Ghost Face Asura 09

The members of the Thousand Miles Escort Agency were shocked—this small escort team was entirely composed of martial artists! Though their skills weren’t exceptional, under the guidance of the man seated in the carriage, they managed to hold their ground.

Fang Zhiyi wielded the chain sickle he had seized earlier. Spotting an ambush aimed at Mei Ruoxue, he flicked the weapon like a whip, sending the chain lashing out as if it had a life of its own. The attacker was flung backward.

He glanced at Mei Ruoxue, who was trembling slightly. She turned to meet his gaze, and Fang Zhiyi gave her a faint nod, his eyes filled with encouragement. Pressing her lips together, Mei Ruoxue steeled herself and rejoined the fight.

Aside from Mei Ruoxue, who lacked real combat experience, Jiang Rou and the others had improved significantly under Fang Zhiyi and the two elders’ tutelage. Back and forth, the enemy found no advantage.

The chief escort of Thousand Miles panted heavily, baffled. The men he’d brought should have been enough to overwhelm a second-rate expert, yet these youngsters were proving so troublesome. But the most terrifying one was the man who hadn’t even moved from the carriage.

He realized he might have bitten off more than he could chew.

"Retreat!" he shouted, making the right call.

But Fang Zhiyi moved. Leaping from the carriage, he swiftly caught up to the fleeing chief escort, swatting aside a lackey blocking his path before clamping his fingers around the man’s throat.

"Do you know your mistake?" Fang Zhiyi said, turning his head. Shadows flickered at the roadside as another group of black-clad figures emerged, fully masked from head to toe. At Fang Zhiyi’s signal, they began hunting down the fleeing bandits.

The young fighters gasped for breath, exchanging glances—each bore injuries.

"Hesitation. Either don’t fight, or strike decisively. Haven’t I taught you that?"

"L-Let me go! We can talk this out!" the chief escort pleaded, fear creeping into his voice.

Fang Zhiyi tilted his head. "Talk? What’s there to discuss with highwaymen?"

His grip tightened. The chief escort’s eyes bulged with terror. "Y-You can’t kill me! I’m from the Thousand Miles Escort!"

His words cut off abruptly as Fang Zhiyi released him. The body crumpled to the ground.

"Robbers disguising themselves as escorts? Disgraceful," Fang Zhiyi remarked.

The youths were shaken. They had dreamed of roaming the martial world as righteous heroes, but never imagined they’d have to kill. Mei Ruoxue’s eyes widened, the scene before her leaving a profound impact.

"These men have blood on their hands. Remember what I told you? When business is good, they escort; when it’s bad, they rob. Pathetic."

"In this world, if you don’t kill, others will die by their hands."

A black-clad subordinate reported—the imposters had all been eliminated.

"In this era, a fearsome reputation is just as crucial as skill in the escort business," Fang Zhiyi mused, eyeing the dazed expressions of his students. He sighed. "If a day comes when most conflicts can be resolved without bloodshed, it’ll only be because enough have already died to make it possible."

Psychological preparation was vital. In this world, the martial arts realm was a place where you either killed or were killed. These students had to learn that idealism alone wouldn’t keep them alive.

When the group entered a densely wooded path, they encountered real bandits.

Spotting an unfamiliar banner on the carriage and noticing women among the escort, the outlaws jeered with crude insults as they charged.

The students, now steeled, engaged with greater composure—though Mei Ruoxue still hesitated. But when Jin Yidao took a slash to the arm shielding her, something clicked.

Watching Mei Ruoxue’s now-resolute swordplay, Fang Zhiyi smiled in approval.

After wiping out the bandits, Fang Zhiyi sent them to search the hideout. Two hours later, they returned to the road, leading dozens of women and children. Fury burned in the young heroes’ eyes.

Fang Zhiyi knew what they’d seen. The lesson was nearly complete.

As they neared Luoyang, they were stopped again—this time by men who made no attempt to hide. A banner fluttered beside them: "Swift Blade Sect."

Short on funds, the sect had set up a checkpoint to extort travelers.

Having lived in seclusion and with no social media to spread his fame, Fang Zhiyi was unrecognized.

The elder leading the checkpoint was beaten half to death. A disciple scrambled back for reinforcements, and soon the entire Swift Blade Sect descended upon them. The sect master arrived in a frenzy, brandishing a nine-ringed broadsword.

"Hurt my men? Not even the heavens can save you now!"

The next moment, his blade was knocked aside, and two sharp slaps struck his face.

"Say that again?"

The sect master’s eyes widened. "I said—you hit well!"

Fang Zhiyi nodded, turning to his students. "See? The martial world isn’t just about brute force. Knowing your enemy’s strength is key." Suddenly, he seized the sect master’s other hand. "Feigning weakness to lower their guard, then striking with lime powder or other tricks—many so-called heroes die this way. Never underestimate dirty tactics."

The sect master’s face paled, legs wobbling.

Fang Zhiyi studied him. "I won’t be harsh. You attacked us unprovoked and tried to rob us. Compensation for emotional distress will suffice."

The sect master nearly wept. "We’re broke! The Hidden Sword Manor took our city business. We had no choice! Spare us!"

Fang Zhiyi stroked his chin. "No money, you say?"

The sect master nodded frantically, fully aware of the gulf between them.

"Perfect." Fang Zhiyi’s grin sent a chill down even his allies’ spines.

As the carriage entered the city, Zhao Yang hugged a bundle of weapons, grinning ear to ear, while Jiang Rou carefully tucked away a manual Fang Zhiyi had tossed her, planning to bring it back to the martial school.

"Father… wasn’t that just robbery?" Mei Ruoxue whispered.

Fang Zhiyi spread his hands. "Robbery? That was compensation. Didn’t you see how happy they were?"

The students nodded vigorously. This trip with their headmaster had reshaped their understanding—both of the martial world and of Fang Zhiyi himself.

The Demon Sect’s Left Emissary? Nonsense. Could he possibly be worse than our headmaster?