The overwhelmingly domineering sword energy actually slashed fiercely from west to east across Xiyan Town. The surviving bandits who witnessed this scene were scared out of their wits. Oh my goodness! It was just a robbery, a massacre of a town—was it really necessary to use a butcher’s knife to kill a chicken? In the face of such power, they probably didn’t even count as chickens!

Their necks, like machines, slowly and painfully turned back from the direction of that shocking shallow trench. Old Carter stammered, “W-what just happened?”

The shallow trench was less than two zhang from where he stood. Although he had narrowly escaped, several bandits and their horses were swept into it by the sword energy and vanished into dust along with the sorcerers.

“An immortal, the immortal has been killed!”

The bandits were nearly scared to the point of wetting themselves, letting out hysterical howls.

Though they were just sorcerers, in the eyes of these mortals, there was no difference from immortals.

John Thompson slowly came back to his senses. He hadn’t seen what happened behind him—he’d just blanked out for a moment. Then, all his strength seemed to drain away, his spirit inexplicably listless, and he collapsed to the ground, unable to stand.

A Li family servant hurriedly helped him up. Seeing everyone else’s dumbfounded expressions, John Thompson weakly asked, “What’s with those looks? Did something strange happen? Huh? I’m still alive!”

Ever since he’d come to terms with life and death, he wasn’t too surprised to still be alive. At worst, if he died, just burn some paper for him, summon his soul for small matters, dig up his grave for big ones.

“Young master, you—!”

William Thompson stared at John Thompson in shock. He had only seen a thick, pale light burst from him, and then the flying sword, the sorcerers, and everything in a straight line vanished without a trace.

“What?”

John Thompson was bewildered. He turned his head and was instantly stunned by what he saw.

“What the hell!”

Whose excavator had come out of nowhere to forcibly demolish things...

He had no sense of being the person at the center of it all.

“Young master!”

The Wu family’s young lady rushed over like a fledgling swallow returning to the woods, burying herself in his arms, clinging tightly to him—well, half-supporting, half-embracing him—as if she had a thousand things to say.

A hysterical voice interrupted this brief moment of tenderness between the couple and the shock of Ethan Thompson, Second Young Master Thompson, and the servants.

“Kill them! Leave no one alive—I want their heads!”

Old Carter howled madly, raising his saber and pointing at William Thompson and John Thompson. Seeing John Thompson so drained of strength, he knew that terrifying sword energy wouldn’t come a second time. Naturally, he wanted to strike while the iron was hot and finish him off, acting decisively.

In a flash, he thought of a terrifying possibility. The sect behind those two sorcerers would surely be furious. If they didn’t take the heads of everyone in the Li family of Xiyan Town, they themselves might become the targets of wrath.

If it were the official armies of Fengxuan Kingdom or Dawu Dynasty, the bandits wouldn’t care. But even if they had a hundred times more courage, they wouldn’t dare provoke even the weakest of the sorcerer sects. Compared to these sorcerers, who killed without blinking and treated human life as worthless, the bandits were nothing.

Could a four-legged warhorse outrun a snow crane? Anyone with a brain knew that no matter how far they ran, none of the bandits present would survive. They had been dragged into the pit by the Li family of Xiyan Town.

Only by offering the heads of the entire Li family might they escape disaster.

“Protect the young master!”

Though they had just suffered the sorcerers’ magical assault, the surviving servants had regained some strength. They raised their long-handled sabers and barely managed to form a defensive circle, surrounding William Thompson, John Thompson, and the Wu family’s young lady, Wu Xiangjun.

The chief steward was dead, the second steward was dead, and the master was likely gone as well. The only thing keeping them going was the belief in protecting the three young masters of the Li family and Miss Xiangjun, who was soon to marry into the family.

Two servants wielding long-handled sabers rushed toward Young Master in the distance, intending to drag Mark Thompson back to safety.

But unexpectedly, Li family’s Ethan somehow found the strength to stand up again. He shook his head at them, gritted his teeth, pulled the flying sword that had pierced through his left shoulder, and barely managed to hold it as a weapon, walking along the shallow trench carved by the sword energy toward the outskirts of town.

The weakened bandits weren’t faring much better—their warhorses couldn’t even stand. They could only drag their weapons and move in slow motion, like drunken boxers, swordsmen, and sabermen.

“Master!”

“Master, come back!”

The two servants tried to catch up, but were quickly blocked by the slightly recovered bandits, and another fierce battle broke out.

The despairing Mark Thompson felt the black pill he had just swallowed begin to take effect. His pale, aged face grew a bit rosier, and, summoning strength from who knows where, he gripped the flying sword that had belonged to his senior brother from the Star-Plucking Pavilion, staggering as he barely managed to parry and slash.