Henry Owen sighed inwardly, knowing he could only rely on himself now.

He casually grabbed a wooden rod from the nearby bookshelf, the kind used for making scrolls. It was made of black ironwood, not very handy, and quite heavy.

In Henry Owen's mind, thoughts were racing as he pondered how to deal with these people.

Facing them head-on was definitely not an option.

All of them were newly promoted inner disciples, with similar strength, at the entry level of martial arts, and their Nourishing Essence Skill wouldn't exceed the first level.

A few with exceptional talent could reach the 'lower ninth rank' realm, but they were rare.

In a one-on-one fight, Henry Owen was confident he wouldn't lose, but there were nine opponents.

No matter how fast Henry Owen's blade was, he couldn't take them all down in an instant.

Besides, all he had in his hand was a heavy wooden rod.

So he had to find a narrow alley to face them; that way, no matter how many opponents there were, only one could fight him at a time.

Only by keeping it one-on-one at all times would he have a chance of winning.

If things got really bad, he could spend a martial arts point to buy a 'Divine Strength Pill' from the martial arts treasury.

It could temporarily double his strength, and increase his speed and reaction by sixty percent, enough to make him invincible.

Once Henry Owen made up his mind, he immediately sprinted away, breaking out of the encirclement before the youths could close in, and dashed up the stairs with all his might.

The youths were caught off guard and reacted half a beat too late.

"After him!"

All nine of them rushed after him, charging up the stairs like mad tigers.

After they left, the surrounding inner disciples were all alarmed and gathered around.

They looked suspiciously toward the stairway, discussing among themselves.

"What happened?"

"I recognize a few of those guys at the back—they're all from the Haiqing Gang at the East City docks."

"The one being chased is called Henry Owen, the same guy who almost chopped off the second son of the Long family yesterday. These Haiqing Gang members must have taken Long family's money and are here to cause trouble for Henry Owen today."

"Henry Owen? I heard his blade technique is really fast. Master Lei himself said his talent is no less than the chief true disciple Li Fenglai. But this time he's in trouble—those guys are all top fighters raised by the Haiqing Gang, all close to lower ninth rank. Two fists can't beat four hands."

"What a pity, he's probably going to be crippled. I heard three years ago someone else offended the wrong people and got both hands broken in the library, but claimed he fell down the stairs. Since no one testified for him, the matter was left unsettled."

"Don't the instructors in the building care? That's just too shady."

"Shut up. If you don't want to stay in the martial arts school, keep talking."

Henry Owen reached the third floor and ran straight to the left.

He saw a small corridor at the east corner on the left side of this floor. The entrance was about four feet wide, only enough for two people to pass at most—an ideal spot for him to make a stand.

As he ran, Henry Owen felt a surge of doubt.

He hadn't seen a single instructor or martial arts teacher along the way.

All directions were empty, and the surroundings were eerily quiet.

Was there really no one on this floor? Not even an instructor on duty?

Just as Henry Owen rounded the corner into the left corridor, the nine wolf-like youths also charged up the stairs one after another.

They looked around in all directions, searching for Henry Owen's whereabouts.

"Where did that guy go?"

This was said by a tall, fat youth, who was also holding a wooden rod, his gaze sweeping coldly around. "Bastard! You sure can run fast."

Another youth, with eyes like copper bells and a face full of stubble, was also scanning the area. "Search all around. He should be on this floor—I didn't hear him go upstairs just now. The other two stairways are blocked by our people; he can't get down.

Once we find him, don't rush to attack. This guy's blade technique is fierce. None of us can beat him one-on-one—"

The stubbly youth's words were abruptly cut off as they saw a figure walk out from a nearby room.

It was a refined-looking man, wearing a red high hat, his face as fair as jade, lips as red as blood.

Between his brows was a blue mark, sharp as a sword.

After stepping out of the room, the man looked at them expressionlessly, his gaze as if looking at trash blocking his way, tinged with annoyance.

The fat youth, frustrated at not finding his target, glared back in anger. "What are you looking at? Haiqing Gang business—get lost!"

The man was momentarily stunned, then let out a cold laugh.

Seeing this, the fat youth grew even angrier. Just as he was about to shout, he saw the refined man stretch out a hand as white as jade and make a grasping motion in the air toward him.

"Crack!"

With a crisp sound of bones breaking, the fat youth's hands and lower legs suddenly bent backward, and he collapsed to the ground.

He was stunned for a moment, then let out a heart-wrenching scream.

With another flick of his sleeve, the refined man sent a burly youth who had lunged at him flying, as if struck by an invisible giant hand. The youth crashed into the wall like a rag doll, and when he fell, his limbs were broken and he lost consciousness.

The stubbly youth, witnessing this scene, was momentarily frozen in shock.