In the lobby of the inn, some people were cursing and laughing at him, while some others kept silent; they were staring at Di Hongtian nervously, frightened by his reputation.

The story about how he’d killed Pang Fei with just one movement of the sword at the mountain foot had traveled far and wide. The legend of his sword, Zhongfeng, and the ident.i.ty as the remaining son of the Sword Villa also made people be prudent and keep their distance from him, though he was only fifteen or sixteen.

Di Hongtian took the key from the waiter and looked around at the people who surrounded him with a serious eye; the entire audience became quiet.

Though he was as powerful as a top warrior, his ident.i.ty and the complicated relationship between his family and their enemy in the underworld made him quite the force, in their eyes.

He saw someone special, who was hiding among the audience, but he didn’t give any reaction, and left for his room upstairs.

Tap tap. . .

Someone knocked at the door just as he’d sat down.

“Come in.” He set the sword on the table and poured himself a cup of tea.

Someone entered; a hard-to-find smile appeared on Di Hongtian’s face when he got a clear look at the visitor. He took out a chair to ask him to sit. “Why are you here?”

The man was about eighteen to nineteen, a little older than him. His face was delicate and its shape was slim, and though he looked weak, his eyes seemed full of clever ideas.

“Tian, what’s your plan?” he asked, with serious concern. “The whole world is searching for you now. Don’t you know what kind of situation you are in? Even though you already prepared to give up the sword, it is hard to keep yourself safe in such turbulence.”

“I know,” he replied quietly, nodding.

He had sensed the difference in the world. But indeed, this was his purpose.

“Well,” the visitor said with a sigh, “even in our own family, someone heard the story of your sword, and got some ideas about it.”

He was stunned by these words, but soon he reverted back to his indifference. “Understandable.”

“Are you coming to me only to warn me about this?”

He nodded. “Another thing is that, the grand-lord’s health is poor. He contracted an illness, and this led to a reemergence of old wounds; we’re afraid he is in danger. So they sent me to ask you back.”

“What?” Di Hongtian’s expression turned upset and he stood up. “How could that be?”

“He is old and weak. Even a small illness could take his life.” He shook his head.

“When I left, he was still well. . . ” Di Hongtian’s fists clenched tightly. “I can go now. You stay here for one night, and don’t follow me.”

“Though I am not as powerful as you, my Tianxiang Sword Art is at the sixth grade. So don’t worry about me; those people are not my match.”

 “Changkong, once you fight them, your art will be known by them. I can’t drag the whole family into danger with me,” Di Hongtian said, stopping him.

Though he knew the Jianzonglin Clan was more powerful than the rumors foretold, he was afraid they could not handle the level of turbulence he’d brought upon them. This was an issue he had to handle by himself.

“But . . . ” Wu Changkong still wanted to say something, but Di Hongtian rejected him, saying, “I’ve made my decision.”

He took up his sword and gave a last request. “Leave tomorrow morning. Don’t follow my route.”

He did not hesitate and left through the door. With a careful look at the environment, he threw his sword out the window, and rushed out to step on the sword to pa.s.s the roof of the inn, and then took the upcoming sword, dropping down to disappear in the darkness.

Beside the window, Changkong was staring at the smaller and smaller shadow, shaking his head. “Is it worth it? Such a large price to pay?”

Though it was already night, Sheya Cave was as bright as the daytime. The gangs were having fun together, talking, laughing, and complaining.

The cave was near the mountainside, with a big road separating it into two parts. Some merchant caravans were stationed in the cave for a rest. The merchants and the gangs who provided residence and protection were having talks with them.

Beside the cave was a thick wood. The leaves were rustling in the wind. One after another, black shadows were quickly pa.s.sing in the woods as ghosts, their eyes focusing on the cave in front of them, coldly.

A guard of the cave found something and he turned to look through the wood; however, a sharp, short arrow was shot into his throat. His eyes suddenly opened wildly, and blood spurted out from the wound and his mouth. Though he wanted to say something, he couldn’t. His long spear fell to the ground, and he covered his throat with his hand.

Some other guards noticed his distress and came near to check.

Hiu! Hiu! Hiu! Heralded by a series of whizzing sounds, countless arrows flew out from the woods and toward the guards.

One by one, they fell to the ground.

Clang! Clang!

A sharp warning sound arose and all the people in the cave ran out to escape. But it was too late. Those shadow warriors hiding in the wood leapt out with blades to cut their throats.

One hour pa.s.sed, and the cave had no survivors left.

“All clear! Make it look like nothing suspicious happened here,” someone standing in the dark ordered.

When the morning sun rose to shine into the cave, it was like before: about ten guards were hanging around to protect their cave, and the ground was clean. Every hint of what had happened yesterday evening was completely gone.

On the road that separated the cave, a young man was running. He was holding a wide sword on his shoulder, running even faster than a fine horse. Behind him, dust rolled up into the air.

“He’s so quick.” A guard saw him, and walked back into the cave.

A fat old man was napping in a chair. With each inhale and exhale, a tiny air flow came in and out through his nose.

The guard rushed to report to the old man. He suddenly opened his eyes, and in them a sharp and chilling light like the glint of a blade flashed.