"For the sake of all living beings, please rest in peace."

Hearing these words in the rain, Fan Xian couldn't help but laugh. The laugh wasn't extravagant; the half of his handsome face exposed from under his hat had the corners of his lips slightly raised, carrying a hint of disdain and absurdity. This was his truest inner reaction. Perhaps even he hadn't imagined that entering the Qing Temple in the rain would lead him to encounter these ascetic monks, and that the aura they exuded would be so strange.

What was the Temple of the Gods? Few in the world knew. The only one who had any understanding of that ethereal place was undoubtedly Fan Xian, who had accompanied Xiao En to his death. In his days after rebirth, he had speculated about this question more than once, but he had never come to any fundamental revelation. Fan Xian knew many priests, ascetic monks, or monks who served the Temple of the Gods in this world. The most famous was undoubtedly the Northern Qi National Teacher, the leader of the Heavenly One Path, Master Ku He. However, even Master Ku He would never think that he was carrying out the will of the Temple of the Gods, taking pity on the suffering of the common people, and acting as heaven's punishment.

Yet these ascetic monks in the rain spoke such words with extreme seriousness and conviction, which couldn't help but make Fan Xian sneer inwardly.

"Why must it be I who rests in peace, and not someone else?" Fan Xian slowly composed himself, his smile fading. He looked at the ascetic monks around him and asked calmly, "If there truly is a god in this world, surely all beings must be equal in his eyes. If that is so, why do you target me? Could it be that the ascetic monks who serve the Temple of the Gods… are nothing more than cowardly rats who bully the weak and fear the strong?"

These sarcastic words clearly had no effect on the ascetic monks. They remained kneeling calmly around Fan Xian, looking as if they were worshipping him. However, the pure aura that had already solidified as one firmly controlled Fan Xian's figure within the area.

"It's not difficult for me to enter the palace and plead guilty, but I need an explanation. Why am I the sinner?" Fan Xian slowly pulled off the rain hat connected to his collar, letting the faint raindrops flow down his smooth black hair. He said seriously, "I didn't know that you, who were once unknown, were such fanatics. I can also understand the things you haven't said, which are nothing more than unifying the world, eliminating the decades of unrest and warfare, and allowing the common people to live in peace… But I don't understand, what makes you think that man can perfectly realize your hopes and carry out the will of the Temple of the Gods?"

Fan Xian turned slightly, and he felt the heavy aura around him shift like a living thing, turning with him in a smooth and fluid manner, without a trace of stagnation or a hint of a loophole that could be exploited. His eyebrows furrowed slightly, truly not expecting that these ascetic monks, when working together, could actually fuse their individual realms of power to form such a powerful force.

Perhaps this was the reason why His Majesty the Emperor had summoned these ascetic monks, who were wooden in appearance but fanatical in their hearts, back to Kyoto during this period.

From the moment he took his first step into the Qing Temple, if Fan Xian wanted to escape the encirclement of these ascetic monks, he should have reacted in the first instance. However, he had already missed that opportunity and was now trapped in a heavy siege. Perhaps this was because he had underestimated the power of the ascetic monks, but to a greater extent, it was because he wanted to talk to these ascetic monks, so that he could learn some things he desperately wanted to know from these conversations, such as why the Qing Temple's ascetic monks were wholeheartedly supporting Emperor Qing, completely ignoring the exploitation of the Qing Temple by the imperial court over the years, and… whether there was any relationship between His Majesty the Emperor and that illusory Temple of the Gods.

In the rain, more than a dozen ascetic monks changed from kneeling to cross-legged sitting, still surrounding the standing Fan Xian in the center. Their expressions were wooden, as if they had long ceased to be concerned with external matters. After a long silence, perhaps these ascetic monks still hoped that this Young Master Fan could be persuaded, so as not to allow the Qing Kingdom, which was about to unify the world, to fall into turmoil. So, a voice rang out directly in front of Fan Xian.

An ascetic monk put his hands together, raindrops hanging on his powerless eyelashes, and said slowly, "His Majesty is the one who has received divine revelation. We, the walkers, should assist His Majesty in unifying the world and benefiting all people."

"Divine revelation? When?" Fan Xian stood with his hands behind his back, his expression unchanged. He stared at the old face of the ascetic monk and could easily see that the ascetic monks in the area were all quite old.

"Decades ago," a voice rang out from behind Fan Xian, answering vaguely. However, Fan Xian narrowed his eyes and began to think quickly.

"Did an emissary convey the will of the Temple of the Gods to you?" Fan Xian asked.

"Yes." This time, another ascetic monk answered. His answer was clean and straightforward, without any hesitation. However, this answer made Fan Xian's eyes narrow even more.

The fact that the Temple of the Gods occasionally had emissaries inspecting the human world was itself one of the greatest secrets on this continent. If he hadn't grown up by Uncle Wu Zhu's side since childhood and learned so many secrets from Xiao En and Chen Pingping, he would never have been able to ask these questions. However… these ascetic monks didn't seem surprised when they heard the word "emissary" from Fan Xian, as if they had long expected that Fan Xian knew some of the secrets of the Temple of the Gods. This surprised Fan Xian.

"But the High Priest is dead, San Shi is also dead, and your companions on Mount Dongyi are… all dead," Fan Xian continued calmly, but even the autumn rain couldn't hide the hint of viciousness and mockery in his tone.

"Who doesn't die?"

"Then why don't you die?"

"Because His Majesty still needs us."

"Sounds like you're like the girls in my brothel."

…

…

The atmosphere in the Qing Temple in the rain was very strange. Fan Xian kept asking questions calmly and continuously, while the ascetic monks sitting around him answered the questions separately, answering with wooden stability and orderly precision, taking turns to speak. The sixteen people present seemed to answer as one.

Fan Xian's heart gradually sank. It seemed that these strange ascetic monks had practiced asceticism for many years, and their art of telepathy had reached some powerful realm. What made him even colder was the information about the emissaries of the Temple of the Gods.

The last time an emissary of the Temple of the Gods came to the human world was naturally that time in the fifth year of Qingli. This emissary landed from the south and learned the customs and habits of human society with indifference, like a beast. During this process of learning habits, many people in the southern prefectures of the Qing Kingdom died at the hands of this emissary. Perhaps it was just a habitual indifference to life, or perhaps the emissary wanted to conceal the news of his existence. In short, the Thirteen Departments of the Ministry of Justice at the time paid a great price and were still unable to touch the corner of the mysterious emissary's clothes.

At the time, the Qing Kingdom's imperial court only regarded this person as a fierce criminal with superb martial arts and did not know his true identity. That's why the Ministry of Justice later sought help from the Supervisory Council, and Yan Bingyun solemnly borrowed the Tiger Guards from Fan Xian.

However, before the Supervisory Council could take action, this emissary of the Temple of the Gods had already come to Kyoto, to the alley next to Fan Mansion, and was intercepted by Wu Zhu next to a noodle stall.

After a battle with the grandmaster in plain clothes, the emissary of the Temple of the Gods died, Wu Zhu was seriously injured, and disappeared from then on, recuperating on Mount Dongyi for several years. The remains of this emissary of the Temple of the Gods were burned at… the Qing Temple.

Fan Xian's gaze passed through the rain curtain, towards the barren plot behind the Qing Temple, his gaze slightly cold, thinking about the scene of His Majesty and the High Priest looking at the emissary of the Temple of the Gods in the fire, for a time, he didn't know what to say.

The High Priest of the Qing Temple had been preaching in the swampy wilderness of southern Qing Kingdom for many years, but he happened to return to Kyoto not long before the emissary of the Temple of the Gods entered the capital. Then, not long after this emissary was melted into the fire, he died because of a serious illness.

Was this a coincidence? Of course not, at least Fan Xian didn't believe it. He only learned about Wu Zhu's injury and the descent of the emissary of the Temple of the Gods later. He spent a long time and only vaguely found out about this, but at least it proved that His Majesty the Emperor must have reached some kind of agreement with the emissary from the Temple of the Gods through the High Priest of the Qing Temple.

In the fifth year of Qingli, His Majesty the Emperor hoped to use his illegitimate son as bait to lure this emissary of the Temple of the Gods to die together with Uncle Wu Zhu, but he did not achieve his goal. In order to bury this matter, in order not to let Fan Xian know about this, the High Priest… had to die.

Fan Xian withdrew his gaze and looked at the ascetic monks in front of him. He naturally thought of the so-called divine revelation, the will conveyed by the emissary of the Temple of the Gods. That emissary must have been the one who came to the Qing Kingdom twenty-two years ago.

Now it seemed that the emissary not only transferred Uncle Wu Zhu away from Kyoto, but also represented that illusory Temple of the Gods and reached some kind of cooperation with the Emperor.

Cooperation between the Emperor and the Temple of the Gods? Fan Xian's brows furrowed. The first cooperation killed Ye Qingmei, and the second cooperation almost killed Uncle Wu Zhu… Everything was actually very clear. The only thing that wasn't clear was why the Temple of the Gods, which nominally didn't interfere in world affairs, would make such a choice in the human world.

At this time, the ascetic monks who were surrounding Fan Xian in the Qing Temple were already quite old. Twenty-odd years ago, they had already learned of the will of the Temple of the Gods. In addition to being overjoyed, they devoted themselves to serving Emperor Qing's cause with extreme loyalty. During these twenty-odd years, they had traveled among the people, spreading… what should have been benevolent… teachings, a simple meal, a ladle of water, living a hard but peaceful life, and at the same time… presumably also acting as spies for the Emperor.

Now that Dongyi City had surrendered, the internal strife had been quelled, Chen Pingping was dead, the weather was good, the people were peaceful, the country was rich and the army was strong, and the Qing Kingdom's strength had reached its peak. Except for Fan Xian, it seemed that there was no one else who could stop Emperor Qing's pace of unifying the world, so these ascetic monks returned to Kyoto, ready to welcome that dazzling moment.

So, the ascetic monks wanted to persuade Fan Xian to forget his personal grudges for this great cause and to forget a person's sorrow for the sake of the world's justice.

…

…

Fan Xian stood alone in the rain, and although the rain was fine, it still gradually soaked his clothes. These ascetic monks had frankly told him about what they had done over the past twenty years and explained the secrets hidden behind the history of the Qing Kingdom because they sincerely wanted to persuade him, to use the will of the Temple of the Gods, the obedience of the people, and the trend of the world to persuade Fan Xian not to be an enemy of His Majesty the Emperor.

Because His Majesty was the enlightened ruler chosen by heaven, the common master of the world.

"It's all nonsense." Fan Xian shook his head helplessly, wiped the rain off his face, looked at the ascetic monks around him who were begging him bitterly, and said, "What does any of this have to do with me? I am just a subject of His Majesty… No, I am just a commoner now. I don't think anyone in the world would think that I would affect the general trend of the world. Are you all overreacting by forcing me to enter the palace or burying me in the ground?"

The ascetic monks looked at each other and saw the solemnity and determination in each other's eyes. They naturally didn't believe what Fan Xian said. One of them looked at Fan Xian sincerely and said, "Because you… are her son."

Fan Xian was silent, finally knowing where today's grand battle in the Qing Temple came from. If these ascetic monks in the Qing Temple were loyal to the Temple of the Gods and regarded His Majesty the Emperor as the leader chosen by heaven, then without a doubt, Ye Qingmei, this little girl who had escaped from the Temple of the Gods and stolen many things from the Temple of the Gods, was their greatest enemy. Perhaps these ascetic monks didn't understand the inside story, and didn't need to understand the inside story. They only needed the emissary of the Temple of the Gods twenty-odd years ago to determine the nature of Ye Qingmei's behavior, and they would deeply fear the woman who dared to despise the Temple of the Gods.

This fear continued for twenty-odd years, continuing to Fan Xian.

"If you kill me, what will His Majesty think?" Fan Xian asked with a smile, "I think he would definitely not want to see his son die at the hands of you mystics. I am very worried for you."

All the ascetic monks chanted in unison, with firmness on their faces. No one responded, but the meaning expressed was very clear: for the goal they were pursuing, even if His Majesty the Emperor killed them all afterward, they would still leave Fan Xian here, forever.

…

…

"I have heard everything I wanted to hear," Fan Xian said with a corner of his lips lifted in slight sarcasm, "I think if I agree to enter the palace, you would definitely not feel at ease and would put some kind of restriction on me. Of course, I can pretend to agree first, which may at least save my life."

"But you have miscalculated one thing," Fan Xian said coldly, looking at them, "I believe in the existence of the Temple of the Gods even more than you do, but because of this, I won't be so scared that my legs go weak as soon as I hear the name of the Temple of the Gods, and kneel here in the rain like you."

An ascetic monk sighed deeply and said with compassion, "Life in heaven and earth, one must always have awe."

"His Majesty once said this to me," Fan Xian lowered his head slightly, thinking that the Emperor clearly had no sense of awe for anything. The Temple of the Gods? Emissaries? These things, which seemed illusory and terrifying to ordinary people, were probably just a force that could be used in the Emperor's eyes.

"Respect heaven and earth, but not the will of others," Fan Xian said, "You should learn from Master Ku He about this."

The ascetic monks were slightly stunned, not understanding what he meant, but then they saw Fan Xian, who was surrounded in the center, float up!

Fan Xian floated up in the fine autumn rain, his cloth shirt slowly propped up by true energy, like a ruthless and unfeeling great bird, with a whoosh, he swept towards the outer perimeter of the Qing Temple!

Without any warning, Fan Xian's body seemed to be pulled by an invisible long rope, flying extremely fast towards the gate of the Qing Temple. His speed in the air was extremely fast, and his movements were particularly gentle, traveling in the rain, like a swallow, tumbling and drifting away in the wind and rain.

However, his body only swept out a distance of five zhang, and he felt a thick and incomparable wall of energy rushing towards him.

The moment Fan Xian attacked, more than a dozen ascetic monks moved at the same time. One ascetic monk put his arm around another ascetic monk's arm, grunted, and threw his companion beside him. Six or seven consecutive movements were performed very smoothly, as if their minds had already been connected. There were no signs of stagnation or awkwardness in these movements.

The formation of these ascetic monks was an irregular circle. At this time, they hooked and propelled, and seven people were quickly thrown towards the direction of the main gate of the Qing Temple. In the air, their hands did not separate, driving the ascetic monks below to sweep along at the same time.

Like a wave.

The irregular circle formed by more than a dozen ascetic monks formed a whole in that instant, flipping in the air amidst the drizzling rain, rising into the air, and passing over Fan Xian's rapidly flying body by virtue of the transmission of a wave-like aura, and re-enclosing him in the circle.

A circle flips over in the air, and when it falls to the ground, it is still a circle. Fan Xian was still in the middle of the circle. After the flash of lightning, the rain was still falling like this, and the situation in the area seemed to have not changed in the slightest.

Except that everyone had moved about seven zhang towards the direction of the main gate of the Qing Temple, and then the ascetic monks did not give Fan Xian any chance to take the lead again. They chanted in unison, and countless hands, carrying majestic true energy and firm momentum, slapped towards Fan Xian's body!

The ascetic monks did not know what secret technique they practiced, but they were truly able to achieve telepathy and perfectly integrate their own reality. These countless palms slapped over, like a radiant deity, who in a flash gave birth to countless divine hands, indifferently and ruthlessly trying to eliminate the demon in front of them.

All the space around Fan Xian's body was covered by the palms that blocked the sky and covered the rain, like a large net falling down, and no loophole could be seen at all. This was the so-called beauty of perfection. When beauty reaches its extreme, it is dangerous to the extreme.

…

…

As the wall of energy rushed towards him, Fan Xian forcibly twisted his body in the air, forcibly absorbing the flow of air that every inch of his skin could sense. Two major cycles were forcibly activated, and his body was forced to fall to the ground, his toes directly touching the wet ground. Overbearing true energy gathered in his fist, and he punched towards the strongest point in the thick wall of energy.

In the instant when he was forced back into the perfect momentum, Fan Xian deeply smelled the danger. Eight days ago, when he broke into the execution ground in Kyoto, he had stabbed an ascetic monk to death and repelled another one. At that time, he had also paid the price of being hit by three palms. However, it was very clear that the ascetic monks on the execution ground that day had not shown their strongest power.

Fan Xian knew where the power of these ascetic monks lay: they could perfectly gather their individual powers into a whole. This was certainly not gang fighting, nor even the perfect cooperation of the disciples of the Sword Cottage. Instead, it was more like the fierce light condensed between the long knives of the Tiger Guards.

When these ascetic monks formed a perfect momentum, no matter which ascetic monk Fan Xian was facing, it was as if he was facing their entire body.

But in Fan Xian's eyes, the wall of energy in front of him was as clear as a white fog wall of varying thickness. He did not consider any consequences at all. He directly condensed all the true essence in his body and struck out with an overbearing momentum, and the position he struck was the thickest part of the wall of energy.

Using the strongest against the strongest point, Fan Xian ignored the palms flying all over the sky. He knew that with his current strength, this punch would force the other party to condense into one point in order to contend with him. This was probably the rare tyrannical momentum that a strong person developed after experiencing many things.

As expected, Fan Xian punched violently towards the wall of energy, and the palm prints all over the sky suddenly disappeared. The shadow of one palm and the shadow of another palm quickly merged into one, and dozens of palms eventually merged into one palm, a crystal-clear, glowing palm.

This palm collided fiercely with Fan Xian's tightly clenched fist.

The air in the Qing Temple seemed to deform with this collision. The fine autumn rain that was drifting was shaken and flew horizontally. On a large area of the bluestone square, there was no raindrop that could drip down, and the entire air was filled with the taste of dry killing!

After a loud bang, the clothes on Fan Xian's right shoulder shattered, flying up like butterflies, revealing his constantly trembling right arm.

The ascetic monk facing him had an unusually red face, unusually bright. Two arms were resting on his shoulders,

More than a dozen ascetic monks were constantly pouring true energy into his body along this bridge of energy, helping him resist Fan Xian's extremely overbearing punch.

…

…

Fan Xian's face was pale, and the true energy in his body was spitting out violently, but he still couldn't break through the other party's encirclement. The true energy transmitted from the other party's palm was endless, like a wave, aggressive and incomparably turbulent, giving people a feeling of invincibility.

With a pop, the ascetic monk who was facing Fan Xian vomited a mouthful of blood, dripping down his clothes, but the ascetic monk's face was getting redder and brighter, without a trace of exhaustion or the signs of being unable to bear the majestic true energy in his body. He just looked at Fan Xian in front of him with a trace of pity, seeming to be waiting for the other party to admit defeat, dissipate his power, and surrender.

The ascetic monks walked in the extremely bitter land, practicing asceticism. The tempering of the body and mind did create an extraordinary cultivation base.

The signs of defeat had appeared, but Fan Xian's pupils were still icy cold, without a trace of panic, or even the emotion of excited struggle. He was just calm. He quietly looked at the ascetic monk who was close at hand, staring at the other party's bright pupils, seeming to want to see the color he was expecting from the other party's pupils.

Only Fan Xian knew that, with just this exchange of punches and palms, the meridians in his body had been shaken to an unbearable level. The large and small cycles were running rapidly, desperately spitting out true energy along his fist, but he was also about to be unable to support it. Especially the life gate at the snow mountain in his waist, it had already begun to faintly heat up, which was a sign of exhaustion.

After all, it was an injured and weak body. Fan Xian's biggest weakness was here. He had only recuperated in the Fan Mansion for a few days, and in these few days, he had also fiercely used force to kill people, and his state of mind had not returned to peace. He had not yet recovered to his peak state at all.

Fortunately, he was a monster whose meridians were different from ordinary people, with one more cycle than ordinary people, so he could support this perfect momentum of the ascetic monks for so long with a weak body. If it were Thirteen Lang or Haitang, I am afraid they would not be better than him.

But Fan Xian was still not panicked, not desperate. He just looked coldly at the dark and bright eyes of that ascetic monk.

Finally, just as Fan Xian was about to be unable to support it, a touch of pale green appeared in the eyes of the ascetic monk who was interacting with Fan Xian's fist and palm, who was close at hand.

A touch of pale green that was completely discordant with natural human eyes.

Then, two streams of black blood slowly flowed out of the ascetic monk's nostrils.

The ascetic monks around Fan Xian did not notice this. They were just sitting cross-legged around, meditating with their heads lowered, and constantly urging the tenacious true energy in their bodies.

…

…

A trace of enlightenment flashed across the pale green eyes of the ascetic monk who was bleeding black blood. He glanced at Fan Xian and finally understood why the young man in front of him was willing to quietly listen to the pleas of these people in the rain. It turned out that the other party… was just using this autumn rain to spread those toxins!

This ascetic monk finally remembered Fan Xian's true lineage. The other party was the closed disciple of that old poison master!

The ascetic monk felt that his internal organs were being bitten by insects and ants. His throat began to hurt, and the corners of his eyes began to numb. He knew that the poison in his body was beginning to take effect. If he stopped at this time, he would probably be able to suppress these toxins by relying on the true energy in his body, but…

Colorless, odorless, and water-insoluble poison powder could not be too terrifying - this was a natural law, and it was also a common sense that martial arts practitioners knew. The ascetic monk was also very clear about this, so he was not worried about his fellow brothers. Except for himself, who was directly confronting Fan Xian, so the poison took effect the fastest, the rest of his fellow brothers should be able to last longer.

The ascetic monk did not want Fan Xian to leave, because he had discovered that Fan Xian was about to be unable to support it.

A trace of peace and a trace of resoluteness flashed in his pale green eyes. With a muffled groan, he completely abandoned the protection of his mind, let go of all his meridians, and let the true energy pouring in from both sides surge in, and then pushed it along his arms towards Fan Xian's bare right arm!

He would do it all in one palm! He was willing to exchange his death for Fan Xian's death and the Qing Kingdom's perpetuity.

But Fan Xian was unwilling. A trace of sternness flashed in his eyes. He knew that the other party was forcibly urging his true energy, and the toxins had entered his heart and could no longer be saved. He sank his true energy into his lower abdomen, and his right shoulder relaxed slightly, using a force-deflecting posture of "big coffin split," preparing to use one right arm to exchange for the death of this core position of the formation, and then escape.

In this dangerous and deadly situation, Fan Xian had the will and courage to break his arm to survive.

…

…

But besides Fan Xian, there were other people in this world who were unwilling to watch Fan Xian die. The chilling circle in the autumn rain, after rolling in the air, was a little closer to the main gate of the Qing Temple. At this most dangerous moment, the two words on the horizontal plaque behind the main gate of the Qing Temple suddenly dimmed.

It was not that the sky was dark, nor that the two small golden characters had suddenly rusted, but that a shadow floated up, obscuring some of the light of the two characters of the Qing Temple.

In an instant, the shadow pierced through the rain, and floated to the back of the ascetic monk who was facing Fan Xian without any obstruction. Then, the shadow spread out strangely behind this person's neck, giving birth to limbs and a sword.

With a puff, the tip of the sword pierced into the ascetic monk's neck like a poisonous snake, piercing directly out from his throat cartilage. The sharp blade had cut off the ascetic monk's trachea, esophagus, and blood vessels…

The ascetic monk rattled, without making any sound. He just stared at Fan Xian in front of him, the pale green in his eyes was very strong, but his pupils did not shrink, as if he wanted to kill Fan Xian in front of him with his gaze.

At the same time that the shadow gave birth to a sword, Fan Xian's always empty but weak left hand raised with difficulty. His fingertip slightly hooked, and a sleeve crossbow broke out of his sleeve and plunged deeply into the left eye of the ascetic monk, splashing a blood flower.

The body of this ascetic monk was condensed with the lifelong cultivation of a dozen ascetic monks in the area. It was so powerful and thick, but after being attacked by these two extremely ruthless killing moves at the same time, he finally paused.

With this pause, Fan Xian's left arm twisted strangely. His shoulder shook and flicked, and the big coffin split reappeared, slamming hard on the tail of the sleeve crossbow, slamming the sleeve crossbow deeply into the ascetic monk's brain, the tip of the crossbow penetrated deeply, cutting off his life.

With a huff, the rain was in great chaos, and the ascetic monk who gave up his life to seek benevolence slumped and lowered his palm.

Fan Xian changed his fist into a palm, brushed it over his head, and the whole person floated up. His left hand grabbed the shadow's clothes, and with the fastest speed, he cut through the rainy sky and left the Qing Temple in an instant.

…

…

From the dimming of the two small golden characters on the horizontal plaque behind the main gate of the Qing Temple, to the shadow drawing its sword, and then to Fan Xian floating away from the perfect momentum and out of the temple, it was only the blink of an eye. The shadow's sword was ruthless and its momentum did not stop, but Fan Xian did not let his sword force enter the perfect momentum again. He forcibly went against the trend and left with him hand in hand.

At this time, the ascetic monks sitting cross-legged in the rain discovered that something had changed. The palm of the ascetic monk in the center of the perfect momentum had already hung down, and there was no way to spit out true energy. However, he was still passively accepting the infusion from his fellow brothers, and his body suddenly shook twice on the rainy ground, and then fell down silently.

His neck was pierced by the shadow, his brain was pierced by Fan Xian's sleeve crossbow, the toxins had already entered his heart, and finally, he was countered by the perfect momentum. There was no doubt that this ascetic monk was dead, dead beyond dead.

The rain was already heavy, and it was already chaotic, hitting the bodies of these ascetic monks haphazardly. They silently looked at the corpse of this companion, and after a moment, they bowed silently, and then quickly jumped out of the Qing Temple and chased after the two figures that were about to disappear into the distance in the streets and alleys.

I don't know if they would reflect on it. If the will of the Temple of the Gods was truly the will of heaven, then why couldn't they kill Fan Xian even after they had put in so much effort and were even willing to give up their lives to achieve benevolence?

————————————————

In the heavy autumn rain, Fan Xian and Shadow were like two gray shadows, traveling quickly in the rain, under the eaves, in the dim sky, and in the desolate streets and alleys. However, not long after leaving the Qing Temple, Fan Xian sensed that the very obvious auras behind him had already caught up.

The Qing Temple in Kyoto was three li outside, and it was usually a very quiet place. There were even few pedestrians passing by, and there were no residential houses around that could be used. Today was also a rainy day, and there were even fewer pedestrians on the street who were hiding from the rain, which brought great inconvenience to Fan Xian and his escape.

Fan Xian's pale face was full of rain. He turned his head and glanced at the middle-aged man next to him, but he did not see any expression on the other party's face. Fan Xian knew that he had ultimately underestimated those fanatical martyrs and the strength of the divine way that had been extended on this continent for thousands of years.

In the past few years, perhaps Master Ku He and the Heavenly One Path of Northern Qi had stolen the limelight, or perhaps the ascetic monks of the Qing Temple were not very conspicuous and only liked to preach in the most remote places, or perhaps the High Priest and Second Priest of the Qing Temple did not give people a feeling of strength, so Fan Xian had never taken the Qing Temple seriously.

However, today proved that this was an extremely powerful enemy. Fan Xian even began to suspect that the knife formation that the Tiger Guards learned to deal with the Nine-Rank strong was derived from this wonderful joint attack technique of the Qing Temple.

Of course, if Fan Xian today was still in the peak state of Fan Xian, he would not have become so embarrassed. Especially with this skill of light body escape, he, who came from the Supervisory Council, and Shadow, who was the number one assassin in the world, would not put those chasing ascetic monks in their eyes at all.

If it were normal, he might have hidden his traces nearby with Shadow and turned to carry out the most sinister and terrible ambush snipes on these ascetic monks who did not listen to reason.

But today was not possible, because of the thousand-li journey, the grief in his heart, the hardship and consumption of the past few days, and the few heavy injuries he suffered on the Zhengyang Gate city wall and on the execution ground, Fan Xian's state had fallen to the bottom. Especially after previously confronting the perfect momentum of more than a dozen ascetic monks, he had no more strength to fight again.

The Shadow next to him had a cold expression and looked no different, but with many years of cooperation and closeness, Fan Xian clearly discovered that the Shadow's injuries were also very serious, even more serious than his own.

Fan Xian knew why. The Shadow had only been injured once, but that injury was inflicted by Si Gu Jian.

…

…

Knowing the news of Chen Pingping's death, Fan Xian could clearly guess how the Shadow would react. He was clearly in Dongyi City, but he returned to Kyoto almost at the same time as Wang Qinian. The speed of the return journey of this number one assassin in the world was faster than Wang Qinian, and may have been even faster than Fan Xian that day.

With such a rush, the Shadow's injuries must have become more serious. Fan Xian turned his head and glanced at the Shadow, but did not say anything.

"Separate up ahead," the Shadow opened his mouth in a hoarse voice, with a very strange taste. It seemed that this assassin was also very clear that their current situation was too bad to be worse, and they had to separate to lure away the pursuers.

Fan Xian nodded, knowing that if they separated at this time, they would naturally meet again soon.

At that street corner, the Shadow swooshed into a small alley. Perhaps after a while, he would turn into a miserable merchant sheltering from the rain under the eaves.

However, before he left, he said a cold sentence that made Fan Xian's heart sink and his mouth began to taste bitter.

"When you move to kill him, call me."

Because of the impact of this sentence on his mind, Fan Xian ran further than planned. The ascetic monks behind him hung far away, but Fan Xian had no worries at all. He passed through a small alley and came to Dongchuan Intersection. He entered the Danbo Bookstore in the main hall and came out from the back door, already transformed into a scholar holding an umbrella.

He came to the gate of the Imperial College and saw hundreds of umbrellas, thousands of umbrellas, and the clear and sunny faces of the Imperial College students under the umbrellas.

…

…

(Only one chapter today, but the word count is over ten thousand, which is considered hard work. Scratching head, I really have power these days…)