Chapter 432: Snowfall

Han Diaosi rolled up his sleeves in front of a crowd. Thin red threads floated like tiny red snakes, swarming like mayflies, densely packed and awe-inspiring. Infusing life into inanimate objects has always been a hallmark of Heaven-Phase experts. For instance, Chen Zhibao could transform plum wine from green to purple; aside from the plum wine itself being extraordinary, it was also closely tied to his sudden emergence as a Confucian Saint. Throughout history, sword immortals often enabled mundane swords to attain sentience, just as revered monks could make even stones nod in understanding.

Han Diaosi did not hastily press his advantage. He brought his two fingers together, sweeping across the “red clouds” on his arm. The more leisurely and calm the Human-Cat appeared, the more suffocating the pressure felt by the thousand people opposite him. Some sharp-eyed individuals, particularly the hawks and hounds from the Beiliang prison, had already guessed Han Diaosi’s identity. This powerful eunuch, who had lived a turbulent life and faced countless enemies, had always been considered an enigma in martial cultivation. When Han Shengxuan, still young at the time, flayed the Fu Jiang Hong Jia, it was a stunning debut that heralded the new generation of the martial world. This was followed by the mysterious disappearance of Fengdu’s Green Robe, the death of the Northern Spear Immortal Wang Xiu at the hands of his apprentice Chen Zhibao, and even someone as formidable as Li Chungan, who after the battle at Guangling River, concluded the era of Qing Shan’s refined swordsmanship by borrowing swords.

Han Diaosi looked toward the young man opposite him, whose actions were unconventional, and tugged his lips into a smirk. Initially, he hadn’t expected this person to dare charge ahead fearlessly. According to common sense, the higher one’s rank, the more one should value blessings, connections, and life itself. Blessings and fortune are like water—if one doesn’t take care to gather and preserve them, it’s impossible to ensure the continuation of one’s own safety, let alone the prosperity of descendants. This was exemplified by Song, the revered literary master. However, with Han Diaosi’s discerning eye, he quickly realized that the young heir of Beiliang was merely borrowing momentum, a lower-tier technique. Daoism involves inviting deities down from the heavens, while Buddhism involves manifesting dharma forms to subdue demons—both are considered esoteric but rooted in orthodox traditions. The southern witchcraft of Nanyang is the most sinister, drawing power from yin entities and filth, creating mutual puppetry between master and servant.

Although Han Diaosi knew that Xu Fengnian was temporarily borrowing a yin realm, he was impressed by this crude and reckless act of self-sacrifice for the sake of killing an enemy. Yet, Xu Fengnian seemed to suffer minimal backlash. Even after being forced back by Han Diaosi’s palm strike, he still managed to maintain a composed demeanor, his qi unscattered and his true form unrevealed. Han Diaosi had no intention of inquiring further; he had no desire to waste words on a dying man. Whether someone was a donkey or a mule was something that could only be determined by taking them out for a ride.

Han Diaosi performed an action that everyone found comical. He bent down and formed a snowball that probably wouldn’t hold together very well. Many elderly people develop childlike whims as they age, but who would ever think that Han Diaosi could be so inept?

Han Diaosi spread his hand sideways and gently pushed. The snowball fell to the ground, but not straight down—it veered off the road. There was a lot of untouched snow there, some as deep as two feet. The small snowball, initially rolling slowly, soon accelerated like a wild horse breaking free from its stall, much like thunder rolling across white clouds. As it rolled, it grew larger. After three zhang (about ten meters), it was half a person tall; after ten zhang, it was two people tall. The sound it generated became increasingly astonishing. The snowball scraped the ground, not only gathering two feet of snow but also grinding grooves into the ice-hard surface, leaving the snowball’s surface streaked with grayish-yellow dirt. This snowball carved an arc off the road and hurtled fiercely toward Xu Fengnian, who was twenty zhang away.

Han Diaosi extended both hands, grabbed two handfuls of snow, and then clapped them together, sending two snowballs rolling out. It was like engaging in a snowball fight with two groups. Han Diaosi continuously grabbed and hurled snowballs, each one arcing in a half-circle. It should be noted that this time, he was alone, challenging a thousand people. Among this thousand were the absent heir of Huishan, Xuan Zhenqing; the inheritor of the Shina spear; Wang Xiaoping of Wudang, the sword-obsessed genius; and, of course, Xu Fengnian and his Heaven-Phase yin entity, as well as seasoned warriors like Lu Qiu’er, Wang Lin, and Ren Shanyu from Beiliang.

The snowballs surged forward at varying speeds, yet they moved in a synchronized wave. Thus, the massive snowball that charged directly toward Xu Fengnian stood out sharply.

No one was foolish enough to wait passively for death. Wang Lin, the young general who had already decided to stake everything, sneered with a Grinning wickedly (ferocious grin): “Charge the formation!”

Fifty armored riders surged forward in unison, launching a simultaneous charge. Their hooves transitioned from light and slow to heavy and urgent, scattering snow along the The Courier’s Path (post road), transforming the once pristine white expanse into muddy chaos.

Besides Wang Lin and the fifty heavy cavalry clad in iron armor, which seemed oddly out of place with the local geography, there was also Ren Shanyu, a woman in her thirties with the face of a child, and twenty elite spies from Beiliang. She exerted herself to calm her mind and focus her spirit, feeling the clarity of heaven and earth. This woman, gifted in martial cultivation, sensed her own steady breaths echoing in her ears, each inhale and exhale as resounding as the thundering hooves. This steadied her slightly, quelling the fear she felt toward Han Diaosi, the Human-Cat, who blocked the road outside the city. “I, Ren Shanyu, may not be worthy of your attention, but I am no fragile paper doll to be pierced and torn apart. Besides, I’ve got a thousand elite riders by my side!”

Wang Xiaoping emerged from the carriage, one hand reaching behind him to secretly grasp one of his three swords, the Beacon Tower (Feng Sui).

The youth, Wu (Wu), had somehow climbed onto the roof of the carriage, holding a massive Horn Bow (ox-horn bow) in one hand and two heavy iron arrows in the other, his arm muscles gradually bulging like hills.

One arrow per day was already the limit of a young assassin’s physical endurance, but today’s battle had driven him to forsake thoughts of survival. What did he care about breaking an arm?

The Azure Robe (Qing Yi) woman silently drew out a blunted spearhead from beneath the carriage and ran forward, expressionless.

Wu, perched in a high, open vantage point, used a Thousand-Pound Drop (thousand-jin drop) to steady himself. The carriage swayed, and the wheels immediately sank, crushing several icy tracks. This deadly assassin from the Northern Wilderness took a deep breath, then, in one fluid motion, drew the bow taut, aiming the arrow at Han Diaosi.

But the youth’s face quickly changed. His master’s unique technique of Traction (traction art) had never failed him before. Once the bridge was built, even the formidable Xue Songguan in the rain alley could block but not evade. No one had ever managed to sever the “pointing” of the arrow. Yet this black-robed old man showed Wu what it meant to encounter a greater master. Right before Wu’s very eyes, the old man vanished in an instant. The art of archery involves a subtle, continuous connection, and thus, Wu’s spirit, which had reached its peak, collapsed immediately. This proud youth felt bewildered for a moment, then gritted his teeth and slightly shifted the arrow and bow, determined to find Han Diaosi’s trail.

The snowball ahead of the white surge, shaped like a small mountain, charged forward with fierce momentum.

Xu Fengnian allowed the snowball to come straight at him, frowning slightly. He couldn’t quite understand why the old eunuch had resorted to such a low strategy. Li Chungan had once clearly stated that commanding a thousand swords to kill one person was vastly different from killing a thousand people. The former could achieve both the essence and form of sword intent and technique. Therefore, during the battle at Guangling River, the old man in the lamb-skin cloak’s sword strike, though not the most refined in Li Chungan’s sword career, was a rolling dragon wall of sword qi that lasted half an hour. Facing nearly ten thousand cavalry, he didn’t use any flashy sword techniques. Survivors who witnessed this battle, hailed as a defiant last stand that moved heaven and earth and made ghosts and spirits weep, described it as anything but spectacular. Each move was aimed at killing with one blow or, at the very least, severely wounding the enemy. Han Diaosi was no inexperienced novice but the most skilled and seasoned “Human-Cat” in the world, a master at catching mice. Regardless of his cultivation level, in terms of practical combat experience, Han Diaosi was undoubtedly the greatest in the Liyang Kingdom.

Xu Fengnian had the full support of the The Crimson Robe of Shadows (Zhu Pao Yin Wu), a Heaven-Phase entity that had generously bestowed its power upon him. His internal energy was so profound that it surpassed even the six-tenths incomplete Da Huang Ting technique he had previously mastered. In fact, today’s battle was the most confident Xu Fengnian had ever felt, bordering on arrogance.

Xu Fengnian cast aside his doubts and took a step forward, punching the snowball. As the snowball, rolling with fierce momentum, was about to crash down, at the very moment Xu Fengnian shattered it with a single punch, his Heaven-Phase cultivation, as vast as a breached dam, dissipated by more than half. Xu Fengnian’s arm bent under the pressure. During his journey in the Northern Wilderness, he had faced life-and-death battles repeatedly, and he felt no anxiety now. Relying solely on instinct, he changed his punch into a palm strike, like a scholar bowing, and stepped back with his feet following the momentum. He pushed the snowball upward, not to crush it but to disrupt its upward surge as it rooted into the ground. Then he leaned sideways, shoulder first, colliding with the snowball. With a body that had entered the King Kong (Jin Gang) realm, he struck the snowball like a blade, splitting it with the Shu-style (Shu Shi) technique. The two halves of the snowball continued rolling forward, but their momentum was broken. After about five or six zhang, they disintegrated and melted.

Xu Fengnian stood firm, one hand gripping the hilt of his waist sword.

After he shattered the snowball, the other fifty Beiliang riders also largely succeeded in their charge, destroying the snowballs with pairs of riders working together. However, more than half of the heavily armored riders paid a heavy price. When the snowballs were split by swords or pierced by spears, invisible red threads shot out like venomous snakes from the grass, fatally striking the riders. The most tragic deaths were those of several cavalrymen who, along with their horses, collided with suspended threads in midair, being cut in half and collapsing lifelessly onto the muddy ground. One moment they were alive and vibrant, and the next, they were dead, with no chance for reflection.

Xu Fengnian understood the situation, a bitter taste in his mouth. The Human-Cat had skillfully executed a decisive move. Instead of engaging in a prolonged battle with Xu Fengnian, a target he was determined to kill, he had set his sights on the yin entity Xu Ying. As the snowball rolled past, like a fish swimming through water, the red-robed yin entity hidden beneath the snow had no room to maneuver, clearly caught in a trap. The yin entity had no flaws; as the snowball rolled by, the crimson robe floated silently in front of it, attempting to conceal its form and resonate with the heavens and earth, utilizing its many unique abilities. If not for the firsthand witness of the thousand riders, even Wang Xiaoping might not have dared to claim he could detect the yin entity hiding on the other side of the snowball.

But Han Diaosi was not Wang Xiaoping.

The silver-haired eunuch, who had abandoned his usual bright red imperial robe today, immediately darted behind that snowball. The Human-Cat and the yin entity were separated by a mere zhang, clearly both testing each other for any trace of qi connection. Yet both sides were acutely aware of each other’s presence.

The yin entity, forced to hastily retreat, withdrew four-tenths of its Heaven-Phase cultivation. With both arms, it tore through the snowball. Almost simultaneously, the black-clothed old cat dove through, one hand holding red threads behind his back, the other striking toward the yin entity’s compassionate visage.

The The Crimson Robe of Shadows (Zhu Pao Yin Wu) was at a disadvantage because it hesitated slightly when withdrawing its cultivation. If Xu Fengnian, with his cold and ruthless nature, had been in its place, he would have withdrawn not just four-tenths but eight-tenths of his Heaven-Phase power to confidently block Han Diaosi’s overwhelming strike!

The yin entity grasped Han Diaosi’s hand with both arms and began to tear at it. The other four arms struck toward Han Diaosi’s temples on both sides.

A sneer curled Han Diaosi’s lips. What a foolish creature.

Several threads of red silk, like snakes emerging from behind, swirled around the yin entity, completely severing its connection to Xu Fengnian, who still retained six-tenths of his cultivation. Without Han Diaosi needing to exert himself, his entire body was covered in crimson. Except for the two arms that tore through the snowball, the other four arms of the yin entity were engulfed by this nimble red force, like bone-attached ulcers spreading across the magnificent crimson robe. The two arms that grasped Han Diaosi’s hand continued to tear with all their might, while the arms striking toward the temples pressed forward. Amidst the excruciating pain, the free hands struck Han Diaosi’s chest, aiming to shatter his lower dan tian.

The yin entity’s compassionate visage, struck by Han Diaosi’s “Red Snake Binding the True Dragon,” showed no sign of change.

Even Wang Xiaoping, known for his unshakable will, was somewhat moved.

Ignoring the four arms of the yin entity, now reduced to bloody stumps, Han Diaosi sneered, “Another Heaven-Phase entity falls!”

His right hand, previously held behind his back, finally swung forward. The arm he had grasped was pushed forward, stretching the distance between them. His crimson-covered right hand, using the same technique against its originator, seized one of the yin entity’s arms and yanked it back!

An arm separated from the yin entity’s body, flying through the air behind Han Diaosi.

In a battle against the Human-Cat, a single misstep meant total defeat.

The compassionate visage remained calm, almost foolishly persistent in its actions, focused solely on entangling its foe!

Han Diaosi was about to rip off the yin entity’s second arm.

White clothes dashed forward, the Beiliang sword drawn.

“Remove the armor!”

Han Diaosi, who had once flayed the Fu Jiang Hong Jia, one of the Four Grand Masters of old, naturally would not allow this sudden assailant to mimic his technique. He roared with laughter, threw the yin entity aside, and leapt backward.

The earth split into a bottomless chasm.

In this bloody battle, Han Diaosi was determined not to maintain any lofty pretense or dignified posture. To kill Xu Fengnian, he was willing to meticulously plan any action.

This tenth-ranked figure in the world was the most terrifying.

Xu Fengnian, wielding his left-hand sword, did not pursue. Instead, he turned and rushed to the side of the yin entity, which had just landed in a disoriented state.

The yin entity revealed its joyful visage, one of its five arms remaining. It tugged at Xu Fengnian’s sleeve, as if to say it was alright.

In the remaining snow, there was only blood.

Xu Fengnian lifted his sleeve and turned resolutely, rushing toward Han Diaosi.

Twelve flying swords darted out in chaos, at the peak of the Zhi Xuan realm.

At the same time, on the coast of the Eastern Sea at Wudi City,

A one-armed old man, behaving without decorum, placed a piece of sword in his mouth and chewed it casually. He entered the city in a carefree manner, humming indistinctly.

“Whose young man does not carry a broken wooden sword? Whose young warrior does not wield a Beiliang sword?”