Starting as The Young Master of A Pharmacy, He Trained Swordsmanship in Seclusion For Twenty Years - Chapter 57

Lu Xuan’s gaze was cold as he stared at the man standing before him—an elderly monk with a deeply wrinkled face.

The old monk’s hands were curled into claws, his withered fingers resembling slender bone spikes. A scrap of fabric still clung to his right hand.

When the monk saw Lu Xuan’s chest—completely unharmed, without even a scratch—his sunken, murky eyes widened in shock, his pupils shrinking in disbelief.

“What?!”

“How is this possible?!”

“Just who are you?!”

The old monk was utterly shaken. He couldn’t comprehend how this seemingly young man had taken his full-force strike without sustaining even the slightest injury.

After all, he was a martial artist who had reached the pinnacle of Bone Marrow Refinement. He could shred boulders several meters tall with his bare hands!

As the monk reeled in horror, Lu Xuan studied him with an odd expression.

This was the first time someone had successfully ambushed and landed a hit on him. Though the attack had been feeble to Lu Xuan, the fact that the monk had gotten close enough to strike meant he had underestimated the world.

Who would have thought that a mere Bone Marrow Refinement cultivator could evade his senses?

For the first time in a long while, Lu Xuan felt a flicker of caution return.

In the next instant, the old monk snapped back to reality. He was no fool—he knew his opponent’s strength far surpassed his own.

He turned to flee, mouth opening as if to shout for help.

But before a single sound could escape, a towering shadow loomed behind him—an abyss of darkness swallowing him whole.

Lu Xuan’s right hand shot out, slamming down on the monk’s skull.

An overwhelming surge of internal energy invaded the monk’s body, annihilating every inch of his flesh.

For someone who had tried to kill him without hesitation, Lu Xuan showed no mercy.

He released his grip, letting the lifeless body crumple to the ground.

Then, with a single leap, Lu Xuan landed atop the temple’s towering Buddha statue.

His sharp eyes caught something unusual—the statue’s head bore an unfamiliar face, intricately carved with pristine white lotuses.

Worse, the statue’s original face was hidden beneath a large, ill-fitting mask.

“A mask?”

Even the Buddha statue was a fake.

This confirmed it—Liansheng Temple was undeniably linked to the White Lotus Sect.

Good.

A glint flashed in Lu Xuan’s eyes. At least this trip hadn’t been a waste.

A gust of wind swept through the hall as his figure vanished from the main temple.

He paid no mind to the corpse on the ground. It was the dead of night—no one would stumble upon it.

Right now, there was only one person he wanted to find: the abbot of Liansheng Temple.

Silent as a shadow, Lu Xuan darted across the temple grounds.

Soon, he spotted two monks—both around thirty years old—standing guard.

“Brother, I think I just saw someone!”

One of them flinched, grabbing his companion’s sleeve.

The older monk scowled, scanning the area before snapping, “Where? You’re seeing things!”

“Quit wasting my time, or I’ll make you regret it.”

Night watch was tedious enough without his junior’s nonsense.

“Gentle monks,” a voice suddenly cut through the silence, “I have some questions. Would you kindly direct me to your abbot?”

Both monks jolted in fright.

Before they could react, two large hands clamped onto their necks.

Cold sweat dripped down their backs as they felt an imposing presence behind them.

They tried to scream—but no sound came out. The grip tightened, cutting off their breath.

Just as they were about to pass out, the pressure eased.

One of the monks, seizing the moment, lunged with a dagger hidden in his robes.

Swish!

A flash of steel streaked toward Lu Xuan’s throat.

But the blade froze mid-air, the monk’s arm locked in place.

“Seeking death.”

A sharp crack echoed as Lu Xuan snapped his neck and tossed the body aside.

A monk carrying a concealed weapon? One who struck to kill without hesitation?

This was no place of peace.

The surviving monk trembled, all defiance extinguished at the sight of his dead companion.

Lu Xuan repeated his request, and this time, the monk nodded frantically, agreeing to lead him to the abbot.

…..

The Abbot’s Chambers

Deep within the temple stood a heavily guarded building.

After a brief observation, Lu Xuan moved.

Like a phantom, he weaved through the night, dispatching the sentries one by one.

Within minutes, every guard lay unconscious.

Lu Xuan approached a brightly lit room.

Inside, a furious voice ranted:

“Damn it all! That thing in Dengfeng County woke up too early! The Black Swan Guards will be swarming the area soon!”

“This ruins everything!”

“The Hall Master has ordered us to evacuate. We can’t stay here any longer, or those Black Swan bastards will find us.”

“Prepare the remaining offerings—we sacrifice them to our Lord by tomorrow!”

The speaker was an elderly monk in tattered robes, his face lined with wrinkles.

This was the abbot of Liansheng Temple.

Yet there was no trace of benevolence in him—only cruelty and malice.

The other monks in the room mirrored his viciousness.

“Abbot, less than half of those carrying the White Lotus Seeds have arrived. Shouldn’t we wait?”

“Wait?!” the abbot snarled. “Three Yellow-rank Black Swan Guards are already in Dengfeng! Do you think we have time?!”

“Idiots!”