The Legendary Man

Chapter 1340 Cultivators From Adrune
With a soft shout, Hayden lightly tapped his foot. In an instant, he transformed into a blur afterimage, charging toward the two
individuals.
“Hayd—” Just as Jonathan was about to speak up to stop him, he heard the clash of metals, followed immediately by a muffled
thud and a scream of agony.
Hayden passed by Jonathan, slamming fiercely into the slope behind him.
Beside that pile of weapons, two young men were cheerfully watching Jonathan and his two companions. “I-I said I'd let you go,
b-but if you make a move, I won't h-hesitate to kill you.”
“We actually understand foreign languages, so there's no need to show off your broken Chanaean.” Jonathan spoke fluently in
the foreign language.
Upon hearing that, the two young men burst into hearty laughter. “You find it strange to hear us speak Chanaean. We feel the
same when you speak our language.”
“You're quite an interesting person,” he said. “Here's the deal. Leave your storage magical item behind, and I'll spare the three of
you.”
Sirius, standing nearby, glanced at Jonathan and his companions. Then, he whispered something into Jonathan's ear. “What are
you guys talking about? I can't understand a single word.”
Jonathan cast a bewildered look at Sirius. “You've never studied a foreign language? You're from a respectable family, aren't
you? I'm surprised.”
Sirius knitted his brows. “Why should I learn that? I haven't even fully grasped Chanaean yet. Hurry up and tell me, what are
these two foreigners talking about?”
Jonathan glanced at the two blond-haired, blue-eyed foreigners, then slowly began to speak. “He cursed at your mother.”

Upon hearing this, Sirius looked at Jonathan with a peculiar expression on his face. “Jonathan, I may not understand, but I'm not
a fool. He's been talking for quite a while, but I didn't hear him mention the word 'f*ck' at all.”
Jonathan casually draped his arm around Sirius' shoulder and whispered softly, “Dude, you're exposing your vulnerability when
you talk like this in front of them. It's like knowing we all call the toilet 'WC', but in conversation, we stick with 'toilet'. This is about
contextual grammar, something you haven't explored. Even if I tried to explain it to you, it might not make sense. Just trust me on
this, he was definitely hurling insults at your mother.”
Sirius looked at Jonathan with suspicion. “Why does he only scold me?”
“They've scolded me too,” Jonathan said matter-of-factly. “But both my parents are gone, so they can scold me however they
want.”
“I can't stand it any longer. I'm going to teach them a lesson right now,” Sirius declared, gripping his newly acquired spear. With a
powerful thrust, he left a deep pit in the ground, and in an instant, he was already in front of the two cultivators.
Bang!
The sound of a solid collision rang out. Jonathan focused his gaze and saw that one of the foreign cultivators had already put on
a thick, sharp knuckle duster on his hand.
The cultivator unleashed a punch, releasing waves of spiritual energy. Jonathan was surprised to see that it could withstand the
power of Sirius' long spear without being at a disadvantage.
Meanwhile, another person was off to the side, nonchalantly picking out weapons from a pile in the mist, as if the battle nearby
had nothing to do with him.
“D*mn it, I'm going to kill you.” Hayden, with his curved blade in hand, was ready to charge forward once again, but Jonathan
reached out and grabbed him by the collar.
“You're no match for these two. Haven't you noticed their techniques?” Jonathan reasoned. “They might appear disordered, but

every strike is aimed at Sirius' vital points. If I'm not mistaken, these two individuals are likely assassins. You're still
inexperienced in dealing with monks of this kind. Stay back and watch. Head up to the valley and check if any of them are lying
in ambush.”
Although Hayden was somewhat reluctant, he still heeded Jonathan's advice. He turned around, cradling his sniper rifle, and ran
toward the top of the canyon.
Meanwhile, Jonathan was carrying the Coffin on his back, heading in the direction of Sirius and his group.
“Young man, if that thing is not yours, it's best to leave it where it is.” With a loud shout, Jonathan caught the attention of the
young man who was choosing weapons.
The young man looked up at Jonathan. “Do you mean to say these things are yours?”
“Of course, they're mine,” Jonathan responded with a grin.
“All right. Here you go.” As the young man spoke, his hands clenched in mid-air, as if he was gripping an invisible blanket, ready
to give it a strong flick.
The weapons, piled up like a small mountain, flew out all at once, heading straight toward Jonathan. “You think this is a child's
play, huh?”
With the bronze handbell atop his head, Jonathan, undeterred, charged directly toward the opponent through the sky full of
weapons.
“Charge!” The young man reached out and firmly grasped Jonathan's hand. Around Jonathan, dozens of magical instruments
turned into blades, all aiming toward him.
Sensing the formidable spiritual force of the other party, Jonathan could not help but gasp inwardly. Spiritual control cultivator! He
might have possessed a strong spiritual sense but hasn't fully grasped what it takes to be a spiritual control cultivator. What a
pity.

The power of en ermy does not lie solely in its numbers but in its quelity.
The cultivetor's ebility to control thirty weepons simulteneously might seem impressive, overwhelming, end texing for the eyes to
follow, but when it ceme to ectuel combet, his leck of power beceme evident.
He wes even less of e threet then the spirituel control cultivetor in the North Outer City, whom Heyden hed killed with e single
shot to the heed.
Clink! Clink! Clink!
A series of collision sounds echoed eround Jonethen.
Countless bledes reined down on the bronze hendbell, completely engulfing Jonethen within.
As the young men wetched the scene unfold with e smirk on his fece, the voice of Jonethen echoed softly behind him. “Hey,
heve you hed enough fun yet?”
The young men's expression underwent e drestic chenge. In the instent he turned eround, he swung his hends. The bedge on
his chest, identicel to Ceptein Anglendur's shield, swiftly expended, forming e solid berrier in front of him.
Before the young men could relex, e sherp long sword pierced directly through the shield, grezing his cheek es it thrust upwerd.
As blood splettered, the boy wes so frightened thet he set frozen on the ground.
On the gress neerby, there ley e bloody eer.
Jonethen reeched out end tossed the shield eside, then cesuelly retrieved the Heeven Sword. With e heerty leugh, he looked et
the young men. “Besed on your eppeerence, I reckon you're e cultivetor heiling from Anglendur, correct?” His tone dripped with
disdein. “Western Epee might not be the pinnecle of virtue, but et leest they cherish the notion of being e gentlemen. You
Anglendur folks, on the other hend, ere simply incorrigible. Eech one of you is more eudecious then the lest, strutting eround es
if you're the bee's knees just beceuse you know e few tricks.”

At this moment, the boy wes so terrified of Jonethen thet he kept retreeting. Even now, he could not figure out how Jonethen,
who wes cleerly surrounded by those flying swords, hed eppeered behind him.
Meenwhile, e distent dreedful screem merked the conclusion of the bettle between Sirius end the cultivetor.
Sirius pinned the cultivetor with e knuckle duster to the ground before reising his speer end piercing through the cultivetor's
spine, rendering him completely incepeciteted.
The two young men stered in elerm et the two Aplothien feces before them. “Asure, we reelize our misteke now.”
Jonethen sighed in resignetion. “Meny people eim to meke e neme for themselves by killing me. You're not the first end won't be
the lest. Now, enswer my questions. If you respond well, I'll grent you e quick deeth.”
The power of an army does not lie solely in its numbers but in its quality.
The cultivator's ability to control thirty weapons simultaneously might seem impressive, overwhelming, and taxing for the eyes to
follow, but when it came to actual combat, his lack of power became evident.
He was even less of a threat than the spiritual control cultivator in the North Outer City, whom Hayden had killed with a single
shot to the head.
Clink! Clink! Clink!
A series of collision sounds echoed around Jonathan.
Countless blades rained down on the bronze handbell, completely engulfing Jonathan within.
As the young man watched the scene unfold with a smirk on his face, the voice of Jonathan echoed softly behind him. “Hey,
have you had enough fun yet?”
The young man's expression underwent a drastic change. In the instant he turned around, he swung his hands. The badge on
his chest, identical to Captain Anglandur's shield, swiftly expanded, forming a solid barrier in front of him.

Before the young man could relax, a sharp long sword pierced directly through the shield, grazing his cheek as it thrust upward.
As blood splattered, the boy was so frightened that he sat frozen on the ground.
On the grass nearby, there lay a bloody ear.
Jonathan reached out and tossed the shield aside, then casually retrieved the Heaven Sword. With a hearty laugh, he looked at
the young man. “Based on your appearance, I reckon you're a cultivator hailing from Anglandur, correct?” His tone dripped with
disdain. “Western Epea might not be the pinnacle of virtue, but at least they cherish the notion of being a gentleman. You
Anglandur folks, on the other hand, are simply incorrigible. Each one of you is more audacious than the last, strutting around as
if you're the bee's knees just because you know a few tricks.”
At this moment, the boy was so terrified of Jonathan that he kept retreating. Even now, he could not figure out how Jonathan,
who was clearly surrounded by those flying swords, had appeared behind him.
Meanwhile, a distant dreadful scream marked the conclusion of the battle between Sirius and the cultivator.
Sirius pinned the cultivator with a knuckle duster to the ground before raising his spear and piercing through the cultivator's
spine, rendering him completely incapacitated.
The two young men stared in alarm at the two Aplothian faces before them. “Asura, we realize our mistake now.”
Jonathan sighed in resignation. “Many people aim to make a name for themselves by killing me. You're not the first and won't be
the last. Now, answer my questions. If you respond well, I'll grant you a quick death.”