SWISH!
The freezing night wind howled past his ears. Tran Kien, without a moment of hesitation, smashed through the window and lunged outward, his body like a hawk with a broken wing plummeting into the chaotic night of the City of Chaos. The sensation of deadly peril from behind, sharp as a poisoned needle, clung to him relentlessly.
He had made a mistake. A fatal mistake.
His "framing and shifting the blame" farce had successfully diverted the two hungry tigers, Kim Bao and the Black Dragon Stronghold youth, but it had not deceived the far more cunning old eagle who was truly casting the net. The old bronze wares seller, the one who appeared the most lethargic and lazy, was actually the most dangerous shark hiding in the muddied waters.
I must escape! This was the only thought flashing through Tran Kien's mind.
He landed soundlessly on a rotting wooden awning in the alley below. Without pausing for even a breath, he channeled his Primordial Chaos Qi into his legs. His body, like a drifting leaf, skimmed across the uneven, closely-packed rooftops of the open-air market.
Behind him, the tall, skinny silhouette of the old man also shot out from the opposite roof, following in hot pursuit. His speed was terrifyingly fast; though he didn't appear to be in a hurry, the distance between the two was not widening in the slightest. He was like a phantom, gliding through the night without making a single sound.
The City of Chaos at night was by no means peaceful. Beneath the rooftops, the crimson glow of lanterns from gambling dens and brothels cast their light upwards, mingling with the sounds of laughter, curses, and the clashing of weapons, creating a symphony of chaos and sin.
Tran Kien used this very chaos to his advantage. He didn't run aimlessly. He dashed straight toward the most crowded and complicated district.
CRASH!
He kicked fiercely against a loose roof tile, sending a shower of shattered clay down into the street below, landing squarely on the wine table of a group of drunken vagabond martial artists.
"Motherf*cker! Which dog did that?"
"Kill him!"
The entire group of drunken men roared, drawing their weapons and sparking a minor melee. Tran Kien used that exact moment to slip into another narrow alley.
But it was useless.
The old man's phantom-like figure seemed completely unaffected by the commotion. He merely glided gently over the brawl, his aged eyes not fluctuating in the slightest, remaining firmly locked onto Tran Kien's silhouette.
"Not bad, little boy," the old man's voice, no longer sluggish but clear and sharp, echoed in Tran Kien's ears as if he were whispering right beside him. "To be able to pull the wool over this old man's eyes in this City of Chaos, you are the first in ten whole years. But this game of cat and mouse should come to an end."
As his words fell, he suddenly accelerated.
Tran Kien only felt a freezing gust of wind crash into him from behind. Filled with horror, he hastily circulated his Saber Intent - Thousand Tempers, Hundred Refinements. Without turning his head, he slashed backward with his blade.
Clang!
A crisp, metallic collision rang out. His matte-black saber seemed to have struck something incredibly hard. A powerful surge of kinetic force transmitted over, numbing his entire arm and nearly knocking the saber from his grasp.
Borrowing the force of the impact, he performed a mid-air somersault and landed in a dead-end alley. Only then did he see clearly. The old man was standing there, less than five zhang away. Held between his two bony fingers was a single tree leaf. Just now, he had used this fragile leaf to block Tran Kien's full-powered saber strike!
'Flying flowers and plucked leaves alike can serve as deadly weapons!'
This phrase flashed across Tran Kien's mind. This old man's cultivation base had truly reached an unimaginable realm! This wasn't the Foundation Establishment Stage; he feared it was... even higher!
"A Lac Viet relic, Primordial Chaos Qi..." The old man looked at him, his eyes brimming with greed and interest. "Upon the body of a little boy like you, there are far too many intriguing secrets. Hand them over, and this old man can spare your life and take you in as a legacy disciple."
"And if I refuse?" Tran Kien spoke coldly, gripping his saber tightly, the Primordial Chaos Qi within his body circulating madly.
"In that case," the old man sighed, his face full of regret. "This old man can only retrieve those things from your corpse."
He didn't give Tran Kien another chance. He merely flicked his finger. The leaf in his hand shot out like a throwing knife, carrying a blast of wind that was sharp to the extreme.
Tran Kien knew this was an attack he absolutely could not block. He didn't meet it head-on. Pouring all his strength into his legs, he kicked fiercely against the adjacent wall.
BOOM!
The wall of a dilapidated house collapsed. He lunged inside, hoping to use the complex terrain to escape.
But the moment he rushed inside, he froze.
Inside was not an abandoned house. It was a spacious courtyard surrounded by four high walls. And in the courtyard stood over ten people.
At the forefront was a woman dressed in a red silk skirt, wearing a silver fox mask. Her aura... she was precisely in the Foundation Establishment Stage! Someone from the Phantom Shadow Pavilion!
Beside her were the fat Kim Bao and the black-robed youth from the Black Dragon Stronghold. The three factions, using some unknown method, had all appeared here together.
They weren't looking at Tran Kien. They were looking at the old man who had just stepped through the hole in the wall.
"Old Eccentric Black Heart!" the fox-masked woman spoke, her voice ice-cold. "Do you dare to swallow the treasure all by yourself?"
The old man, Old Eccentric Black Heart, frowned slightly at the sight. "It seems you lot aren't entirely stupid."
"Cut the crap!" Kim Bao roared. "We sensed long ago that someone was pulling the strings from behind! Hand over the brat and the treasure! Otherwise, today will be the anniversary of your death!"
Tran Kien stood in the middle, his heart plummeting to the bottom of the abyss. He finally understood.
This was a trap within a trap. His "framing and shifting the blame" scheme had succeeded, but it had been used by these very participants as an excuse to form an alliance against the old eagle, Old Eccentric Black Heart.
From the puppet master, he had once again been reduced to prey.
And this time, surrounding him wasn't one, but four fierce tigers, baring their fangs and brandishing their claws.
A desperate situation. A true dead end with no path to survival.