Chapter Thirty-One: Lin Tian Reveals Himself

For a martial artist of the Seventh Rank to achieve such speed was already extraordinary, but unfortunately, his opponents today were innate martial artists—six of them, no less.

Lin Xiaobao had barely managed to run a few hundred meters before he was surrounded by the six, hemmed in at the very center.

“I must admit, I truly admire you,” Long Xingtian said, his face finally revealing a sinister edge as he watched Lin Xiaobao, who now had no chance of escape, “your talent, your cultivation technique, and your courage in daring to topple the Little Demoness.” He sneered. “But not all geniuses rise to greatness. Hand over your cultivation technique, and I’ll give you a swift death!”

The six now stood united, and Long Xingtian no longer bothered to conceal his intentions.

Seeing all paths cut off, Lin Xiaobao knew without a doubt that he was in a deadlock; his opponents had no intention of sparing him. With a flick of his wrist, he raised his sword and declared, “The secret art is in my hand. If you have the skill, come and take it!”

“With your talent, perhaps ten years from now you’d be qualified to say such things to me. But for now... Without strength to back it up, the greatest sword technique is nothing but a petty trick.” As Long Xingtian spoke, his form blurred. Lin Xiaobao felt as if his vision flickered, and his opponent was suddenly before him, the sword’s tip thrusting for his wrist with indescribable speed. If not for his powerful spiritual perception, Lin Xiaobao wouldn’t even have seen the attack.

The fierceness in Lin Xiaobao’s eyes was finally smothered by despair. So this was what he amounted to in the eyes of an innate martial artist—nothing at all.

Dragon’s Flashing Sword!

He unleashed the only sword move he knew, but this time, Lin Xiaobao altered his approach, focusing the dozen strikes he delivered in a single instant all on one point, hoping speed might make up for the gulf in their power.

Yet he still underestimated the might of an innate martial artist. They wielded spiritual energy, after all. The moment his sword met his opponent’s, Lin Xiaobao felt a mysterious force transmitted down the blade, making his meridians ache unbearably. By the final strike, with a resounding clang, his sword shattered under the strain, the tiger’s mouth split open, and the recoil sent him flying backward.

“Find a way to buy more time! That cheap father of yours is on his way, but his cultivation is too weak—it’ll take him a bit longer to get here,” came the simultaneous voices of the two elders in Lin Xiaobao’s mind.

Though they could not help him with strength, their soul perception was unmatched.

Lin Xiaobao had no time to quibble over whether the Spirit Realm counted as “too weak.” He bellowed, “Wait! I have something to say!” as he struggled to stand.

“Oh? You’ve changed your mind? Ready to hand over the technique?” Long Xingtian looked down at Lin Xiaobao, savoring his dominance.

Lin Xiaobao glanced around, again giving up on escape. “There’s only one technique, but six of you. Who should I give it to?”

“Do you really think your little tricks will work on me?” Long Xingtian scoffed. “If you open your mouth again and say anything unrelated to the technique, I’ll sever your tendons myself—hands and feet!”

Cruel indeed! Lin Xiaobao had to admit that Long Xingtian was a man of ruthless resolve. Adopting a pitiful look, he said, “If I reveal it, I’ll be killed on the spot. Before I die, I want to know your names—at least let me know who’s sending me off. Otherwise, even if you kill me, I won’t utter a single word about the technique!”

Long Xingtian hadn’t expected this request. “That can be arranged. Brothers, report your names!”

Yu Yongming, Ji Ziyu, Wan Taichu, Ye Jingming, He Shaoqi.

After the others gave their names, they said impatiently, “Well? Now you can die with your mind at ease. We don’t have much patience left!”

No matter how clever Lin Xiaobao was, he found himself at a loss when faced with these six unreasonable adversaries. As he considered how to stall for more time, Long Xingtian’s patience finally ran dry. “It seems you just won’t give up until the very end!”

Soaring through the air like a great roc, Long Xingtian flicked his wrist, sending a flurry of sword flowers to envelop Lin Xiaobao’s limbs.

Barely able to stand, Lin Xiaobao now lacked even the strength to move. The dazzling sword light brought a chill that filled him with despair and resentment.

“How dare you!” A thunderous voice exploded through the air, and a figure materialized from the void, stepping in front of Lin Xiaobao. With a single raised finger, he unraveled Long Xingtian’s fierce assault and sent him hurtling backward, even faster than he’d come. By the time Long Xingtian hit the ground, blood was streaming from his lips.

“Elder Lin Tian?” The six were stunned. None had expected Elder Lin Tian to appear, much less to protect Lin Xiaobao.

“How admirable—six personal disciples ganging up on an outer disciple who cannot even cultivate?” Lin Tian’s gaze swept over each of them in turn. Though they were innate cultivators, all six felt as though they’d been plunged into an icy abyss.

Turning, he looked at Lin Xiaobao and asked, “Are you all right?” The contrast in tone was stark.

By now, even a fool could see that the relationship between Lin Xiaobao and Elder Lin Tian was anything but ordinary.

When that imposing figure appeared to shield him at his most helpless moment, Lin Xiaobao suddenly felt that having such a “cheap father” wasn’t such a bad thing after all. Meeting Lin Tian’s concerned gaze, Lin Xiaobao nodded gently. “I’m fine.”

A strange feeling welled up within him—fatherly love, something he’d never known before.

“Let’s go!” Lin Tian said, sweeping his arm. A gentle force enveloped Lin Xiaobao, and the two of them rose from the ground, transforming into a streak of light that vanished into the night.

Lying on the ground, Long Xingtian’s throat bobbed as if he wanted to say something about keeping Lin Xiaobao in the Hall of Justice, but in the end, he dared not utter a word.

“We’ve had enough of the Hall of Justice for one night. Time to return to our cultivation,” Ji Ziyu remarked, distancing himself from the incident as he activated his movement technique and sped away. The others followed suit.

As personal disciples of Snowwind Pavilion, they knew the inner workings of the sect far better than any outer disciple like Lin Xiaobao. Although Elder Lin Tian wielded no influence and had never accepted a personal disciple, his monstrous cultivation was second to none among the elders—perhaps even a match for the pavilion master himself.

Soaring through the air, watching the shadows slip away beneath him, Lin Xiaobao felt a thrill in his heart. Was this the Spirit Realm? As they traveled, he heard not the slightest whisper of wind, and realized it was Lin Tian’s power protecting him. Only now did Lin Xiaobao understand that his self-assured strength of a day ago counted for nothing before a true master.