Chapter 39: Even a Seventh-Rank Can Slay You

"I have never heard of such a madman in the city of Linqing."

"Is he looking for death?"

"A swordsman? Are there still swordsmen left in the martial arts world of the Great Qian?"

Among the bamboo mountains, many had come seeking Xu Ruyan, yet when Yang Le first arrived, almost no one paid him any heed. Most were focused on finding the vanished Xu Ruyan, while a few were merely here to spectate, hoping to watch a daughter of the former dynasty's imperial family be humiliated by demonic cultivators—not to witness Yang Le, sword in hand, blocking their path.

As Yang Le spoke, the eyes of the crowd converged upon him. There was contempt, mockery, and primarily, disdain, though a small minority regarded him with a flicker of curiosity.

"I never repeat myself."

Yang Le remained indifferent to their gazes. His decision to stand guard with his sword was not merely about resolving a nuisance; it was rooted in his reluctance to see this rare sanctuary of quiet cultivation disturbed by such petty scoundrels. Given the circumstances, he had no choice but to draw his blade. Simply put, had Xu Ruyan been besieged elsewhere, Yang Le wouldn't have bothered to lift a finger, but this was his courtyard. Whoever entered, he would slay.

"You court death! I shall devour you!"

Before the echoes of Yang Le’s words had even faded, one of the crowd—a sixth-rank demonic martial artist—struck. Xue Ting, a descendant of the Mixed-Gold Tiger bloodline and a direct heir of the Great Qian’s Mixed-Gold Tiger clan, had achieved the sixth rank at the age of only thirty-eight. Renowned among his peers, he had tracked Xu Ruyan using an incense of soul-summoning, not for the Great Qian’s bounty, but merely to witness the spectacle. As a man of noble birth, he cared little for rewards, and had never intended to intervene—until Yang Le appeared.

"This is the first time I have seen such an arrogant human. How convenient; I despise nothing more than a human martial artist, as lowly as an ant, appearing before me."

Martial energy surged across Xue Ting’s body. His human arms sprouted golden fur, reinforced by his energy until they were as sharp as steel needles. "So now, I shall have you die."

In a flash, Xue Ting lunged at Yang Le, his strike a lethal blow. As the energy swirled around his arms, the surrounding bamboo, swaying in the wind, shattered into splinters. Countless leaves danced in the air.

The crowd grew calm, already anticipating the outcome: Yang Le’s certain death.

"What a coincidence," Yang Le murmured. "I don't particularly like demonic beings appearing before me either."

The aggressive Xue Ting was formidable—a pure-blooded demon at the sixth rank. Perhaps due to his unique cultivation technique, the energy in his strikes was several times stronger than that of Changsun Ji. The pressure was so immense that it caused the sword Yang Le had driven into the ground to tremble slightly.

"One stroke is enough to slay you."

As Yang Le pulled his sword from the earth, the vibration caused by the oppressive energy vanished instantly. A powerful sword intent surged, overwhelming Xue Ting’s energy. With a single flash of light, Xue Ting was cut down.

The sword remained plunged in the ground, and Yang Le stood exactly where he had been. Nothing had changed, save for a single smear of fresh, crimson blood on the blade. It was Xue Ting’s blood.

"This... this..."

"What just happened?"

"How could he do it? How could he kill Xue Ting with a single strike?"

"That was a sixth-rank expert!"

Yang Le’s expression remained as serene as if he had merely slaughtered a chicken, yet the surrounding martial artists were struck with shock, as if they were trapped in a dream. A sixth-rank warrior, while not the pinnacle, was certainly no weakling; Xue Ting was a man of status. Even a fifth-rank expert would not dare claim they could defeat him in a hundred bouts, let alone kill him in one.

They suddenly realized that this mysterious youth was likely far more than a seventh-rank practitioner. They could not fathom any seventh-rank warrior capable of fighting above his station, let alone slaying a sixth-rank opponent with a single blow.

"Young man, we recognize your extraordinary skill, but this matter concerns the entire Ci Prefecture, the Great Qian authorities, and the daughter of the former imperial family. Are you certain you wish to involve yourself?"

"The implications are such that even the Linghua Pavilion would not dare intervene. For a seventh-rank like you to insist on being drawn in seems... insufficient."

"Of course, we have no desire to be your enemy. Simply allow us to enter this bamboo grove to see if we can find the person we seek. If she is here, we shall take her and leave; if not, we shall depart regardless."

After a moment of silence, a man stepped forward to explain their motives. He cupped his hands and declared his identity: "I am Qu Zhe, the head constable of Linqing City."

Qu Zhe’s message was clear. Now that Xue Ting had served as a sacrificial warning of Yang Le’s strength, the surrounding crowd had no desire to escalate the conflict. They were here for profit, not a fight. If Yang Le let them pass, they would treat the previous incident as if it never occurred.

*Not attacking this time?* Yang Le glanced at Qu Zhe, who had stepped forward with soft words before potential violence. He was stronger than Xue Ting—a fifth-rank expert.

That was truly powerful. Not just in Ci Prefecture, but throughout the entire Great Qian Dynasty, a fifth-rank master was at the absolute top tier. Those in the upper three ranks cultivated spiritual energy rather than internal breath or martial energy, and in the barren environment of the Great Qian, every strike from an upper-rank master cost years of arduous cultivation. Unless facing a life-or-death crisis, they rarely acted.

The middle three ranks were the limit for most. Few demons reached the fourth rank, and Qu Zhe, a human who practiced demonic techniques, had reached the fifth. This meant that without a rare opportunity or a high-ranking demon altering his bloodline, he had reached his ceiling—the limit for ninety-nine percent of human martial artists. In Linqing City and the entire Ci Prefecture, Qu Zhe held significant sway.

But unfortunately, he had met Yang Le.

"There is no one here but me. You may leave."

With his tone remaining as flat as before, Yang Le issued his ultimatum.