Gu Fangchen had been waiting for this very moment.
The Sword Pavilion disciples were martial cultivators, and thus their spiritual senses were not sharp enough to detect anyone following them.
But he, possessing eighth-grade cultivation in the Divine Path, had already sensed this group's presence on the way.
Clearly, these people had refrained from striking for the same reason as he, to use the Sword Pavilion disciples to locate Gu Lianqian.
Gu Fangchen judged that this group's overall strength was slightly above Qiu He's party, but their auras were mixed and chaotic, suggesting that several different factions had temporarily banded together.
It had been nearly four days since he had released the false information.
After so many days, even a battle royale should have its victors. Those who remained by now were surely capable experts.
He deliberately said nothing, his plan being to let both sides clash.
The Sword Pavilion disciples led by Qiu He needed to maintain their sword formation to stand a chance against these opponents.
If they were to scatter, they would certainly be picked off one by one.
And in such an urgent situation, Qiu He, out of personal concern, would instinctively avoid sending Qi Linghua off alone to break through the encirclement.
After all, the strongest among them here was only at the sixth grade.
And they all knew there was still a fifth-grade grandmaster hunting Gu Lianqian in the stone forest, one who had yet to appear.
That person was clearly the true hidden threat, waiting for them to break formation in order to save Gu Lianqian.
The Sword Pavilion party had already endured several ambushes along the way, and their strength was far from full. Naturally, Qiu He would not risk sending Qi Linghua ahead.
At this point, only Gu Fangchen had the ability to confront that fifth-grade grandmaster.
Gu Fangchen gave Qiu He a nod. Qiu He immediately drew a deep breath, flung the copper coin used for tracking, and shouted,
"Change formation! Cover the Daoist's breakout!"
The others responded in perfect coordination, instantly shifting their formation to open a path wide enough for a breakthrough.
Gu Fangchen stepped lightly onto a stone pillar, dodging a slash of sword energy. Bending his knees, he pushed off with a leap, in an instant covering several zhang.
With a resounding boom, the pillar beneath him caved inward where he had stepped, shards of stone and clouds of dust exploding outward.
One of the sixth-grade cultivators narrowed his eyes and growled, "You're not getting away!"
He flew after him at top speed.
But as soon as he caught up and raised his sword, a sharp pain seared across his neck.
Gu Fangchen turned midair, stepping back. His right hand flicked open, pulling hard, and with a crackling sound of electricity, purple lightning flashed across his arm.
The arc of lightning extended straight toward the sixth-grade cultivator's throat, tightly coiling around it, sinking deep into his flesh.
The other end of the lightning strand was wrapped around the stone pillar Gu Fangchen had just leapt from.
"Thousand Tribulation Silk."
Gu Fangchen grinned. Lines of spiritual patterns surfaced across his skin as all his stored energy poured into the fine thread woven from a thousand strands of heavenly tribulation.
The Power of Heavenly Tribulation combined with the Flame of Annihilation.
"This move is called, Heaven's Thunder Draws Earth's Fire!"
The sixth-grade cultivator's face turned red from the strangling pressure. Realizing he could not sever the "Thousand Tribulation Silk," he frantically channeled his spiritual energy into a defensive aura.
But he had gravely underestimated its power.
As Gu Fangchen's spiritual energy, laced with the Flame of Annihilation, met the lightning coursing through the silk, a violent reaction erupted.
Boom!
The explosion shook everyone to their core.
In the center, fire and lightning intertwined, erupting into a massive firestorm that shot skyward. The ground split apart with a thunderous crack, and a wave of invisible force rippled outward, flinging nearby cultivators through the air.
Those caught in the blast were not merely thrown, they were contaminated by the Flame of Annihilation, their skin and insides erupting continuously.
The weaker ones had their organs liquefied, spitting blood before dying instantly.
Qiu He's pupils contracted. He had never imagined that this "not-a-Daoist" could possess such terrifying power.
This strength had far surpassed that of an ordinary sixth-grade cultivator.
And that lightning-infused thread he had used, it was clearly extraordinary.
He murmured,
"No wonder... such a fine sword could be given away so casually."
When everyone looked back toward the center of the blast, Gu Fangchen was nowhere to be seen.
As for that sixth-grade expert, half of his head and torso had been blown clean off. Only the lower half of his body remained upright.
But it was not due to a strong physique.
It was because what remained of him had already turned to charcoal.
Everyone felt a chill course through their hearts, swallowing hard in unison.
For a moment, those who had planned to pursue Gu Fangchen stopped dead, their faces pale, choosing instead to turn back and continue attacking the others.
After all, capturing a survivor for questioning would do just as well.
After another bout of fierce fighting, the sword formation finally collapsed. The Sword Pavilion disciples scattered, fleeing into the stone forest.
Xu Zhenguan, being the weakest, had little chance to defend himself. Though he held the treasure sword "The Finest Stream," it could only help so much. Pursued relentlessly, he fled in disgrace.
Fortunately, because of his low cultivation, only a seventh-grade was sent after him.
It was less a pursuit than a game.
The seventh-grade cultivator stalked him like a cat playing with a mouse, smiling mockingly as he advanced step by step.
No matter how Xu Zhenguan ran, the distance between them never changed.
The man's gaze lingered on the sword in Xu Zhenguan's hand.
"A fine sword indeed. Pity about the owner. Such waste of treasure."
Xu Zhenguan gripped the sword tightly. Though his spiritual energy was nearly depleted, he clenched his teeth and forced himself to keep running.
This was the first time someone had acknowledged him as a true swordsman, and gifted him such a sword.
Even if he died, he would never let it be taken.
Bang!
The seventh-grade cultivator kicked Xu Zhenguan to the ground, knocking "The Finest Stream" from his grasp. He raised his sword to pierce Xu Zhenguan's throat, then froze, eyes widening as the tip of a blade emerged from his own chest.
Xu Zhenguan blinked in confusion, then scrambled to his feet to see three of his senior brothers from the Sword Pavilion standing behind the corpse.
Relieved, he bowed quickly.
"Senior brothers!"
The three exchanged glances. The leader pulled his sword from the dead man's body, then slowly raised it, pointing it at Xu Zhenguan.
Xu Zhenguan's pupils contracted. The other two Sword Pavilion disciples picked up "The Finest Stream," examining it with admiration.
"What a magnificent sword," one said with a grin.
"Thank you, Junior Brother Xu, for your generous offering."
Xu Zhenguan immediately understood. His chest heaved violently as cold light flickered in his eyes. Yet in the end, he lowered his head and said quietly,
"Thank you, senior brothers, for saving me."
He smiled bitterly. So much for "fate." It had never existed.
Staggering to his feet, he lifted his head, only to see, between the cracks of the stone pillars and weeds, a faceless visage slowly emerge.
His heart froze in terror.
Even as a menial disciple, he recognized that mark, it belonged to the Candle-Cutters, the "Death Path" under the Demonic Sect.
He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, a flash of cold light passed before his eyes.
The three senior brothers' heads fell to the ground, rolling to a stop beside him, their blood splattering across his body.
With a metallic clang, "The Finest Stream" hit the ground.
A Candle-Cutter appeared before him, lifting the leader's severed head. The creature's face shifted into that of the Sword Pavilion disciple, frowning slightly.
"Not Gu Fangchen."
He tossed the head aside, picked up "The Finest Stream," and looked at Xu Zhenguan with a cold expression.
"Where did you get this sword?"
Xu Zhenguan's mind went blank. In that instant, a strange calm settled over him. He heard his own voice say,
"It, it was given to that senior brother... by someone."
"Where is that person?"
Xu Zhenguan pointed.
"He went that way earlier."
The direction he pointed was exactly opposite to the one Gu Fangchen had taken.
The Candle-Cutter sheathed "The Finest Stream." Behind him, several faceless figures materialized from the shadows. One grabbed Xu Zhenguan and took to the air.
"Lead the way."