Chapter Forty-Seven: If I Want You Dead, You Must Die

With his vast reserves of vital energy and meticulous spiritual control, Jiang Ming aided Chief Jin in transforming his own vital energy, helping him ascend into the realm of Grandmaster.

For the rest of their journey, Chief Jin served with the utmost attention and obedience, fulfilling Jiang Ming’s every need and making sure he traveled in utmost comfort.

Though their progress was unhurried, with frequent stops along the way, they finally reached the territory of Great Forest Temple.

“Brother Jiang, do you truly intend to ascend the mountain?” Inside the carriage, Chief Jin was massaging his legs, looking for all the world like a diligent maidservant.

“We’ve come all this way, of course we’re going up,” Jiang Ming replied, engrossed in a book. “Any unusual happenings of late?”

They had been on the road for two full months.

“Quite a few!” Chief Jin had received plenty of news along the way. For instance, over a thousand martial experts had gathered around Great Forest Temple, with surely more lurking in secret. Disciples from the Divine Fist Sect, Cold Moon Palace, Divine Sword Manor, and others had all arrived. The nearby garrisons seemed restless as well. Powerful figures from the Northern Barbarians had entered the Great Flame Empire and vanished without a trace. Though the Demon Cult’s followers kept themselves well-hidden, faint traces could still be found. The temple itself was under lockdown. Even the Six Doors had sent their Divine Constables. And so on.

Outside, undercurrents surged.

Suddenly, the carriage came to a halt. Lu Yuan’s voice rang out: “Nangong Haoran, Brother Nangong, why are you blocking our path?”

“Brother Lu!” Nangong Haoran stood garbed in white, a longsword strapped to his back, tall and lean, his aura icy and stern. “I must ask you all to turn back. The martial world is chaotic enough as it is. Should you ascend the mountain, it could ignite a bloodbath that would sweep across the land. Lives will be lost like grass trampled underfoot, mountains of corpses and seas of blood will ensue, and countless innocent people will suffer. How could you bear such guilt?”

“Brother Nangong, your reputation for uprightness precedes you—you’re always eager to see justice done. Is this a matter you simply cannot overlook?” Lu Yuan sneered, “When Brother Jiang was surrounded in Leaning Mountain City, where was your voice then? The second time, when Zhao Justice led a siege against him, with three grandmasters taking part, you were nowhere to be seen. If you were absent the first time, so be it—but the second time?”

“And to claim you wish to prevent a slaughter to spare the common folk? That’s nonsense.”

“Venerable Vajra has colluded with the Demon Cult and the Northern Barbarians. Tell me, what does that mean? It means Great Forest Temple harbors treasonous intent, and how many more innocents will die because of it?”

“Nangong, oh Nangong, I never thought that you, always impartial, always upright, a man singularly devoted to the Way of the Sword, would throw your life away for Great Forest Temple.”

Lu Yuan sighed.

Jiang Ming descended from the carriage as well.

Chief Jin followed closely.

“So you are Jiang Ming?” Nangong Haoran’s gaze passed over Lu Yuan to settle on Jiang Ming. The sword on his back began to hum and tremble, then sprang into his hand in a flash of blinding light.

He gave it a flick, and a surge of sword energy erupted, his imposing aura soaring into the heavens.

“They say you slew the Dark Lord of the North, then cut down three grandmasters with a single stroke. I find it hard to believe!” Nangong Haoran stepped forward. “I consider my swordsmanship peerless—only Sword Sage He Yiming of Divine Sword Manor is my equal. As for you? I’d like to see if you are truly as formidable as the rumors claim.”

Jiang Ming only smiled.

Lu Yuan jumped down from the carriage, stepping between them, but bowed to Jiang Ming: “Brother Jiang, would you let me handle this?”

“Very well.” Seeing the solemn look on his face, Jiang Ming nodded.

Lu Yuan breathed a small sigh of relief.

He knew that if Jiang Ming fought, Nangong Haoran would surely die. Turning to the latter, he said helplessly, “Why wade into these treacherous waters?”

Nangong Haoran was silent.

“Perhaps the Nangong family is vast and influential, and…” Lu Yuan left the sentence unfinished. “I will represent Brother Jiang in this contest. Brother Nangong, have at you!”

“Brother Lu, I appreciate your good intentions, but please step aside. You are not my match.” Nangong Haoran replied, “I have reached the pinnacle of the grandmaster realm, yet I cannot grasp the true essence of the sword. I can go no further. Today, encountering a peerless master, how could I let the chance slip by?”

“Haven’t you heard that a man changes in three days? I am no longer who I once was!”

“Brother Lu, it’s not that I look down on you, but aside from running, you are good for nothing!”

“Brother Nangong, am I really so worthless?” Lu Yuan’s brow twitched, his face darkening.

After all, he had once been a grandmaster himself!

To say he was good for nothing except running—who was he looking down on?

He remembered being called ‘Lu the Runner’ back at Black Wind Stronghold and ground his teeth.

“Brother Nangong, apart from your sword, you are good for nothing as well. But from this day forth, aside from Brother Jiang, who else in the world can make me run?” Lu Yuan raised his hand and unleashed a Lesser Ze Sword strike.

Buzz—

Sword energy sliced through the air, carrying the intent of the wind. It was swift beyond compare, flashing before Nangong Haoran, who was forced to raise his sword in defense. Though he blocked the blow, he was driven back five or six steps from the force.

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh—

Lu Yuan’s hands moved in a blur, sword energy whistling as he drove Nangong Haoran back another fifty meters.

His footing faltered, and his face flushed.

Lu Yuan finally stopped, his brows dancing with excitement, and chuckled, “Brother Nangong, see? I truly am good for nothing—except defeating you in swordplay.”

“That’s not even swordsmanship!” Nangong Haoran’s stubborn lips trembled. He turned away and softly uttered two words: “Thank you.”

“From now on, I am but a wandering swordsman.”

He vanished in a blur, his lightness skill carrying him away.

“In the martial world, we are all at the mercy of fate. Alas!” Lu Yuan sighed inexplicably, then smiled, “Shall we ride on?”

“I’ve had enough of sitting. I’ll walk up the mountain,” Jiang Ming said, hands clasped behind his back.

“If you don’t walk, do you expect me to drive the carriage up the mountain?” Lu Yuan snorted and hurried to catch up.

Chief Jin followed silently.

Behind them, the constables of Six Doors took care of the carriage.

Shadows flickered on either side—they were clearly being watched by many eager onlookers.

Lu Yuan greeted people left and right as they passed.

At the foot of the mountain, their path was barred.

“Amitabha. May I ask why Benefactor Jiang has come to our humble temple?” An old monk with a deeply furrowed brow stood before them, a shroud of deathly energy about him, though his eyes were piercingly bright.

Thirty-six robust monks surrounded them, each gripping a steel staff as thick as a goose egg, glaring fiercely.

“Extermination!” Jiang Ming spat out a single word and waved his hand.

Lu Yuan opened his mouth but fell silent and stepped aside.

Chief Jin said nothing, but looked at the old monk with a touch of pity.

“Amitabha, the Vajra Monk acted alone—he does not represent Great Forest Temple. Benefactor Jiang, vengeance only begets vengeance. Why not leave things be?” The old monk’s brow furrowed even tighter, though he suppressed his anger.

“I act only on my own behalf,” Jiang Ming laughed. “Great Forest Temple still underestimates me. If you wished to yield, you should have shown sincerity—if not groveling, at least some humility. Instead, you send a dying man to greet me. Isn’t this a clear show of force, testing whether you can kill me or at least gauge my strength?”

“Clearly, I haven’t killed enough.”

“Not even the deaths of three grandmasters have made you bow those proud heads that serve only the Buddha.”

“So be it. Today, I’ll send you all to meet your Buddha.”

Jiang Ming saw through Great Forest Temple’s ploy at a glance.

“Benefactor Jiang, you will descend into hell!” The old monk smiled, then shouted, “Buddha’s Demon-Subduing Formation, suppress this fiend!”

Buzz—

His body suddenly swelled, a wild aura erupting in a violent torrent, his strength surging to the realm of grandmaster.

Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

The thirty-six staff monks moved as one, instantly surrounding Jiang Ming and attacking, true energy surging along their staves.

All of them were innate experts.

Staff shadows howled, blotting out the sky.

“Now this is interesting! No hesitation, no wasted words—fight to the death and be done with it,” Jiang Ming laughed. “In this world, it’s rare to have things both ways. If I want you dead, you die!”

With a grasp, he condensed his energy into a sword.