Chapter Twenty-Seven: Turning the Tide

With a dull thud, the sound of blade meeting flesh echoed through the hall. A sword-wielding arm was severed, spinning through the air and scattering a rain of blood, finally coming to rest with a metallic clang as it struck the ground. Lin Xiaobao stood coldly beside Wang Dashan, his legs faintly trembling as he glared at the now one-armed Han Yongfeng. Though he uttered not a word, Han Yongfeng felt a terror and pressure that chilled him to the bone.

The agony of losing his right arm drained all color from Han Yongfeng’s face, yet not a trace of pain could be seen in his expression—only a boundless, unmitigated fear. Just as his sword was about to pierce Wang Dashan’s throat, a fierce wind swept over him, followed by a flash of black. He hadn’t even glimpsed what the shadow was before a cold numbness bloomed across his shoulder, and the scene unfolded as it did.

Not only Han Yongfeng, but every soul present in the Hongwu Hall felt as if their vision blurred—the entire situation had been overturned in an instant. None had seen how Lin Xiaobao struck, nor even when or how he moved. A seventh-level martial artist, with overwhelming strength and spectral speed—against such power, even a first-level fighter would gain nothing.

Like a plague, terror swept across the faces of the veteran disciples. The thought haunted them: if Lin Xiaobao’s target had been themselves, could they have possibly evaded him?

“If, within one breath, any veteran disciple remains in Hongwu Hall, he will serve as your example!” Lin Xiaobao’s sharp gaze swept across the crowd, and those whose eyes met his instinctively lowered their heads.

Once one veteran led the way out, the rest followed in a rush, fleeing as if for their lives. Supported by Yao Xinhong, Han Yongfeng also departed.

As the veterans left, victorious cheers erupted among the new disciples of Hongwu Hall. Every gaze turned to Lin Xiaobao, filled with admiration. In this world, if you possess strength, you command respect.

But before Lin Xiaobao could savor their reverence, his body swayed and he collapsed.

That last sword strike had drained all his strength. He had anticipated a deadly confrontation today, and had spent two hours last night flattering Elder Wu so much that the old man finally carved a Charm Fleet Array onto his legs. The array had a single function: to triple Lin Xiaobao’s speed.

Elder Wu warned him, however, that his body could not bear its effects, and he must never use it unless absolutely necessary.

At the time, Lin Xiaobao hadn’t fought anyone yet, and lacked confidence in his seventh-level skills. He simply reasoned that with such an array, even if he couldn’t win, he could always escape—after all, in martial arts, speed is everything, a truth Lin Xiaobao always remembered.

Unexpectedly, it proved useful now. When Han Yongfeng threatened Wang Dashan’s life, Lin Xiaobao quietly disabled the twentyfold gravity array on his body and activated the Charm Fleet Array.

Freed from the weight of the gravity array, Lin Xiaobao’s speed was already not inferior to Han Yongfeng, who was a ninth-level martial artist. With the added effect of the Charm Fleet Array and the swift sword intent from the Dragon-Slaying Sword Art, he was able to rescue Wang Dashan from the brink of death.

Yet, because Lin Xiaobao had concentrated the array’s power into a single explosive moment, his body could barely withstand it. That was why his legs trembled so violently. Only by sheer will did he suppress it, frightening off the veterans. Once he relaxed, he finally collapsed.

As Lin Xiaobao fell, panic swept through the new disciples, who surged forward to surround him.

“Back up, give him room!” the browless youth barked, and the new disciples scattered, though their eyes never left Lin Xiaobao. Their glances also took in the unconscious Wang Dashan at his side, curiosity brimming in their hearts.

Fortunately, the Spirit Gathering Array on Lin Xiaobao was still functioning, and after two hours, he finally awakened. Seeing that none of the new disciples had left Hongwu Hall, he felt a warmth in his heart—though the admiration and envy in their eyes brought him even greater satisfaction. After all his efforts, he finally tasted some reward.

“How are you? Are you alright?” Meng Ying asked, concern in her voice as she saw him awaken.

“Of course, I’m fine—just a little exhausted,” Lin Xiaobao replied, rising to his feet. He glanced at Wang Dashan, still unconscious, but with Elder Wu’s assurances, he wasn’t worried.

“Brother Lin is awake!”

“Brother Lin!”

As Lin Xiaobao came to, many disciples gathered around, addressing him warmly as Brother Lin.

“No, don’t call me brother—I’m not older than you, so let’s drop that,” Lin Xiaobao said. Though he enjoyed their admiration, being called ‘brother’ was another matter. In all the dramas and novels he’d read, being the senior brother was always a hardship—hardly his ideal.

“Don’t be so modest—you’re the idol of all the new disciples now!” Meng Ying’s gaze held a hint of adoration.

A beauty’s charm? Lin Xiaobao’s heart skipped a beat, but quickly resolved that he wouldn’t fall for it—unless the beauty stripped her clothes.

“Who is Lin Xiaobao?” Suddenly, two unfamiliar disciples entered through the doors of Hongwu Hall. The crowd fell silent as they saw the insignia on their yellow robes: a finely embroidered golden sword at the chest, marking them as enforcers from the Law Hall of Snowwind Pavilion.

The Law Hall—whether master or elder, or even an outer disciple—anyone who broke the Pavilion’s rules would be summoned and punished by its authority.

“I am. What business do you have with me?” Lin Xiaobao asked, though he guessed it must be about severing Han Yongfeng’s arm.

“Come with us,” the two replied without elaboration, turning to leave.

With no choice, Lin Xiaobao followed. He felt no fear—after all, he had a father who was an elder. In Snowwind Pavilion, he counted as the child of an official, and with connections above, his heart remained calm.

“I’ll go with you,” the browless youth said, stepping forward as well.

“The Law Hall isn’t a vegetable patch—you can’t just go there whenever you please,” one enforcer snorted, then accelerated ahead, the other following.

“Don’t worry, it’ll be fine,” Lin Xiaobao reassured him, then asked, “By the way, I still don’t know your name.”

After this ordeal, the browless youth’s regard for Lin Xiaobao had soared. He answered promptly, “I’m Wu Mei.”