Chapter 81: The True Evil-Dispelling Sword Manual

Lin Zhennan’s face turned deathly pale, drained of all color by terror. Though he still basked in the ancestral glory of his family, he knew his own limitations all too well. He was no match for Yue Buqun—if Yue wished to take his life, it would take no more than three moves.

Yue Buqun’s face, on the other hand, had gone a deep shade of purple—not from fear, but from a mix of shock and fury. The stranger before him was of unknown origin, yet according to Lao Denuo, this man’s martial prowess was so profound that he could unleash sword energy and intent—skills that bordered on the legendary. Yue Buqun dared not take such rumors lightly. He activated his Purple Mist Divine Skill, resolved that at the slightest sign of danger, he would flee immediately.

Yang Xin cared nothing for the anxieties of Lin Zhennan and Yue Buqun. He called out toward the doorway, “Old Shi, where have you died off to?”

“Senior, I’m here!” The head escort, Shi, hurried in, stumbling over himself in his haste.

“Do you know where Lin Chief Escort’s old family home in Xiangyang Lane is?” Yang Xin asked.

Shi blinked and, glancing at the ashen-faced Lin Zhennan, quickly nodded. There was no point in lying about this—everyone in Fuzhou knew the ancestral residence of the Fortune Escort Agency.

“Lead the way, and take my Shadow Clone to the old house in Xiangyang Lane,” Yang Xin said, taking charge as if the house was his own.

“What? Shadow Clone?” Shi was utterly bewildered.

What happened next left not just Shi, but everyone present, wide-eyed and open-mouthed like frogs.

“The Art of Shadow Clone!”

With a puff of white smoke, an identical figure appeared beside Yang Xin.

“Go on—don’t just stand there. Show the way,” Yang Xin’s clone said, grabbing the stunned Shi and striding toward the door. Then, they took off, flying toward the Lin family’s ancestral home in Xiangyang Lane, Fuzhou.

They flew toward Fuzhou...

“Immortal Master above! Yue Buqun, a humble disciple of the Xuan Sect, pays respect to the Immortal Master!” Yue Buqun shivered violently, instantly dispelling his Purple Mist Divine Skill, and fell to his knees.

If Yang Xin’s shadow clone had already left Yue Buqun and the others awestruck and wary, the act of flying while carrying someone shattered their last vestiges of composure. None of them even thought of resisting.

For sword energy and intent could still be attributed to the myths of the martial world; but to fly—this was the realm of immortals.

Lin Zhennan also snapped to his senses and immediately knelt down beside Yue Buqun.

One after another, with a series of thuds, everyone in the tavern aside from Yang Xin dropped to their knees.

Young Yue Lingshan, true to her childish nature, sneaked a look at Yang Xin while kneeling. Yang Xin flashed her a toothy grin, sending her ducking her head in fright.

“Up. Sit,” Yang Xin said, wasting no words.

This time, Yue Buqun and Lin Zhennan sat trembling in their seats, not daring to lift their heads or utter a word.

Before long, Yang Xin’s shadow clone returned, carrying Shi. The clone handed a monk’s robe to Yang Xin and, with a soft pop, vanished.

“This is your family’s true Evil-Repelling Sword Manual—the very manual that allowed Lin Yuantu to dominate the martial world and easily defeat the last head of the Qingcheng Sect. Tell me, Chief Lin, after all these years cultivating this manual, have you never found anything amiss?” Yang Xin teased.

“At Fortune Escort Agency, we believe in harmony breeds wealth,” Lin Zhennan replied with a nervous laugh.

“Take a look. Master Yue, you may see as well.”

“With you present, Immortal Master, I dare not presume, and besides, this is Lin Chief Escort’s family heirloom. If anyone should see it first, it should be you,” Yue Buqun said, suppressing his excitement and acting coy.

“Mortal martial arts are beneath my notice. If I tell you to look, then look. I trust Chief Lin won’t mind. Besides, this Evil-Repelling Sword Manual has deep ties to your Huashan Sect; it was this very manual that caused the tragic rift between sword and qi schools in your sect,” Yang Xin replied coolly.

It wasn’t that Yang Xin didn’t want to read it—he simply couldn’t understand it. A sword manual wasn’t something one could master by having the book alone; it was an inherited legacy, requiring years of foundational training.

“I do mind, but dare I say so?” Lin Zhennan’s face flushed and paled in quick succession.

“How is this Lin family manual connected to my Huashan Sect? And is it truly the cause of the sword and qi dispute? I beg Immortal Master to enlighten me,” Yue Buqun said respectfully.

“Well then, since you ask so earnestly, I’ll kindly tell you. The story begins when Huashan’s Yue Su and Cai Zifeng were invited to Putian Shaolin Temple as guests…”

Yang Xin proceeded to recount the origins of the sword-qi conflict and the story of Lin Yuantu, enlightening all those present.

“So that’s how it was!” Yue Buqun, hearing Yang Xin’s account and comparing it to his own knowledge, was convinced. There was no need for Yang Xin to deceive him.

“Do you really think that was the whole story behind the Huashan Sect’s sword-qi dispute?” Yang Xin suddenly asked.

“This…” Yue Buqun faltered, not sure what Yang Xin was getting at.

“Look beyond appearances to the essence. Shaolin saw that Huashan was growing too powerful, threatening to overshadow even Shaolin itself, and forming a tripartite balance with Wudang. So they took this sinister sword manual, gathering dust in some attic, and used it to fracture mighty Huashan, causing the deaths of countless masters, leaving only a handful of survivors…

But then, your sect’s greatest swordsman, Feng Qingyang, survived—and it’s fortunate he did. Without him, Huashan might have been wiped out long ago, and you and Ning Zhongze would never have had the chance to rise.”

Yue Buqun’s face turned ashen white in an instant.

“So that’s how it is!” Yue Buqun’s teeth ground audibly. The truth, now laid bare, was plain to see. Whether a true gentleman or not, the so-called Gentleman Sword was certainly no fool; he quickly deduced that Yang Xin spoke the truth.

“Behold!” Yang Xin slapped the table, startling Lin Zhennan and Yue Buqun. The two exchanged a glance, then hurriedly opened the monk’s robe. As the eight characters at the beginning—“To master this skill, you must first castrate yourself”—caught their eyes, both men drew a long, sharp breath.

“Damn it!”

“Damn it!”

Lin Pingzhi tiptoed, trying to get a look, but was promptly booted aside by Lin Zhennan. “Go play elsewhere, child.”

Lao Denuo, standing behind Yue Buqun, eyed the sword manual covetously, but catching sight of Yang Xin’s faint, knowing smile, he quickly turned away, slapping himself hard to quell his desire.

The Evil-Repelling Sword Manual truly deserved its reputation as the sinister sword art that ran through the entire tale. Even with such a shocking preface, it still drew Yue Buqun and Lin Zhennan in, their breathing growing more ragged as they read, sweat breaking out on their foreheads.

At this moment, Yang Xin casually handed them two sharp daggers. The two men, without thinking, took them up and raised them, preparing to strike between their own legs—a testament to the manual’s insidious power.

Just as they were about to strike, Yang Xin snapped his fingers—a sound resonant as a temple bell, echoing in their hearts.

Yue Buqun and Lin Zhennan snapped back to consciousness, drenched in sweat. Yue Buqun even vomited a mouthful of blood.

“Master Yue, what’s wrong with you two?”

“Immortal Master, forgive me—my inner force went awry, and I suffered a backlash,” Yue Buqun replied with difficulty. He immediately sat cross-legged, closed his eyes, and began to regulate and gather his scattered inner energy.

Yang Xin promptly activated his Byakugan. Since the Byakugan could perceive the flow of chakra, it could naturally see the movement of inner force. And since Yue Buqun cultivated the Purple Mist Divine Skill, the flow was easy to track. Yang Xin observed streams of purple inner energy within Yue’s body, coiling like a fiery serpent, gathering up the scattered energy and circulating it along a set meridian.

Yang Xin blinked, still unable to make much sense of it—after all, this was a complete system of inheritance, and he was an outsider. It was only natural that he couldn’t understand.

Lin Zhennan’s inner force was shallow and actually did him little harm, yet even so, he had to catch his breath repeatedly to restore order to his chaotic energy.

Meanwhile, Yue Buqun soon finished regulating his inner force and opened his eyes slowly.

The two men exchanged glances, each seeing in the other a tangled mix of terror and burning desire. Together, they exclaimed, “How could there exist such a diabolical martial art in this world?”

“You think this is sinister? There’s worse to come. Look into my eyes.”

Everyone looked up at Yang Xin, and for a moment, each felt a strange daze, as a blood-red kaleidoscopic Sharingan hovered in their minds…