Chapter Ninety-Three: The Soul of Tian Boguang

Lin Pingzhi, wielding the Blood-Drinking Mad Blade, leapt into the arena with a thunderous shout, “Lin Pingzhi of the Huashan Sect, by order of the Grand Elder, I am here to apprehend the lecherous villain Tian Boguang. Senior brother, please step aside!”

He did not immediately attack, instead granting Linghu Chong sufficient face, allowing him to withdraw.

“Brother Lin, you misunderstand. Brother Tian is not a villain; he is an upright and honorable man!” Linghu Chong hurriedly defended him.

“That’s right, Brother Lin. Tian Boguang is not as the rumors say. After he captured me, he did not violate me; instead, he treated me with utmost respect. The words he spoke were merely to provoke Brother Linghu into fighting him...” Yilin echoed, her voice quick and eager.

“Chi Baicheng of the Taishan Sect died so unjustly—slain by Tian Boguang in an attempt to save you. Not only do you lack gratitude, you defend Tian Boguang at every turn. How blind must the three uncles Dingjing, Dingxian, and Dingyi be, to have taught a disciple so unable to distinguish right from wrong, so cold-blooded and unfeeling...” Lin Pingzhi spoke coldly, slowly drawing the Blood-Drinking Mad Blade.

“Enough! Lin Pingzhi, who do you think you are? Junior Sister Yilin is pure and innocent; how could she be as you describe?” Linghu Chong, emboldened by wine, slammed the table and shouted.

“So Chi Baicheng died in vain? Yilin, did you even look at him? Did you pray for him, chant sutras for his soul? None of that! You two, shamelessly drinking and reveling, and with a lecher to boot! Such callousness, and yet you call it innocence, Linghu Chong, ‘Great Hero Linghu’? How could Huashan produce such brazen, shameless disciples!”

Lin Pingzhi brandished his blade. “Linghu Chong, Yilin, get out of my way. Do not hinder me here. Otherwise, while I may recognize you, my blade does not.”

“Enough! I’ve said it—Brother Tian is an honorable man. If you want to apprehend him, you must get past me first. As long as I, Linghu Chong, stand here, no so-called Grand Elder or anyone else will harm Brother Tian.” Linghu Chong drew his sword and stared fiercely at Lin Pingzhi.

Lin Pingzhi was unmoved. He took a deep breath, gripping his blade, gathering his energy, his strength, and his momentum.

Linghu Chong gazed at Lin Pingzhi coldly. Ever since Lin Pingzhi came to Huashan, he had stolen away Linghu Chong’s beloved junior sister. Now he sought to capture Tian Boguang, his sworn brother. With old and new grudges combined, Linghu Chong cared little for sect brotherhood, meeting Lin Pingzhi blade to blade.

“Do I not matter either?” From above came Yue Buqun’s icy voice. Anyone could see his gloomy face.

---

Though Yue Buqun knew Linghu Chong could be hot-blooded and rash, he had not anticipated such lack of wisdom, such confusion of right and wrong. First, Linghu Chong fraternized openly with a man of the underworld; now, for the sake of a mere acquaintance, he drew his blade against his own sect brother. Yue Buqun was thoroughly disappointed in him.

“Master,” Linghu Chong was startled; Yue Buqun’s authority weighed heavily upon him. He quickly sheathed his sword, yet spoke without hesitation, “Master, you have truly misunderstood Brother Tian. He is not as the rumors say.”

Yue Buqun, furious, was about to rebuke him, but Yang Xin raised a hand to interrupt.

Yang Xin calmly regarded Linghu Chong’s stubborn gaze and spoke with serene composure, “Liang Fa, Shi Daizi.”

“We’re here!” Liang Fa and Shi Daizi stood and responded.

“Go find Liu Zhengfeng of the Hengshan Sect. Ask him to help borrow the dossier on Tian Boguang from Six Gates. Let us see whether this man, whom our ‘Great Hero Linghu’ calls brother, is a lecher or an honorable man. Then we’ll see what more Linghu Chong has to say.” Yang Xin spoke evenly.

“Yes!” Liang Fa and Shi Daizi prepared to leave, heading back to Yan Tower to seek Liu Zhengfeng.

“The Six Gates are nothing but imperial hounds. How can their words be trusted?” Linghu Chong replied disdainfully.

“Just as expected.” Yang Xin sighed deeply, stepping down from above. He walked through the air as though descending invisible stairs, coming to stand before Linghu Chong.

The martial artists present were astonished. Leaping from above was nothing remarkable—any skilled fighter could do it, even floating like a feather—but to descend step by step through the air as though walking down stairs, none had ever seen or heard of such a feat.

“During the Age of Deification, there was an immortal under the Primordial Lord of Chan Sect named Shen Gongbao. He once said, ‘The prejudices in the human heart are like a mountain; no matter how hard you try, you cannot move it.’ In modern terms: ‘You can never awaken someone who pretends to sleep.’ No matter how you present facts or evidence, even with witnesses, such a person will never believe you; they only believe what they wish.”

“Linghu Chong! Do you think that what you believe is truly what you believe? I prefer to persuade by virtue, but since you insist that Tian Boguang, whom the martial world calls a lecherous wanderer, is an honorable man, I shall show you whether he is a lecher or a hero.” With that, Yang Xin sent a light, drifting palm towards Tian Boguang.

---

Tian Boguang’s face paled in terror. That gentle palm seemed to freeze both time and space; in his eyes, there was nothing but that palm, yet no matter how fiercely he summoned his internal energy, his body could not move at all.

Yang Xin’s palm landed lightly on Tian Boguang’s chest. The crowd expected Tian Boguang’s ribs to shatter, blood to spray, his body to be flung several yards. Yet none of that happened.

Instead, Tian Boguang’s body collapsed limply, and there was not a mark to be seen on him. Only a shadowy figure detached itself from his form. The Supreme Sorcerer Ancient One could slap the soul from Dr. Banner, the Hulk; as Ancient One’s disciple, Yang Xin naturally mastered this technique.

“I have drawn out Tian Boguang’s soul. A person’s body and words may lie, but the soul cannot.”

“Good heavens!”

“What kind of martial art is this?”

“To strike a soul from the body?”

The martial artists at Yan Tower were shocked. Many had given themselves a wound and practiced the Evil-Resisting Sword Manual, hoping to use Huashan Swordsmanship to make a name. But confronted with such uncanny skills—if they could even be called martial arts—they abandoned all their ambitions. When Yang Xin’s tranquil gaze swept over them, they all shivered involuntarily, not daring to meet his eyes.

They dared not look at Yang Xin, but they could gaze at Tian Boguang’s soul. A soul! At the mention of souls, people instinctively thought of ox-headed and horse-faced guardians, the black-and-white wardens, and the King of the Underworld. Such mythic beings appearing before their eyes—they could not let this moment pass.

“This is my soul?...”