Chapter 526 - 522: All for Nothing

Chapter 526: Chapter 522: All for Nothing

「Ten days later, Songquan County.」

The morning mist, like a thin veil, shrouded the fields on both sides of the main road. In the hazy daylight, the distant mountains were nothing more than pale blue silhouettes.

Dressed in a moon-white robe with the Cloud Splitting Sword at his waist, Fang Han walked at a leisurely pace along the main road.

After leaving Wangxi County, he had traveled west day and night, finally setting foot in Songquan County.

As he walked through Songquan County, Fang Han’s thoughts churned.

’Has Meng Zhao’s death already alerted the Red Flame Sect?’

’I burned the bodies of Meng Zhao and his three companions to ashes and deliberately destroyed all traces of the fight.’

’But I can’t guarantee I didn’t miss something.’

’If the Red Flame Sect follows the clues back to me, it’ll be a huge mess.’

’And what about the Grandmaster’s Tomb? The one that made Meng Zhao, a First-Grade Elder, travel so far to secretly search for it in Songquan County. Has the Red Flame Sect found it already?’

’When a Grandmaster passes away, their burial goods are usually incredibly valuable. It’d be a lie to say I’m not tempted.’

’Now that my Xuanwu True Skill has reached Minor Achievement and my strength has surged, I might even have a fighting chance against the best of the First Grade Martial Artists.’

’If that Grandmaster’s Tomb hasn’t been discovered yet, I wouldn’t mind fighting for it.’

Ahead, the outline of a city gradually emerged from the morning mist.

The city walls weren’t particularly high, perhaps seventy or eighty feet, built from ash-gray stone blocks. Atop the walls, banners drooped lazily in the morning breeze.

Fang Han stopped outside the city gate, took a Human Skin Mask as thin as a cicada’s wing from his Storage Ring, and carefully applied it to his face.

He had exchanged 3,000 Contribution Points for this mask at the Sect’s supply depot a long time ago. It could alter his appearance, and now it would finally come in handy.

He checked his reflection in the river, confirming that he looked like a completely different person. Only then did he casually wrap his Cloud Splitting Sword in cloth strips, sling it over his back, and stride toward the city gate.

The city guards, leaning against the gate’s archway and yawning, merely gave him a lazy glance as he approached before waving him through.

Once inside the city, Fang Han asked a passerby for directions and headed for the largest tavern in town.

’To gather information, teahouses and taverns are undoubtedly the best places to go.’

’Those traveling merchants, those Jianghu Travelers who live by the blade... after a few cups of cheap wine, their tongues get loose and they’ll say anything.’

The Guest-welcoming Tavern was the largest in the city. Located halfway down the main street, it was an impressive building with ornate, upturned eaves and a string of red lanterns hanging by the entrance.

Even though it was afternoon, the tavern was still bustling with customers. The noisy chatter and laughter drifted from the open windows, mingling with the aroma of food and wine that wafted out onto the street.

"This way, sir!" a waiter greeted him eagerly.

Fang Han didn’t linger in the main hall on the first floor, heading straight up to the second.

He chose a table by the window, propped his cloth-wrapped Cloud Splitting Sword against his chair, and casually ordered a few dishes.

The food arrived quickly: a plate of braised beef, a whole steamed perch, and a dish of greens with garlic.

He picked up his chopsticks and ate slowly, all the while listening in on the conversations from the surrounding tables.

At first, most of what he heard was just idle chatter.

Which shop had gotten new stock, which gang had recruited a few new members, whose daughter had married into what family, who had hunted a rare Demon outside the city—it was all trivial, with nothing worth his attention.

His expression remained unchanged as he ate slowly, waiting patiently.

Just then, a conversation from the next table drifted over to him.

"Do you guys think that First-Grade Elder from the Red Flame Sect, Meng Zhao, was really killed by Longquan Manor?"

The speaker was a middle-aged man with a swarthy complexion and a hoarse voice, as if his throat had been ruined by cheap liquor.

"Longquan Manor denies it," a skinny old man said, taking a large gulp from his wine bowl. "But if I were in their shoes, I wouldn’t admit it even if I had done it. It’s hard to say whether it was their doing or not."

Fang Han’s chopsticks paused for a moment.

’The Red Flame Sect is blaming Longquan Manor for Meng Zhao’s death?’

He impassively placed the slice of braised beef into his mouth and chewed slowly.

"I think it was most likely Longquan Manor. After all, a Grandmaster’s Tomb is at stake," a portly man who looked like a merchant chimed in, lowering his voice.

"True. A Grandmaster’s Tomb is reason enough for Longquan Manor to risk making an enemy of the Red Flame Sect," the swarthy middle-aged man said.

"A pity that in the end, neither the Red Flame Sect nor Longquan Manor was the one to get the Grandmaster’s Tomb," the skinny elder chuckled.

Fang Han continued to eat slowly, but his mind was racing.

’So the Grandmaster’s Tomb was found, but not by the Red Flame Sect or Longquan Manor. It was some other faction.’

’Which faction could it be?’

"But the faction that found the Grandmaster’s Tomb didn’t get to enjoy their prize for long."

The portly merchant shook his head, his tone a mixture of schadenfreude and lament.

"Their entire faction was wiped out that very night. Hundreds of people, from the top down. Not a single survivor was left."

Fang Han’s hand paused as he raised his wine cup.

’A faction of several hundred people, wiped out just like that.’

’This is the cruelty of the Martial Arts World. Without enough strength, obtaining a ’treasure’ you can’t protect isn’t a blessing—it’s a death sentence.’

"Which faction was it that attacked?"

the skinny old man asked, a hint of dread in his voice.

"Hard to say," the portly merchant said, shaking his head. "Several different groups attacked at once that night."

"What about the treasures from the Grandmaster’s Tomb?"

"They were divided up among the attackers, and then other factions started fighting over them. Now, nobody knows who has what. All we know is that people are still fighting and dying for it."

Fang Han drained the rest of the wine in his cup. He found the situation both laughable and lamentable.

’The Red Flame Sect sent their First-Grade Elder, Meng Zhao, to secretly infiltrate Songquan County, scheming to claim the Grandmaster’s Tomb for themselves. And in the end, it was all for nothing.’

’Meng Zhao is dead, the Red Flame Sect got nothing, and they even made an enemy of Longquan Manor.’

’It’s a classic case of trying to steal a chicken, only to lose the rice used as bait.’

’It’s a shame I was a step too late.’

’If the Grandmaster’s Tomb were still untouched, with my current strength, I wouldn’t have minded fighting for it.’

He put down his chopsticks, settled the bill, and went downstairs. Merging with the crowd on the street, he headed for the city gate.

’Since the Grandmaster’s Tomb has already been discovered, there’s no point in staying in Songquan County. I might as well head back to the Sect.’

Leaving the city, Fang Han continued along the main road.

After about an hour of walking, the main road narrowed, and the trees on either side grew denser.

Ancient trees reached for the sky, their branches draped with hanging vines. The afternoon sun, filtered through the dense canopy, created a pattern of dappled light on the forest floor, which was carpeted in decaying leaves.

The occasional birdsong in the distance only accentuated the tranquility of the wilderness.

’Hmm? Someone’s fighting!’

Fang Han paused. He could sense two groups ahead, locked in battle.

The faint clang of weapons reached his ears.

SWOOSH!

He darted into the dense woods beside the road, suppressed his aura, and moved silently toward the source of the sound.

A moment later, he stopped behind an ancient tree so massive it would take several people to encircle its trunk. He peered through a gap in the foliage.

Ahead lay a relatively open clearing, surrounded by ancient trees. The ground was covered in a thick, silent carpet of decaying leaves.

In the clearing, two groups of people were locked in a fierce battle.

Blades flashed and Qi Force erupted, devastating the surrounding shrubs and undergrowth.

Several small trees, as thick as a dinner bowl, had been severed at the trunk. The cuts were fresh, showing they had been felled only moments before.

One group of seven or eight men wore matching dark gray martial arts attire, with a silver wave pattern embroidered on their cuffs.

Their leader was a burly, bald brute. He was bare-chested, revealing bronze-colored, powerful muscles. Two menacing black dragons were tattooed on his arms.

He wielded a pair of short-handled iron hammers, each swing carrying enough force to shatter stone.

The other group, numbering over a dozen, wore black martial arts attire.

Their leader was a gaunt man approaching fifty. He had a sallow complexion, high cheekbones, and a pair of narrow, sharp eyes.

He wielded a Thick-Backed Ghost Head Saber with a fierce and domineering Saber Technique, each slash whistling through the air.

Fang Han’s gaze swept over them. Judging by their auras, the gaunt man’s Cultivation was slightly higher, around the Middle Stage of Fourth Grade, while the bald brute’s was a bit weaker, at the Early Stage of Fourth Grade.

’With my current strength,’ Fang Han thought, ’I could wipe out both of these groups with ease.’

He didn’t reveal himself, content to watch quietly from behind the ancient tree.

"Hand over the item, and I’ll spare your life," the gaunt man said as they fought.

"Dream on! I’d rather destroy it than give it to you!"

the bald brute roared, forcing his opponent back with a swing of his hammer. His voice was rough and hoarse, filled with suppressed fury.

"Then you can die."

The gaunt man wasted no more words. His figure blurred, and the Ghost Head Saber became a streak of black light, slashing straight for the bald brute’s face.

The two men clashed once more.

The flash of the saber and the shadow of the hammer intertwined. The roar of exploding Qi Force was incessant as the surrounding trees suffered, their branches and leaves shredded by stray gusts of saber energy and the wind from the hammer.

Fang Han watched quietly. ’What on earth are they fighting over?’ he wondered.

’Could it be something from the Grandmaster’s Tomb?’

The tide of the battle slowly turned. The gaunt man’s group gained the upper hand, and the bald brute’s men began to fall one after another.

Screams and roars mixed together, only to be drowned out by the sickening thuds of blades striking flesh and the sharp cracks of breaking bones.

In less than fifteen minutes, only the bald brute was left, struggling to hold on.

His body was covered in seven or eight wounds, large and small. The most severe was on his left shoulder—a gash so deep that bone was visible. His left arm hung limply at his side, blood dripping from his fingertips.

He had only one of his short-handled iron hammers left; the other had flown from his grasp at some point and was now embedded in the trunk of a nearby tree.

The gaunt man gave the bald brute no chance to catch his breath.

His Ghost Head Saber slashed out with the speed of lightning, each strike faster and more vicious than the one before. The bald brute, unable to dodge, could only raise his remaining hammer to parry.

CLANG—!

The sound of metal on metal exploded through the forest, sending sparks flying.

The force of the blow knocked the hammer from the bald brute’s hand. He staggered back and slammed hard against the trunk of a tree, spewing a mouthful of blood before sliding to the ground.

The gaunt man swiftly moved in and finished the bald brute with a single slash.

He searched the bald brute’s body and, from an inner pocket, pulled out a Beast Hide Booklet with a dark brown cover.

The booklet was about two fingers thick. There was no writing on the cover, only a few faint, indecipherable patterns.

The gaunt man held the Beast Hide Booklet and flipped through a few pages. A strange flush suddenly crept over his face, which had been weary from the intense fight.

His hands began to tremble, his knuckles cracking as he gripped the booklet.

"A Grand... A Grandmaster Technique!"

He snapped his head up, his voice distorted with ecstasy.

"It really is! A Grandmaster Technique from the Grandmaster’s Tomb!"