66. Blood Flame Palm

As the sun began its slow descent, casting long shadows over the scene, the group stood beside the carriage—the captain with his three guards, Manager Zou, and the young girl and boy. Their emotions fluctuated with each turn of the battle: first, hope when Rain arrived to save them, followed by despair as the old man suppressed Rain. Then, excitement again as Rain fought back, only to feel dread as the old man transformed, revealing his half-step Grandmaster strength.

The girl watched the fight with a calm face, though her clenched hands betrayed her anxiety, while tears shimmered in the boy's eyes.

"Manager Zou," the girl asked quietly, "can you tell who will win?"

Manager Zou watched closely, his face grave. "It appears the Evil Crow Master has the upper hand, but the boy doesn't seem worried or afraid, as if he has something up his sleeve." The group watched in tense silence, each praying that Rain would emerge victorious.

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With his full strength, Rain swung his sword to meet the old man's powerful strike. The onlookers held their breath, fearing Rain might lose or at least sustain serious injuries from the sheer force of the attack. But it was the old man who faltered, his stance wobbling as he struggled to maintain his grip on his weapon, his fingers clenching to keep his sword from flying out of his hand.

A wave of disbelief, amazement, and relief swept through the crowd. Rain inspected his sword, noting several nicks from the intense clash. "Well, what did I expect from a mere ten-gold sword?" he thought wryly. His gaze shifted to the old man's weapon—an undamaged, precious blade that had weathered his full-strength attack without a scratch.

The old man looked at Rain with horror, whispering, "Grand Master." His words, though faint, were heard by everyone, sparking a wave of shocked murmurs throughout the crowd.

With a sardonic smile, Rain sneered, "How about this: if you can withstand three strikes from my sword, I'll leave your body intact. Survive ten, and I might let you go with only one hand." Without another word, he launched his attack.

The old man barely had time to raise his sword in defense, but it was no match for Rain's ferocious blow. The impact lifted the old man onto one foot, sending him flying backward toward the carriage behind him. Seeing the old man hurtling toward them, everyone near the carriage scattered just in time before he crashed, shattering the carriage on impact.

The old man lay motionless in the debris, but Rain remained in place, waiting patiently for him to get up. After a few seconds, the old man rose, battered and bruised, his clothes torn to shreds. Though he had no visible injuries, his right arm hung limp, clearly broken, and he gripped his sword in his left hand.

Rain smirked, "Old man, what is your name?"

With angry eyes and a pained expression, the old man held back his fury. "What do you need my name for?"

Rain's smile turned colder. "After I kill you, I'll need your name to inscribe on your grave. Unless, of course, you'd rather be burned, in which case I don't need it." The old man's anger flared, but he knew he was no match for Rain; the earlier blow had left him with a broken right arm.

"You cannot kill me," the old man insisted.

Rain tilted his head with a curious, sarcastic smile. "Oh? And why is that?" In a flash, Rain moved, his sword tip pressed against the old man's neck, just deep enough to break the skin and draw a thin line of blood."See?" Rain murmured. "With just a little poke, you could die. It's almost too easy."

The old man's voice trembled with defiance. "I am a member of the Seven Evil Palaces."

Rain raised an eyebrow. "So what? Is there anyone in the Seven Evil Palaces above the realm of Grandmaster?" He had heard of this infamous sect spanning three territories: the Xia Dynasty, where he currently was, the Wu Dynasty, and the Golden Plain Alliance. Rumor held that Grandmaster was the pinnacle of martial arts, but he wondered if they possessed knowledge of a higher realm.

The old man replied, "Grandmaster is the limit of martial arts—but I can buy my life from you." Rain was fishing to gain information. The Seven Evil Palaces' influence across three nations gave them access to vast knowledge, and Rain had hoped they might confirm if Grandmaster was truly the pinnacle of martial arts—or if there was a realm beyond it that he could pursue. But hearing the old man's words, his hope of finding an easy path forward was dashed.

Rain lowered his sword. "So, how much is your life worth?"

The old man produced a pouch and handed it over. "There are 110 gold coins."

Rain frowned. "Only this?"

The old man glanced at the other black-masked men and commanded, "All of you—hand over your money!" The men approached and offered up their coins. Rain counted them: "37 gold, 125 silver, and 354 bronze coins."

He shook his head, unimpressed. "I could get this much just by killing you all and looting your corpses."

The old man, trying to bargain, said, "That's all we have here, but I can bring more if you let me go."

Rain raised an eyebrow. "Do you take me for a fool? You'll just run off with your life and keep your money."

The old man quickly responded, "I'll stay here with you. My men can go and bring the money."

Rain's expression darkened. "So they can bring reinforcements to besiege me? No, I don't need any more money. Write down all the martial arts techniques you know."

The old man hesitated, glancing at Rain's sword, which was once again pressed against his neck. "Wait! Wait! I'll write it down—but I don't have any paper."

Rain turned to the crowd gathered around them. "Does anyone have paper and ink?"

The girl Rain had saved stepped forward. "We do." She moved over to the carriage debris, searching through a bag until she pulled out some paper, an unbroken bottle of ink, and a feathered pen, handing them to Rain.

Rain handed the materials to the old man. "Start writing."

The old man sat down and began to write. Seeing the crowd still gathered behind him, Rain turned and said, "You can all go now." The crowd slowly dispersed, moving along the road toward the mountain. Only Zhou An, Lu Jing, and their fathers remained. Rain glanced at them briefly, understanding that they intended to travel with him to Wutan City and were eager to build a connection with a Grandmaster warrior.

Rain turned to the young woman he had saved. "I rescued you and your group, yet I don't know your name."

The girl inclined her head respectfully. "My name is Zhang Yue, Grandmaster."

Rain nodded. "And why were they chasing you? Why did they want you dead?"

Zhang Yue hesitated, but the old man interjected. "I pursued them for a fragment of a superior practice method belonging to their family."

Rain shot the old man an icy glare. "Did I ask you?" He pointed to the parchment. "Do your job and write faster; the sun is going to set." He then looked back at Zhang Yue in silence, waiting for her response.

After a moment, Zhang Yue gave a slight nod.

Rain's tone turned firm. "Then let the price of your rescue be that practice technique." His words left no room for argument.

Zhang Yue looked at her younger brother. "Fan, come here." The boy ran over eagerly, his eyes shining as he looked up at Rain like he was a hero.

"Give me the book I entrusted to you," Zhang Yue said.

The boy reached into his robe and pulled a small, worn book from a hidden pocket inside his vest, handing it to his sister, who then passed it to Rain.

Rain examined the book carefully, noting its aged, worn cover. Opening it, he read the title on the first page: Blood Flame Palm.