The blood-soaked night returned to its former stillness. Gao Han advanced step by step toward the two Ninth Layer bandits, his footsteps rustling against the leaf-strewn ground. Each soft sound bore down on the bandits like a death knell, sending shivers coursing through their bodies.
Gao Han's pace quickened until he broke into a sprint, his sword slicing through the bandits surrounding him. Infused with his frigid inner qi, the blade was razor-sharp, claiming a life with every strike. He cut down countless foes in his path until he reached the two Ninth Layer warriors, whereupon he unleashed the seamless Soul-Breaking Sword Art. His blade hacked at the pair relentlessly; they snapped back to their senses and parried with their weapons, and the three clashed in a ferocious melee.
The bandit chief steadied his nerves atop his horse and roared at his men, "What are you gaping at? He is nothing more than an Eighth Layer cultivator—our Fourth Brother simply underestimated him! Attack!"
Stirred by their leader's shout, the bandits regained their wits and lunged at their foes. The caravan warriors, too, were jolted back to the fight. The two sides clashed once more, yet the bandits fought with little resolve, while the caravan's morale soared. Yu Tianci glanced solemnly at Gao Han battling the two bandits, then turned to slay the raiders closing in on him.
Though hard-pressed fighting two Ninth Layer opponents at the Eighth Layer, Gao Han held his ground, executing the Soul-Breaking Sword Art in fluid, unbroken succession. With a sharp tearing sound, his blade ripped through one bandit's tunic; the biting cold upon his skin raised gooseflesh, as piercing as standing naked in a snowstorm without channeling any qi. The frigid chill froze his movements for a split second—a fatal hesitation.
Spotting the delayed reaction, Gao Han knew his icy qi had struck true. Ignoring the saber descending toward his back, he thrust a palm charged with full power into the bandit's chest, right over his heart. A thunderous impact sent the bandit flying three paces back; Gao Han's qi instantly froze his heart, and he fell motionless. The Third Bandit Leader was dead.
The saber struck home an instant later. Gao Han twisted his body and blocked the blow with his sword, yet the hasty parry sent him reeling backward from the force of the strike. The enemy's qi surged up his blade into his body, but it was swiftly frozen and dissolved by his own frigid energy before it could wound him.
Gao Han turned his full fury upon the Second Bandit Leader, unleashing the Soul-Breaking Sword Art in an unrelenting barrage. Cuts and gashes opened across the bandit's body until the final strike sliced his throat. No blood gushed forth—not for lack of injury, but because Gao Han's qi had frozen the blood vessels and congealed his very blood. Three seconds later, a crimson jet sprayed from the fatal wound.
Gao Han sheathed his sword and fixed his gaze upon the chief standing not far away. The chief's face paled and flushed in turn; though he himself was at the peak of the Ninth Layer, he dared not fight Gao Han. "Men, retreat!" Fewer than a hundred bandits remained. Gao Han alone had slain over forty, and the long battle had cut down another fifty-odd raiders, their cultivation far weaker than the caravan's warriors.
The caravan, too, had been decimated—from over thirty members to fewer than ten. Most of the hired warriors lay dead; only Yu Tianci of the Ninth Layer and two Eighth Layer fighters survived.
"Halt. Who gave you leave to leave?" Gao Han's calm voice cut through the chaos as the bandits began to fall back.
"Boy, I admit you are formidable, but your caravan numbers fewer than ten, while we still hold a hundred men. Not even you can defeat us all! Must it come to mutual destruction? Leave a line for retreat, that we may meet again in peace!" the chief snapped in exasperation.
"I am not part of this caravan." Gao Han did not so much as glance at Miss Yi as he spoke.
Miss Yi and Steward Hu exchanged looks of despair and self-mockery. The man they had cast out was their only hope of survival.
"Spare me your lies! If you are no ally of the caravan, why block our path?" the chief roared, apoplectic with rage. Gao Han had killed three of his Ninth Layer lieutenants and butchered forty of his men, yet now claimed he was no enemy.
"Your men attacked me first. Think carefully—had I slain a single one of you before that?" Gao Han's expression turned icy. "My creed is this: harm me not, and I shall harm you not. But those who dare raise a hand against me shall die."
The chief's eyes narrowed in terror—Gao Han intended to exterminate them to the last man. "Young brother, you would deny us all escape? How arrogant! You are but a peak Eighth Layer cultivator—how could you possibly kill us all? I urge you to be reasonable!"
"Oh, whether I can or not shall not be for you to decide." Gao Han smiled faintly, unleashing the cultivation he had sealed with icy energy.
"Ninth Layer of Qi Condensation!" The bandits and caravan alike stared in stunned disbelief.
"So this young man is a Ninth Layer expert! Alas, my old eyes fail me." Steward Hu sighed heavily.
The chief's face turned ashen. Gao Han had killed Ninth Layer warriors at the Eighth Layer; now that he revealed his true Ninth Layer cultivation, none of them stood a chance of living.
"Kill." The single syllable fell from Gao Han's lips like a death sentence. He darted toward the bandits, his sword cutting down one after another. Some fled in mad panic; others attacked wildly. In the end, all either perished or ran, leaving only the chief.
"Spare me! I will give you all my treasures—every last one!" The chief knelt before Gao Han, tears and snot streaming down his face. "I have an eighty-year-old mother and young children to feed!"
"Where is your hidden treasury?" Gao Han asked calmly.
"I will lead you there—if you swear to let me live!" the bandit bargained.
"Speak." Gao Han's expression remained cold and unyielding.
Under duress, the chief revealed the location of his hoard. The moment the words left his mouth, his head rolled from his shoulders.
Gao Han followed the chief's directions to his hidden stash, where he found seventy to eighty thousand taels in banknotes, several gold ingots, and a strange black stone pulsing with dense spiritual energy.
He also discovered numerous young women and maidens imprisoned in the bandit stronghold. Gao Han gave each fifty taels of silver to make their own way in the world; whether they found their way home safely would be a matter of fate.
Descending the mountain, Gao Han found the Yi caravan still waiting at the foot of the hill.
"Greetings, young hero…" Steward Hu hurried forward with a fawning smile.
"What is it?" Gao Han replied coolly.
Steward Hu knew he had much to atone for. Without a powerful warrior's protection, his tiny group could not possibly continue their journey. Returning to Eastspirit City would delay the cargo, a mistake he could not afford to answer for.
"My lady and I acted rashly earlier. Please forgive our transgressions, and aid us in seeing this journey through."
Miss Yi, too, recognized the gravity of their predicament. She stepped gracefully before Gao Han. "Yingying wronged you earlier. I beg your forgiveness, young master."
Gao Han was not one to hold grudges, and he agreed to continue escorting them. Steward Hu promised him one thousand taels as additional reward upon their arrival.
Along the way, they encountered a few small bands of bandits, yet none posed a threat comparable to the first. Protected by Gao Han's overwhelming strength, they passed through each danger unharmed.
At the gates of Feng City, Steward Hu bowed solemnly. "Farewell, young hero." He handed over the promised reward. Yi Yingying's eyes glistened with tears as she called out, "Young master, shall we meet again?" During their journey, she had grown deeply fond of Gao Han, yet her affection went unrequited. Gao Han had ignored every overture she had made.
"We shall meet again if fate decrees it. Farewell." Gao Han mounted his horse and rode into the distance.
Steward Hu sighed as he watched Yi Yingying tearfully staring after Gao Han's vanishing figure. "My lady, let it be. You two walk different paths; he is destined for greatness. You must forget him." Without waiting for her reply, he turned and walked into the city.
Feng City lay not far from the Misty Sect. After three days of nonstop travel, Gao Han arrived at the sect's mountain gate. The Misty Sect stood upon the Qiling Mountains at Ling Kingdom's northern border, with Misty Peak—the tallest mountain in the range—as its central peak, sprawling outward in all directions.
Standing before the colossal sect gate, Gao Han marveled at its grandeur. Carved from a single massive white boulder ten meters tall and five wide, the gate was a feat of engineering in itself. Beyond it stretched a long, winding stone stairway.
Two outer-sect disciples in white robes and holding longswords guarded the entrance, both at the Sixth Layer of Qi Condensation. In the Gao clan, such cultivation would earn one the rank of captain of the guard; at the Misty Sect, they were mere gatekeepers.
"Halt! This is the Misty Sect—no trespassers allowed. Leave at once!" An eighteen-year-old disciple blocked Gao Han's path.
"I was recommended by an elder of the Misty Sect. This is his token." Gao Han held up the plaque Li Changtian had given him. The disciple's face lit up with a smile at the sight of it. "Ah, an outer-sect senior brother! I am Wu Yan, a handyman disciple. Forgive my earlier rudeness—I had no other choice."
"How did you know I am to be an outer-sect disciple?" Gao Han asked in curiosity.
"The token tells all. Only outer-sect disciples bear black plaques. You must be new here, unsure where to collect your robes and quarters. Allow me to show the way!" Wu Yan offered warmly. "Your surname, senior brother?"
Gao Han nodded. "Thank you. My name is Gao Han."
As they walked, Gao Han admired the scenic vistas and watched disciples practicing and sparring across the grounds.
"Look, senior brother! That is the sect's Cultivation Grounds!" Wu Yan pointed ahead, his voice filled with awe.
Gao Han followed his gaze to a vast plaza hundreds of paces wide and long, where disciples of all ages sat cross-legged in meditation.
"Only the strongest outer-sect disciples may cultivate here. The grounds lie atop small earth veins, which speed cultivation and stabilize one's base. No inner-sect disciples come here, though—each has their own private cultivation chamber built upon a major earth vein. My greatest wish is to cultivate there and reach the True Essence Realm!" Wu Yan stared at the cultivators longingly.
Gao Han smiled faintly. "You shall achieve that dream one day. Now take me to collect my robes."
After a half-hour walk, they stood before a grand hall. "This is the Outer-Sect Hall. An elder inside will issue your robes and assign your quarters. I shall wait here for you and lead you to your chamber afterward."
Gao Han entered the hall, which measured roughly twenty paces across. The space was sparse, save for an elder seated upon the main dais. "You have just reached the Seventh Layer, I take it. I urge you not to test your luck now. Wait until the year's end, when all Seventh Layer disciples are promoted to outer-sect status." Within the sect, only those at the Seventh Layer or higher qualified as outer-sect disciples; a cultivation assessment was held each year's end to confirm promotions. Seventh Layer cultivators were junior outer-sect disciples, Eighth Layer mid-tier, and Ninth Layer senior. Senior outer-sect disciples held the privilege of retaining a handyman disciple as an attendant, though only with mutual consent.
To gain outer-sect status outside of the annual assessment required passing a rigorous test, one nearly impossible for those newly promoted to the Seventh Layer.
Gao Han smiled. "I should still like to try." The elder shook his head at his stubbornness and gestured toward a blackwood pillar beside them. "Strike it with your full, bare strength. If you leave a mark seven centimeters deep, you shall be an outer-sect disciple." In the elder's eyes, Gao Han was merely a handyman disciple who had just broken through to the Seventh Layer. Leaving a seven-centimeter mark required steady, powerful inner qi—something even most Eighth Layer cultivators could not achieve, save for a select few who trained upon the Cultivation Grounds.
Gao Han stood before the pillar, closed his eyes to focus, and clenched his right fist, wrapping it in surging qi. In an instant, he unleashed his full cultivation: the Ninth Layer of Qi Condensation.
"Hmm? I misjudged you." The elder glanced at Gao Han in mild surprise, yet remained dismissive. "A mid-tier outer-sect disciple at best. Even the strongest Qi Condensation cultivation is still only Qi Condensation."
"Ha!" With a sharp grunt, Gao Han's fist slammed into the pillar. The dense blackwood yielded beneath the force of his qi like softened dough, sinking inward under the impact.
When he pulled his fist away, a deep punch mark marred the pillar, wreathed in wispy trails of frost.
"Ten centimeters! Ten centimeters!" The elder's disdainful expression vanished, replaced by stunned disbelief. A mark of nine centimeters or deeper was thought to require True Essence Realm power; the maximum any Qi Condensation cultivator could leave was nine. Yet here was a Ninth Layer warrior who had carved a ten-centimeter impression.
Regaining his composure, the elder spoke. "Very well. From this day forth, you are a senior outer-sect disciple. These are your robes and token. Your quarters are on Lingyun Peak—choose any vacant chamber. As a senior disciple, you may select a handyman attendant, provided both parties agree." He handed Gao Han a set of blue outer-sect robes and a black plaque.
Gao Han stared at the token in confusion. "Elder, I already possess an identical one." He pulled out the plaque Li Changtian had given him and held it out.
A roar of frustration erupted from the Outer-Sect Hall. "You could have shown me your senior disciple token at once! Why waste my time with this foolish test? Are you mocking me?"