Killing intent surged, palpable even from a hundred meters away, sending shivers down the spine.
Ye Qiu and Ye Wudi lay prone in the snow, stealthily observing Xiao Jiu’s position.
On the other side of the canyon, three men approached side by side.
The one on the left, in his thirties, was a bald man with a bushy beard and rugged features. He wore a tattered monk’s robe and straw sandals, resembling a beggar. This monk was heavyset, standing at 1.9 meters, exuding raw strength.
In the center was an old man, likely in his sixties or seventies, short—barely 1.5 meters. Clad in a black robe, he radiated a chilling aura. His eyes, black with a ghostly blue tint, were mesmerizing. Ye Qiu glanced at him and instinctively knew this old man was formidable.
The man on the right, in his forties, had golden hair and a stern face. He carried a massive sword on his shoulder—a meter long, three feet wide, ten centimeters thick, forged of pure iron. The edgeless blade looked clumsy, weighing likely one or two hundred jin. Yet he bore it effortlessly, his steps light, marking him as a master of both inner and outer strength.
“It’s them!” Ye Wudi’s expression darkened.
“Third Uncle, you know them?” Ye Qiu asked.
Ye Wudi replied, “As Tang Lao’s bodyguard these years, I’ve traveled globally with him. Before each trip, I research the local scene. So, I know a bit about top fighters worldwide. These three are from the neighboring country’s Brahman Order, an ancient group akin to our Shaolin or Wudang, over a thousand years old. Unlike them, Brahman has always served royalty.”
“Now, Brahman has five top-tier experts. The bald monk on the left is Singh, a ascetic known for his brute strength—his fists are legendary. The old man in the middle, Gunur, is mysterious. I don’t know his specialty, but he feels unfathomably dangerous, likely the most threatening of the trio.”
He continued, “The one on the right, Gumu, is a swordmaster, called Brahman’s top swordsman. He fought your father years ago.”
Ye Qiu raised an eyebrow. “He lost?”
“Of course,” Ye Wudi said. “He couldn’t withstand a single move from your father. But back then, he was about your age. Twenty years later, he’s grown into a formidable expert. Oh, and Gumu is Gunur’s son.”
Ye Qiu’s eyes flicked between Gunur and Gumu. Gunur was short and unattractive, while Gumu was tall, golden-haired, and somewhat handsome. How did this father and son look so different? Could Gunur’s wife have strayed?
Ye Wudi added, worry in his voice, “I just don’t know if Brahman’s other two top experts are here. If they are, rescuing Xiao Jiu will be far from easy.”
Ye Qiu noticed Ye Wudi’s grave expression when mentioning the other two. “Are Brahman’s other two that strong?”
Ye Wudi nodded. “Not just strong—terrifyingly so. They’re the sect leader, Dragon Maiden, and the high priest, Asaman. Both are on the God List.”
He explained, “The God List claims to rank global experts but mostly covers top fighters from China and nearby Asian nations. Dragon Maiden ranks fourth, and Asaman, a master of dark arts, is tenth. If they’re here, saving Xiao Jiu will be nearly impossible.”
Ye Qiu’s heart sank. Two God List experts underscored Brahman’s deep reserves.
“Let’s watch first. If Dragon Maiden and Asaman aren’t here, we strike,” Ye Wudi said.
“And if they are?” Ye Qiu asked.
Ye Wudi paused. “Then we run.”
Ye Qiu was surprised. Ye Wudi always seemed fearless, yet he dreaded Dragon Maiden and Asaman so much.
“God List experts are on another level. You’ll understand when you face them,” Ye Wudi said, glancing at Ye Qiu. “I know you want to save Xiao Jiu, and so do I. But we must be realistic, not reckless. If those two are here, don’t hesitate—flee. Otherwise, we’ll not only fail to save him but lose our lives too.”
Ye Qiu nodded slightly. He knew Ye Wudi meant well.
At that moment, Xiao Jiu’s voice rang out ahead. “I knew it. Only a powerful group could muster so many experts to kill me. So, it’s you, Brahman. Too bad, the assassins you sent are down to these few. I’ve taken care of the rest.”
Gunur sneered, his voice icy. “Those you killed were my dead men, trained for twenty years to hunt you. They did well enough, even if below my expectations. At least they left you gravely wounded. Xiao Jiu, you’ve been arrogant for years. It’s time you died.”
“Once you’re gone, the Northern Territory will be leaderless, a scattered mess. Our army will sweep in, unstoppable. Don’t worry—after we kill you, I’ll send your body to Beigu Pavilion to join your brothers. Then I’ll blast your ashes to bits with a shell, hahaha…”
Gunur’s laughter was triumphant, as if Xiao Jiu were already a corpse.
“Kill me? Not so easy,” Xiao Jiu said, his eyes blazing with killing intent.
Gunur mocked, “You can barely stand. What can you do against me?”
“Hmph!” Xiao Jiu snorted, using his warblade to prop himself up, standing tall like a spear. “A man should be a hero in life and a legend in death. Even if I die, I’ll take you with me.”
Raising his blade, he pointed at the trio and roared, “Come face your death!”
