Despite slaughtering three men, An Jing's gold-trimmed white robe was untouched by even a speck of blood, and the edge of his black-iron blade was completely spotless. An armed An Jing could absolutely slaughter them all. Neither the onlookers nor the remaining gray-cloaked martialists had any doubt about that. But what if he fought barehanded?0

Recognizing An Jing's intention to take them alive only deepened the gray-cloaked martialists' humiliation. With a collective roar, they thrust their swords forward, determined to draw his blood even if it meant certain death. But the reality was stark; even if they died, they couldn't touch him.0

As blades descended upon him from all directions, An Jing abruptly collapsed forward. This wasn't a deliberate bend or a defensive...0