Wuxia: Drinking with Spring Breeze

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With a rumbling noise, a path cut straight through the northern expanse of the vast mountain forest, startling innumerable birds into flight.

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Yan Shijun was fleeing ahead.

Yang Ge was pursuing behind.

The one fleeing had nearly run himself to death, gasping for air.

The one in pursuit, however, was chasing as leisurely as a walk in the park, not even breathing heavily.

Actually, if Yang Ge had truly set his mind to catching up and chopping Yan Shijun to pieces, he could have caught up with the man.

Even though he was less familiar with this mountain forest than Yan Shijun, what flies in the sky is always faster than what runs on the ground...

Yan Shijun’s aura was so intense it was like a flame in oil, making him as obvious as beacons and smoke signals in the wilderness, so there was no possibility of losing track of him.

But Yang Ge figured since the guy was fleeing so desperately, as if there was indeed a way out ahead, he was curious to see if he could be led to the mysterious person behind the Five Poisons Cult...

Having come all this way, why not have a little chat with the real mastermind, right? It’d be a waste otherwise.

The best outcome would be to drag along family and followers in one fell swoop so he could comfortably return to Lu Ting for the New Year.

Otherwise, just as he would have finished off Yan Shijun and returned to Lu Ting, another new Sect Hierarch of the Five Poisons Cult might pop up and continue to stir trouble... What a hassle!

Whether it’s a day sooner or later, Yang Ge could afford to wait.

The two of them chased and fled across mountains and rivers, passed near villages and cities several times, and the exhausted Yan Shijun attempted to divert into them, hoping to use the local civilians to make Yang Ge hesitate. However, Yang Ge would suddenly accelerate and rush forward, forcing Yan Shijun to scurry away crying in distress...

After several beatings, Yan Shijun guessed Yang Ge’s intentions and resolved himself to keep leading Yang Ge directly toward the northeast.

In this way, they continued their fierce chase for the better half of the day.

Yang Ge no longer knew where he was, but the mountains around them were diminishing, the farmland was becoming more extensive, and the temperature was dropping...

"Hey, old Yan, how far away is your rescue?"

As Yang Ge glanced at the setting sun, he took a cold steamed bun from his food pouch and began to eat as he shouted loudly, "Why don’t we sit down, have a bite, and catch our breath before continuing? Don’t worry, I promise not to take advantage of a person in peril. I’ll wait until your reinforcements arrive before I kill you!"

But Yan Shijun up ahead didn’t have the luxury to be so relaxed. Grandmasters indeed have robust True Qi, but even they can’t endure a wild sprint of more than a thousand miles without tiring.

Moreover, he was fleeing for his life and dared not think of conserving any energy. He was expending his True Qi like it was worthless, and the fact that he could keep it up until now showed the exceptional strength of his True Qi!

Not to mention, he had received several beatings along the way...

By this point, he was about to collapse like a dead dog. Separated by only four or five steps, Yang Ge could hear his raspy and harsh breathing, like a broken bellows.

Even though they were nearing the point of exhaustion and desperation, Yan Shijun, upon hearing Yang Ge’s call, continued to desperately extract whatever little True Qi he had left, using his hands and feet to scuttle forward as fast as he could.

"Tch, good intentions taken for a donkey’s liver and lungs!"

Yang Ge mockingly taunted with a hint of schadenfreude, wolfing down the bun in his hand like Zhu Bajie eating ginseng fruit, and then suddenly accelerated, appearing behind Yan Shijun like a ghostly figure.

A flash of the blade, and a complete left arm, spraying blood, rocketed into the air.

Yan Shijun let out a "howl" of pain and his stumbling body shot forward like a cannon.

"Since you refuse to stop, then just give it a little more effort!"

Yang Ge held his blade and followed him at a leisurely pace, maintaining a distance where he could clearly see Yan Shijun’s fleeing figure: "I’m cheering you on!"

"Fuck your..."

The furious Yan Shijun finally burst into a curse.

However, as soon as the word "mom" left his mouth, Yang Ge’s figure once again appeared behind him.

"Pshh."

Another streak of the blade, and Yan Shijun’s right arm, still clutching his precious sword, soared into the air.

"Aaaah...!"

Yan Shijun let out a heart-wrenching scream, unleashed the last of his True Qi to send a sword light soaring into the sky, and desperately howled, "Ancestor, save your grandson!"

The heart-wrenching screams, augmented by True Qi, echoed through the mountains like thunder, traveling for miles...

Meanwhile, Yang Ge, who had been in pursuit and nearly reaching him in midair, turned back, catching the falling right arm and deftly removing the shining precious sword from it.

He held the sword and nonchalantly swiped at a large boulder, the motion so smooth it felt like slicing through soft yam,

and the boulder, as big as a water jar, silently split into two!

"Great sword!"

Yang Ge exclaimed in delight: "Yang Erha will definitely like this sword."

With the sword in one hand and the blade in the other, he admired them from all angles. Then, glancing at the sword sheath at Yan Shijun’s waist, he suddenly chuckled... at that moment, Yan Shijun resembled a jet fighter in flight, spurting blood on both sides like twin fountains.

This scene brought to mind an ancient cliché that suddenly sprang to life and attacked him.

"Hey, we were having a nice conversation, why start spraying pesticide?"

He leaped into the air, stirred up a dazzling surge of blade energy, and caught up with Yan Shijun. He landed a blow on his two sturdy thighs, grabbed him by the back of his neck, and considerately sheathed his blade. Freed his hands to seal the large acupoints on Yan Shijun’s body to stop the bleeding.

Then he inserted the precious sword into its sheath at Yan Shijun’s waist, tore it off along with its sheath to attach to his own belt, and patted the sword contentedly.

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