236: Chapter 236: The Girl in the Red Skirt

The main street of Beiming City was several times wider than that of Mobei City. A thin layer of ice coated the bluestone slabs, reflecting a cold, eerie luster under the light spilling from the shops on both sides.

Cultivators of all kinds wove through the area, their robes wrapped against the cold wind as they hurried along. Almost everyone had a high-grade Magical Artifact hanging from their waist, clearly drawn by the news of the emperors blood.

Shen Qingyuan's carriage was inconspicuous, blending into the crowd.

The emaciated horse pulled a dilapidated carriage, and the hunched Old Turtle sat on the carriage shaft; from any angle, they looked like Loose Cultivators from some backwater place.

Pedestrians on the street glanced at them and then looked away; no one paid them any mind.

But Shen Qingyuan did not care.

He sat by the window, holding a cup of hot tea just poured by Luo Qingyue. Amidst the swirling steam, a faint, elegant scent of Spiritual Plant wafted through the air.

Xu Jianan lay half-reclined in the corner. His wounds had mostly healed, and his energy had recovered somewhat; he was squinting, calculating something.

Just then, a rapid and heavy sound of hooves came from behind, like muffled thunder rolling over the street.

The hoofbeats approached extremely fast, and the crowd stirred. Some people exclaimed in alarm as they dodged to the sides. A few Loose Cultivators who could not get out of the way in time were knocked to the ground by a gust of wind, rolling to the base of the wall. Their belongings scattered everywhere, but they did not even dare to curse; they scrambled up, tucked their heads, and burrowed into the crowd.

A giant, snow-white wolf was charging forward with long strides. Sitting on its back was a youth of fifteen or sixteen with a fair face and an air of overbearing arrogance between his brows.

The giant wolf stood over a zhang tall, its four paws as thick as pillars. Every step it took made the bluestone slabs tremble. The white mist exhaled from its mouth condensed into icy fog in the cold wind. It was clearly a Wind Frost Snow Wolf with a cultivation at the Peak of the Dharma Image Realm, rampaging through the street as if no one were there.

"Move! Move! Get out of my way!" The youth lifted his chin, gripping the reins in his left hand and cracking a dark red whip with his right. The tip of the whip snapped in the air, startling several Cultivators on the roadside into stepping back repeatedly.

The Loose Cultivators on the street pressed themselves against the walls on both sides, terrified of being trampled by the giant wolf's paws.

The carriage was moving slowly in the middle of the street. Old Turtle was squinting, just about to pull the reins and steer to the side, when the youth spotted the dilapidated carriage. He frowned, looking down from the back of the giant wolf, and barked, "Hey! You broken carriage in front, what are you doing blocking this young master? Get out of the way!"

Old Turtle did not turn back; he simply tightened the reins slowly, and the carriage came to a gradual stop in the center of the street.

He tilted his head, casting a glance at the youth with his cloudy, aged eyes.

Seeing that the carriage not only refused to move but had stopped in the middle of the road, blocking his path, the youth's impatience instantly turned into anger: "Are you deaf? This young master told you to get lost!"

He flicked his wrist, and the dark red whip, wrapped in fierce spiritual energy, tore through the air.

The tip of the whip ripped through the air, carrying the dark red spiritual energy like a venomous snake's tongue, striking straight toward the back of Old Turtle's head.

The Loose Cultivators on the street gasped and instinctively closed their eyes.

With a whip strike like that, the old man driving the carriage would likely have his head cracked open.

However—the whip did not land.

A hand reached out from the side, fingers spread wide, and firmly grasped the tip of the whip.

The hand was fair and slender with distinct knuckles. The nails were painted with a layer of light red polish, glowing with a warm, gentle luster under the cold streetlights.

The moment the dark red spiritual energy on the whip tip touched the palm, it vanished without a trace, like a flame extinguished by a basin of cold water.

The youth's pupils shrank, and he whipped his head around.

He saw a girl in a red dress who had appeared by the carriage at some point. She was holding his whip tip with one hand, her expression slightly cold, with suppressed anger surging in her almond-shaped eyes.

The girl was about seventeen or eighteen years old. A pomegranate-red dress fluttered violently in the cold wind, and a silver-white silk ribbon was tied around her waist. Her long hair was loosely pinned up with a jade hairpin, with a few stray locks falling by her cheeks, making her oval face appear even fairer.

Spiritual energy surged around her, faintly emitting the aura of the seventh level of the Dharma Image Realm.

To possess the cultivation of the seventh level of the Dharma Image Realm at such an age would be considered a top-tier Genius even in the Central Plains.

"Who are you?!" The youth was brought to a sudden halt as his whip tip was held fast. The giant wolf also surged forward two steps due to momentum before stopping, its four paws plowing shallow grooves into the ice.

The girl in the red dress did not let go and said coldly, "Rampaging on the main street—do you think this Beiming City is your own backyard?"

The youth was stunned for a moment, then the corners of his mouth curled into a mocking arc, as if he had heard some huge joke: "My backyard? Heh... you guessed right! This young master is from the Cangming Clan! This Beiming City is my family's backyard!"

He flicked his wrist violently, and the dark red whip suddenly erupted with a burst of violent spiritual energy, attempting to shake the girl in the red dress away.

However, the girl tightened her fingers slightly, and that violent spiritual energy was neutralized by an even denser power; the whip tip remained motionless in her hand.

The youth's expression shifted slightly. He finally realized that the girl in the red dress before him had high cultivation and was not someone he could easily dismiss.

"You!" The youth gritted his teeth, anger surging in his eyes. He whipped his head around and roared behind him: "Uncle He! Take her down for me!"

Before the words faded, a figure stepped out from the crowd behind the giant wolf.

It was a withered, Black-Robed Elder with a gaunt face and high cheekbones. His triangular eyes were half-closed, and his aura was as deep as an abyss.

He had been following behind the youth, but he had been concealing his breath and moving silently. Had he not revealed himself just now, no one on the street would have noticed his presence.

Eighth level of the Primal Chaos Realm.

Once this aura was released, the expressions of the Loose Cultivators on the street changed drastically, and even their breathing quieted down.

The Black-Robed Elder did not waste words. With a single step, he swept toward the girl in the red dress like a ghost.

His withered palm formed a claw, and a layer of dark gray cold light condensed at his fingertips. He aimed straight for the girl's shoulder, his strength perfectly gauged—it would not take her life, but it was enough to break her bones and snap her tendons, causing her to lose all ability to resist on the spot.

The girl in the red dress furrowed her brows slightly. She flicked the long whip in her hand, knocking away the youth's whip tip, and simultaneously retreated half a step. The silk ribbon at her waist suddenly straightened, transforming into a silver-white stream of light to meet the Black-Robed Elder's claw strike.

"Bang!"

A muffled thud sounded, and the spiritual energy exploded into a wave, cracking the thin ice on the street.

The girl in the red dress staggered back three steps, leaving several deep cracks under her feet, and her face turned slightly pale.

While the Black-Robed Elder only swayed slightly before steadying his footing, a sneer flashing in his triangular eyes.

"Little girl, to dare attack me at the seventh level of the Dharma Image Realm—you certainly have some guts. Unfortunately, this level of cultivation is not enough to be worth looking at."

As soon as he finished speaking, he moved again, his claw shadows three times faster than before, striking straight for the girl's face!

The girl in the red dress gritted her teeth, silver light surging in her palm, preparing to take the blow head-on.

Just at this moment—a withered hand reached out from the side.

"Slap."

The withered palm struck precisely on the back of the Black-Robed Elder's claw.

The Black-Robed Elder shuddered, his whole body feeling as if it had slammed into a moving mountain. His feet scraped a long mark across the bluestone slabs, sliding three zhang away before he could barely steady himself.

He looked down and saw that the cold light condensed on his right claw tips had shattered by more than half, and his entire arm was trembling slightly, as if it had been struck by something extremely heavy.

"You..." The Black-Robed Elder lifted his head sharply, his gaze shooting toward the carriage direction like a hawk.

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