Chapter Forty-Two: Cousin?

Though four had perished, more than a dozen still remained.

Several had gone to assist their leader, leaving the others to face two or three opponents each. The pressure of confronting two or three peers of equal strength was immense; not everyone could fight above their level just because they wished it. Now that Steward Wei was entangled, their defeat was only a matter of time.

Lu Han was secretly anxious. No matter how he called out to Old Man Ling, there was no response from the azure-blue ring.

A cry rang out—Chen Jun’s back was slashed open, the wound so deep that bone was faintly visible. Moments before, Hong Banmei had nearly been cut down, but Chen Jun had risked his life to save her.

“Brother Jun!”
“Brother Chen!”

Lu Han gritted his teeth. “I have no choice but to gamble.” After the fierce battle just now, his internal energy was all but depleted. In their current plight, unless Steward Wei could break free, there was little hope. The only way was for the leader to fall, or at least be rendered unable to fight.

Wei, the steward, was stifled with frustration. These men had no intention of facing him head-on, only stalling and circling him. The Biluo Sword in his hand pointed obliquely as he summoned all his strength, energy bursting forth from his body. Planting his foot into the earth, he launched himself straight at the enemy leader.

The leader, locked in a trembling struggle with Steward Wei, saw Lu Han—a mere cultivator of the seventh tier—charging in and a flicker of disdain flashed in his eyes.

Lu Han appeared before him in an instant, dense cold air swirling as he brought the Biluo Sword slashing down.

Sparks flew as the blade clashed with a long saber, the metallic clang ringing out. Lu Han felt his hand go numb.

“This guy seems weaker than that Zheng Qi,” Lu Han thought.

“Steward Wei, help me!” Lu Han leaped atop Steward Wei’s head. The old steward, quick-witted as ever, understood at once. He thrust both palms upward, striking Lu Han’s soles, and Lu Han borrowed the force to soar high into the air. Forming a seal with his hands, he swept his longsword in a dazzling arc.

Suddenly, he flipped head-down, the Biluo Sword aimed straight at the leader below, his body spinning rapidly.

“Profound Grade Advanced Martial Art: Sword of the Icy Lotus!” Lu Han shouted silently in his heart.

The leader watched Lu Han plummet from above, a sense of danger flashing through him. He suddenly felt that he could not withstand this sword strike—a realization that startled him. Was he, a master of the ninth tier, about to be bested by a mere seventh-tier youth?

Yet, with years of hard-earned experience in Tianlan City, he chose to trust his instincts. Grabbing a nearby subordinate, he hurled the man upward as a shield, using the recoil to leap backward.

That unfortunate man had no time to react before Lu Han’s sword descended.

A thunderous crash shook the ground, sending dust billowing into the air. A crackling sound followed; a massive icy lotus had formed on the ground, the leader at its center. He was still a step too slow—the aftermath of the Sword of the Icy Lotus had battered him, and as he wiped blood from his lips, his eyes gleamed with greed.

“You little bastard, I didn’t expect you to have such a trump card. But now, you’re spent, aren’t you? Hand over that technique you just used, and I’ll let you go.”

Lu Han knelt on one knee, propping himself up with the Biluo Sword, his lips pale, cold sweat beading on his brow. His internal energy was completely exhausted from forcing out the advanced technique. He gritted his teeth and slowly stood, his eyes conveying a silent refusal.

The leader dashed forward and struck Lu Han’s chest with his palm, sending him flying backward, blood spurting from his mouth.

Though the leader hadn’t used a martial technique, his strength as a ninth-tier cultivator was overwhelming. Lu Han’s body was tough for his rank, but now, with no energy left and unable to use his defensive art, he was badly injured.

Steward Wei, still entangled with several foes, could only look on in helpless frustration.

Meanwhile, Chen Jun and the others had been forced together, forming a protective circle around Qi Lingxuan. The circle grew ever smaller, like fish laid out on the cutting board, awaiting slaughter.

“I’m sorry, Brother Chen. It’s my fault for dragging you all into this,” Qi Lingxuan choked out, on the verge of tears.

“Miss Qi, don’t blame yourself. Since I accepted your commission, I would never abandon you. Besides, what’s so bad about dying alongside my brothers and the woman I love?” Chen Jun gave a hearty laugh, glancing at Niu Gao and Hong Banmei. At that moment, Hong Banmei’s tears fell—this blockhead had finally spoken his heart. Well, at least they could die together.

“Boy, if you won’t speak, it doesn’t matter. Once you’re dead, I’ll extract the secret myself.” The leader pointed his saber at Lu Han.

Inside the azure-blue ring, Old Man Ling watched and sighed. “So I must intervene after all? Hmm, perhaps it’s necessary.”

Suddenly, dust rose in the distance—a group approached rapidly. As they drew near, the leader was revealed: a strikingly handsome young man wielding a wild goose-feathered saber, his expression anxious.

“Not a single member of the Meng family guard is to be spared!” he commanded, saber flashing.

The face of the enemy leader changed at once. “So close to success—retreat!” He led his men in a swift escape, the Meng family guards chasing after them, leaving only the young leader behind.

Chen Jun and the others let out a collective sigh of relief, collapsing to the ground. They had truly walked the edge of death.

When Qi Lingxuan saw the young man at the head, her tears flowed anew. He rushed to her side, and seeing that she was unharmed, pulled her into a tight embrace.

“Hey, Brother Chen, everyone’s watching,” Qi Lingxuan protested shyly.

“Lingxuan, do you realize how dangerous this was? If your father hadn’t sent me a message by carrier pigeon, saying you’d arrive in two days, the consequences would have been unimaginable!” the young man—Chen—scolded, though his concern was clear.

Meng Liangchen, unable to rest easy, had brought the Meng family guards to find her, arriving at Fengyin Valley just in time for the chaos.

“Because of the Lord of Banyue City, Father forbade me from leaving. But I promised to spend your twentieth birthday with you. It’s just a few days away…” Qi Lingxuan said, aggrieved.

Meng Liangchen hadn’t realized she’d remembered his birthday all this time, and was momentarily at a loss for words. She had risked her life just to keep her promise—what could he say to that?

“These gentlemen?” Meng Liangchen glanced at Chen Jun and the others, noting they were not guards from the Qi household.

“I slipped out alone, so I didn’t bring the family guard. They’re my hired protectors—if not for them, I’d have been captured long before you arrived.”

“Thank you all for saving Lingxuan. From this day forth, you are benefactors of Meng Liangchen. I insist you come to the Meng residence—I must thank you properly.” Meng Liangchen bowed deeply to Chen Jun and his companions.

Supported by Hong Banmei, Chen Jun struggled to his feet, pale-faced. “It was nothing—I was only fulfilling my duty as a mercenary.”

Seeing the wound on his back, Hong Banmei could not hold back her tears.

“In truth, the one we owe most is Brother Lu Han. If not for him, we’d all be dead by now,” Niu Gao muttered.

“Lu Han? Must be someone with the same name,” Meng Liangchen mused.

“Wait—Lu Han! He was fighting that ninth-tier leader just now. I need to find him!” Qi Lingxuan exclaimed.

“Yes, we must thank him properly,” Meng Liangchen agreed.

“No need for that. Isn’t it only right to save my future cousin-in-law? Don’t you agree, Cousin?” Lu Han limped over, supported by Steward Wei. Though he was terribly weak, a faint smile appeared at the sight of Meng Liangchen.

“It really is you? Hahaha—I knew nothing would happen to you!” Meng Liangchen was first stunned, then overjoyed, wrapping Lu Han in a great bear hug.

Qi Lingxuan stared, bewildered. “Cousin?”

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