From Fanwu to Xinghai

Chapter 17 Hidden Blades Pressing In

Seven people.

Lin Chen quickly took stock of the situation in his mind.

Shadow Six, positioned in the center, was the commander and the strongest among them. The remaining six men spread out, forming a semi-circle around him in the courtyard. Each of them exuded a well-trained sense of oppression—not the kind of reckless martial arts oppression, but a calm, precise, and professional killing intent, like a poisoned blade, just waiting to find that fatal gap.

Lin Chen had no weapon.

He had nothing at hand.

This was his own choice—he knew that in the face of an absolute difference in strength, any ordinary weapon would be a burden. His only reliance was the spiritual power within his body that had accumulated to its limit, and the quietly rotating gear of the Time Compass in his sea of ​​consciousness.

All six people moved at the same time.

They were moving at an extremely high speed, so fast that Lin Chen could hardly track each person's movements with the naked eye.

But he did not run away.

He shifted half a step to the side, using his right hand as a sword, condensing the most concentrated spiritual energy within his body at his fingertips.

"Guiding Qi - Piercing Clouds Finger"

It's not a particularly sophisticated technique. It's just the most basic release of spiritual energy during the Qi Refining stage, something almost every beginner in the Spiritual Cultivation Realm knows. Its power is limited, but its strength lies in its precision.

A slender beam of spiritual light shot out from his fingertip, not towards any of the assassins, but directly struck the stone slab on the ground directly in front of him.

The stone slab shattered, and rubble flew everywhere.

The six people stopped simultaneously and quickly dispersed.

In that instant of hesitation, Lin Chen had already moved two steps to the side, hugging the courtyard wall to ensure there were no blind spots behind him.

Shadow Six did not move.

He stood there, watching Lin Chen's series of actions, a slight smile playing on his lips—not a sign of disdain, but rather an acknowledgment that "this kid has some talent."

"They know how to utilize the terrain and how to harass many with few," he said calmly. "But how many steps can a mere Qi Refining Stage 3 cultivator take?"

Lin Chen did not answer.

He focused intently on sensing the spiritual energy within his body—the torrent was almost bursting at the seams, like an air bladder being continuously filled with water, every inch of its inner walls trembling.

One more step.

It was just one step away from victory.

The six assassins moved again.

This time, they didn't rush in at the same time. Instead, they changed formation. Two of them launched a feint attack from the front, two of them circled around to the flanks, and two of them disrupted the view from the outside. This was the Dark Blade Pavilion's standard "Six Blade Scattered Formation," which was almost impossible to break when dealing with targets weaker than themselves.

Lin Chen retreated, retreated, and retreated again.

He blocked, blocked, and blocked again.

The first blow landed on his left shoulder, a palm strike that struck the part he hadn't been able to defend against. His spiritual energy shielded him from the main impact, but the intense blow still tore his flesh open, and blood flowed down his sleeve.

The second time, it was a kick to the side, a solid kick that sent Lin Chen staggering two steps before crashing into the courtyard wall with a dull thud behind him.

He took a breath, looked down, and saw the bloodstains on his hands.

A lone bamboo stalk stands by the wall, soaked by the autumn rain, swaying gently in the night breeze.

Looking at it, Lin Chen suddenly remembered something—back when he was an apprentice, Uncle Chen had taught him the proper way to swing a hammer in front of the iron furnace. It wasn't about brute force, but about using the natural flow of the entire body. Back then, he always got it wrong, so Uncle Chen took a thin bamboo stick and demonstrated it to him:

"It's not hitting downwards, it's falling downwards."

"Strength is about guidance, not command."

Lin Chen didn't fully understand that sentence at the time.

Now, I vaguely understand.

He closed his eyes.

It's not about giving up, it's not about despair.

Instead, relax.

Six assassins pounced again, but Lin Chen didn't try to block or dodge—he simply stood there, relaxing all his defensive movements and letting his spiritual energy flow naturally.

boom.

Without warning, like a dam suddenly breaching at its weakest point, it wasn't a violent outburst, but a vast, still, deep flood.

The spiritual energy surged from the third layer to the fourth layer.

The meridians expanded, increasing the carrying capacity by nearly one-third compared to before. Every inch of the skin felt as if it were filled with some kind of warm liquid, and even the skin emitted a faint bluish glow from the inside out.

Breakthrough.

The fourth level of the Qi Induction stage in the Spiritual Cultivation Realm.

The six assassins sensed the fluctuation of spiritual energy and paused simultaneously.

Lin Chen opened his eyes.

This time, he did not back down.

He took a step forward—the circulation of the Qi-guiding technique completely changed its rhythm. It was no longer the previous dense and careful circling, but a more expansive and relaxed flow. The spiritual energy accelerated its circulation in the spacious meridians, and each cycle brought new abundance.

He clenched his right fist, and a pale blue spiritual light condensed on the surface of his fist, with a density far exceeding that of the previous Cloud Piercing Finger.

"It's open," he said softly.

For the first time, Shadow Six frowned.

It's not because of fear.

It was due to an accident.

He had seen a child at the third level of the Qi Refining stage break through his realm on the battlefield after being besieged for half an hour—but it was rare, and it only happened when the opponent had absolute protection.

Surrounded by six Shadow-level assassins, how did he manage to break through the critical point of breakthrough?

This kid...

Shadow Six raised his hand, and the six assassins immediately stopped moving.

"That's interesting," he admitted.

Lin Chen stood there, breathing rapidly, blood still seeping from the wound on his left shoulder, but his eyes were unusually clear.

"I have a question," Lin Chen said calmly, "Whose orders did the Dark Blade Pavilion come here on?"

Shadow Six did not answer.

But his silence itself is an answer.

Lin Chen thought for a moment, then asked, "Is it the Crown Prince? Or the one who's bigger later?"

Shadow Six's pupils contracted slightly—a reaction rarely seen in a highly trained assassin, almost imperceptible, but Lin Chen noticed it.

"The bigger one behind it," he repeated, his gaze fixed on Shadow Six's face, "isn't any force within the dynasty, right?"

Shadow Six remained silent for an even longer time.

Then, he took something else out of his pocket.

It wasn't a weapon, but a token—but this token was completely different from the Dark Blade Pavilion token at his waist. This token was entirely black, without any patterns on it, except for a thin crack, as if something had split it open from the inside and then glued it back together, leaving an indelible mark.

Lin Chen stared at the token, and the Time Compass in his sea of ​​consciousness suddenly vibrated—not a warning, but a strong resonance reaction.

It was as if he recognized something belonging to an old friend.

"this……"

"It seems you know what this is," Shadow Six said calmly.

Lin Chen's fingers tightened.

He didn't know what it was, but the Time Compass's reaction told him—this token was related to the river of time. Related to ancient civilizations. Related to him.

"Whose orders are you on?" he asked again, his voice now carrying more weight.

Shadow Six took back the token, his expression becoming even more complicated.

"Some things are beyond the control of the Dark Blade Pavilion," he said. "Tonight, my orders are not to take your life."

"...What?"

"I only want the Time Compass on your body."

Lin Chen was speechless for a moment.

If the other party was truly ordered to retrieve the Time Compass, and not to take his life—does that mean the mastermind behind it all has a bigger plan for Lin Chen? Or is he merely a pawn, someone who can be discarded at any time?

"The Time Compass isn't on me," Lin Chen said. "It has already recognized its master."

"Recognized as a master?" Shadow Six frowned. "Impossible, that relic—"

"See for yourself." Lin Chen raised his hand, and in his sea of ​​consciousness, the Time Compass slowly emerged from the void, hovering in his palm—it was not a real object, but a semi-transparent projection, but the ancient aura of vicissitudes from ancient civilization could not be concealed no matter what.

Shadow Six's expression changed completely.

It was no longer the calm and collected demeanor of a professional assassin, but genuine, undisguised shock.

"It has already merged with your consciousness..." he murmured, "No... no, how is this possible? It's only been a short time since the last holder died..."

He suddenly stopped.

That sentence, though left unsaid, was enough.

Lin Chen seized on that detail: "The previous holder."

"Seventeen years ago," he said slowly, "Do you know about what happened seventeen years ago?"

Ying Liu looked up, as if he were making a choice with some inner voice.

There was a long silence.

Then, he opened his eyes, looked at Lin Chen, and sighed—not with contempt, but with a mixture of weariness and complex emotions.

"I can't tell you who's behind this," he said, "but I can tell you one thing."

"Seventeen years ago, that holder—"

"It's your mother."

The courtyard was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

The autumn wind rustles through the lone bamboo, making the bamboo leaves whisper.

Lin Chen stood still, neither moving nor speaking.

He simply looked at Shadow Six's face to confirm that the other party was not lying.

My mother.

He was born in a remote border town, orphaned at a young age. It was Uncle Chen who pulled him out of the ruins—this was his only memory, and what he believed to be the whole truth.

But now, that truth has been revealed.

His mother was actually the previous holder of the Time River Fragment.

"How...did she die?" he asked, his voice so soft it was almost carried away by the night wind.

Shadow Six remained silent.

"Was it the Dark Blade Pavilion that killed him?" Lin Chen asked again.

Shadow Six's lips twitched slightly. That subtle movement carried something so complex it was hard to describe—not guilt, but something even deeper than guilt.

"No," he said, "it was her own choice."

"What do you mean?"

"She did this to seal something..." Ying Liu paused, shook his head, "This is not something I should say. Go to the Qingyun Sect, and the sect leader will tell you everything."

"But you came to steal the Time Compass—"

"The mission failed." Shadow Six interrupted him, his tone calm, even with a hint of relief. "The compass has already recognized its master; it cannot be taken away. I will report back with this result."

After saying that, he turned around and walked towards the courtyard gate.

The remaining six assassins followed him silently, disappearing into the night.

Lin Chen stood in the courtyard. The wind pressed the lone bamboo low, then bounced back.

He looked down at the projection of the Time Compass in his palm and slowly clenched his fingers.

My mother.

She once possessed the Time Compass, she sealed something away at the cost of her life, and she... left it all to him.

That path to civilization's advancement had already been partially traversed before he was born.

"Uncle Chen," he whispered in his heart, "from the very beginning, you were more than just my master."

"You know my parents, don't you?"

In the distance, from the direction of Cloud City, the faint sound of city gates being locked could be heard.

The door was gently pushed open a crack.

Murong Xue stood at the door, a dark red stain on her white dress that she didn't know when it had happened—it was someone else's blood, not her own.

"You're not seriously injured?" she asked.

Lin Chen shook his head.

Murong Xue was silent for a moment, then walked in, sat on the chair by the window, and looked at him.

"Shadow Six," she said, "the old scar between his eyebrows was left by my father."

Lin Chen raised his head.

Murong Xue's eyes were tearless and calm as water, but deep within that calm, there was something like a coral reef, which had not been eroded by the sea for countless years, but had only become sharper and sharper.

"He wasn't the mastermind," she said. "He was just a tool."

"Who is behind this?"

Murong Xue looked at Lin Chen and paused for a moment.

"I don't know," she said, "but I do know that what they want is more than just the Time Compass."

"What they want is to control the entire process of civilization's ascension to a higher level."

Lin Chen did not sleep that night.

He sat by the window, watching the sky gradually lighten, his mind a jumble of old and new questions, like a tangled mess of threads.

His mother. The previous holder of the Time Compass.

The seal of ancient civilization.

The unseen hand behind the scenes.

Also, there's Uncle Chen—Uncle Chen who's trapped in Cloud City.

Thirty days.

His goal has not changed.

Break through, become stronger, and go to the Qingyun Sect.

Go and save his master, and uncover all the mysteries.

But now, the weight of these matters is different from that of three days ago.

He looked at his palm; the projection of the Time Compass had disappeared, leaving only a very faint trace, as if something had permanently imprinted itself somewhere beneath his skin.

He recalled that once, when Uncle Chen had drunk a little, he mumbled something—

"Chen'er, your mother is more stubborn than anyone else."

At the time, he thought it was just an adult occasionally letting slip some sentiments about an old friend.

Now he knows how heavy that burden is.

"Stubborn." He repeated the word, a faint smile slowly appearing on his lips. "Then... I'll be stubborn to the very end."

Outside the window, the sun rose behind the mountain ridge, turning the entire sky orange-red.

The crowing of roosters in Liuhe Town pierced through the morning mist.

Another day has begun.