He stood up respectfully, just about to see this group of people out, when he heard a slightly childish voice shout, “You’ve been chasing me all the way—today I’ll kill a few of your horses to vent my anger!” Immediately after, there came the neighing of horses and the dull thuds of heavy bodies hitting the ground. The faces of the twenty or thirty burly men all changed color. Before they could react, the tightly shut main doors gave a thunderous crash and slowly toppled inward. A young man, dressed in coarse cotton clothes and wearing a thick felt hat, strode in with a single saber in hand, his bearing proud. Blood on the blade had frozen into ice, exuding a biting chill.

Though the youth was alone and young, saber in hand, he radiated the aura of a lone hero holding a pass against ten thousand foes.

The twenty or thirty burly men had already gotten up. Those with weapons drew them, standing ready in strict formation. Those without weapons wanted to grab some from their horses, but the youth blocked the door, making them too afraid to go out, their faces showing clear fear.

Evelyn Spencer was filled with envy, muttering to himself, “This youth is quite something. I wonder what his name is and where he comes from?”

The burly man with a face like pale gold flipped his wrist, and the long sword on his back was suddenly in his hand. He spun it, creating six or seven sword flowers, and the three feet in front of him were shrouded in cold light. He shouted, “Little thief, prepare to die!”

The lone youth dragged his saber, his body swaying like a swimming fish, weaving through the sword light with incredible speed. He closed in on the burly man surnamed Hu and slashed three times in quick succession. The man’s swordsmanship was as steady as a mountain, covering all directions, and with a flick of his long sword, he deflected all three strikes. In an instant, the two exchanged several moves, blades and swords flashing like wind, swift as rabbits and falcons.

Evelyn Spencer watched, utterly entranced, thinking, “This really is a world of martial arts! The leader is a true expert—this kind of swordsmanship doesn’t exist where I come from.”

The bearded burly man was also quite eye-catching. He carried a long leather case, from which he now drew his hidden weapons—two short spears. He joined them together to form a double-headed spear, which he swung with a whoosh, charging forward like a fierce tiger.

Seeing they had the numbers, the youth laughed loudly, took half a step back, and shouted, “So the Hu family only dares to rely on numbers!”

The burly man surnamed Hu, seeing the youth seemed ready to flee, suddenly let out a long howl. Without any visible movement, a half-foot-long, flickering blue glow shot out from his sword blade, as agile as a serpent. With a single stroke, he sliced the youth’s saber in two.

This blue glow was unimaginably sharp, no less than a legendary divine weapon, able to cut through iron like mud—truly extraordinary.

Chapter 2: Taking a Master

Evelyn Spencer was instantly shocked, thinking, “A blue glow can actually appear on a sword blade—could it be that the world I’ve transmigrated to is one of immortals, not just martial artists?”

The youth reacted instantly, hurling the broken saber from his hand, then leaping back more than ten yards, out through the shattered inn doors, landing in the snowy street outside as light as a leaf. With his lightness skill, he vanished in the blink of an eye.

The burly man surnamed Hu dodged the flying broken blade, shouted, stomped his feet, and also dashed out the ruined inn doors, sword in hand, in pursuit.

The other burly men also rushed out of the inn. Those unarmed grabbed weapons from the dead horses lying in pools of blood, then hurried after the two.

Fighting among people of the jianghu was extremely dangerous. The older inn workers, experienced as they were, had long since fled without a trace. The cook, who had been woken to make food, never even came out. Evelyn Spencer, lacking such experience, had stayed put the whole time. Now, wanting to escape, he found he didn’t need to.

He poked his head out the door for a look, and saw the ground littered with dead horses. The youth had struck ruthlessly—of the twenty or thirty fine horses, more than a dozen had been killed. The wounds had frozen over, so there wasn’t much blood. The surviving horses neighed restlessly, clearly agitated. Two burly men’s corpses also lay sprawled in the snow, a shocking sight. It was obvious the youth had killed the horses, and in passing, dispatched these two unlucky fellows as well.

A sudden thought struck him: “Is this some kind of alternate world starter lottery? No matter their martial skill, these burly men must be richer than the inn workers. There’s bound to be valuables on the dead horses and men. If I can scrounge up some silver, it’ll be a huge help for my future life. An opportunity like this might not come again for years—I can’t let it slip by.”

Though it was his first time seeing people killed and his legs were weak with fear, Evelyn Spencer mustered his courage and ran into the snow, reaching into one of the burly men’s coats. After a bit of searching, he indeed found a money pouch, heavy in his hand—clearly a decent sum.

He felt a flicker of joy, quickly emptied the pouch, kept only the loose silver and copper coins, and put the other odds and ends back in the pouch, stuffing it into the dead man’s coat.

Evelyn Spencer, after all, was someone who had transmigrated, and thought things through. If he took the whole pouch, the burly men would surely notice their companion’s loss. But he didn’t believe they’d know exactly how much money was in each other’s pouches.

Without bothering to count his haul, Evelyn Spencer searched another corpse and found another pouch. Using the same method, he didn’t put the silver and coins in his own clothes—his employer would sometimes search the workers to prevent theft, and if they found the money, they’d confiscate it all without leaving him a cent. The youth found a big tree, and hid the money under the snow at its base.