In the Martial Emperor City, Yu Xinlang wielded the famed sword *Fu Ji* and charged straight into the thousand elite cavalry of the Zhong family that had arrived as reinforcements. With a single strike, this sword technique was utterly different from his previous light, fleeting kills—this one was grand and radiant, its sword aura so overwhelming it blotted out the sky.
So much so that even Wang Xianzhi, who was never one to praise others, once privately remarked to the young girl in green robes, “Among the tens of thousands of warriors in the Eastern Sea, Yu Xinlang alone stands peerless!”
This alone showed the immense expectations Wang Xianzhi had for Yu Xinlang.
Over forty of the Zhong family’s elite cavalry were instantly shredded by this fierce sword aura, flesh and blood splattering in a scene of extreme carnage.
Among them, an armored rider who should have died under the sword aura suddenly retreated backward, each step precisely landing on the heads of warhorses, swift as a hare and steady as if walking on flat ground. In an instant, he created a vast distance between himself and the unstoppable Yu Xinlang, finally landing in the gap between two charging warhorses. Casually raising his arm, he snatched a fine iron spear from the hands of a Zhong family disciple. Smiling, he looked up at the young swordsman who pursued him like a relentless shadow.
This middle-aged man, clad in the armor of an ordinary rider, thrust his spear forward—like a great serpent leaping from water—straight toward the heart of the swordsman from the Central Plains.
Wang Xiu, one of the Four Great Masters of the Spring and Autumn Era and known as the “Spear Immortal,” once left behind the *Great Arm Manual*, declaring: “A spear thrusts in a single line—straight and unyielding. On that line, even ghosts and gods retreat!”
Every time Yu Xinlang stepped on the heads of the Zhong family’s warhorses, their front legs snapped, kicking up clouds of dust and utterly disrupting the cavalry’s formation. Facing the middle-aged rider’s overwhelming spear thrust, Yu Xinlang abruptly dropped his stance, bending low to narrowly evade the deadly spear tip. Then, with a single straight thrust of his sword, he countered in kind.
This rider, hidden among the Zhong family’s private cavalry, was none other than Zhong Liang, reputed as the second-ranked master of the Northern Wilderness’ demonic path. Faced with Yu Xinlang’s straightforward sword thrust, Zhong Liang remained composed, decisively withdrawing his spear. Instead of clashing head-on with Wang Xianzhi’s top disciple, Zhong Liang adopted a defensive stance—parrying, deflecting, and circling—his movements precise and disciplined. Even as Yu Xinlang unleashed a flurry of sword strikes, their sword auras instantly killing riders charging past Zhong Liang, the latter retreated with ease, showcasing the grace of a true spear master.
Though Yu Xinlang’s swordsmanship bordered on the mystical, carrying hints of a land-bound sword immortal’s aura, when facing an opponent of Zhong Liang’s caliber—who chose to retreat rather than engage—it was difficult for Yu Xinlang to exploit any openings. Moreover, Zhong Liang was renowned in the Northern Wilderness for mastering a hundred schools of martial arts, synthesizing them into his own style. Though he had reached the *Zhi Xuan* realm, his lethality rivaled that of the *Tian Xiang* realm. However, lacking an indestructible physique, Zhong Liang abandoned the pursuit of sheer destructive power to ascend further. Instead, he forged a unique path in spearplay—focusing solely on defense, aiming to keep enemies at bay with the tip of his spear.
The Zhong family was not only a prestigious military lineage in the Northern Wilderness but also the foremost spear-wielding clan. From childhood, Zhong family members trained rigorously with spears, mastering techniques to the point of “repelling even water.” Their elite cavalry, though small in number, surpassed even the private forces of Dong Zhuo and Murong Baoding in individual combat prowess.
Zhong Liang, the family’s second-in-command and infamous for his unorthodox ways, had chosen spearplay as his “final return”—compensating for his martial shortcomings in an unexpected yet logical manner.
Yu Xinlang cast a deep glance at Zhong Liang, who retreated again and again, then suddenly sheathed *Fu Ji*.
Zhong Liang halted, laughing heartily. “Finally remembering to go back and aid Lou Huang? Don’t rush—first, ask if my spear agrees!”
With spear in hand, Zhong Liang locked onto Yu Xinlang’s aura, his stance now carrying true killing intent. Raising his arm, he signaled, and the charging Zhong family cavalry abruptly split, halting in formation behind him. Meanwhile, over three hundred Northern Wilderness riders—elite assassins, martial experts, and Zhong family retainers—surged forward from the rear, forming a massive encirclement around Yu Xinlang, who stood with *Fu Ji* in hand.
Zhong Liang remained in place, watching as thirty men charged to surround the swordsman from the Eastern Sea. Smiling, he called out, “Yu Xinlang, ganging up on you is a necessity. My Zhong family warriors fear no death, but this is war, not the martial world. I hope you understand!”
This battlefield mirrored the one where Murong Baoding and Li Fengshou stood guard—identical in its ruthless tactics.
Unexpectedly, Yu Xinlang reversed his grip on *Fu Ji*, using only two fingers of his left hand as a sword. His lips moved slightly.
His left sleeve brimmed with sword aura, overflowing.
The thirty warriors charging with fatal resolve—whether sprinting or leaping—were simultaneously impaled by sword auras that erupted from the ground without warning.
More astonishingly, with Yu Xinlang at the center, countless sword auras surged from the earth like a grand fountain—a true thunderbolt from a clear sky!
Within a radius of ten, twenty, then thirty zhang, towering sword auras shot skyward.
After the thirty Northern Wilderness experts fell, another sixty—unable to dodge or caught by subsequent sword auras—died with eyes wide open.
Only a handful of top-tier experts could withstand the sword auras. Zhong Liang, naturally the most at ease, simply drove his spear into the ground, shattering the sword aura rising beside him.
Zhong Liang was in no hurry—Yu Xinlang was the one who should be anxious.
Lou Huang, nearing his limit, faced the relentless charge of over three thousand riders. What awaited him but death?
Once the Zhong family’s vanguard joined the fray, Lou Huang would likely join his master—who once made the martial world bow for sixty years.
Zhong Liang only needed to stall Yu Xinlang at the critical moment.
If he could capture Yu Xinlang alive, even better. He refused to believe his nephew Zhong Tan, the hope of their family, had died at Miyun Pass. More likely, he was imprisoned in the Northern Liang’s Jubei City. The Zhong family’s twenty-year plan could not end in vain.
Even if he and his brother Zhong Shentong achieved unparalleled military feats, without an heir, what was the point?
Zhong Liang hoped to trade Yu Xinlang—or anyone—for Zhong Tan’s safe return.
Suddenly, Zhong Liang glanced around, sensing something. As a top-tier *Zhi Xuan* master, he felt an overwhelming, suffocating presence—yet could not pinpoint its source.
He knew only that Tuoba Pusa had dragged the young prince into a battlefield beyond mortal perception—one even he could not see.
After this battle, the Northern Wilderness’ siege infantry would suffer unimaginable losses, potentially affecting their southern campaign.
The eighteen defenders of Jubei City fought to the death because they knew—without them, the Northern Wilderness’ twenty-year stockpile of southern troops would be exhausted long before the city fell.
This was why the Northern Wilderness had mobilized so many elite riders, why assassins and martial experts had been deployed en masse.
Every southern border infantryman killed meant one less defender atop Jubei City’s walls.
Even the unyielding Zhong Liang felt a rare moment of doubt. Had this war always been destined for such mutual destruction?
Had the million-strong cavalry of the grasslands ever needed to target the Northern Liang in the first place?
—
Deep in the Northern Wilderness, Deng Mao, standing before the grand banner, wielded a broken spear—now barely a foot long.
Yet, one of Xuanyuan Qingfeng’s sleeves had been shredded, her jade-white arm marred by a gruesome wound, blood flowing freely.
Deng Mao had never allowed the woman in purple to approach within fifty paces of the Northern Wilderness’ crown prince, though his own palm was mangled—hardly a decisive victory.
Meanwhile, the Western Hezhou’s Commander Helian Wuwei, Baopingzhou’s Commander Wang Yong, and the crown prince’s consort had all gathered beside Yelü Hongcai, ready to ensure the prince would not be slain under the grand banner.
Even facing such odds, Xuanyuan Qingfeng of Daxueping showed no intention of retreating.
Unfathomable.
Wang Yong, whose Baopingzhou resembled the Guangling Dao of Liyang, shook his head slightly. This woman truly lacked the sense to gauge the situation.
Yelü Hongcai, having been overshadowed by the young prince, now saw her as an easy target. With a sinister grin, he ordered, “Deng Mao, remember to leave her alive!”
Xuanyuan Qingfeng cast a cold glance at the smug crown prince, her lips curling in mockery.
Deng Mao said gravely, “Xuanyuan Qingfeng, I will leave you the chance to end yourself.”
Yelü Hongcai, though furious, suppressed his anger—yet in his heart, both Deng Mao and his master Yelü Dongchuang were marked for death.
Xuanyuan Qingfeng laughed wildly, as if hearing the world’s greatest joke. “I, Xuanyuan Qingfeng, need no one’s pity?!”
At this moment, though her expression seemed calm, the light in her eyes was unforgettable—
Obsession. Madness. Ruthlessness.
Unlike Deng Taixu, Tuoba Pusa, or even Xu Fengnian—none of the great masters on the martial rankings, living or dead, possessed Xuanyuan Qingfeng’s extreme demeanor.
This was not merely because she was a woman.
Baiyi Luoyang, Lin Ya of the Martial Emperor City, or Cuihua of the Wu Family Sword Tomb—none were as coldly fanatical as she.
Slowly raising her wounded arm, Xuanyuan Qingfeng let blood drip between her fingers onto the yellow sand. Her eyes burned crimson.
Did Deng Mao truly think himself equal to that bastard surnamed Xu?!
Her arm now writhed with thick, blood-red tendrils—like coiling serpents—contrasting starkly against her snow-white skin.
If there was one person in the world who could kill a *Tian Xiang* master with *Zhi Xuan* techniques, it was the late eunuch Han Shengxuan.
And now, Xuanyuan Qingfeng’s serpent-wreathed arm bore an uncanny resemblance to his infamous style.
But unlike Han Shengxuan, she had taken it further—nurturing these serpents with her own blood, as if raising dragons within her body.
A madness without precedent.
A path no one had dared walk before.
Compared to the other Northern Wilderness warriors who were oblivious and reckless, Deng Mao, having experienced the Central Plains’ martial world, understood the situation all too well. He couldn’t help but sigh, “What a madman.”
Deng Mao glanced down at the broken spear in his hand, sighed again, his expression a mix of regret and resignation. When he raised his head, his gaze was resolute. He said solemnly, “You fought your way here, already exhausted! And yet you still dare to cling to your delusions, gambling everything—this is the path to death! Then don’t blame me for not caring whether you end up as a plaything for the steppe nobles.”
Xuanyuan Qingfeng closed her eyes, her aura withdrawing to an extreme degree, like a snowball being tightly compacted in the heart of winter.
Deng Mao, too, returned to simplicity, his overwhelming presence vanishing without a trace.
It was clear—both had silently chosen to settle life and death in a single strike.
Behind Deng Mao, Wang Yong smirked. Seeing Xuanyuan Qingfeng so arrogantly believe she could kill Deng Mao in one move, the Jiedushi of Baopingzhou relaxed completely.
This female alliance leader from the Liyang martial world truly didn’t know the immensity of heaven and earth. What a pity for such profound fortune—had she forgotten the warning Luo Yang once gave the King of Northern Liang?
Wang Yong and Deng Mao weren’t close friends, but they had once sparred briefly. Of course, Wang Yong was no match for Deng Mao. However, Wang Yong had long maintained secret dealings with the Yelü clan, so he knew Deng Mao well. This unorthodox Northern Wilderness grandmaster, in terms of combat prowess, might not match Hong Jingyan, nor the White-Clothed Luo Yang. His defense paled compared to Murong Baoding, and his lethality fell short of the demon Zhong Liang. It was as if he possessed the Heavenly Phenomena realm but lacked any standout brilliance. Most couldn’t fathom why, after Hong Jingyan first appeared on the Martial Rankings, there was that strange comment: *”Ashamed to be behind Murong Baoding, embarrassed to be ahead of Deng Mao.”*
But Wang Yong knew the truth.
Deng Mao had spent twenty years tempering his will with that broken spear. The moment he discarded it, he would forsake his lifelong cultivation—yet with the Heavenly Phenomena realm, he could slay a Land Immortal!
And Xuanyuan Qingfeng was just one step away from becoming a Land Immortal.
Deng Mao killing her—it was perfect timing.
As expected.
On the battlefield, after the thunderous clash of forces, the two stood frozen in confrontation.
Deng Mao’s broken spear had pierced Xuanyuan Qingfeng’s abdomen. Though it hadn’t gone clean through, it was clearly a fatal wound.
Deng Mao allowed Xuanyuan Qingfeng’s fingers to press against his forehead, her nails digging deep into his scalp!
His hands hung limp, blood trickling from his lips as he smiled with difficulty, as if asking, *”So what?”*
Xuanyuan Qingfeng forced down the blood in her throat and retorted, *”And so what?”*
Deng Mao could no longer speak.
Xuanyuan Qingfeng still could.
The difference was clear.
Yet on this battlefield where only a lone figure in purple stood, barely eighty paces from the Northern Wilderness war banner, victory had been decided—but not the inevitable outcome of life and death.
Helian Wuwei made no move, but two riders beside the Northern Wilderness Crown Prince suddenly charged forward.
One was Wang Yong, Jiedushi of Baopingzhou, gripping an iron spear.
The other was the Crown Princess, her sword drawn—its name, *Cold Aunt*.
Both sought to swiftly execute Xuanyuan Qingfeng and eliminate the threat.
Clearly, neither cared for Yelü Hongcai’s “decree.”
In fact, after witnessing this scene, even the Crown Prince abandoned any thought of sparing Xuanyuan Qingfeng. This woman from the Central Plains was far too terrifying!
Xuanyuan Qingfeng withdrew her fingers.
Deng Mao collapsed at her feet, like countless men of the Central Plains martial world who had knelt before her.
She closed her eyes, listening to the drumbeat of approaching hooves.
The wind howled, her sleeves fluttering, her grace still divine.
At that moment, Xuanyuan Qingfeng remembered the oil-paper umbrella held over her in the rain at Guniu Ridge.
She remembered standing in the stables of the capital’s Xiamawei Posthouse, watching the snowmen pile up in the courtyard, listening to someone speak of dreams with inexplicable sorrow.
She slowly fell backward.
She was tired.
※※※
Then—an anomaly erupted!
In an inconspicuous corner of the Northern Wilderness army’s heartland, a petite figure burst from the earth like a ghost!
Crouched low, she darted like lightning, weaving beneath the bellies of Northern Wilderness warhorses. In mere moments, she reached the edge of Xuanyuan Qingfeng’s battlefield—then vanished again.
The Crown Princess, sensing imminent danger, yanked her reins to a halt.
Wide-eyed, she watched in disbelief as Wang Yong, ahead of her, continued his unstoppable charge, spear in hand.
But behind him, on his horse, a girl had appeared out of nowhere.
With a single hand-blade strike, she pierced the chest of this mighty Jiedushi!
The assassin withdrew her hand and glanced back at the horrified Crown Princess, seemingly chuckling before vanishing once more.
The next instant, she caught Xuanyuan Qingfeng as she fell.
After a stunned pause, the Crown Princess, disregarding propriety, snarled at the surrounding cavalry: *”Stop that assassin!”*
No one knew how this girl had appeared on the battlefield—not even the young Prince of Northern Liang.
Xu Fengnian only knew she had promised him she wouldn’t fight beyond Jubei City. She had sworn that if the battle turned dire, she would flee with the young panther to the bamboo seas of Western Shu.
No one knew how she had lain hidden underground for so long.
Or how she had positioned herself so precisely near the Northern Wilderness war banner.
Back in Jubei City, everyone had known of an eccentric girl who loved to dangle upside-down outside the young prince’s study or sit on rooftops in a daze. The new Prince of Liang never restrained her—even during council meetings, she would lounge on the beams, seemingly bored.
So she had memorized the Northern Wilderness army’s formations.
Silently, she had left Jubei City—vanishing without a trace.
Her name was Jia Jiajia.
Xu Fengnian called her *”Hehe Girl.”*
She had killed Wang Mingyin and Liu Haoshi.
She had intercepted Wang Xianzhi’s march to Liang, stopping him again and again at the border, refusing to yield.
Today, she killed another Northern Wilderness Jiedushi.
Feeling the warmth of that slender back, Xuanyuan Qingfeng whispered, *”Leave me.”*
The girl, sprinting toward Jubei City, tightened her grip and said softly, *”Don’t die. If you die, he’ll be lonely. He once said—of all men and women in this world, you’re the most like him.”*
Xuanyuan Qingfeng, still bleeding from her abdomen, chuckled weakly. Struggling to keep her eyes open, she gazed at the sky and murmured, *”Is that so?”*
With the Northern Wilderness’ top experts scattered across the battlefield—and no focused pursuit—the girl, agile as a hare, could have easily slipped through half the enemy army and returned unharmed to Jubei City.
But now, burdened with Xuanyuan Qingfeng, dodging countless arrows while shielding her, she was in constant peril.
Even with Luo Yang and Xu Ying rushing to aid them from the central army, the girl stumbled, nearly fell—then kept running.
An arrow had pierced her calf.
Blood soaked through.
She didn’t even notice.
At Jubei City’s walls, she carefully laid Xuanyuan Qingfeng down—then turned back.
One by one, she retrieved the bodies:
Sui Xiegu.
Cheng Baishuang.
From the blind qin master Xue Songguan’s escort, she carried back Wei Miao and Chai Qingshan.
Four corpses.
Then, from the chaos, she brought back two more—protected by Mao Shulang’s last stand:
Ji Liu’an of the Southern Border.
Yu Xingrui of Wudang Mountain.
The two masters had died back-to-back.
As the girl left, the blood-drenched, one-armed Mao Shulang laughed: *”Little girl, don’t bother with my corpse next!”*
※※※
The last body was Lou Huang, swordsman of Wudi City.
Around Yu Xinlang, dozens of yards lay lifeless.
The senior disciple of Wudi City sat cross-legged on the hellish battlefield, retrieving his fallen junior’s famed sword, *Shu Dao*.
Lou Huang, struck by a Northern Wilderness rider, clutched the blade and smiled in death: *”I didn’t kill as many as you… still couldn’t make you call me ‘senior.’”*
Yu Xinlang, wounded by Zhong Liang’s spear and slashed by Northern Wilderness assassins, forced a smile and whispered: *”Senior Brother.”*
Lou Huang seemed to hear it—he nodded faintly.
When the limping girl arrived, Yu Xinlang looked up, tears in his eyes, and said gently: *”Thank you.”*
She shook her head.
After Yu Xinlang strapped *Shu Dao* to his waist, she carried Lou Huang’s body back to Jubei City.
To their right, Xu Yanbing was dragging Wu Liuding and his sword-maid Cui Hua from the battlefield, hurling them toward Jubei City’s walls.
Then Xu Yanbing finally turned—walking toward the iron spear planted in the earth.
Yu Xinlang, now wielding *Shu Dao* in both hands, gazed into the distance.
Zhong Liang, his hand severed by a sword stroke, was being frantically rescued by his clan’s assassins, fleeing deep into the Northern Wilderness ranks.
Yu Xinlang advanced alone, twin swords in hand.
At the heart of the Northern Wilderness vanguard, Luo Yang—her white robes long dyed crimson—stood alone after persuading Xu Ying to retreat.
Mao Shulang, fighting one-armed, had slaughtered seven hundred men in one breath—before dying.
His body was torn apart.
No grave would hold him.
At the city walls, the corpses carried back by Jia Jiajia were lifted in baskets—allowed to return to Jubei City in death.
Of the original eighteen grandmasters beyond Jubei City:
Cheng Baishuang.
Sui Xiegu.
Wei Miao.
Chai Qingshan.
Yu Xingrui.
Ji Liu’an.
Lou Huang.
Mao Shulang.
Eight were dead.
Three Northern Wilderness infantry legions—annihilated.
The flanking cavalry, over ten thousand strong—shattered.
The Spiderweb assassins and martial artists—more than two thousand slain.
The elite cavalry sent to hunt the Central Plains masters—their losses totaled ten thousand.
The siege engines and archer formations—rendered useless.
Xuanyuan Qingfeng sat against the wall, having pulled the spearhead from her abdomen, pressing a hand to the wound, her expression icy.
Wu Liuding, his organs ravaged, clenched his jaw, blood seeping through his fingers. Tears streamed down his face—his sword-maid Cui Hua, who had taken a blade to the cheek saving him, still gazed at him tenderly.
Xue Songguan, pale as death, cradled her broken qin, her fingers mangled, her energy utterly spent.
Xu Ying, a deep gash across her back, knelt beside Hehe Girl, gently bandaging her wounds.
The stubborn girl wiped her tears fiercely with her sleeve.
She couldn’t see him.
Because she knew—that unseen duel, between two men, was even more brutal.
Beyond Jubei City, Yu Xinlang marched forward.
Xu Yanbing and Luo Yang held the line against the Northern Wilderness’ advancing infantry.
※※※
Then—the skies above Jubei City, no, the entire northwestern frontier—emptied in an instant.
Every cloud, near or far, vanished simultaneously.
All who looked up saw a vast ripple spreading across the heavens.
The Northern Liang defenders, the Northern Wilderness invaders—all were like fish gazing up at a shattered mirror.
Not a single cloud remained.
Then—as if two boulders had crashed into the lake’s surface, piercing through, plummeting to the depths—
Two figures landed with earth-shaking force!
One—a golden brilliance—amid the Northern Wilderness army.
The other—a white streak—before Jubei City’s gates.
In the next breath, they collided!
One from the north, one from the south!
Their battle of fate in the heavens had ended.
The Northern Wilderness War God had held the advantage.
Xu Fengnian, stripped of his fortune by Li Fengshou’s remnant heavenly will, had broken free—returning to the mortal world.
Now, unshackled, they clashed on earth!
When the two meteors met in the heart of the Northern Wilderness army, the shockwave hurled hundreds of riders backward—dead before they hit the ground.
The golden figure skidded back hundreds of yards!
The white streak slammed into Jubei City’s walls—elbows braced, refusing to let his back touch stone.
Neither paused.
They charged again—even faster!
This time, the impact flung another wave of riders into the air.
The Northern Wilderness advance halted—not by choice, but fear.
Even with half the eighteen grandmasters dead, and half the survivors crippled, the sight of this cataclysmic duel left every barbarian frozen in awe.
Two streaks of rainbow light collided again and again, each impact faster than the last. By the time the unfortunate Northern Wilderness army positioned along that straight line—stretching from beneath the Jubei City walls to the very rear of the 400,000-strong force—finally had the chance to scatter frantically to either side, over twenty such collisions had already occurred!
Along that line, whether you were a master of celestial phenomena or not, if you stood in their path, death was instantaneous.
No one knew how many Northern Wilderness infantry or cavalry perished, how many centurions or chiliarchs fell, how many Southern Dynasty generals or Northern Court nobles met their end—all dying inexplicably.
Future generations of martial arts grandmasters would later sigh with heartfelt awe: “The battle outside Jubei City could only be matched by a duel between two Lü Zus. But since there is only one Lü Zu in this world, a battle like this has not been seen in a thousand years!”
The next collision was even more earth-shattering, its shockwaves visible even to the ordinary soldiers.
This time, the golden figure was nearly blasted out of the battlefield entirely!
The Northern Wilderness God of War paused briefly, then took step after thunderous step forward, his roars and footfalls shaking the earth like thunder: “Xu Fengnian! I will shatter every tendon in your body and destroy every acupoint in your meridians!”
Tuoba Pusa, now utterly enraged, lunged forward, charging straight toward Xu Fengnian, who had also moved from beneath Jubei City.
This time, it was Xu Fengnian who was sent crashing into the city walls, his entire body embedded in the stone.
At last, the crowd could clearly see Tuoba Pusa’s towering figure, with eighteen golden dragons as thick as bowls coiling rapidly around him. He sneered coldly, “Let’s see how much blood you have left to boil into qi!”
Clad in white, Xu Fengnian landed back outside the city walls, his robes untainted by dust—and indeed, not a single drop of blood was visible!
On the drumming platform atop Jubei City, the war drums never ceased for even a moment.
Jiang Ni, her face streaked with tears, kept pounding the drums, too afraid to even glance at Xu Fengnian.
Suddenly, she raised her voice and cried out:
*”The bitter cold of Northern Liang chills a million homes,*
*How many iron-clad warriors now lie as bleached bones?”*
Come, come! Let us see who is the true Butcher of the Living!
Come, come! Let us hear who strikes the drum of beauty!
With his back to Jubei City, to the surviving Central Plains grandmasters beneath the walls, the young man who had long shed his princely robes stood barefoot outside the city. Hearing the voice from above, he rasped, “Don’t worry. I will not lose.”
Xu Fengnian tilted his head back, took a deep breath, and roared, “Deng Taixu!”
From the distant sky came laughter, “I have already reached the Heavenly Gate. Fight freely.”
※※※
The Sword God of Peach Blossoms, Deng Taixu, had ascended step by step, sword in hand, arriving beyond the Heavenly Gate.
Hovering in the air, he raised his blade horizontally and asked with a smile, “I ask the immortals above—who among you dares descend to this mortal realm?”
※※※
Hearing this, Xu Fengnian exhaled softly, as if expelling all the pent-up grievances of Northern Liang’s 300,000 iron cavalry, the frustrations of twenty long years.
He chuckled to himself, “Then I suppose I’ll truly have to become invincible in this world, just this once.”
The man in white wore an expression of utter exhilaration.
As if a great weight had been lifted.
Let me, for now, disregard the smoke of war rising over the Central Plains.
Let me disregard the outcome of the border clashes between two nations.
Let me disregard the curses hurled by the Liyang court.
Let me disregard the million-strong cavalry of the Northern Wilderness.
Let me disregard how many stone tablets stand atop Qingliang Mountain…
Let me, Xu Fengnian, be Xu Fengnian—just this once.
Xu Fengnian threw his head back and laughed wildly, “Heaven and earth, the mortal realm—watch as Xu Fengnian stretches his limbs!”
The young man truly stretched, as if shaking off the weight of the world.
A colossal white serpent, both tangible and ethereal, suddenly manifested, its mountainous form coiling around Jubei City, looming behind the youth.
Its massive head extended beyond the towering walls, and with a roar that shook the heavens, it bellowed toward the entire northern grasslands!
Tai Sui Yellow Amulet Paper FuLu Taoist Love Talisman Traditional Chinese Spiritual Charm Attracting Love Protecting Marriage