Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Man in the Black Robe

Dense forests stretched endlessly, no matter where one went, they all looked the same.

Yang Fan kept moving in a direction he’d chosen. Along the way, he was often tempted to give up. Though he hadn’t been inside the mountain for long, the ordeal was maddening—he couldn’t distinguish directions, left no trace, and finding someone in such vast mountains was nearly impossible.

Moreover, Mang Mountain was littered with graves. As dusk approached, a chill crept into Yang Fan’s heart. To be stranded at night in a giant cemetery—how frightening would that be? Since the revival of spiritual energy, nothing was too strange anymore. If a few zombies leapt out, his worldview might survive the shock, but his heart would likely leap from his chest.

The more Yang Fan thought about it, the more he felt he’d done something foolish. From the start, he suspected the mission would be difficult, but he hadn’t imagined it would be this hard. No wonder the reward was so high.

About five or six kilometers away, Liu Qiang was also utterly despondent. Had he really made the right choice by fleeing into the mountains? Now, Liu Qiang deeply doubted himself, convinced only a fool would have come here.

Once inside, everything turned pitch black. He’d barely found a way down the mountain, only to be driven back by police. Though he wasn’t hit, he suffered several scrapes. Now trapped here with no supplies, how much longer could he last?

Thinking this, Liu Qiang wandered through the mountains, heading toward Yang Fan’s location. He wanted to see if there was another way down. Mang Mountain at night was terrifying; last night, Liu Qiang had finally fled down the mountain, only to find the base even scarier.

Those black barrels trained on him—just thinking about it made him shudder.

Life is full of surprises; no one knows what the next moment will bring.

Neither Liu Qiang nor Yang Fan anticipated meeting each other.

When Yang Fan saw Liu Qiang emerge from the bushes ahead, he was stunned. What was this? The person he’d spent so much effort searching for had appeared on his own.

Liu Qiang, seeing Yang Fan, felt that heaven had smiled on him. He eyed the large backpack on Yang Fan’s back, the water bottle in his right hand, the knife in his left, and the discarded food wrappers nearby. Suddenly, life seemed hopeful again.

Wait—a knife?

Liu Qiang was shocked. What was going on? This guy had a knife? Was he a cultivator? Had he come to catch him?

Liu Qiang stood frozen.

But Yang Fan was exceptionally clear-headed. Damn it, this fool had run into the mountains for no reason, making him search so hard. And now, he hadn’t just fled—he’d run right in front of Yang Fan! Not killing him would be an insult to his sense of direction.

With that thought, Yang Fan bent low and burst forward, covering ten meters in an instant—the two were about thirty meters apart.

Seeing Yang Fan’s sudden rush, Liu Qiang realized he had no chance; this guy was definitely after him. Gritting his teeth, he decided not to run. If they fought, at least the man across from him had food and water; he had nothing. If he didn’t fight, he’d starve anyway—there were no beasts here to hunt.

But as soon as he saw Yang Fan’s explosive speed, Liu Qiang turned and fled.

Combat techniques, that’s what this was! Damn it, combat techniques! He was no match. Forget the food and water—run!

Yang Fan expected the man to raise his machete for a head-on confrontation, but instead he spun and ran. Was this really okay? Yang Fan was baffled. What did it mean? Wasn’t he ready to fight?

...

One chased, one fled—their speeds were about the same. Yang Fan could roughly gauge Liu Qiang’s strength: mid-tier second-grade martial artist, not much different from himself.

But Liu Qiang saw it differently. The man behind him had similar cultivation, but among cultivators, it wasn’t just about cultivation.

He’d once stumbled upon a cultivation manual and practiced on his own for years, reaching second-grade martial artist without any resources, which was already impressive. Yet the pursuer had immediately unleashed a combat technique, terrifying Liu Qiang. He only knew some brawling moves; he’d never learned combat techniques. He was clearly no match.

“Stop! Don’t run!” Yang Fan shouted behind him.

“Stop? You must be joking. Stop and let you kill me?” Liu Qiang called back as he ran.

“Run if you want, but how far can you go? I’ve got pills for recovery; how will you outrun me?” Yang Fan said, pulling a second-grade blood-replenishing pill from his pocket and waving it at Liu Qiang.

“Damn...” Liu Qiang glanced back, his heart sinking. How could things be so unfair? Wasn’t he allowed a smooth escape? The pursuer even carried restorative pills.

He knew his own situation: Liu Qiang had no pills. His blood and strength would be depleted, and recovering would take time. The young man chasing him, though, had pills at hand. Liu Qiang didn’t even know if they were real—he’d never seen a pill in his life. Heaven’s Net was too strict; pills available on the market weren’t affordable for him. Over the years, Heaven’s Net had been seeking out folk cultivators and awakened ones, taking them away whenever found. Liu Qiang had no idea where they were taken, but he’d always been careful, never exposing himself.

This murder in Luoyang was for money—to buy cultivation resources. But instead, he’d been hunted relentlessly.

“Should I fight or keep running?” Liu Qiang wrestled with himself.

Yang Fan, meanwhile, decided to throw more fuel on the fire. If this chase went on and he got lost again, it would be trouble.

“Hey, look!” Yang Fan shouted, swallowing a second-grade blood-replenishing pill.

Liu Qiang watched as Yang Fan, whose aura had been depleted from the chase, visibly recovered.

“Damn it, you’re bullying me!” Liu Qiang suddenly spun and charged at Yang Fan.

This was too much—chasing him and taking pills! How was he supposed to escape? If Yang Fan wanted him dead, he wouldn’t let him have it easy either.

Liu Qiang steeled himself.

Yang Fan was startled by the sudden charge. What was happening? No warning at all. Could a single pill really make such a difference?

First, Yang Fan didn’t realize how precious such a pill was to hidden folk cultivators. Without breaking the law or committing crimes, scraping together enough money to buy a pill was nearly impossible. Not everyone was rich, and even the wealthy were monitored by Heaven’s Net.

Second, Liu Qiang saw Yang Fan’s recovery and knew that if he kept running, he’d eventually lose all strength, making it easy for Yang Fan to capture him. Better to fight now while he still had energy.

The distance between them quickly closed to less than twenty meters.

Liu Qiang raised his blade and attacked, slashing repeatedly. Yang Fan, no longer in a hurry, parried each blow.

Liu Qiang used every trick he’d learned in his life, but Yang Fan’s blade blocked each attack; he couldn’t break through.

After a long bout, Liu Qiang’s eyes were red. He’d never really fought anyone before—his previous opponents had been ordinary people, and one strike was usually enough.

Now facing a true cultivator, Liu Qiang felt powerless.

“Damn it, I’ll kill you!” Liu Qiang roared.

He erupted with blood and strength, aiming a forceful blow at Yang Fan.

Yang Fan dodged. He could have blocked it, but the impact would likely leave him injured—second-grade martial artists wielding a thousand-pound force were terrifying.

Yang Fan decided to end it quickly. If this dragged on, night would fall, and he had no desire to spend the night on Mang Mountain.

He unleashed his explosive movement again, darting ten meters away. Liu Qiang’s blade missed, his stance faltering.

Yang Fan burst forward, slashing at Liu Qiang’s exposed midsection.

Yang Fan had become increasingly efficient at killing. The blade flashed; Liu Qiang fell, without hesitation or mess.

Liu Qiang’s bloodshot eyes stared as he collapsed, twitching a few times.

Yang Fan stood over him, no longer haunted by the fear and nausea of his first kill. He’d taken many lives lately—he seemed to be getting used to it.

...

Yang Fan found a spot with good signal and started dialing his phone. Before he could press the call button, a whistling sound cut through the air.

He rolled aside, narrowly avoiding the attack. Looking back, a figure appeared where he’d just stood, holding a longsword.

“Who are you?” Yang Fan asked, horror on his face. Had he been a moment slower, he would have lost his head.

“Your killer,” the man replied, wasting no words and lunging again.

Clang!

Their weapons clashed. Yang Fan quickly retreated. The blow made him feel pressure—the man was at least at the peak of second-grade, his strength far greater.

The man, draped in a black robe, charged again.

Yang Fan turned and fled.

He’d always chosen tasks within his capabilities, never reaching too high. This meant he could always overpower his targets, finishing cleanly and reaping the rewards.

But now, out of nowhere, a peak second-grade martial artist was after him for no reason, and Yang Fan seemed unable to win. He felt wounded, figuratively and literally.

The black-robed man pursued. Their chase echoed the earlier pursuit between Yang Fan and Liu Qiang, but the roles had reversed.

Through the woods, Yang Fan ran, clearly slower than his opponent. Within minutes, the black-robed man caught up.

Yang Fan felt a chill on his neck, spun around, and swung his knife.

A tremendous force knocked Yang Fan aside.

The same power, the same sensation, but a different stance.

Yang Fan flew backward, crashing into a tree.

Blood spurted from his mouth.

For the first time in his life, Yang Fan had been beaten badly enough to cough blood.

As the black-robed figure charged again, Yang Fan felt a wave of despair.

What was this? Even if he was to be killed, could he at least get an explanation?

He barely blocked another strike, swallowed a second-grade blood-replenishing pill, and ran.

He really couldn’t win. He could see his opponent’s attack trajectory and block effectively, but his body couldn’t withstand the impact.

Each exchange left him shaken and injured.

Yang Fan finally understood what it meant for brute force to conquer skill.