Immortal Among Mortals

Chapter 3: You Are Nothing Special Before Me

​On the seventh day, the Fang Residence faced the most oppressive atmosphere since its founding. Although most people dismissed the threat of annihilation with cynicism, the entire estate grew visibly tense as dusk fell.

​The night was as clear as water, with a cold wind howling through the quiet streets of South Hill City. What was once a bustling town was now deadly silent, broken only by the occasional bark of a dog.

​Fang Wang sat on the edge of the roof, holding a precious sword in his hands. This was the weapon Li Jiu had spent three days acquiring—a divine blade capable of cutting through iron as if it were mud.

​His gaze was fixed on a figure perched on another rooftop in the distance: his cousin, Fang Hanyu.

​Fang Hanyu stood tall with his sword folded in his arms, his head slightly lowered as if he were asleep. The cold wind whipped his long hair and robes, giving him the imposing air of a valiant swordsman preparing to scale the highest peak.

​'His martial skills are indeed impressive—truly among the top ranks of the martial world, and far from a newcomer to this realm. He really is a martial arts prodigy,' Fang Wang praised silently.

​In the martial world, practitioners categorized their realms from lowest to highest as Unranked, Third-Class, Second-Class, First-Class, Peak, and the legendary Martial Myth Realm. In this current era, there were no known practitioners of the Martial Myth Realm. Peak-level experts served as the pillars of major sects and rarely wandered the Jianghu, while First-Class masters were already formidable enough to travel the land unchallenged.

​Fang Wang had reached the Martial Myth Realm at the age of sixteen, an achievement that should have made him a living legend of his time. Yet now, he was about to face an extraordinary onslaught from the Cultivation World.

Faced with the impending arrival of cultivators, Fang Wang felt no fear or panic. Instead, a surge of burning excitement welled up within him.

​After four years of practicing martial arts, he had never killed an enemy. Even during his sparring matches, he had always worn a mask to challenge masters and stopped his strikes right at the point of contact.

​His ultimate reliance lay in his mastery of martial arts combined with his Great Perfection Sword Control Technique, giving him the confidence to challenge the lowest tier of the Cultivation World. Furthermore, with Zhou Xue residing in the Fang Residence, he believed that as a reborn Venerable Immortal, she undoubtedly possessed extraordinary methods of her own—after all, no one understood the vast chasm between cultivators and mortals better than she did.

​The night deepened, and the croaking of frogs echoed frequently from the courtyard. Household servants patrolled everywhere, particularly along the perimeter of the Fang Residence, where even official guards had been alerted and dispatched to stand watch.

​Zhou Xue sat at a stone table in the courtyard, wiping a silver crossbow bolt in her hand. Her expression was icy, her gaze even colder than the moonlight. In the reflection of the gleaming bolt, a dark, ominous aura seemed to rise within her eyes.

*****

Elsewhere.

​Over at the eastern wall of South Hill City, shadowy figures leaped upward like soaring falcons or glided across the ramparts like graceful swans, silently slipping into the city.

​The last figure stood atop the wall, gazing down at the sprawling expanse of South Hill City. Draped in fluttering green robes, he had a slender waist and broad shoulders. His long hair was casually bound with a strip of cloth, and though he appeared to be in his early forties and carried a horsehair whisk that made him look like a Daoist priest, his eyes glowed with the chilling glare of a venomous snake.

​"As expected of one of the most prosperous cities in the Greater Qi South, this place will surely make a fine feast to awaken the Soul-Burning Banner."

​Daoist Qingyi muttered to himself, a curved smirk playing on his lips and a hint of cruelty laced in his voice. With a light leap, he vanished into the vast night.

*****

Inside the grand hall of the Fang Residence, lanterns blazed brightly. All the men and women of the estate were present, with the head of the house, Fang Meng, seated in the seat of honor.

​Nearly seventy years old, Fang Meng's white hair denoted his venerable age. He sat like an old lion, leaning upon his cane, his gaze sharp and calm as he looked out into the night.

​"It is already midnight, and not a single bandit has attacked. It was completely a false alarm."

​"I knew it. Who would take the words of two children seriously?"

​"Fang Wang is usually so smart, how could he believe such a rumor? The Fang Residence is a Duke's Manor; those who dare barge in will only lose their heads."

​"Quiet down. What do you all know? It isn't even dawn yet; we cannot let down our guard!"

​"Father, the unease in my heart is only growing stronger."

​The men were Fang Wang's uncles, and their expressions were grave, while some of the women pretended to be relaxed in an attempt to lighten the mood.

​Fang Zhen's words moved his brothers, for he had military experience, having climbed up from a mountain of corpses and an ocean of blood. The sense of danger he possessed was far superior to that of anyone else.

​Fang Meng snorted, "I have spent my life on the battlefield, and now I have retired to a simple life after handing over my military power. But that doesn't mean just anyone can provoke me. Whoever dares to come will die, and this won't end here!"

The anger was palpable. Throughout the entire land of Greater Qi, who would dare target the Duke of Fang’s Manor so recklessly?

​And who possessed the capability?

​Fang Meng harbored suspicions but did not voice them.

​Suddenly!

​"Ah—"

​A scream echoed from the east, the voice of a maidservant tinged with sheer terror.

​Fang Shi, Fang Wang's eldest uncle, immediately rushed out, vanishing from everyone's sight in a few strides.

​The remaining four men of the Fang Residence—Fang Zhe, Fang Jin, Fang Zhen, and Fang Yin—promptly stepped out of the main doors, looking around. Their wives, though startled, did not panic, simply huddling together and shivering.

​Fang Meng coughed a few times and slowly stood up with his wife's assistance.

​Shouts, battle cries, and the sound of clashing swords immediately rose from all corners of the Fang Residence.

​Perched on a rooftop, Fang Wang watched mysterious figures in black sneak into the Fang Residence from all directions. The number of enemies far exceeded his imagination. He rushed toward the ones moving the fastest.

​At the same time, Fang Hanyu also made his move, while Zhou Xue still sat patiently near the stone table.

​Clack!

​A figure clad in black leaped over the courtyard wall and landed on the ground, a blade in his right hand and his face covered in black cloth, leaving only his eyes visible. His gaze shifted to the three servant girls in the courtyard, who, upon spotting him, shrieked in terror and bolted toward the house.

Without a word, the figure in black dashed toward them.

​Whoosh—

​A sound splitting the air cut through the night sky, causing the man in black to stop abruptly. Behind him, a small stone struck the corner wall, carving a thumb-sized dent before crashing to the ground. Washed in the moonlight, the bloodstain on the stone appeared pitch black.

​The man in black then fell backward, his head hitting the hard ground, eyes wide open in death, seeing nothing more. His forehead had been pierced by a bloody hole, a deeply shocking sight.

​In his dilating pupils, Fang Wang's figure flashed past.

​Moving swiftly along the courtyard wall, Fang Wang occasionally flicked small stones that he had prepared beforehand. Each stone could effortlessly claim the life of a man in black causing chaos within the Fang Residence.

​Fang Wang changed direction from time to time, targeting wherever men in black appeared; not a single one could survive a single strike from him.

​The Fang Residence spanned a vast area, resembling a city within a city. With the black-clad invaders scattered all over, Fang Wang couldn't wipe them all out instantly; as he moved, he also kept a watchful eye on the distance.

​Zhou Xue had mentioned that apart from the cultivator, there were six top-tier experts from the Imperial City raiding this time. The Fang Residence possessed no top-tier experts; even with the help of thousands of household servants and guards, it was still difficult to slay six top-tier experts.

​Fang Wang intended to deal with the six top-tier experts first, and then face the cultivator, in order to minimize casualties within the Fang Residence as much as possible.

Suddenly, Fang Wang spotted a surge of powerful energy in one direction, which even caused an attic to collapse. Without hesitation, he turned and dashed toward it.

​Clang!

​Sword met sword, and Fang Hanyu stumbled backward, dragging two long tracks on the ground with the tips of his boots. He leaned sharply forward, planting his scabbard into the earth, then half-knelt, blood flowing uncontrollably from his mouth.

​He had lost in the initial clash!

​Fang Hanyu's long hair was somewhat disheveled, and as he struggled to lift his eyes, his gaze was filled with shock and fear. Gritting his teeth, he spat out two words: "Top-tier!"

​beneath the night sky, amidst the cold wind, the man in black standing opposite Fang Hanyu wielded a long sword of fine steel. Unlike the others, he wore a bronze mask that revealed only his eye and nose areas.

​The masked man looked down at Fang Hanyu coldly and snorted, "To achieve such a level of skill at a young age, the Fang Residence has indeed nurtured a genius. What a pity—tonight, you will meet an untimely end."

​He raised the long sword in his right hand, and cold energy seemed to radiate from the blade.

​Fang Hanyu stared stubbornly, unwilling to accept his fate. Before tonight, he had witnessed a top-tier expert—the sect leader of their own sect, a renowned master throughout the entire Greater Qi martial community. That very sect leader had once given him guidance, deepening his understanding of the vast chasm between a first-class expert and a top-tier one.

​Despair crept into his heart. Although the Fang Residence was a Duke's Manor founded by a military family, it was not inhabited by any top-tier experts. His eldest uncle, Fang Shi, was powerful, but only at the peak of the first-class realm.

​"Who exactly are you? Who is pulling the strings from behind the scenes?" Fang Hanyu asked in a heavy voice, struggling to stand, his hands gripping his precious trembling sword.

​Having just fought, his internal organs had been severely injured by the enemy's True Qi; nonetheless, he refused to retreat, because this was his home.

​The masked man stepped forward, the flash of his blade reflecting a cold light, glittering beside the debris.

​"What is the use of a dying man seeking the truth? All worldly mortal affairs will soon be of no concern to you," the masked man said coldly. He angled his long sword upward, cold energy rising from the blade like mist, overshadowing his silhouette.

​Fang Hanyu cast aside his scabbard and then wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth with his hand, assuming a sword stance, ready to fight to the death.

​Even if he couldn't kill the opponent, he intended to wound him and buy more time for the Fang Residence.

Just then, the masked man suddenly stopped advancing. While Fang Hanyu was bewildered and wondering why, a voice—both familiar and foreign—came from behind him.

​"You're right, but have you ever thought that you might be the one about to die?"

​Fang Hanyu instinctively turned his head, his peripheral vision catching only a figure flashing past him like a startled swan.

​It was Fang Wang!

​He approached rapidly with shadowless footwork, leaving a trail of afterimages, positioning himself directly between Fang Hanyu and the masked man.

​Fang Wang, clad in tailored white robes, had grown taller; his figure was now tall and handsome, though his face still carried a hint of youthful immaturity. His expression held a resolute determination rarely found in ordinary youths.

​The masked man's gaze fell upon the scabbard held in Fang Wang's right hand, and his pupils suddenly constricted.

​In his vision, a sword grew larger and larger; he reflexively raised his blade to block.

​Splurch—

​Blood splattered as Fang Wang materialized behind the masked man, his sword raised in his right hand, pointing obliquely toward the full moon. He tilted his head slightly upward, not even looking back as he muttered softly, "You are nothing more than ordinary in my eyes."