Mortal Saint

Chapter 67: Chapter 66: Manifesting Sainthood in Public with a Blade in Hand! Minor Success in ’Sword Mountain Stance’, a Possible Upgrade for the Primordial Daoist Talisman?

A gambling den on West Tiger and Leopard Hall Street, a territory under the jurisdiction of the Tiger and Leopard Hall.

A long, crimson-lacquered wooden table had sections marked for the Azure Dragon, White Tiger, Vermilion Bird, and Black Tortoise. A crowd was gathered around it, with people tossing handfuls of silver onto the table from time to time.

Among them, Yang Yan sat sprawled arrogantly, one foot propped on a stool. A faint smile played on his lips as he eyed the fifty taels of silver on the "Azure Dragon" section. With a grand wave of his hand, he called out:

"Reveal!"

The dealer shaking the dice cup nearby heard him and immediately put on a sycophantic smile, shaking the cup with a flourish. When he lifted the lid, he instantly shouted:

"Two eyes to the heavens, a twelve and a four! Big Dragon! Master Yang!"

"You’ve won again!"

As he finished speaking, he looked on fawningly as Yang Yan roared with laughter, raked in the silver, and shot him an "approving" glance.

Meanwhile, several figures in fine clothes stood nearby with shifting expressions, along with a man in simple cloth whose face was the picture of utter despair.

"No... I can’t... again!"

Suddenly, a plainly dressed man, sweat beading on his brow, slammed his hand on the table and clenched his jaw. He had no more money to bet.

At this, Yang Yan just laughed. He didn’t chase the man away. Instead, he waved his hand magnanimously.

"Here, write me an IOU. This ingot is yours."

Tossing an ingot of silver to the man, Yang Yan shot a look at Zhang Shiyao, who was standing to the side.

The latter understood immediately. He called over two Martial Artists of the Bone Marrow Refining Realm to draw up a contract with "snowballing interest." The man gritted his teeth, but unable to resist the "temptation" of winning back his losses, he shut his eyes, hardened his heart, and pressed his thumbprint on it.

But in just a few moments, the borrowed silver was gone. Just as the man turned his hopeful gaze back to Yang Yan...

he saw that Yang Yan’s expression was no longer gentle. It was now laced with mockery.

"When you borrow money, you have to pay it back."

"You haven’t paid me back, and you want to borrow more? Do you take me for a sucker?"

SLAP!

Zhang Shiyao slapped the man across the face, then stepped on his back, pinning him down. Only then did Yang Yan’s voice drift over lazily:

"But... I hear your widowed sister-in-law is quite..."

Just as he was focusing, licking his lips in anticipation...

A shadow had crept up behind him unnoticed. A wave of chilling killing intent surged forth as a blade stabbed at his back!

SHRED!

The sudden, lightning-fast attack caught all the Tiger and Leopard Hall members and underlings guarding the den completely off guard.

Yang Yan’s eyes narrowed. He felt a warm wetness spread across his back, followed by a searing pain. Without even turning to look, he shot up from his seat and kicked the person behind him, sending them flying!

CRASH! CLANG...!

Stools and chairs were sent flying, crashing everywhere. The scene descended into chaos as the startled crowd scattered in all directions.

Yang Yan’s eyelid twitched.

He stared at the shadow he had sent flying.

He reached back and touched the wound on his back. The skin was broken and bleeding, but it wasn’t bone-deep. Feeling a faint trace of Force in the attack, he immediately began to curse loudly:

"Fucking mad dog! Where the hell did you come from? What rotten luck!"

With that, he stormed over and rained down a series of heavy kicks, cracking Zhang Qing’s ribs and causing blood to trickle from the corner of his mouth. Zhang Qing’s face was a taut mask of pain, but he remained silent, trying only to discreetly reach for the fallen blade...

But Yang Yan stomped on his wrist. A sharp CRACK! echoed.

"You’ve already Entered the Realm, yet you’re still seeking death? You got a death wish?"

"I am in the Bone Tempering realm, where Force has seeped into my very marrow! Bone Tempering! Even if I’m not invulnerable, you think you can kill me with a piece of junk blade while I just stand here? Huh? Can you?!"

"Wait a second, that face..."

Yang Yan’s brow furrowed as he continued to kick, apparently recognizing some features. He sneered.

"I get it now. You have a relative, don’t you? The one who entertained me a couple of days ago?"

"Her own damn husband sold her, and she killed herself! What the hell does that have to do with me?!"

"I’ll teach you to assassinate me! I’ll teach you!"

Channeling his Force, his Qi and Blood surged. A bloodthirsty glint appeared in Yang Yan’s eyes as he showed no mercy. At that moment, Zhang Shiyao, standing nearby, spoke hesitantly,

"Young Head, those are the clothes of the Wind and Cloud Association. He’s..."

"What damn Wind and Cloud Association? I’m not kicking the one surnamed Ji! Besides, this fucking mad dog came to kill me! Doesn’t he know you can’t draw blades on Anning Street?!"

"Drag him back! I’ll make him wish he was dead!"

With that, he grabbed Zhang Qing’s head, about to slam it into the ground a couple more times to vent his anger when...

BANG!

CRASH!

Suddenly, the silhouette of an agile deer smashed through the gambling den’s main entrance from mid-air!

As paper screens and wood splinters flew everywhere, creating a huge commotion...

a young man in a straight-collared tunic and a black cloak appeared, mounted atop a Jade Deer.

With a light flick of his scabbard—CLANG!—a rainbow-like flash of his blade drew an afterimage in the air, forcefully halting Yang Yan’s movement!

CLOP. CLOP.

The Spirit Deer, with its raised jade-green antlers, came to a steady halt. Its azure hide shimmered with a crystalline light in the fading glow of dusk.

Everyone who witnessed the scene was stunned into silence.

"You dare touch my man?"

A single, understated sentence.

Yet it was as if it had stirred a thousand-foot wave.

Zhang Qing struggled to lift his blurry eyes and look at the figure—a spirited youth with sharp, blade-like eyebrows and a cold expression, sitting sideways on the deer with his head held high...

A single thought remained in his mind.

’Master Han once spoke of so-called ’Divine Beings’...’

’But where are there any true gods in this world?’

’If they do exist...’

’then it is only the one you steadfastly pursue and believe in...’

’who is the true ’True Deity,’ the one who sits enthroned above the clouds and shapes the fate of the world.’

"Your... man?"

Staring at the exquisitely crafted Fine Embroidery Saber before him, with its line of small engraved words, Yang Yan’s hand froze in mid-air. His expression flickered between anger and uncertainty.

After a long moment, his stony expression melted away as he forced a smile.

"Since that’s the case, Brother Ji, feel free to take him. As for what happened before, we can let bygones be..."

SWOOSH.

Suddenly.

A contract, written in black ink on white paper, was tossed from the young man’s hand, fluttering down in front of him.