My Enemy Became My Cultivation Companion-Chapter 624 - 412: One Against Four

"Murder!"

A piercing voice nearly shattered the walls, echoing throughout Yuanfeng Building. Accompanying it came the stunned confusion of the diners. The opera on stage, "Thousand Loyal Slaughter," had them captivated, blurring the line between reality and performance.

Plop!

A corner-seated diner was suddenly stabbed by someone unknown, fresh blood spurting uncontrollably, gushing forth like a torrent. Blood sprayed across the audience below, provoking a cacophony of shrill screams amidst the chaos.

Sounds of fleeing, screaming, yelling, and shattering erupted. Teacups and bowls fell to pieces amidst the commotion, chairs and tables overturned in the stampede. Yuanfeng Building, structured as a four-sided courtyard, resembled a boiling cauldron, bubbling and splattering with chaos as multiple sources of blood sprayed across the scene — an orchestrated madness seemingly premeditated.

Yet, amidst this roiling pandemonium, there were still those who remained unmoving, seated at their tables as if unfazed.

And there were quite a few of them.

These people had swords.

Their sheathed blades glinted under the candlelight—some strapped to their backs, others hanging by their waists, or resting horizontally across their knees. The long tassels swayed lightly in the wind, but the swords themselves, ominously still.

These people also carried knives.

Their bloodthirst was even more pronounced than that of the swordsmen. Most already had their hands on their hilts, while some had partially unsheathed their bright blades, the curve of their thirsting steel radiating a sinister killing intent.

The knives and swords remained steady. No matter the chaos, no one among them moved first. Some continued listening to the opera, others sipped their tea. A few leaned back lazily, eyes closed, snoring as if unaffected by the frenzied diners. It seemed as though they occupied two separate worlds—yet all were part of the same Jianghu.

The chaos raged on, but Yuanfeng Building's owner, Huang Jing, calmly emerged from his study, teacup in hand.

Tilting his head, he listened to the noise and glanced toward the chaotic scene, letting out a cold chuckle:

"Well, attempting a rescue right under my nose."

The housekeeper at his side looked deathly pale, rendered speechless by the escalating catastrophe.

Huang Jing cast a glance at the group of unmoving individuals below, then spoke slowly:

"This spy picked the wrong day. With so many heroes gathered here, there's no escape for him."

The housekeeper followed his gaze and suddenly realized the intent behind today's gathering. Huang Jing had invited all the foes of Lonely Smoke Sword here to Yuanfeng Building for a banquet—this assembly of heroes was initially meant to entrap their common adversary, but now the timing was fortuitous.

The situation seemed firmly in their control. The housekeeper, previously pale, regained his composure and exclaimed:

"Master Huang, your foresight is truly remarkable! Aided by fortune itself, this spy foolishly rushed into Yuanfeng Building to rescue his master, unwittingly stepping straight into our dragon's lair!"

"Flattering words from a servant," Huang Jing sneered across a distance of ten zhang, then added, "But you're not wrong."

...

The earlier shout stirred the Martial Artist servants lurking within Yuanfeng Building.

Swift and precise, the timing of the outcry plunged the building into immediate turmoil. Countless eyes turned to the top floor, where Chen Yi and Dong Gong Ruoshu were located.

Dong Gong Ruoshu, momentarily dazed, only heard:

"They're coordinating with someone outside," Chen Yi said rapidly. "They're trying to use this chaos to misdirect blame onto us, allowing their remaining people to escape."

Dong Gong Ruoshu snapped out of it, drawing her blade.

Chen Yi noticed and added, "Focus on defending yourself. Don't attack recklessly. I'll protect you."

Hearing this, Dong Gong Ruoshu—if it had been Yin Weiyin, she might've felt a sweet warmth filling her Heart Lake—but Dong Gong Ruoshu simply nodded matter-of-factly, like the naïve girl she was.

She couldn't afford to drag Chen Yi down.

At that moment, several figures burst into the corridor. With weapons varying in shape and size, they glanced at Chen Yi, then at Dong Gong Ruoshu behind him, and finally at the crimson bloodstains within the private room. Their faces darkened visibly.

The gleaming weapons reflected a deadly glint in their eyes.

Chen Yi's brow furrowed slightly as he tried to reason:

"If I say I have nothing to do with them, will you believe me?"

No one responded.

"Capture that spy and the woman!"

One burly man roared and charged, blade raised.

Cold steel flashed toward Chen Yi.

"Ha."

Chen Yi chuckled coldly, taking one shaky step, then another. Dong Gong Ruoshu saw his first two steps falter, like an unstable gait, but with his third step, his figure vanished as if wiped away.

When he reappeared, the burly man's blade was twisted, its edge piercing into his own chest in an unnatural angle. Chen Yi released the hilt with his thumb and forefinger, snapping his fingers.

The embedded blade vibrated, churning the victim's insides. Blood spattered against the pillar, spraying everywhere.

"You...you…" The burly man fell backward, choking on his words. Meanwhile, Chen Yi stepped closer, his movements causing the remaining attackers' faces to blanch. They retreated unconsciously, pressing against one another as though cornered by a god of death.

Witnessing this, Dong Gong Ruoshu's eyes lit up. Though she had rarely seen Chen Yi in action, this display—swift, and crushing—was unprecedented.

The sword-and-knife aura swirled around him, suffused with the commanding air of a Grandmaster, even as his hands were clasped behind his back, radiating unassailable power.

This was the ultimate euphoria of martial cultivation.

Dong Gong Ruoshu couldn't help but fantasize—what if she and Chen Yi traded places? Much better, indeed.

And then she remembered—they both shared the surname Chen…

The thought amused her. Amidst the gore, caught under horrified or reverent gazes, she laughed—a laugh carefree yet chilling, haunting amidst the blood-soaked floor.

Truly, a born killer.

From below, among the seated martial artists, one suddenly slammed his hand on the table and yelled:

"Interrupting your grandfather's tea time?! Damn you, Western Jin bastards!"

Chen Yi stood his ground, his relentless steps timed perfectly. Just then came a thunderous shout, and a blade shot forth from below—blindingly fast, like lightning cracking across the sky. The sword's gleam and slicing wind left one unsure whether the sword outpaced the gale.

The wielder, an elder with sharp brows and bright eyes, his white hair flowing, seemed centuries old yet teeming with boundless vigour—a storm cloaked in human form.

The sword aimed straight at Chen Yi's throat. Chen Yi's brow furrowed as he shifted into the fifth stance of Cloudstride Peak—a swift sidestep avoiding the strike. Almost simultaneously, he appeared at the elder's flank.

"Huh!" The elder exclaimed, swinging his blade. A massive crimson-painted pillar split cleanly in two, revealing polished edges—but Chen Yi was nowhere near.

As Chen Yi tapped his sheath, the Brocade Spring Blade whirled out. Anticipating this, the elder leapt back. Yet a thin line cleaved the stone wall behind him, which exploded into fragments!

"What a ruthless blade!"

The elder's face tightened in startled awe. Known as "Six Yang Abbot," he was a famed tribute swordsmith, respected master of the Six Yang Sword technique. Stories told of his past glory vanquishing bandits across three mountains and six rivers—today, his reputation as a top-tier martial artist remained unshaken.

He had no personal grudge against Lonely Smoke Sword but had come here to vanquish "Western Jin traitors," aiding the righteous cause—four words: Jianghu camaraderie!

The elder studied Chen Yi intently before speaking:

"I thought eliminating your kind would've been child's play. But with someone like you here...this changes everything."

"Once more—stop this. I'm not your spy," Chen Yi stated flatly, blade at the ready. "Persist, and your life is forfeit."

"Life forfeit? You brat talk as if this is some duel!"

Six Yang Abbot chuckled coldly, stepping back to call out:

"For scoundrels like you, Jianghu rules don't apply! Fellow righteous warriors—join me in bringing justice! Let's rid these scum from our Great Yu!"

His thunderous voice echoed, rallying the entire building. Responding to his call, multiple martial artists sprang into action—some scaling pillars, some leaping across beams, others treading on heads in acrobatic displays, demonstrating their various martial techniques until the group surrounded Chen Yi.

Huang Jing stepped out with his teacup and exclaimed, raising it high:

"A lone rogue daring to challenge a den of heroes—I drink to your courage!"

But before the amassed martial artists struck, he flung his cup as a projectile. The porcelain cup and saucer spun sharply, tea contained within, tracing a flawless arc toward Chen Yi's face.

A choice presented itself—slice it in half and risk his face being drenched, undermining his composure; or dodge and give Six Yang Abbot an opening.

"Good tea," Chen Yi muttered, unmoving as he concentrated. Using Qi manipulation, the cup abruptly deviated mid-air, speeding instead toward Six Yang Abbot!

"Your turn, Master!" Chen Yi quipped.

The cup, breathtakingly precise, forced Six Yang Abbot to defend. His sword deflected it just as porcelain shattered against his aged face, leaving him soaked completely.

"Exquisite tea indeed," he quipped coolly, but humiliation flickered briefly in his eyes before turning steely once again.