Evelyn Spencer and Clifford Bolton returned and, seeing that a horse was missing, got angry again. But after all, these horses had been taken by him in passing; even with some loss, it was nothing serious. He just said to Senior Brother, “Next time we run into a female thief, Senior Brother, don’t stop me from giving her a beating.”

The two brothers had been busy and were both feeling hungry. Evelyn Spencer kneaded some dough and made a pot of hand-pulled noodles, using the newly bought shiitake mushrooms and fresh vegetables for the sauce. Clifford Bolton couldn’t stop praising the food, saying, “Second Brother, how about from now on you do the cooking at our temple? To be honest, Master’s cooking isn’t all that tasty.”

Evelyn Spencer was shocked—he didn’t want to take on more chores—so he hurriedly said, “Master cooking for us is a great kindness. How could I take that away? Absolutely not.”

Clifford Bolton was about to persuade him, thinking there was no need for such formalities between master and disciples, when they heard a commotion outside the temple. It sounded like quite a few people had barged in. His expression turned serious, and he said in a low voice, “Second Brother, go fetch us a couple of weapons.”

Evelyn Spencer had also heard the noise and hurried to his room to get his weapons.

Songyang was a sword sect, naturally skilled in swordsmanship, but there were no long swords in the Taiyi Temple.

Of the seven weapons he had seized, five were various single sabers, plus a steel trident and a decorated spear. The weapons favored by gang members and outlaws were chosen for convenience; long swords were hard to master, and advanced sword techniques were rarely passed down, so there were no long swords.

Evelyn Spencer picked up a long saber, hesitated a bit, then also took the Demon-Slaying Sword, and went back to find Clifford Bolton. But he saw that Senior Brother was already confronting some people, with seven or eight men lying at his feet, all motionless—he couldn’t tell if they were dead or alive.

Clifford Bolton looked completely at ease, as if he didn’t take these people seriously at all. He was still as elegant and gentle as ever. Seeing him approach, he smiled and said, “Second Brother, since so many enemies have come to our temple, let me demonstrate a set of our sect’s sword techniques for you.”

These people had snuck into Taiyi Temple in the middle of the night—no need to ask, they were here to silence witnesses. When Clifford Bolton was studying at the Songyang Sect, he was known for his hatred of evil and his fierce temperament. He had already decided to kill them all.

The intruders were likely the same group as the gangsters from earlier that day; Evelyn Spencer even recognized a few familiar faces—those who had escaped earlier. Only now, their numbers had doubled or tripled. Clifford Bolton had already taken down seven or eight of them, but there were still forty or fifty left, all with bloodstains on them. About half held torches, lighting up the temple as bright as day.

A burly man with a bluish face, holding a long saber in its scabbard, stood in the center like the moon surrounded by stars, looking around arrogantly, exuding authority.

Clifford Bolton had taken down seven or eight of his men in a single move. Though young, his martial arts were truly extraordinary. The blue-faced man thought to himself, “This is bad—we’ve run into a disciple from a famous sect!”

“That woman from the Sima family who sent the message must have been rescued by them—they definitely won’t hand her over. If we kill them, it’ll cause endless trouble. But if we don’t, and word gets out, we’ll all be dead.”

Chapter 15: The Great Songyang Divine Sword

“This job is of great importance—there can be no mistakes. Kill these two young Taoists, capture Wu Qingying alive, burn the temple to the ground, and erase all traces. Even if their master returns, he may not be able to trace it back to us, the Scorpion Sect.”

The blue-faced man steeled his resolve and shouted, “Leave no one alive!” Drawing his saber, he led more than twenty men to charge at Clifford Bolton.

Evelyn Spencer, afraid that Senior Brother would suffer, quickly tossed the Demon-Slaying Sword over and gripped the handle of another saber himself, taking a deep breath but not panicking. He had already killed someone earlier that day and knew that the Hu family’s Demon-Slaying Sword technique was far superior to the average martial artist’s skills. The enemy only had numbers on their side; their actual strength wasn’t that great.

Clifford Bolton reached out and caught the Demon-Slaying Sword, drew it, smiled, and charged straight at the blue-faced man, shouting, “Second Brother, watch closely.”

The blue-faced man’s saber technique was even more advanced than the leader Evelyn Spencer had killed earlier. Determined to silence witnesses, he held nothing back—his saber flashed like a bolt of lightning, full of momentum.

Evelyn Spencer’s eyelids twitched, his palm sweating as he gripped the saber, thinking, “This blue-faced guy is tough! With such a fierce saber technique, I couldn’t block even a single move!”

Clifford Bolton stepped forward, his positioning incredibly precise, moving with ease. The blue-faced man’s saber struck only empty air.

This Senior Brother of Taiyi Temple wielded his sword like an illusion. With just a slight shift, there was a squelching sound as his sword sliced the blue-faced man from shoulder to rib, cutting him diagonally in two.

Evelyn Spencer’s heart skipped a beat. He thought, “Senior Brother’s character is a bit terrifying!”

This blue-faced man was already a notable figure in the martial world. According to the Great Lang Dynasty’s nine-tier martial ranking, he was a strong eighth-tier expert, having opened more than five meridians, and was a branch leader in the Scorpion Gang. Unfortunately, he had terrible luck and ran into Clifford Bolton.

Though Clifford Bolton was young, among the third-generation disciples of the Songyang Sect, his martial arts were among the very best—many senior disciples with twenty or thirty years of experience were far inferior to him.

As the grand-disciple of Songyang’s founder, and a direct disciple of Zhang Yuanqiao—one of the five great grandmasters in the world—how could he be compared to ordinary martial artists?