The Assassin’s Message

Just as Fengyun Wuji shouted, a loud crack came from above—the sound of branches snapping. A powerful force surged down from the treetops. His expression changed instantly, and he sprang to his feet, thrusting a palm upward.

Boom!

The carriage exploded. Wooden planks shattered in all directions, and even Guyue Tian was flung away by the blast. The carriage base splintered apart, and the driver died on the spot. The ground beneath them, within a hundred-zhang radius, caved in under the pressure, leaving a sunken crater starkly contrasted with the surrounding terrain. The dense red-leafed maple trees lining the path were crushed into splinters, their leaves drifting through the air like crimson snow.

Fengyun Wuji realized too late—because the enemy had employed some advanced concealment technique, he hadn't sensed them until they were already close. Caught off guard, he had only used the equivalent of a million years of cultivation to block the attack. He had assumed that would be more than enough—but to his astonishment, the ambusher also possessed millions of years' worth of inner power. In his unpreparedness, Fengyun had suffered a minor loss.

What truly shocked him, however, was this: aside from his own group, how could anyone in this plane possess such immense cultivation?!

The realization rocked him. It defied everything he believed about this world.

With the carriage obliterated, a black-clad figure appeared above. In midair, the man let out a sharp whistle, then reversed course and shot off into the distance.

An assassin—without a doubt. A single failed strike, and he retreated immediately.

Fengyun Wuji instantly recognized the assassin for what he was. There was no way he would let this man escape so easily. He shouted, "You're not getting away that easily!"

Bending his knees ever so slightly, he launched himself forward like a bolt of lightning. Releasing the restraints on his true power, he surged ahead with a speed that defied description—millions of years of cultivation fueling his every step. The assassin, with his own millions of years of power, was already unimaginably fast. But Fengyun Wuji was more than twice as fast. In the blink of an eye, he crossed over several mountain ranges and caught up with his quarry.

"Hmph. Tell me where you came from and who you serve, and I might let you live," he said coldly, blocking the man's path.

The masked assassin didn't reply. Instead, he darted off in another direction. Fengyun Wuji shifted and once again appeared in his way.

"I want answers. Refuse, and you die." His voice was now tinged with fury.

The black-clad man flipped mid-air and shot upward. Fengyun Wuji gave a cold snort. His right hand flashed beneath his sleeve—and the Star-Absorbing Art was unleashed.

The assassin suddenly plummeted from hundreds of meters in the sky. Just as Fengyun Wuji prepared to strike again, the man abruptly turned midair and unleashed a palm filled with overwhelming power, momentarily countering the suction force of the technique. Then he screamed sharply, "Don't you want to save your disciple?!"

Fengyun Wuji's heart lurched. His divine sense darted back to the ambush site at light speed—and immediately saw dozens of black-clad figures, each with tens of thousands of years' worth of cultivation, closing in on Guyue Tian. Though his disciple was strong, he had been injured during the earlier clash of overwhelming powers.

Fengyun Wuji gave a cold snort and was about to seize the assassin and return to save Guyue Tian—but the man was sly. Sensing Fengyun's hesitation, he suddenly coughed up a mouthful of blood. His eyes gleamed, and his aura surged dramatically.

He had clearly activated some forbidden technique to boost his power. Fengyun Wuji could still capture him, but it would cost time—and Guyue Tian might not survive that delay.

Weighing his options, Fengyun Wuji let out a furious roar. With his right hand, he unleashed the Fifth Sword Gallbladder—a brilliant, earth-shattering slash—then turned and raced back without even checking the result.

In mere seconds, just as the black-clad attackers had barely moved a few steps toward Guyue Tian, Fengyun Wuji appeared before them. The Fifth Sword Gallbladder swept outward, its edge as sharp as judgment itself. Miserable cries rang out as dozens of assassins were cleaved in two before they could even draw their blades.

Fengyun Wuji grabbed Guyue Tian and poured a surge of true energy into his body to aid in his healing. Without stopping, he flashed toward where the assassin had last been seen. Though only a few seconds had passed, the man was already gone. All that remained was a puddle of blood—and a severed arm.

He had fled in a hurry, even forgetting to retrieve his arm.

Fengyun Wuji unleashed his divine sense, scanning tens of thousands of li in an instant—but found no trace. The assassin, like the one beneath the iron chains from earlier, had clearly cultivated some unique speed technique that could evade even divine perception.

"Damn it," Fengyun Wuji muttered through gritted teeth. He knew the man couldn't have gone far—but that didn't help if he couldn't track him down.

His mind raced. The situation was growing more complex by the moment. Clearly, another faction had entered this plane—a faction powerful enough to send assassins with million-year cultivation. That shouldn't have been possible. Something was terribly wrong. Fengyun Wuji felt as though he were on the edge of understanding… but not quite there.

"Forget it. Let's go," he finally said with a sigh.

"Ancestor," Guyue Tian said, his voice still weak but filled with indignation. "You're just going to let him go?"

"He's nothing but a pawn. Let him live—for now. But he's already told us plenty." Fengyun Wuji's tone turned grim. "Another force has entered this plane. That's no small matter. We need to move quickly."

Guyue Tian stiffened, stunned. "There are others?"

"Yes," Fengyun Wuji nodded. "Tian, how far are we from the Northern Ice Sword Sect?"

"Not far. That mountain ahead—that's where it lies." Guyue Tian pointed forward.

"Then let's go." Fengyun Wuji glanced toward the peak, gauged the distance, grabbed his disciple, and soared through the air toward it.

The Northern Ice Sword Sect

Perched atop a massive mountain, the sect's home sat on a flattened summit as though a giant blade had sliced off the peak. Steep cliffs ringed the mountaintop, with only a single narrow path leading downward.

Before the sect's courtyard stretched a vast square paved with blue stone—originally designed as a training ground for disciples. But now, when Fengyun Wuji arrived with Guyue Tian, he saw the square filled with countless warriors, arranged in formations, dressed in various styles. Nearly all of them had surpassed the Ascension Realm, and many had gray hair, suggesting they had forcibly remained here for countless years.

At the front stood several imposing elders. The moment Fengyun Wuji landed, one of them—a silver-bearded man in a scholar's robe—stepped forward, pointed a finger at him, and shouted, "You're just in time. We've been waiting for you!"

"That's the head of the Vast Sword Sect," Guyue Tian whispered in shock. "He's said to have been around since Elder Chishang's time—over four hundred years ago—and he still hasn't ascended!"

"The massacre at Nightglow Manor," the elder declared, sword in hand and righteous fury in his voice, "must have been your doing! All the sects are gathered here today. No matter how great your power, you will not escape justice!"

As soon as he finished, thousands of cultivators surged forward, surrounding Fengyun Wuji and Guyue Tian. Their formation vaguely resembled a sword array—a net from which few could escape…