Chapter 19: An Unexpected Weapon (1)

Chapter Seven: An Unexpected Weapon

“Yan Chuan, you sickly wretch, you’re still not dead yet?” The man in purple spoke with a chilling tone.

“Hm?” Yan Chuan narrowed his eyes, instantly detecting a hint of murderous intent in the man’s words.

Who was he?

Swoosh! Swoosh! Swoosh!

Eighteen figures leapt down from the mountaintop in an instant.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

As they landed, clouds of dust billowed up. Off to the side, Huo Guang’s expression changed dramatically.

This mountain, though not tall, was not something even he dared to leap from, and yet these eighteen people landed unharmed? This meant that each of them possessed cultivation far superior to his own—by a vast margin.

Crash!

The soldiers in the valley immediately raised their spears, encircling the eighteen newcomers.

“Mortals and rabble—Yan Chuan, are you really going to greet us with this band of useless men?” The man in purple sneered with disdain.

Yan Chuan squinted at the crowd, then gave a heavy order: “Fall back to the west!”

“Yes, sir!” the soldiers responded in unison.

Spears held high, they slowly retreated.

The place was a gorge running east to west. A gentle breeze blew from the west, and the slight dust stirred by the soldiers’ retreat shrouded the eighteen men and women, lending them an ethereal and imposing presence.

The army fell back to the western end of the valley, weapons drawn, eyes fixed warily on the eighteen.

Huo Guang positioned himself protectively before Yan Chuan, an unprecedented gravity on his face, for he had already guessed the truth.

These eighteen—were people of the Immortal Sect! If that was so, then they surely wielded spells, perhaps even magical artifacts. Mortal arrows and blades were mere jokes before them.

What could be done?

Huo Guang’s grip on his spear tightened, veins bulging on the back of his hand—a clear sign of his tension. He was ready for a deadly confrontation.

Beside him, Liu Jin also stood guard before Yan Chuan, the horsetail whisk in his hand trembling slightly.

Not far off, the eighteen looked on with scorn.

Yan Chuan patted Liu Jin and Huo Guang on the shoulder.

“My lord?” The two looked at Yan Chuan in confusion.

“These are honored guests—there’s no need for alarm,” Yan Chuan said with a smile.

“Uh?” The two were taken aback.

“Yes, sir!” They then stepped aside, making way.

“Bring out the table from the palanquin,” Yan Chuan ordered.

“Yes, sir!” came the immediate response.

He directed two soldiers inside, who soon emerged carrying a small table from the palanquin, already set with pastries, fruit, and a censer.

“Burn incense to welcome our guests,” Yan Chuan instructed Liu Jin.

“At once!” Liu Jin took out his fire striker, preparing to light the incense.

Yan Chuan glanced at the cluster of Drunken Origin Fruits he had just plucked from the cliff wall. He picked one and handed it to Liu Jin. “Use a spiritual fruit for the incense. Place it in the censer and burn it together.”

“At once!” Liu Jin obeyed immediately.

As smoke drifted from the censer, Liu Jin stepped back, and Yan Chuan handed him the rest of the Drunken Origin Fruits to put away.

The eighteen watched Yan Chuan’s every move, a trace of surprise in their eyes.

“Oh? Seven years in the mortal realm, and you’ve certainly learned its trivial customs. Yan Chuan, are you still the same man you once were?” the man in purple called out coldly once again.

Yan Chuan stepped forward and looked calmly at the group.

“I have lost most of my memories. Who are you all, and why do you seem so familiar with me?” Yan Chuan replied evenly.

“Hahahaha! Don’t recognize me? Ah, I remember now—your soul-sickness again. You lose your memory once a year. Without the protection of your traitor father, you’re nothing but a worthless wretch. What can you possibly use to contend with me? Hahaha!” The man in purple was triumphant.

“Hahahaha!”