Chapter Forty-Nine: Bound by the World, Helpless to Choose

Shen Lian found it rather strange that amidst such a significant commotion, the masters of the Su Family Fortress had yet to make an appearance. Could it be that they were frightened of these vicious men from the martial world and had chosen to hide themselves away? Doubt lingered in his heart, yet his gaze fell upon the short-haired monk, whose eyes were half-closed as if lost in slumber, indifferent to the tumult around him.

Li Zhuang, whose motives had been so easily exposed by the "Young Master," was startled, feeling not only surprise but also a deep wariness toward this mysterious figure. His Great Vajra Palm had reached a mastery capable of shattering stone tablets, able to smash thirteen bricks in a single blow. Even if this "Young Master" were made of iron, having heard of Li Zhuang’s reputation, he should not have taken him so lightly. Moreover, his Golden Bell Shield had reached the sixth level, rendering him nearly impervious to blades and swords. Without such skill, he could never have established the Shunfeng Escort Agency.

Yet with these words spoken, if he dared not accept the challenge, how could he hold his head high in the martial world? Still, to simply step forward and strike seemed lacking in heroism, and since the other party was so bold, perhaps there was some hidden scheme at play. Li Zhuang’s mind worked quickly. He cupped his hands and said, "Fists and feet know no mercy; should I injure you, young lord, how could I ever forgive myself? Better that we spar, test our skills as friends. If you truly surpass me, I will have nothing more to say."

He was determined to delay matters; if the other refused, then steel would have to decide things. The "Jade of Ice" was an item specifically requested by Sword Manor. Should he lose this escort, Li Zhuang would not only disgrace the name of Shunfeng Escort Agency but bring shame to the centuries-old reputation of Demon-Subduing Monastery as well.

The Young Master smiled, as radiant as a flower in bloom, brightening the entire hall. Li Zhuang’s composure wavered, and he could not help but think that, had this person been a woman, such beauty would surely bring disaster. That such thoughts came to him even in a moment of grave danger spoke volumes of the Young Master’s allure.

"Enough. Who do you think you are? I showed you respect, but you do not appreciate it," the Young Master said, snapping open a gilded folding fan. The smile faded as quickly as summer flames in the depths of winter, his expression turning cold in an instant. The golden patterns on the fan were magnificent, making the Young Master’s skin seem even fairer, almost translucent like glazed porcelain.

Li Zhuang dared not be careless and stood ready, fully alert.

"Go, deal with anyone who dares look on. Leave the Great Vajra Palm to me; I wish to have some fun with him," the Young Master said, a cold and handsome smile curling his lips.

Li Zhuang saw the Young Master move, his form splitting into overlapping shadows as he approached. Ignoring the Beimo Three Heroes, who were notorious in the north, Li Zhuang recognized the extraordinary skill at play—the Young Master’s agility alone marked him as a master among masters. He drew a deep breath, sinking his energy to his dantian, and unleashed his Great Vajra Palm, the force fierce as a raging sea, both palms thrust forward without reservation.

The strike seemed to drain half the air from the room; even Shen Lian, observing from a distance, felt his eardrums tighten. Though the Great Vajra Palm was renowned for its brute strength, it was not merely external force but a high-level technique, merging inner and outer power. Perfected, it rivaled the Daoist technique of subduing the White Tiger. This was both a palm technique and an internal art, complementing the Golden Bell Shield for truly formidable effect.

The many shadows vanished at once, and the Young Master stood within the full range of Li Zhuang’s power. Yet, around the Young Master’s body, ripples appeared, as if an invisible shield of water surrounded him. The palm force struck, only to be entirely dispersed, showing not the slightest effect.

Li Zhuang was appalled. "Protective Qi? Impossible!" Only then did he realize why the Young Master had dared to accept his blow—the legendary skill of Protective Qi had been mastered. Shen Lian, however, found it odd; his heightened senses picked up something unnatural, as if this so-called Protective Qi was mechanical in nature, lacking the usual drain on one’s energy. He recalled how the green-robed Yang Xuan, who had also mastered the skill, still dared not face a hail of arrows directly, for the expenditure of energy was tremendous. If such a shield could run endlessly without exhaustion, one could face an army with ease, as if a deity walking the earth.

Li Zhuang, his attack thwarted, tried to dodge and flee. For an escort agent, life and death were accepted risks, but the object entrusted to him could not be lost. Panic-stricken, he knew that with the Young Master’s agility, escape was impossible.

The Young Master smiled like a child, folding fan in hand, matching Li Zhuang’s every move. Each time Li Zhuang neared the door, the Young Master blocked him, toying with him like a cat with a mouse. The sounds of slaughter echoed nearby, and Li Zhuang glanced aside to see his comrades being massacred without resistance by the Beimo Three Heroes—these fiends tore off limbs or snapped joints, ensuring death came only after prolonged agony. In an instant, the once-spotless hall became a scene of carnage.

The short-haired monk remained as before, unmoved, seemingly asleep. When Li Zhuang, his eyes bloodshot, tried desperately to help, the folding fan appeared silently.

With a single tap to Li Zhuang’s skull, it was as if a stick had smashed a watermelon, bursting open to reveal white and red brain matter. Despite mastering the Golden Bell Shield, which rendered his body nearly invulnerable and his head even harder, Li Zhuang could not withstand the Young Master’s gentle strike. This was the power of supreme internal energy: even a blade of grass or a piece of wood could become a deadly weapon.

In the blink of an eye, not a soul from the Shunfeng Escort Agency, including Li Zhuang, escaped. The stench of blood filled the air, enough to make one retch. The Beimo Three Heroes were splattered with blood—not their own, but that of others.

The Young Master, cautious and meticulous, retrieved a small box from Li Zhuang’s body. The Beimo Three Heroes approached. "Young Master, it’s done."

The Young Master did not rush to open the box, but glanced around the hall, unshaken by the slaughter. His eyes fell on Shen Lian and the short-haired monk. With a calm voice, he said, "I said to kill anyone who could see. Did you not hear me?"

The Beimo Three Heroes, though fierce and domineering, were not used to wanton murder. Yet knowing the Young Master’s mercurial temper, they dared not oppose him. They turned to Shen Lian, grinning wickedly. "Kid, blame your bad luck."

If these were mere bandits, Shen Lian would have drawn his blade for the innocent. But neither the Shunfeng Escort Agency nor the Beimo Three Heroes or the Young Master counted as innocents—this was a matter of the martial world. There was no talk of guilt or innocence here; Shen Lian, though kindhearted, would not waste his compassion.

He had not expected, however, that even wishing to extricate himself was impossible. Indeed, in the martial world, one cannot escape entanglements—though the matter be none of one’s own, trouble finds its way to you.

He was not one to seek trouble, nor one to shrink from it.

"If anyone’s unlucky, it’s you for crossing me," Shen Lian sighed softly.

The Young Master glanced at him, but his eyes lingered on the short-haired monk, finding him oddly familiar. The mission had proven easy; the Jade of Ice meant little to him personally, but it was important to Ye Liuyun, and that was enough.