Volume One The Youngest Among Three Hundred Chapter Eighty Killing and the Massacre of a Town

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Trapped within the swirling torrent, a powerful fear churned endlessly inside Lady Jin, the threat of death so overwhelming that she instinctively shrank her neck and tried to shield her head. Yet after several moments of desperate, teeth-gritted deliberation, she finally cast aside her terror and charged forward without hesitation.

“No matter who you are or why—give me back my daughter’s life!”

She ran desperately with wild, reckless strides.

Bang!

But she was only flesh and blood. The sweeping, spiraling waters soon battered her back, sending her flying—if not for Chen Chang’an’s timely catch, she would have been dashed to pieces.

Her feet barely touched the ground before she, trembling with the horror of her near-death, clung fiercely to Chen’s sleeve and wailed, “Lord Chen, Granny Gui is the murderer behind the serial killings in Stone Bridge Town! You mustn’t let her go—avenge my Ruolan!”

Chen Chang’an did not answer. He simply stood beneath his umbrella, poised in the downpour, every sense honed on the shifting energies around them. One thing was certain: this oppressive force could not have come from Granny Gui herself. He had already exchanged blows with her in the secret passage beneath the Arhat Temple—he knew exactly what she was capable of.

So then…was she wielding a powerful artifact?

Or was this the work of some kind of formation?

The dire omen that the divination had revealed before he left the Black Gown Guards—it must have pointed to this very moment.

Chen Chang’an pressed his right hand’s index and middle fingers together, slashing the air with the Immortal-Slaying Heart Technique.

Swish!

A faint, undulating ripple of sword intent shot forth, vanishing the moment it touched the whirling water wall, as if swallowed whole.

Just a test. Chen Chang’an knew his limits—he had never expected to break Granny Gui’s trump card so easily. He was only at the peak of the Body-Refining stage, still far from the strength required.

It appears the water wall can devour attacks.

If it were simply a matter of mutual attrition, both sides would suffer losses. But his attack had clearly been swallowed up.

Devouring…no, it’s not that simple.

Beyond the watery vortex, Granny Gui raised her arm and curled her palm at empty air before her. “Did you know that Master One-Brow was not only a monk, but a mighty being from the demon realm? Later, he broke the precepts, had his demon bones removed, and became a mere mortal.”

“This formation was something he smuggled out and gifted me on our wedding day for self-defense. Its power is limitless. Chen Chang’an, you should never have come after me.”

“All abominations must die! Any who stand in my way—die!”

With the word “die,” the countless swirling torrents gathered inward, converging into a single, twisting force.

Damn, this really is the great calamity!

Chen Chang’an dared not show the slightest disrespect. To unleash his full strength, he quickly switched his umbrella to his left hand, freeing his right to draw a green bamboo hairpin from his hair. A conviction rose in his heart—a belief that even gods and immortals could be cut down by this technique. Every ounce of his peak-stage power surged forth.

His arms bulged, muscles swelling.

Crash!

He struck with the bamboo stick at a slant, a surge of dense emerald light cleaving toward the spinning wall of water with overwhelming force.

And yet…gone. The attack simply vanished—dissipated, evaporated, leaving nothing behind.

Damn!

Having poured everything into that one strike, Chen Chang’an was left utterly spent, his breath coming faster, feeling the same emptiness one experiences after a bridal chamber’s night.

Still wanted more…no, wanted to strike again, but was too exhausted.

Damn it! He could only curse in frustration.

Huff…

Huuu…

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The watery vortex now swelled like an ever-growing snowball, expanding to a diameter of twelve or thirteen meters, its height piercing the pitch-black night skies straight into the clouds. The surrounding houses had all collapsed, roof tiles scattered like leaves.

Chen Chang’an and Lady Jin stood only a hair’s breadth away from disaster.

“Ah!” Lady Jin clung desperately to Chen Chang’an’s arm, screaming as the bone-chilling cold assailed her, seeping into her skin, veins, bones—even her very soul. Her face twisted under the immense pressure.

Above, the fierce spinning created an irresistible, supernatural suction.

“What do we do? What do we do!” she shrieked in despair, her voice raw with terror.

Chen Chang’an’s chest heaved. “How should I know?!”

He had only just crossed over to this world, the full moon not yet past, and hadn’t even had the chance to throw a feast—was he really to perish here?

“Peach Blossom, Su Wanqiu, and all those lovely sisters on the second, third, fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh floors of Fragrant Pavilion whom I’ve never even met…”

Wait, Fragrant Pavilion!

A sudden inspiration struck Chen Chang’an. He had a cheat, after all—why not use it instead of waiting for death? He immediately tried to slip into the Fragrant Pavilion, longing for a comforting embrace, but to his dismay, it was useless—he opened his eyes and was still trapped within the vortex.

How could this be? This was his grand design before leaving Chang’an City—was it truly worthless?

Wait!

At the critical moment, a memory from a past-life film scene flashed through his mind: the Kung Fu Emperor Li, in his enlightenment of Tai Chi, spinning like a roly-poly toy and flinging all objects away.

Yes, spin!

The reason even the most powerful attacks came to nothing was because both the inner and outer layers of the vortex spun continuously. Any focused force was instantly split apart and dispersed into countless points.

What seemed a direct hit only dealt a thousandth of its damage.

Understanding the principle, he saw two possible ways: either stop the spinning, or counterattack with a similarly rotating force.

The former was beyond him, but as for the latter…

A sly smile tugged at Chen Chang’an’s lips. He slid the green bamboo stick back into his hair, swapped his umbrella to his right, and once more invoked the Immortal-Slaying Heart Technique, his will to cut gods and immortals growing ever stronger.

This time, his weapon was not sword nor bamboo, but the umbrella itself.

Clutching the handle, he twisted with all his strength, spinning the entire umbrella. Rainwater was flung from its ribs, droplets cast wide by centrifugal force.

From the fourteen ribs of the umbrella, fourteen streams of rain arced outward, forming constantly shifting curves that expanded and stretched.

Bang!

Once gathered, these streams flashed across the gap, imbued with the power to sever even immortals, and crashed into the inner wall of the encroaching vortex. Clockwise and counterclockwise forces collided visibly, grinding, eroding, and within a few breaths—bang!—both forces shattered, water spraying everywhere.

What…

“You…Chen Chang’an, how could you possibly unravel the mysteries of the Profound Water-Control Formation!” Granny Gui staggered back in disbelief.

Rain drummed down relentlessly as Chen Chang’an listened intently, not bothering to answer. He pronounced sentence with crisp finality: “You can choose to confess and accept execution according to the law—or die right here and now.”

“Chen Chang’an…I will never forgive you!”

Frustrated in her schemes, Granny Gui erupted in boundless hatred and fury, stabbing with a dagger in a wild, formless thrust.

Chen Chang’an snapped the umbrella shut and swung it like a sword.

With a whoosh, her head fell to the ground.

“Other than her formation, she was nothing special,” Chen Chang’an remarked.

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He had actually wanted to ask about Master One-Brow—about the demon realm and its nature. But seeing Granny Gui’s obsession and fierce temper, he decided it would be disrespectful not to grant her a swift end.

…

The next morning, rain still poured, the sky heavy and dark. Just before dawn, deafening gongs rang out at the post station gates. Peng Wanli, roused from his softest feather bed, grumpily shoved open the door and called, “Go see who it is! Who’s making such a racket this early?”

“Yes, sir!” The guards rushed to obey and soon returned to report, “It’s…Lord Chen at the gate, striking the gong.”

“What? Chen…Chen Chang’an?”

Peng Wanli’s drowsiness all but vanished, his mind running wild. “He must be jealous I found the murderer first and is here to stir up trouble. Really, as an official, serving the people and the court should be one’s duty—not these petty games!”

“It’s not that, sir. Lord Chen hasn’t said much, but Lady Jin, who’s with him…” the guard muttered.

“What about Lady Jin?” Peng Wanli snapped impatiently.

Frightened, the guard spoke more clearly: “Lady Jin says the village head is not the murderer, that she framed him, and she’s here to confess.”

“What did you say?!”

Peng Wanli, who’d been about to crawl back into bed, leaped up, grabbing the guard by his collar. “Lady Jin said that herself?”

“Yes,” the guard nodded timidly.

“Then…who is the real murderer?”

In a panic, Peng Wanli began pacing wildly. He’d already sent his report to his superiors, written up the case after convicting the village head the night before, and ordered banners posted all over Stone Bridge Town declaring the news.

If it turned out the headman was innocent, not only would he be disgraced before the townsfolk, but he’d also face charges of reporting a false case to his superiors.

“Lady Jin has ruined me…” Peng Wanli curled up in a corner, sniffling like a child, utterly heartbroken.

…

Outside the town, upon the stone bridge, the rain had lessened but the skies remained overcast and heavy. The three figures stood as before, as if neither their positions nor their angles had changed since the beginning.

Aman cast a sidelong glance at Hua Mulian, who lay at the bridgehead with a short knife by her hand, soaked through by the rain. With curiosity, Aman asked, “Why didn’t you kill her last night?”

Yingsi shook his head, his tone meaningful. “The Water-Mirror Sword is a blade of pure righteous energy. For us to use it, its spirit must first be polluted by bloodshed. That’s why we’ve kept her alive for now—why waste the opportunity?”

“Hmph!” Aman’s mouth twisted. “There are thousands of people in Stone Bridge Town. Isn’t that enough?”

“Indeed.” Yingsi’s gaze lingered on Hua Mulian between them for a moment before he spoke again, “Who would have thought that the spirit fetus Blood Ancestor brought back all those years ago would turn out to be Hua Mulian’s sister. Quite interesting.”

After a pause, he added, “Oh, by the way, I fought her last night in the ninety-seventh original technique mirror. You weren’t hurt, were you?”

Instinctively rubbing her left shoulder, Aman grimaced but bluffed, “Hurt? She’s just a martial artist. As if I couldn’t handle her!”

“Yingsi, your attention should be on that pillar of water in Stone Bridge Town last night. Even from a distance, you could clearly feel the aura of our demon realm. We need to investigate thoroughly before we return.”

Yingsi nodded, then shook his head. “It is strange. If I hadn’t feared disrupting the chance to claim the Water-Mirror Sword, I’d have gone to see for myself last night. When the time comes to slaughter the town, we must get to the bottom of it.”