Chapter 0016: I've Got a Priceless Treasure!

The flying sword circled around the Taoist in black, its silvery blade reflecting a cold gleam, like a venomous serpent poised to strike, threatening death at any moment. The Taoist sneered with satisfaction, “Warriors may have strong physiques—bones, strength, speed—none of which us cultivators can match. But can you really be faster than my flying sword? I doubt you’ll even get close to me before my sword pierces you through!”

Upon seeing the Taoist’s flying sword, Jiang Yan and Jiang Kongqing stood wide-eyed. They didn’t fully understand the true powers of cultivators, but to witness with their own eyes someone control a flying sword—the legendary art of taking a head from a thousand miles away—was a shock beyond words. The Taoist’s display left them both utterly astounded.

Even knowing Zhang Xiao’s martial prowess was extraordinary, he was, after all, merely flesh and blood. How could he possibly contend with such otherworldly means?

Zhang Xiao’s brow furrowed tightly. He had expected Zheng the Tiger might bring a formidable helper, but never imagined he’d employ a fourth-tier cultivator, and one who was a sword cultivator—renowned among their kind for their deadly power! Possessing a life-bound flying sword made one vastly superior to other cultivators of the same rank, not to mention that Zhang Xiao himself had not yet begun his own cultivation.

It must be noted that refining a life-bound flying sword required not only immense time and effort, but also unimaginable wealth. The materials for such a sword alone were rare and exorbitantly expensive. It was no exaggeration to say that a cultivator with a life-bound flying sword was like a mortal owning a mountain of gold and silver.

At this moment, Zheng the Tiger barked impatiently, “Enough with the talk—kill him! Avenge my son!”

The Taoist let out a cold laugh, and the sword at his side shot toward Zhang Xiao at lightning speed. In a blur, the sword was already before him!

Zhang Xiao leapt aside, the sword grazing past his body, then making a graceful arc in the air before coming at him again.

The Taoist laughed heartily, “Run! Run all you like! Even if you flee to the ends of the earth, you cannot escape my sword!”

Zhang Xiao spat on the ground and sprinted, narrowly dodging the sword’s relentless strikes. Each close call sent Jiang Yan and Jiang Kongqing’s hearts leaping in their chests.

At this rate, not only would Zhang Xiao be unable to defeat the Taoist, he might exhaust himself just from dodging the sword, unable even to touch his opponent’s sleeve before being run through—a wretched and pointless death.

The Taoist watched his prey with a leisurely air, as if Zhang Xiao were a mouse dancing in the palm of his hand—his life to be claimed at any moment.

Master Zhang, watching the spectacle, felt a great satisfaction. He pointed at Zhang Xiao and burst out laughing, “You bastard! Where’s your bravado now? Look at you, like a stray dog! You’ve ruined my plans again and again, and now karma’s come for you! Hahahaha!”

At that instant, Zhang Xiao narrowly avoided another lethal thrust, and hearing Master Zhang’s taunt, his eyes swept coldly over to him. Without hesitation, he charged straight at Master Zhang.

Master Zhang was startled, almost crying out for his master’s help. But then he reconsidered—surely this kid was just desperate, cornered and panicked. With his master’s sword chasing from behind, what could he possibly do?

But as Master Zhang pondered this, Zhang Xiao was already closing in, the flying sword hot on his heels.

Suddenly, Zhang Xiao leapt with all his might, vaulting right over Master Zhang’s head. By the time Master Zhang reacted, the flying sword was nearly upon him.

In that moment, Master Zhang’s confidence vanished, and he shrieked in terror. The Taoist, too, hadn’t expected Zhang Xiao to deliberately lure his sword this way—to swap the target at the last moment!

He hastily tried to redirect the sword, but it was too late. The blade pierced straight through Master Zhang’s shoulder. Cursing under his breath, the Taoist continued to manipulate the sword in pursuit of Zhang Xiao.

Master Zhang’s screams were pitiful, blood pouring from the gaping wound in his shoulder.

Zhang Xiao turned and sneered, “Let’s see if you’re still so loud now.”

With that, he spun around and charged straight at Zheng the Tiger.

The Taoist sneered, “Trying the same trick again? You think I’ll fall for it twice?”

This time, he sent the sword sweeping in from Zhang Xiao’s side, not directly from behind—ensuring that whether Zhang Xiao aimed to repeat his ruse or genuinely attack Zheng the Tiger, he would be intercepted and killed before he could succeed.

But just as the Taoist congratulated himself, Zhang Xiao suddenly twisted his body, letting the sword pierce clean through his arm.

Agonizing pain shot through him, but gritting his teeth, Zhang Xiao grabbed Zheng the Tiger by the chest with his good hand, then heaved with tremendous force—hurling Zheng the Tiger like a human projectile straight at the Taoist.

The Taoist was caught completely off guard; he hadn’t imagined the true target would be himself. The flying sword had pierced Zhang Xiao’s arm, but Zheng the Tiger’s heavy body—over two hundred pounds, hurled with all Zhang Xiao’s might—was like a thousand-pound battering ram.

The Taoist was struck and sent flying, tumbling head over heels and briefly losing connection with his sword.

Zhang Xiao wasted no time. He rushed forward and drove a fierce kick into the Taoist’s abdomen. Though cultivators had many supernatural abilities, their bodies were not as robust as martial artists’. The blow nearly made the Taoist faint with pain.

He was sent flying, and Zhang Xiao followed, raining down furious punches like a storm.

The tables had turned—dramatically so.

No one could have foreseen that Zhang Xiao would fight by risking injury for injury.

The Taoist suffered heavy blows in quick succession, his mind reeling, while the flying sword, now masterless, drifted aimlessly in the air.

With a final shout, Zhang Xiao smashed his fist into the Taoist’s chest, releasing a surge of martial energy into his body, rampaging through his meridians like a furious dragon.

The Taoist collapsed, spitting blood—Zhang Xiao’s relentless assault had left him gravely wounded.

Yet Zhang Xiao, too, was in dire straits: one arm hung limp at his side, the bloody hole stark and gruesome as blood flowed freely, his body swaying unsteadily.

The Taoist glared at Zhang Xiao, his eyes nearly bursting with rage, “I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you!”

Zhang Xiao chuckled, “My martial energy is rampaging inside you. Your organs are ruined. We’re both at death’s door—who kills whom is yet to be seen!”

The Taoist staggered to his feet, eyes bloodshot and wild, his composure lost and reason slipping away.

By now, Zheng the Tiger had been helped up by Master Zhang. Shaking with fury, Zheng the Tiger howled, “Kill him! Kill him! I want that bastard dead, never to find peace in this life or the next!”

But as soon as he finished, his expression twisted. It was as if invisible hands had seized his throat; his face turned from red to purple, and his feet lifted off the ground.

A bloodthirsty light glinted in the Taoist’s eyes as he fixed his gaze on Zhang Xiao, hissing, “Your death has come!”

Zhang Xiao’s brows knitted at the bizarre sight, and he spoke in a cold voice, “Such defiance of heaven—are you not afraid of retribution?”

Blood began to stream from Zheng the Tiger’s seven orifices, his features contorted, his skin blanching. The blood from his orifices rose upward, gathering above his head in the air.

Master Zhang was horrified by the scene, but moments later, he too levitated, his face wracked with pain.

He reached out toward the Taoist, stammering, “Mas...mas...master! No...don’t!”

But the Taoist ignored his pleas, using a secret art to drain the life essence from both Master Zhang and Zheng the Tiger.

Shortly, their blood coalesced into two crimson spheres, while their bodies collapsed, lifeless, to the floor.

The Taoist beckoned, and the two blood orbs flew into his hands. Without hesitation, he swallowed them both, his gaze fixed on Zhang Xiao with a sinister smile, “You’re dead today.”

The blood orbs consumed, his eyes turned crimson, a stench of blood filling the air. He let out a bestial growl, his wounds knitting miraculously closed. With a roar, a blast of energy erupted from him, sending tables and chairs flying.

He had even forced out the martial energy Zhang Xiao had injected into him!

The Taoist laughed wildly. The previously masterless flying sword now vibrated and hummed, its tip aimed directly at Zhang Xiao.

“I want you dead!” he shrieked.

The sword flew at Zhang Xiao, faster than ever before.

Zhang Xiao drew a deep breath, fixing his eyes on the Taoist. “Such twisted sorcery deserves only death,” he declared.

Ignoring the flying sword at his back, Zhang Xiao surged forward, charging directly at the Taoist.

The Taoist sneered, “Too late! It’s all too late!”

As he spoke, the sword was already barely a meter behind Zhang Xiao, about to pierce his back.

But Zhang Xiao's expression remained resolute. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he drew out three dragon-pattern jade pendants from his belt with one hand, and poured all his energy into them with the other.

With a shout, he called, “Big Bucktooth! It’s your turn!”

He crushed one of the jade pendants in his wounded hand, releasing a blinding white light.

From within the light, a rooster-voiced bellow rang out, “Damn you, Zhang Xiao, you bastard! Who are you calling Big Bucktooth? You’re the big bucktooth! Your whole family is big bucktooth!”

Everyone—Taoist, Jiang Yan, Jiang Kongqing, and Zheng the Tiger’s remaining men—stood stupefied.

As the light faded, a dwarf no taller than a meter appeared, a tattered sack slung over his back, his enormous buckteeth unmistakable. He stood with hands on hips, cursing, “Damn you and your ancestors!”

Zhang Xiao only grinned and jerked his chin behind him. “Look behind you.”

Big Bucktooth turned—and saw the silver flying sword almost upon him. He paled, grumbling, “Zhang Xiao, damn you and your ancestors to the eighteenth—no, the twenty-eighth generation!”

Muttering incantations, he opened the sack on his back and aimed it at the sword. “I’ve got a real treasure here!” he chanted.

Incredibly, an invisible force sucked the sword into the sack. The blade thrashed inside, but no matter how it struck, it could not break free.

The next instant, Zhang Xiao turned to the dumbfounded Taoist, a faint smile at his lips. “Die,” he said quietly.

With that, he unleashed his fully-charged fist straight at the Taoist’s head.

The Taoist didn’t even have time to scream—his head burst like a watermelon, scattering gore.

With the Taoist’s death, the sword in the sack became as lifeless as its master, ceasing all movement.

Zhang Xiao collapsed to the ground with a groan, gasping for breath.

Big Bucktooth, sack slung over his shoulder, stomped over and kicked Zhang Xiao’s backside, cursing, “Damn you! Damn you and your ancestors!”