Chapter 162: Sweeping

He Minghai knelt on the ground, his face pale, looking at the other person in disbelief. “How is this possible?” he muttered. How could he have lost just like that? The other hadn’t even drawn his sword.

Suddenly, he looked at the opponent’s outfit and the thin jian at his waist, and gasped in shock. “You… you are White Asura?”

Upon hearing He Minghai’s exclamation, the older martial arts instructors around all looked horrified. Some even stepped back a few paces, as if the man in white were not a man at all, but a demon from the Underworld.

Someone in the crowd asked, “Who is White Asura?”

An older instructor quickly answered, “He’s from Dìyù Gate! They’ve come to avenge Blood Rakshasa!”

As soon as these words were spoken, the surrounding crowd fell into chaos. The memory of Blood Rakshasa’s rampage through Xinlu—where she had killed so many people—was still fresh in their minds. In their eyes, Blood Rakshasa was far more terrifying than people like He Minghai, Zuo Zhicheng, Jiang Tianzheng, or Xiao Jingyang.

And now, seeing how easily He Minghai had been taken down just moments before, their fear of the current White Asura only deepened.

White Asura, also known as Styx—the chief disciple of Crimson Sun Monk—looked around at the fearful, terrified people with disgust. He said scornfully, “Since you’ve figured it out, I’ll be blunt.”

“In the next few days, we will visit each of the major martial halls in Xinlu. If you have any true experts, bring them out now. Stop wasting my time by sending lackeys.”

The students and instructors around glared at Styx with a mix of shock and anger. They seemed ready to fight, but an invisible pressure emanated from Styx, making their hands tremble. Not one of them dared make a move.

The man before them had defeated He Minghai with just a few quick movements, striking with his jian fingers—all without even drawing the jian from his waist. The fight had ended before it even began.

And who was He Minghai? He was the master of a Zizai Hall branch. His martial arts skills had been fully displayed during his time in Xinlu. Many even suspected he was stronger than the younger Zuo Zhicheng.

The gap in skill was simply too vast. The people present were no fools—especially after what they’d endured under Blood Rakshasa and Zuo Zhicheng. They knew all too well that numbers meant little when facing a true master.

Seeing the crowd’s angry but cowardly expressions—wanting to fight but not daring to—Styx shook his head. “How disappointing. You won’t even stand up in the face of such humiliation. Why even bother learning martial arts? Why train? Just go home and farm the land.”

As he spoke, his eyes swept over them with an oppressive force. His sharp gaze made everyone lower their heads, their faces filled with shame. Not one person dared meet his eyes.

“Hmph.”

With a cold snort, Styx turned and walked away. Not only was he disappointed with Xinlu’s so-called martial halls, but he also felt a little scornful toward Ghost Fist, his mission’s target.

‘Still hanging around a backwater like Xinlu—no matter how strong he is, how strong could he really be? Master brought all of us here, but it seems like an overreaction.’

As for He Minghai, who remained half-kneeling on the ground—though he ground his teeth and his face was full of rage—he never issued another challenge from start to finish. Behind him, his old servant Zhong Bo firmly gripped his shoulder. “Young master, don’t be impulsive. That White Asura is no small matter. Besides, I’ve heard he came with several others.”

He Minghai stood up, his face livid. Without saying another word, he left with Zhong Bo.

He left behind a panicked crowd.

“What do we do? Even Master He is no match for this White Asura. What can we do?”

“What can we do? Surrender, that’s what. If even Master He was taken down in a few moves, who in all of Xinlu can stand against him?”

Suddenly, Qin Wu, the head of Yanwu Society, spoke grimly. “Who is the president of the Martial Arts Association? Since he’s the president, when all our martial halls face trouble, he shouldn’t hide like a coward, should he?”

Ever since Zuo Zhicheng became president, Qin Wu’s life had grown harder. The humiliation of his earlier defeat by Zuo Zhicheng had made Yanwu Society’s situation even more difficult.

Now, with a powerful enemy before them, he couldn’t resist taking a jab at Zuo Zhicheng.

“Is it possible Zuo Zhicheng already knew who they were and ran away ahead of time?”

His words immediately redirected the crowd’s fear and anger toward Zuo Zhicheng.

“Hmph, I said all along that making some young brat the president was unreliable. When things get tough, he has no sense of responsibility.”

“Wait a minute, A Fei.” One man pointed at A Fei’s nose. “When is Zuo Zhicheng coming back? He’s our association’s president. Shouldn’t he take some of the heat for us? Master He already fought. Shouldn’t he face White Asura?”

“Yeah, if Zuo Zhicheng ran off, I say we just disband the Martial Arts Association.”

Just as A Fei struggled to explain—unable to get a word in edgewise—Qin Wu spoke up again, his tone eerie.

“Master Jiang is Zuo Zhicheng’s teacher. Since the student ran away, shouldn’t the teacher step up and say something?”

“That’s right! Where is Master Jiang?”

“Bring Master Jiang out of retirement!”

Those speaking didn’t truly believe Jiang Tianzheng or Zuo Zhicheng could stand against White Asura. They just wanted someone to take the fall, to shield their own martial halls from harm.

A Fei shouted, “No! Master was injured months ago—you all know that! Asking him to come out now… have you no backbone?”

“Zuo Zhicheng slipped away himself. What right does he have to judge us?”

“Yeah, it’s not your martial hall being targeted. Of course you’re not in a rush!”

Some instructors who were friendly with Haoran Martial Hall spoke up for A Fei. The two sides argued for a while, but in the end, nothing was resolved. Everyone drifted away.

Crimson Sun Monk and his followers hung over the martial world of Xinlu like a dark cloud, keeping everyone in a state of constant fear. Every day, stories spread of martial artists being crippled and martial halls being swept aside. Some tried to ambush or poison White Asura and his companions, but all were caught and beaten to death.

Some martial halls chose to surrender outright.

Four days later, only one place remained untouched: the current location of Haoran Martial Hall, which was also the headquarters of the Martial Arts Association, built on the former site of Chaoyang Martial Hall.

On that day, watched by a crowd of hundreds, White Asura and four other disciples arrived at the gates of Haoran Martial Hall. Everyone watched with bated breath.

As the last martial hall in Xinlu yet to be swept aside, this was the final stand. If even Haoran Martial Hall fell, the entire martial arts community of Xinlu would be crushed beyond recovery.

But as they stared at the tightly closed gates of Haoran Martial Hall, no one believed they could withstand the assault of White Asura and his companions.

…

At the city gates, Li Xunyi, carrying his sword case on his back, said cheerfully, “We’re finally here. So this is Xinlu? Where are the fun places around here? And the good food and drinks—tell me all about them.”

Zuo Zhicheng replied coldly, “Not interested.”

“You really have no joy in life besides training, do you?” Li Xunyi turned to Jiang Qing. “Qing’er, how about you take me around tomorrow?”

“Okay.” Jiang Qing nodded, glanced at Zuo Zhicheng, hesitated as if to say something, but ultimately stayed silent. Along the journey, she had felt that he seemed like a completely different person—colder and more distant. He spoke fewer than five sentences a day, which made her worry more and more.