The Invincible Supreme Medical God
Chapter 318 - 239: Ninth Star_2

Chapter 318: Chapter 239: Ninth Star_2

Watching this, Sha Yun entered the bathroom. She picked up some clothes and went to a sink, doing a much more thorough job than Yan Xiaobao. He then poured several buckets of water over his head. Before casting a satisfied smile at Sha Yun, Yan Xiaobao stripped off the rest of his clothes and sank into a warm bathtub filled with water, allowing his tired muscles to relax.

"Did they show up again today?" Sha Yun asked, her voice still carrying a trace of anger. Yan Xiaobao nodded, recalling the events of the day.

The Deng Family was one of the few families in Liluo City that had not forgotten Yan Xiaobao. They often invited him to join their dining events, fascinated by his estimated potential.

Yesterday had been such a day. Yan Xiaobao followed Deng Wu from the academy to attend yet another banquet. Ever since Deng Wu’s potential had been revealed, everyone in the Deng Family had been euphoric. Their social prestige among the city’s noble families skyrocketed. Even some families from other cities sent gifts during the celebrations, showcasing their generosity.

As his exhausted muscles cried out in delight under the gentle touch of the warm water, Yan Xiaobao leaned back and sighed, a sound escaping from his lips as he sought relief. Sha Yun had long stopped leaving his side unless ordered to. She became particularly cautious due to the people who frequently appeared in front of Yan Xiaobao.

During each gathering, Yan Xiaobao always ensured that a specific room was reserved for him and Sha Yun to spend the night. Yan Xiaobao would instruct Sha Yun to wait in these rooms while he dined with the Deng Family. Though the Deng Family treated him graciously, Sha Long did not extend such friendliness toward them, considering them akin to a magical beast.

This was something both Yan Xiaobao and Sha Yun disliked, and since the very first occasion, Sha Yun had taken to waiting for Yan Xiaobao’s return in the reserved accommodation.

The meal saw Yan Xiaobao seated beside Deng Wu, with other elders and family members present. Although Yan Xiaobao interacted with others, he primarily spoke with Deng Wu. Their conversations, while monitored, were harmless, revolving around daily life, magical beasts, or plans at the academy. Anyone overhearing would find nothing beyond ordinary chit-chat between friends.

As usual, Yan Xiaobao later joined Deng Wu in his courtyard to share drinks. It was during these times they could discuss matters that truly mattered to them—topics like the city’s development, critical rumors, or recent happenings. Hui Yue had much to say, particularly on this night, about those mysterious figures gathering in the city and pursuing Yan Xiaobao.

This secret was one Yan Xiaobao hadn’t shared with anyone, but Deng Wu was convinced it was connected to the Crusaders, whom they hadn’t seen in years. The threat of this secret being exposed loomed constantly.

Since his parents’ village encounter that year, Yan Xiaobao had tried persuading his family and the community to relocate closer to the city, but none agreed. They smiled at the young white-haired man and told him they preferred to remain there, for it was home. They had lived there and intended to die there.

There was nothing Yan Xiaobao could do about it, but his growing concern consumed him by the day. His current goal was to become strong enough to protect the people and things he cared about most.

After speaking with Deng Wu, it was midnight when Yan Xiaobao finally departed the Deng Family Mansion. As soon as he stepped away, he felt someone shadowing him. Sauntering slowly from the affluent district toward the impoverished areas, he sighed, prepared to deal with his stalkers away from prying eyes.

The biting cold of the winter night clung tightly to Yan Xiaobao, making him resemble an Ice Emperor. A white long robe draped his slender frame, an exquisite silk material crafted by the Deng Family’s water mill.

Luring them step by step into a deserted alleyway, Yan Xiaobao eventually turned around. With his back now against the wall to shield himself from ambush, his sky-blue eyes remained intensely vigilant, showing not a glimpse of mercy.

Qi coursed through Hui Yue’s meridians, activating specific acupoints before converging in his right hand. He extended it, quickly forming the shape of a sword. In the dead of night, the sword gleamed with a celestial brilliance.

As Hui Yue stood there, back against the wall, wielding the Qilin Sword in hand, tiny wings sprouted at his feet, waiting patiently for Yan Xiaobao to unleash Velocity Flow.

Ahead of Yan Xiaobao, shadows emerged one after another. These figures, clad in black hooded cloaks, were not Crusaders but cultivators who posed as guards or mercenaries during the day and turned into assassins at night.

Gradually, the assassins assembled into a group—a dozen men standing side by side, ready to pounce on the man in white. Yan Xiaobao’s gaze flickered with disdain upon noticing that most of these assassins were "cultivators," with only one among them reaching the level of "Cultivation Master."

Though Yan Xiaobao had no concrete evidence, he suspected these assassins had ties to the Crusaders or their puppet masters, but no one had confirmed this.

At first, he had attempted to interrogate them, but they revealed nothing. Some tried to speak, but when their blood began boiling within their bodies, killing them instantly, he realized the futility. The sight of them bound by Blood Oaths provoked cold fury, as evidenced by the mocking smirk on Yan Xiaobao’s face.

Recently, Yan Xiaobao ceased interrogations altogether. The chaos caused by the Blood Oaths was far worse than the mess Hui Yue left by personally killing them.

The assassins silently encircled him, clearly unused to such precarious missions. Finding security in their numerical advantage, they likely believed the boy would finally succumb. None remembered that everyone who ever attempted to kill him had died.

Yan Xiaobao sneered coldly, his face devoid of emotion, as sharp and unyielding as a mask. His figure blurred as he charged at the nearest opponent. In less than a second, Yan Xiaobao executed a gliding technique, slashing his sword through the man before him.

These assassins posed no threat to Yan Xiaobao, but when using Velocity Flow to create a Clone, he exercised no mercy, allowing neither the original nor the replica to let his enemies roam free.

After years of persistent effort, Yan Xiaobao had mastered the replication aspect of Velocity Flow. His technique had advanced to the point where he could produce a complete Clone. The Clone operated solely based on its creator’s intent.

Currently, his Clone was busy sweeping the area, wielding a Qi Sword stained with blood. Yan Xiaobao heaved a deep sigh at the reckless display. Leaving the lower-tier Dantian cultivators to his Clone, he reserved his focus for the Cultivation Master.

The Qilin Sword in his hand had long been perfected, feeling less like a tool and more like an extension of his arm.

Rushing at his opponent, Yan Xiaobao executed a vertical slash, aiming to split the man in two, only to find that the Qi Sword failed to cut deeper than a few centimeters due to the yellow glow radiating from the man. Yan Xiaobao cursed under his breath.

The man before Yan Xiaobao was utilizing his elemental affinity with wood to form a spiritual energy shield around his body for protection. Normally, a simple cultivator like Hui Yue would be unable to defeat this man. Yet, the Qilin Sword managed to penetrate the shield, albeit only a few centimeters, causing a frown to crease Yan Xiaobao’s cold and handsome face.

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