This token was Sect Leader Wang's personal seal. Whoever held it could temporarily issue orders to any disciple below the rank of Elder. The fat man was one of Sect Leader Wang's most trusted personal attendants — in fact, a close cousin — so any messages or commands from Sect Leader Wang were relayed through him.
Not long ago, this man had been hastily given this token and sent here to summon Elder Li to the summit for a meeting. But after delivering the order, the fat man felt that making the round trip from Sunset Peak and back again straightaway would be too exhausting. Relying on his position as a favorite, he insisted on staying to rest at Elder Li's residence before returning.
Elder Li, with no other choice, had reluctantly agreed. The Elder himself did not dare delay, and had taken Zhang Xiuer and several disciples and hurried off to Sunset Peak.
As a result, it was not long before the great upheaval erupted on the mountain. The fat man was a coward to the extreme, and naturally was even less willing to return alone.
The people in the courtyard were the family members of Sect of Seven Mysteries disciples who lived nearby. Most of them knew no martial arts at all, so the moment the chaos erupted, they had been thrown into utter panic, not knowing what to do.
Fortunately, Ma Rong had considerable presence of mind. He promptly requested the help of the twenty-odd men Li Feiyu had left behind, gathered them all together, and herded everyone into one place to prevent them from running about in the dark and meeting some mishap.
Because this location was fairly remote — a cluster of dwellings built into a mountain hollow — even though they could hear the alarm calls and the din of battle, the people here had no idea what was actually happening outside.
So after Ma Rong had finished organizing everything, he intended to send a few men out to gather intelligence. That was when this martial-arts-ignorant fat man suddenly appeared again. Not only did he forbid any attempt to scout the enemy's movements, he seized upon the token to strip Ma Rong of command over the Outer Edge Hall disciples entirely, then planned to hole up here and do absolutely nothing — a case of burying one's head in the sand.
Ma Rong understood perfectly well how critical it was to know the enemy's situation. He argued with the fat man repeatedly, only to be overruled each time by this coward's invocations of Sect Leader Wang's token. The fat man would not even allow Ma Rong to go scout personally, apparently treating him as yet another bodyguard for his own protection.
And so Ma Rong paced the hall like an ant on a hot griddle, burning with frustration, yet unable to do a thing about this ignorant tyrant. In the Sect of Seven Mysteries, disobeying a superior's orders and acting on one's own initiative was a grave offense. At the lightest, one would have one's martial arts abolished and be expelled from the mountain; at the worst, one's life would be forfeit. Thus, even though Ma Rong knew that something earth-shaking was happening outside — that the sect might very well be facing its death — he was still trapped here, unable to move.
Just as Ma Rong was wishing he could strike this so-called superior dead with a single palm blow, Han Li and Li Feiyu had no idea of any of this and were rushing toward this very location with all speed.
Along the way, they had encountered traces of the enemy, avoiding or slipping past them whenever possible, concealing their movements as best they could. Only when they were barely a li from Elder Li's residence did they run headlong into a squad of green-robed men, and could no longer conceal themselves. At last, they made first contact with the enemy.
Now, some dozen green-robed men wielding steel sabers closed in from every direction, surrounding the three of them.
Judging from their footwork, most of the men — those with a single white stripe sewn onto their sleeve — had the poorest martial skill. Two men with two white stripes on their sleeves were considerably stronger. But the strongest of all was the man with three white stripes and a scar across his face. He was clearly the leader of this group.
The scar-faced leader was sizing up the three people his men had cornered. He felt somewhat puzzled. It was no wonder — of the three, Li Feiyu was disheveled and filthy, looking like a mountain cook; Han Li had dull eyes and dark skin, like a farmer with no martial skill to his name; and the only one who radiated any pressure at all was the towering Qu Hun, wearing his bamboo hat, his body still spattered with blood.
These three mismatched figures standing together were enough to confuse even this self-proclaimed veteran of the jianghu.
He signaled a word of caution to his men, then called across in a loud voice: "Whoever you are, the Sect of Seven Mysteries is finished! Surrender, and your lives will be spared!"
Han Li smiled slightly, then turned to Li Feiyu. "Who will handle them? You, or Qu Hun?"
Li Feiyu's eyes flashed with a vicious gleam. "Judging by their uniforms, these are low-ranking disciples of Broken Water Gate. I've been hunted by the Wild Wolf Gang for so long — let me vent some of my fury on them first! Besides, their weapons are just what I need."
With that, his body shot forward like a streak of light, closing the distance to the nearest green-robed man in the span of a single heartbeat.
The man's eyes went wide. He tried to swing his saber, but the blade suddenly felt weightless — it was already in his enemy's hand. He scrambled backward in panic, but it was too late. A flash of white light, and he was severed head from body.
Li Feiyu's consecutive movements were crisp, clean, and swift as lightning. The remaining Broken Water Gate disciples could not even process what had happened before he had snatched the blade and taken a life.
The faces of the survivors began to change drastically — especially the scar-faced leader. His martial arts far surpassed the others', and so his sinking feeling was the deepest of all. He knew with terrible clarity that they had encountered a truly formidable expert, far beyond anything these men could hope to match.
"Everyone fall back! Save who you can! Send the signal — call for elite reinforcements!" His orders were sharp and decisive.
His words reminded the other green-robed men. With a sudden burst, the surrounding formation scattered, and they fled in every direction. Several reached into their chests as they ran — going for their so-called emergency signals.
The green-robed man with two white stripes ran fastest. In a few bounding leaps he had put a full ten feet between himself and the others.
He was just privately rejoicing that escape seemed possible when he felt a sudden chill at the back of his neck. A half-inch of sword tip erupted from his throat, then vanished as quickly as it had appeared. He was horrified, wanting to scream, but his whole body felt as though the blood had been drained from it — limp, weak, utterly powerless. Then he watched helplessly as his own body slowly toppled backward and crumpled to the ground, never to move again.
Only then did he realize: someone had pierced clean through his throat from behind.
This green-robed man's heart seethed with不甘. He had fled so far — how could he die so quickly?
He struggled to twist his head to one side, and in that final moment, he witnessed a last terrible vision: a dark shape flickered in and out of existence behind the green-robed man who had fled farthest. A single, light pass — the dark shape wavered, vanished, then reappeared behind another fleeing disciple. The same white flash. And only when the previous victim's body finally collapsed onto the grass alongside his own did the blood begin spurting freely from his neck.
After witnessing all of this, the green-robed man died with a peaceful smile. For he knew he would not be alone for long — many others would soon join him. That phantom shadow would not let a single one of them escape.