Chapter Sixty-One: The Three Grades of Spirit Leaves

The room was shrouded in darkness, illuminated only by the faint glow of a few kerosene lamps. When I approached Nangong Xi’s physical body, I was momentarily startled. I had thought his spiritual form was already strikingly handsome, but his corporeal form surpassed even that. In truth, his features remained unchanged, but compared to his spiritual state, there was now an added vitality that made him all the more captivating.

Hoisting Nangong Xi’s body onto my shoulder, I turned to Dong Jiarui and said, “Take me outside.” Dong Jiarui nodded, leading the way as he spoke, “Young hero, this girl is one of the most beautiful in our region. She ran away some time ago, and we haven’t found her yet.” I ignored him, but inwardly I mused that the Dong family had never truly given up searching for Nangong Xi. If not for the protective talisman placed by Second Uncle, perhaps she would have already been recaptured by them.

We walked back to the small courtyard without hindrance, but as soon as we entered, I sensed something was amiss. Several unfamiliar streams of spiritual energy suddenly lingered in the air for no reason! I was about to question Dong Jiarui when he suddenly dashed forward, shouting as he ran, “Help! Someone’s been killed!”

I let out a helpless chuckle, only to see several figures burst out from the main gate and the nearby rooms. All were dressed in white, a mix of young and middle-aged men—nine in total. Dong Jiarui, tears streaming down his face as if deeply wronged, pointed at me and cried, “Uncles, this man is a bandit! He hurt me! Kill him, quickly!”

These men were clearly ruthless. After a brief exchange among themselves, one stepped forward with a cupped fist and said politely, “Friend, my name is Dong Ming of the Dong family. If you set down the girl you’re carrying, we’ll let this matter rest.” He sounded courteous enough, but let’s not forget why I was here.

“And what if I don’t?” I had already propped Nangong Xi’s body against the wall and drawn the Snow Blade, gripping it tightly.

“Then don’t blame us for what happens next,” Dong Ming replied coldly. With that, he drew his sword and lunged toward me.

Their weapons were all quite similar—swords—but Dong Ming’s sword shone with a golden edge, while the others wielded ordinary blades. I had no confidence in defeating them. Apart from Dong Ming, the others were all of the first or second grade of Spirit Leaf, but Dong Ming’s cultivation was beyond my perception.

Over time, I’d learned something: you could gauge the cultivation of someone at your own level or below, but those above you revealed only the aura of their spiritual energy, their true strength obscured. For some reason, battle intent surged within me now, and even the Snow Blade seemed more imposing than ever. Still, I texted Second Uncle for help. I knew that defeating Dong Ming was beyond me; my only option was to hold out.

The nine men surrounded me, their attacks relentless. I relied on the agility of the Eightfold Fist and Footwork to weave through their ranks. Yet, as the saying goes, “If you walk by the river often, your shoes are bound to get wet”—it wasn’t long before I was covered in wounds.

I had to find a way to break through and defeat them one by one. My eyes fixed on a young man whose cultivation was only at the first grade of Spirit Leaf. Taking advantage of an opening, I kicked two men aside and charged at him. Dong Ming, naturally, saw through my intent and swung his sword, aiming for a vital spot.

Fortunately, I reacted swiftly, forming a seal with my fingers and unleashing the Five Spirits Technique at Dong Ming. I’d seen its power before; though it couldn’t injure him, it bought me some precious seconds. As expected, Dong Ming was momentarily stunned and knocked aside by the invisible force.

In that instant, I reached the young man. Though I had no formal sword technique, sheer momentum sent him flying several meters, blood spurting from his mouth mid-air. Seizing the advantage, I struck again—the blade fell, and he was slain.

The killing stunned the remaining eight, who shouted in fury, “Scoundrel! How dare you kill our ninth brother? You won’t leave here alive!” I hadn’t expected them to be so closely bonded, but having started, I had no qualms about continuing.

Dong Ming was the first to charge, his eyes burning with hatred. His swordsmanship was masterful, his blade spinning and gleaming as he pressed his attack, growing fiercer with every strike. The others found no opening to intervene and could only watch as we dueled one-on-one.

“Brother, kill him! He’s gone too far!” someone cried.

“Damn it, kill our brother, will you? Let him taste blood, big brother!” another shouted.

I ignored their taunts, focusing all my attention on Dong Ming. But the gap between us was vast; before long, exhaustion overtook me.

“Young man, you’ve provoked me today. You won’t escape unscathed! Hahaha…” Dong Ming taunted. My strength was fading fast, the Snow Blade’s glow growing dim. All I could do was hope that Second Uncle would arrive in time to save me.

But Dong Ming was merciless. Seizing the moment, he plunged his sword into my abdomen. I howled in pain, but forced myself to form another Five Spirits Technique. Dong Ming, gloating, didn’t notice my hands.

With a thunderous crash, Dong Ming was sent flying once more. I staggered to the wall, gritting my teeth as I yanked the sword from my body. My face twisted in agony, I flung the blade aside and shouted, “A warrior’s resolve will never yield to a shameful survival!”

With difficulty, I assumed a defensive stance again. The remaining men exchanged glances and rushed at me in unison. Gritting my teeth, I summoned all my strength to parry their attacks.

But I was at my limit—each wave of blows sent pain shooting up my arms. Dong Ming now stood back, watching with a mocking grin. Dong Jiarui clapped his hands in glee beside him. Inwardly, I consigned the pair to my blacklist. If I survived this ordeal, I would return for them.

But facing the coordinated assault of seven men, my strength was spent. I could only kneel, dazed, blood dribbling from my lips as sword after sword pierced my flesh. A savage kick sent me sprawling against the wall. My vision blurred; for a moment, I thought I would not live to see another sunrise.

Yet fate had other plans. I distinctly felt the spiritual energy that had surged into me during that dream begin to flow, slowly being absorbed. Suddenly, my eyes snapped open, my wounds healing at a furious pace, spiritual energy welling up from within.

Bewildered, I touched my forehead. Third grade of Spirit Leaf!

Was this a blessing in disguise?

In mere moments, my injuries were fully healed. I bent down, picked up the Snow Blade, and summoned its power once more. This time, it roared as if in celebration.

A confident smile played upon my lips. The men who had just been ready to attack now stared at me, dumbfounded, astonishment written across their faces.