged repeatedly that day. If the elder succeeded in taking Chu Tian away, what would become of their reputation? Chang Qianyu's palm strike, while seemingly devoid of spiritual energy, was in fact laden with a hundred variations of force, each capable of splitting mountains and breaking stones. Even the King of Yizera, Shen Long, felt a flicker of concern.

Yet the elder seemed oblivious, continuing to escort Chu Tian with an unhurried calm.

As Chang Qianyu's palm neared its target, the onlookers gasped in shock. Some held their breath, others shut their eyes, not daring to witness the elder's potential demise.

In the nick of time, the elder sidestepped, withdrawing a letter from his robe and tossing it to Wan Tiangang. "This was entrusted to me by an old friend for your master," he declared.

In that split second, Chang Qianyu's palm merely grazed the elder's garment, missing by less than a body's width. The formidable strike had failed to connect!

Chang Qianyu's missed attempt sent him spiraling in midair before crashing to the ground. In his panic, he hastily withdrew his strength, causing the potent force of his palm to split between the earth and himself.

Prostrate on the ground, eyes bulging, Chang Qianyu felt his chest seethe with turmoil and his spiritual energy in disarray. With a few guttural roars, he expelled a mouthful of dark blood. Half of his life's cultivation was now rendered useless.

All of this unfolded in the blink of an eye. One moment, everyone watched as the black-clothed elder seemed destined to be shattered into pieces, and the next, Chang Qianyu lay heavily wounded, spitting blood, while the elder remained unscathed.

A slender letter soared directly toward Wan Tiangang. Coming to his senses, Wan Tiangang reached out to intercept the letter, tucking it into his chest pocket with a nod. "Yes, Elder Shuo."

The black-clothed elder let out a soft sigh. "Thirty years have gone by; I hope your master has come to understand."

The King of Yizera and Chu Wuhan exchanged a glance, their eyes betraying their astonishment.

Among those gathered, martial arts abilities ranged from modest to profound. Those less skilled deemed the incident a mere fluke; Chang Qianyu, a master of his time, had failed in his palm strike, suffering grievous harm from the rebound of his own power.

Yet, those of higher skill, like the King of Yizera and Chu Wuhan, couldn't help but regard the elder with solemn respect. His martial prowess was immeasurable, his recent maneuvers seamlessly blending with the forces of nature. And that thin letter, tossed with such ease by the elder, flew straight to Wan Tiangang. It traveled at a measured pace, and Wan Tiangang caught it without sustaining any injury. The precision of the force behind it was truly masterful!

In a hushed tone, the King of Yizera asked Chu Wuhan, "Prime Minister, do you have any idea who this black-clothed elder might be?"

Chu Wuhan's brow furrowed in contemplation before he replied, "His mastery of martial arts is nearly divine. Despite my extensive search, I cannot place him."

"Take note of the scar on his face."

Chu Wuhan's pupils tightened as he slowly responded, "Could it possibly be...?"

The King of Yizera nodded emphatically, stating clearly, "It's etched deeply in my memory."

Lei Hongyuan dashed forward to support Chang Qianyu, swiftly pressing several acupoints on his body. He then retrieved two red pills from his garment and placed them into Chang Qianyu's mouth. After a few guttural cries and spitting out a mouthful of fresh blood, Chang Qianyu's complexion showed signs of improvement.

Another Elder of the Coldtalons sect approached the black-robed elder with a respectful bow. "I am Elder Ping Bufan of the Coldtalons. Might you be the esteemed Senior Shuo Yunfei?"

His words sent a shockwave through the hall, igniting a flurry of excited whispers among the crowd.

"Mo Dao Shuo Yunfei?!"

"Wasn't he said to have perished on Mount Luo?"

"That barbarian swordsman has returned to the Central Plains?"

"Where is his legendary saber?"

Shuo Yunfei's name was once the stuff of legends, a tale familiar to many since their youth.

He was the man who single-handedly held off armies with just his saber.

He was the man who, with his black saber and his unique techniques, had dominated the seven nations and stood unchallenged in the martial world.

He was the man who had emerged unscathed seven times from the blood pool, having stripped dragon sinews with his bare hands.

If there were gods in this world, then Shuo Yunfei, with his ink-black saber, would surely be one.

Fifty years had passed since he vanished following his epic battle with the twelve Earth Immortals of the Western Continent. And now, the legend himself stood before them, the man who had reached the pinnacle of martial arts.

Chu Tian gazed at the black-clothed elder, feeling a familiar pulse since he first stepped into the Rising Dragon Pavilion—a subtle yet unmistakable presence.

He recognized this aura; it was the distinct mark of a supreme swordsman, reminiscent of his own in a past life.

As the elder stood by his side, Chu Tian's spiritual energy surged, a testament to the silent call between warriors.

He was convinced that the black-clothed elder sensed his presence too and that this man would guide him to the zenith of martial prowess.

The black-clothed elder cast a sidelong glance at Ping Bufan and remarked, "I've long heard of the former Coldtalons sect master, Old Man Mu, and his nine illustrious disciples, each a pillar of the martial arts community. Among them, Ping Bufan, renowned for his strategic mind and martial prowess, now serves as the Dragon Elder."

Ping Bufan nodded, offering a sheepish smile. "Those are but generous accolades from friends within the martial arts circle, hardly worth mentioning before a senior of your stature. Today, my Senior Brother Qianyu's impulsive actions have caused you disturbance, for which I sincerely apologize. Once he has recovered, we will surely visit to offer our regrets in person. I hope you can extend your gracious understanding and not take offense."

The elder clad in black nodded, on the verge of speaking, when Ping Bufan interjected,

"But this youngster!" Ping Bufan, pointing at Chu Tian, exclaimed, "He severed my senior brother's arm and tarnished the reputation of my Coldtalons Sect. If we let this slide, the Coldtalons Sect will lose all respect in the martial arts community."

"Oh?" The elder in black turned to Ping Bufan and inquired, "And what would you propose we do?"

Ping Bufan stood tall, locking eyes with the elder, his gaze unwavering as he declared, "The Coldtalons Sect has thrived in the martial world for millennia, boasting eight Elders, thirty-six Protectors, and five thousand disciples. Be it the royal authority or the Prime Minister's household, anyone who dares insult our Sect will face the wrath of the Coldtalons disciples, who will cleanse the dishonor with blood!"

His speech, delivered with fervor and amplified by his spiritual energy, resonated throughout the bustling Rising Dragon Pavilion. Despite the moderate volume of his voice, each word crisply reached the ears of the gathered throng, a testament to his mastery over his spiritual cultivation.

The black-clothed elder chuckled to himself, murmuring, "Coldtalons Sect..."