The Qi Arts Master Chapter 25
He broke away from the escorts' formation and strode toward the bandits. The chief escort and the other escorts exchanged startled glances, suggesting this wasn't some prearranged move by the transport firm.
"Everyone, protect your own lives. I'll do my best to clear a path for you."
The escort who stepped forward offered those curt words of caution before advancing with calm resolve. Slowly, he drew his sword—a striking blade with a hilt and edge of flawless black. Ordinary swords rarely achieved such a pure, deep ebony hue even after dozens or hundreds of polishings. The ore itself must have been exceedingly rare.
By now, the man had drawn near the heart of the bandits. In the eyes of all—including the bandits themselves—he swung his sword lightly. No one had anticipated an attack; the nearest bandit was still at some distance.
Shiiik—
With only the faintest whisper of slicing air, the blade traced a line and reached the other side. The man's body had followed its path, arriving right in the thick of the bandits. His movements were so swift and natural that they seemed almost inevitable.
But the illusion shattered in an instant.
"Gahk!"
One bandit clutched his throat and collapsed. Blood sprayed wildly from the wound.
It was an astonishing swift strike. The sheer unreal speed left everyone stunned, needing time to even register the death.
The bandit leader was the first to react, bellowing out.
"A swift-sword master! Focus on defense and swarm him!"
Yet these greenwood bandits were well-trained; they snapped to attention at their leader's command. Over ten of them swiftly encircled the black-sword man and attacked in unison, putting him in dire straits.
His expression and movements, however, brimmed with leisure.
Charrlk!
His sword quivered faintly, emitting a sound like a rattlesnake's warning.
Chaak!
Three bandits closing in from the side had their throats erupt in fountains of blood.
Clean.
Watching the man's swordsmanship, Tian Ailang was struck above all by its precision. Unlike the blade's peculiar vibration, its trajectory formed a perfect line. The grueling training behind such mastery was evident. Though Tian Ailang had never trained in swordplay, he knew the endless repetition required for flawless execution from his own fist techniques. He could well imagine the man's regimen.
"You bastard!"
Unable to contain himself as his men dropped like flies, the bandit leader swung his massive cleaver. Fierce blade qi surged forth. Even with his subordinates' harassment, no peak expert from the world's top hundred could have withstood ten exchanges against that strike.
Boooom!
The pressure from those hulking muscles and enormous blade was overwhelming.
But the black-sword man treated it like child's play, flicking his thin blade with one hand.
Kaang!
His slender sword effortlessly parried the giant cleaver. Then, with his free hand, he slapped the flat of the blade aside while spinning his body.
Pak!
A natural spinning kick sent the burly bandit leader flying three meters.
Impressive.
Tian Ailang marveled at the man's fluid grace. Having lately immersed himself in principles like natural stance and explosive force, he found the movements particularly striking. Most memorable was the instant he blocked the blade qi: a far more refined sword qi had flickered into being on his blade, then vanished. Supreme internal energy control.
I never thought of doing it that way. Brilliant. Must be incredibly efficient with his qi reserves.
Humiliation burning his face red, the bandit leader cracked his neck with a grinding crunch and rose. Radiating murderous fury, he closed in on the black-sword man. As he unleashed his full power without restraint, the surrounding trees and ground shuddered violently.
The other escorts and transport hands trembled in terror at the sight. Even his own men weren't immune; they edged away, faces paling at their leader's demonic visage. They knew better than to linger when he was like this—death was no guarantee otherwise.
"You're no pushover. The Blade King of the Greenwood will claim your life personally."
A grandiose title. Yet despite the immense presence, the black-sword man remained utterly composed—mocking, even.
"Pathetic as you are, how dare you even try?"
Enraged by the taunt, the bandit leader chopped down from overhead with blinding speed.
Mount Tai Crushes the Peak.
The most basic form of cleaver arts. Simple overhead strikes could unleash devastating power depending on the circumstance—especially with a cleaver, thicker and broader than a sword, optimized for heavy swings. A wielder like this bandit leader, slamming down with brute force and massive weight, could crush foes with sheer pressure and damage.
Against expectations that the black-sword man would dodge, he instead plunged into the leader's embrace. Explosive instantaneous movement—a peerless lightness skill.
Faster than the descending cleaver, he twisted the leader's wrist aside.
"Krahk!"
Amid the agony of shattered bones and momentum, the bandit leader tumbled to the ground. His humiliated grinding of teeth echoed through the mountains.
"Arrrgh! I'll kill you! No holding back—slaughter them all now!"
At his roar, the watching bandits flinched and split into groups. Half charged the black-sword man; the rest bore down on the transport crew. The standoff shattered into frantic battle.
"Hah!"
The chief escort blocked a bandit's assault. Curiously, he wielded a reverse-grip sword in his left hand. Tian Ailang, scanning for threats, stole a glance at his technique. Reverse grip allowed short spins and rapid combos in tight spaces—exactly what the chief was doing.
"Urk!"
One bandit fell to the chief's form. His internal strength seemed modest, but he seamlessly chained defense into offense with powerful rotation. Impressive.
Emboldened by the chief's success, the other escorts joined the fray against the bandits.
"Guhk!"
But soon, one of the weaker escorts—newly hired alongside the black-sword man—took a blind strike and collapsed. The gap widened, bandits pouring through with fiercer attacks.
Tian Ailang yearned to join the escorts' line, but couldn't. The bandits targeted the porters too. Then he spotted a blade arcing toward a nearby porter.
He shoved the man behind him and deflected the flat of the sword. Spinning seamlessly, he drove his elbow into the bandit's jaw with rotational force—mimicking the black-sword man and chief.
Pak!
The bandit crumpled like a puppet with cut strings.
Nearby bandits targeting porters turned their eyes to Tian Ailang.
"Everyone, fall back behind me and guard yourselves!"
Seizing the moment, Tian Ailang shouted. The flustered porters nodded frantically, retreating with the chief while huddling tight amid the cargo on the narrow path—backs together, as compact as possible.
Tian Ailang figured drawing the bandits' attention was the best way to shield them. He charged boldly into their ranks.
"Raaah!"
"Die!"
Startled by his sudden rush, the bandits bellowed and attacked. As Tian Ailang parried, he recalled the Yi brothers he'd met before—bandits with tragic backstories. These were different. They'd all trained some martial arts, not for grudges or survival, but pure self-interest. They killed without hesitation, thrusting blades with savage glee.
Tian Ailang relaxed his body and reached for the incoming sword.
Thung!
His hand extended to the next barrage of five or six stabbing blades.
Thung! Tingtingting!
Each precise gesture sent swords flying.
"Urk! What sorcery?!"
"Eugh!"
The bandits gaped in shock. Those attacking the escorts now fixated fully on Tian Ailang.
He plunged deeper into their midst.
Explosive Force.
"Keurk!"
"Kraaaagh!"
Perfect bodily balance, muscle control, power transmission—wherever the flow touched, agonized screams erupted. Some bandits tumbled down the slope.
Tian Ailang's steps were deliberate yet precise; his hands soft yet destructive. Over ten bandits fell in moments.
"Argh!"
A cry from behind made him whirl. The black-sword man was withdrawing his blade from the bandit leader's heart. Over twenty bandits, leader included, lay strewn around him. Meanwhile, a few attacking the escorts met their end at the chief's and escorts' hands.
"Ugh... run!"
The survivors grasped the hopelessness and fled in panic.
With their leader down, they see no hope.
Tian Ailang watched them go. He wanted to pursue and finish them, but without internal energy, lightness skills were impossible.
Slowly, he released his tension, relaxing his muscles. Over the past year, beyond treating Hwaran, he'd devoted spare time to physical conditioning—ways to move fast without qi, optimal muscle use, all he could manage now. Even after heavy explosive force use, no wolf-fight aftermath plagued him.
Then the black-sword man approached. Casually flicking blood from his blade, he sheathed it.
Tian Ailang met his gaze. Up close, the man was a striking youth: thick brows, blue eyes, bold features, and a resolute glint.
"Impressive skill. Gave me quite the show."
The man smiled and greeted him amiably.