# Chapter 1257: Slaying Divine Riders in the Street
Starlight cascaded down, and this mansion was very tranquil. A wisp of clear qi drifted past without any ripples.
On the surface, the courtyard appeared very peaceful, but Ye Fan, transformed into clear qi, felt something was wrong. He hadn't discovered anything specific—it was just a cultivator's instinctive intuition.
He landed not far from the courtyard wall, sank into the earth, and employed his heaven-and-earth-shaking Source Art to observe cautiously.
Soon, a pair of eyes formed from mist gazed upward from beneath the ground. Ye Fan's heart surged with killing intent, his gaze icy cold.
Within the mansion, besides the Heavenly Desolate Thirteen Riders, there were several Seed-rank powerhouses and two soldiers from the city, all waiting for him to walk into their trap.
These people were hidden within a formation, chatting and laughing, drinking fine wine, isolated from the outside world. If not for his Source Art being so divine that he could borrow the earth's dragon qi to detect movements above, he would have been completely unaware.
This was a trap, waiting for him to jump in. They didn't necessarily need to kill him on the spot—just his appearance, witnessed by these people, would be enough to frame him for killing a saint.
When that time came, who would listen to his explanation? His competitors would use this to eliminate him, and the many cultivators of the First City of the Human Clan would attack him en masse!
This was a vicious trap. The second-in-command of the Heavenly Desolate Thirteen Riders hadn't truly planned to assassinate him but instead lured him into a snare, insidious and ruthless.
Before coming, Ye Fan had realized that tonight's incident was most likely not a simple ambush but a targeted scheme to trip him up. Now it was confirmed.
"Chi!"
Within the formation on the ground, the leader of the Heavenly Desolate Thirteen Riders suddenly thrust a purple war spear into the earth, his eyes bursting with terrifying light.
This sudden change startled many, leaving them baffled. Especially the lower-ranked members of the Thirteen Riders, who felt a chill of fear toward him.
"Brother Gu, what happened?" a Seed-rank powerhouse asked.
Gu Ling, the leader of the Heavenly Desolate Thirteen Riders, had wild light shooting from his eyes. His upper body was bare, his strong, bronze divine body exuding an oppressive aura. "Someone is spying on us from underground."
A wisp of clear qi scattered underground and vanished, leaving nothing behind. The purple spear tip could kill a saint but could not strike clear qi.
Ye Fan's heart tightened. This was definitely a powerful opponent, far more terrifying than ordinary Seed-rank powerhouses. No wonder the Guide Envoy had been alerted on the road.
"I sensed it too, but he disappeared in an instant." The second-in-command of the Heavenly Desolate Thirteen Riders shot green light from his eyes, his armor covering his entire body like an ancient demon god, as unfathomable as an abyssal sea.
"Correct. Someone was spying, then vanished instantly." A soldier spoke, startling everyone present. This was a failure on the Stellar Ancient Path, yet he was this powerful.
No need to guess—he had encountered an invincible genius on the path ahead. Otherwise, with his cultivation, why would he have retreated to the First City of the Human Clan?
"Could it be him? Truly formidable." The fifth member of the Heavenly Desolate Thirteen Riders, who rarely spoke, said coldly.
"This person is a threat. We waited quietly for him to come and kill, but he didn't make a move. It seems taking his life will be difficult," another said.
The stronger and more cautious Ye Fan became, the greater the threat to them. If they made a move on the later trial path, it would be hard to conclude without paying a certain price.
"He can't be allowed to live. We have to kill him!" The second-in-command of the Heavenly Desolate Thirteen Riders had a chilling green gaze, like a demon god from hell, his words cold and cruel, like a viper's tongue.
Under the starlight, wisps of clear qi gathered together, fell into Ye Fan's courtyard, and entered his crown. This qi could gather and disperse; it didn't necessarily have to return to his main body.
But it was ultimately a strand of divine essence from his body. If nothing unexpected happened, he preferred not to disperse it, to strengthen himself.
Ye Fan stood up and said, "Since it's come to this, I'll just kill them right in front of everyone!"
With that, he smiled, then sat down to meditate, sinking into slumber, completely unconcerned with everything outside.
That night, the Heavenly Desolate Thirteen Riders waited in vain for half the night, inviting several Seed-rank powerhouses and two soldiers to bear witness, all for nothing.
At dawn, the streets regained their bustle. People came and went under the bright sunlight, but the gloom in some cultivators' hearts grew thicker. Three more had died last night.
Blood-colored terror—no one knew when it would end. Clearly, some powerhouses had also made their moves under the pretext of killing saints, leaving everyone in fear.
How many more days until they could leave and head to the next ancient pass of the Human Clan? This was everyone's question. They all desperately wanted to leave.
The Guide Envoy did nothing, letting the situation worsen. Some even suspected he was involved. A bad premonition settled over people's hearts.
Tension filled the air. At this critical moment, Ye Fan seemed completely at ease, strolling around the city. Passing by the city gate, he felt a pair of eyes shoot toward him, cold and icy.
He turned to look. It was the soldier who had clashed with him when he first entered the city—a powerful squad leader.
This man wore black iron armor and held a bronze halberd. He stood at the city gate, staring at him coldly and mercilessly, a cruel smile hidden at the corner of his mouth.
"It's him..."
Ye Fan was certain. This was one of the two soldiers from last night, a guest at the Heavenly Desolate Thirteen Riders' residence, drinking and waiting half the night.
"They really put some thought into this, finding the squad leader who holds a grudge against me."
After noon, Ye Fan had toured the entire city. He entered a tavern and sat down to drink alone, waiting for the Heavenly Desolate Thirteen Riders. He would spill blood in public.
The small tavern faced the street, with a few tables and chairs set up outside for outdoor business. Not many people came and went.
Half a quarter-hour later, a rumbling sound came from another direction on the street. A group of iron riders galloped over, shaking the ancient street. Many people scrambled out of the way.
The Heavenly Desolate Thirteen Riders had arrived, heading for a wine pavilion. This was their habit—they had appeared at this time for the past few days.
"You won't live much longer!" One of the Heavenly Desolate Thirteen Riders said from across the street, his voice low, unheard by ordinary people.
Ye Fan had been watching them. With his hearing, he naturally caught every word clearly.
Many of these people wore cold smiles, their killing intent undisguised. The Twelfth and Thirteenth Riders even provoked him, making a throat-slitting gesture.
This was an insult. On the trial ancient path, such a gesture was a grave contempt and provocation.
Several large wine pavilions stood in this area, naturally attracting many cultivators. Now that everyone felt endangered, they all hoped to communicate more in such settings and find allies.
Many had witnessed this scene, realizing that a major conflict might erupt today. The enmity between these two sides ran deep; it would explode sooner or later.
"Some of you won't live through today," Ye Fan murmured, drinking a cup of wine.
"What did you say? Provoking us? Looking for death?" the Thirteenth Rider roared violently.
"You're the one actively provoking us. If you don't apologize, we'll kill you on the spot!" the Twelfth Rider blatantly stirred things up, threatening and intimidating.
"Please speak more clearly, or don't blame us for being ruthless," the Ninth Rider said coldly, turning around.
They selectively ignored their own provocation moments ago, instead seizing on Ye Fan's words, hoping to escalate the matter.
They needed a suitable reason to kill Ye Fan, always hoping he would start something, then join forces with the soldiers to execute him.
The Tenth and Eleventh Riders of the Heavenly Desolate Thirteen directly advanced. Both were brimming with killing intent, unafraid of trouble, having long been frustrated by the lack of an excuse.
"You're courting death!"
"Let's see how you survive. You started this!"
The most aggressive Twelfth and Thirteenth Riders grinned cruelly and advanced as well. This time, even the Second Rider was tempted, feeling that Ye Fan might have lost control—perhaps this was a good opportunity to join the soldiers in killing him.
No matter how strong he was, could he withstand the lawful execution by the city's soldiers? Obviously not!
Watching these people close in, Ye Fan remained calm, sitting there drinking alone. But the air grew tense to the extreme. All the windows of nearby taverns opened, and the street fell into deathly silence. Everyone was watching.
"Even if you apologize now, it's useless. Even if you kneel and beg for mercy, you'll still be killed without pardon!" the Twelfth Rider shouted, trying to force Ye Fan to act.
This was too oppressive—public humiliation. Ordinary people would find it hard to endure, so direct and violent.
Ye Fan didn't move, calmly drinking. But someone walked out of the small tavern—a tall, robust figure in purple robes with flowing black hair, very heroic. Yet upon closer look, his features were blurry. He dragged an iron sword behind him, scraping sparks across the ground.
He stepped into the street and walked straight toward the Heavenly Desolate Thirteen Riders, sizing up each one.
"Who are you? Get out of the way. Today we only want to kill that Ye surnamed guy," the Thirteenth Rider said arrogantly, no longer bothering to hide anything.
"Pfft!"
Blood splattered. No one expected that the moment the Thirteenth Rider finished speaking, the purple-robed man suddenly attacked!
He swung his iron sword, faster than lightning! He directly split the Thirteenth Rider in half. Blood sprayed everywhere, and even the mount was cut in two.
In that instant, everyone's scalps tingled. This was too sudden. Who dared to kill someone in the street in the city?
This violated city regulations and required a life in return!
This man acted without restraint, too decisive and resolute. And his sword strike was supremely sharp—even a saint would struggle to dodge.
"Murder!" someone shouted. The street descended into chaos.
Many cultivators' blood boiled. They knew something major would happen today. Anyone bold enough to kill a member of the Heavenly Desolate Thirteen Riders in the street must have a significant background. This would be a dramatic upheaval.
"Ah..."
The Heavenly Desolate Thirteen Riders exploded. Many shouted and roared. This was too sudden. This man was excessively arrogant, attacking without warning, killing in public. No one had anticipated it.
"Thirteenth Brother!"
Some of the Heavenly Desolate Thirteen Riders cried out, furious to the extreme. Various lights flew as they struck forward together.
The purple-robed man was naturally Ye Fan, using One Qi Transforms into Three Purities. This was his Dao body, killing a great enemy in the street. He wanted it this way—to kill publicly, to shatter these people's face and dignity, to kill thoroughly.
Chi!
Ye Fan was well prepared. After the first sword, the second was already swinging, faster than these people could react. By the time some of the Heavenly Desolate Thirteen Riders, enraged, surrounded him, his blood-dripping iron sword was already less than half a foot from the Twelfth Rider's head.
It was all one smooth motion, happening in the blink of an eye. After killing the Thirteenth Rider, Ye Fan didn't pause at all.
"Ah..."
The Twelfth Rider screamed, his face pale. Immeasurable light burst from his body, and various weapons flew out to block, but it was too late.
"Pfft"
The iron sword swept through the air, cutting across his head, slicing off most of his face. Blood spurted six or seven feet high!
Ye Fan's sword struck. Half of the Twelfth Rider's head flew up, his skull split in two. He died on the spot, blood dripping everywhere!
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