117: Chapter 117 Don't Get Away with This Muddy Water

The scream was like a night owl having its throat seized—sharp and short.

Immediately after, a dense burst of clashing metal erupted from the other side of the courtyard, where Shangguan Yun's pavilion was located.

At that moment, all color drained from Shangguan Wan's consistently composed and beautiful face.

Her feigned composure shattered instantly, like porcelain struck by a heavy hammer.

She spun around, and for the first time, panic appeared in her clear eyes.

"My brother!"

She rushed to Chen Fan, her voice trembling with urgency.

"Brother Luo, I beg you, please save my brother!"

She bowed deeply, and the soft sword she had been carefully wiping just moments ago was tossed aside, hitting the ground with a crisp "clatter."

In this moment, she no longer seemed like the high-and-mighty number one talented woman of Jiangzhou, but just an ordinary sister worried about her brother's safety.

Chen Fan did not move.

His gaze bypassed Shangguan Wan's shoulder, looking out at the night sky disturbed by the sounds of slaughter.

In his heart, there was no anger, only a faint sense of distaste at being manipulated like a pawn.

What a clever move to lure the snake out of its hole.

What a clever move to beat them at their own game.

Using him, the so-called top of the hero ranking list, as the sharpest blade to cut down their political enemies.

Once the deed was done, the Shangguan Family would remain unscathed and even gain significant leverage over their political rival.

Meanwhile, he would have offended a mysterious and powerful court faction for no reason at all.

They certainly had it all figured out.

He did not answer Shangguan Wan's plea, nor did he help her up.

He simply leaned down, picked up the finely crafted soft sword from the ground, and tossed it back to her.

Then, he turned and walked toward the door.

Shangguan Wan instinctively caught the soft sword and looked up, only to see a back wearing a pale mask decisively vanishing into the night outside.

She did not hesitate and quickly followed.

...

Chen Fan did not take the main entrance.

His figure blurred as he ghosted up to the second-floor terrace. With a light tap of his toe on the railing, he glided out like a large bird, silently crossing dozens of yards of the courtyard to land precisely on the roof of another small building.

The tiles did not make a single sound.

He crouched on the roof ridge and looked down.

The area in front of Shangguan Yun's room had turned into an Asura field.

Seven or eight corpses of Shangguan Family guards lay scattered in pools of blood.

The remaining three guards stood back-to-back in a crude battle formation, desperately shielding Shangguan Yun behind them.

Though covered in wounds, they fought on, refusing to retreat.

They were being besieged by over a dozen men in black wielding sharp blades.

These men in black coordinated perfectly, striking with ruthless, lethal moves. Not a word was spoken; only the whistling of blades cutting through the air could be heard.

Their leader held a peculiarly shaped curved hook. Each swing carried a tricky wind, consistently tearing open wounds from the guards' defensive blind spots.

Shangguan Yun had a deep wound on his left arm that reached the bone, and blood had already stained half of his brocade robe.

His face was deathly pale, and his right hand holding the sword trembled uncontrollably, yet he forced himself to stay standing.

Puchi!

The man with the curved hook found an opening.

With a flick of his wrist, the hook shot out like a venomous snake, bypassing a guard's saber and sinking deep into his throat.

The guard's eyes widened, a gurgling sound came from his throat, and he collapsed.

The line of defense crumbled.

Just then, a figure descended from the sky.

Chen Fan leapt from the roof, his feet hitting the ground with a dull, heavy thud.

He stood outside the circle of men in black, not moving immediately.

This sudden intrusion caused a brief pause in the intense slaughter.

Every gaze focused on that pale jade mask.

The three surviving guards showed expressions of ecstatic relief.

Shangguan Yun cried out in excitement.

"Brother Luo!"

The movements of the men in black became incredibly solemn the moment they recognized the mask.

The leader with the curved hook slowly turned around.

His eyes, visible through his black mask, were sharp as a hawk's as they locked onto Chen Fan.

"Jade-Faced Asura, Luo Hengsheng."

His voice was raspy, with a metallic scraping quality.

"This matter has nothing to do with you. This is a court struggle, not a Jianghu matter. If you take your woman and leave now, we can act as if we saw nothing."

He pointed his hook toward Shangguan Wan, who was stumbling toward them.

"Our target is only the Shangguan Family. Master Luo, you'd best not wade into this muddy water."

These words were direct and frank.

It was both a warning and a promise.

An out for Chen Fan to stay uninvolved and leave safely.

Shangguan Yun's heart sank to the bottom.

He understood the temperament of these Jianghu people—they lived by their own codes but rarely offended a vast, invisible power for someone they weren't related to.

Would Luo Hengsheng refuse this offer for their sake?

He wasn't sure.

"Brother Luo!"

Shangguan Wan finally arrived. Seeing the standoff and hearing the leader's words, her heart leapt into her throat.

Ignoring her breathlessness, she shouted with all her might.

"If Brother Luo is willing to help, my Shangguan Family will owe you a massive favor! A thousand taels of gold and the largest 'Zhenwu Hall' in western Jiangzhou will be yours!"

A thousand taels of gold!

A martial hall!

This price was enough to make any Jianghu person go wild.

The leader's gaze turned cold instantly.

Once again, everyone's eyes fell on the silent, masked man.

The air seemed to freeze.

Chen Fan didn't look at Shangguan Wan, nor at the leader in black.

His gaze fell upon the guards on the ground who had died with their eyes open.

Gold, martial halls—he didn't care.

The court, the Jianghu—he didn't care about those either.

He only cared about one thing.

Killing, then leaving.

The leader's pupils constricted suddenly.

"You're asking for death!"

He roared, about to order an attack.

But Chen Fan had already moved.

His figure left a faint afterimage where he stood.

He was already in front of the man with the curved hook.

Too fast!

The man in black only saw a blur, and an extreme sense of danger made the hair on his body stand on end.

He instinctively brought his hook across his chest to parry.

However, he missed.

A cold blade, at an angle he completely failed to comprehend, bypassed his weapon and lightly brushed across his neck.

A hint of coolness.

That was all.

He didn't even feel pain.

He stood blankly as the masked man passed him by.

He tried to speak, but found that only a whistling sound of leaking air came from his throat.

He looked down to see his chest already dyed crimson by the gushing blood.

His life force was fading rapidly.

He reached out as if to grab something, but ultimately just fell forward powerlessly.

One strike.

It took only one strike.

An assassin leader with a strength of at least seventh-grade Peak was dead just like that.

The entire scene fell into dead silence.

Whether it was the surviving guards, the Shangguan siblings, or the remaining assassins, everyone stood frozen, staring blankly at the scene.

Shangguan Wan's mouth hung open, her clear eyes filled with unspeakable shock.

She knew Luo Hengsheng was strong.

She had seen his miraculous archery at the martial arena during the day.

But she had never imagined his sword would be this fast!

That wasn't a Martial Skill.

That was the purest, most efficient art of killing!

Chen Fan did not stop.

He kept moving, his figure like the wind, his long sword following.

Sword light flashed, and each time it flared, it brought forth a spray of warm blood.

He was like a tiger among a flock of sheep; those well-trained, murderous assassins were as fragile as paper before his sword.

"Form a formation! Kill him!"

Finally, an assassin snapped out of his shock and let out a terrified roar.

The rest woke from their stupor, abandoned Shangguan Yun, and converged on Chen Fan from all directions.

Flashes of blades and swords instantly swallowed Chen Fan's figure.

Shangguan Wan's heart tightened once again.

However, in the next moment.

A brilliant sword light shot into the sky.

Chen Fan appeared at the outermost edge of the circle, his sword pointing diagonally at the ground as a drop of blood slowly slid off the tip.

Behind him, the seven or eight assassins who had surrounded him were all frozen in place.

A thin line of blood appeared on each of their necks simultaneously.

Thud.

Thud.

The corpses fell one after another, like dumplings into a pot.

Chen Fan slowly turned, his pale mask facing the last assassin standing in the courtyard.