Three riders faced two hundred, and behind those two hundred, just a mile back, were two thousand elite cavalry from the Dufengkou garrison, along with a group of Northern cultivators hiding in the shadows like ghosts. Therefore, in the eyes of Zhong Gucheng, who stood near the carriage, this was a desperate act of sacrifice. To put it bluntly, it was like smashing eggs against a stone.
Zhong Gucheng had always been a reclusive martial arts master, a wandering swordsman of no renown. Even though he had reached the pinnacle of the Refining Qi realm, attaining the esteemed Zhi Xuan level, he had never gained much fame in the martial world, nor did he possess a nickname that echoed like thunder. Acquaintances simply addressed him as Old Zhong, while the imperial authorities respectfully called him Master Zhong. Yet he did not care for outward appearances. In terms of inner strength, however, he was formidable indeed. Zhong Gucheng, adorned with seven golden carp pendants hanging from his waist, was a top guest in the Ministry of Justice in the capital. He was also on intimate terms with Qi Jiajie, the greatest swordsman in Taian City. Zhong had resolved many major and mysterious cases, even earning the recognition of the Zhao imperial family.
This mission had Zhong Gucheng as the official in charge. Every major or minor decision depended on his nod or shake of the head. Zhong was skilled in observing auras and did not underestimate the three riders at the far end of the road. Though he remained wary, it did not mean he felt any fear. In his mind, across the entire Liyang martial world, unless the three riders were the old freak Wang of Wudi City, the sword immortal Deng Tai’a of Peach Blossom, or the Grand Strategist Cao Changqing, then no one else—no matter how renowned as one of the new Ten Greatest Martial Experts—could halt their southern advance. This was not arrogance, but the immense confidence granted to him by Taian City and the Zhao royal family.
Yet Zhong Gucheng had no idea that the three riders opposing him now bore origins so shocking and extraordinary. These three were certainly not among the Ten Greatest Martial Experts of Liyang—neither the old Wang of the Eastern Sea, nor Deng Tai’a, the swordsman seeking immortals, nor Cao Changqing, who was preoccupied with restoring the Xichu Dynasty. They were not General Gu Jiantang, the greatest swordsman with a blade, nor the late Han Diaosi, the human cat. But in the Zhulu Mountains, near the Shangyin Academy, three “guests” from the Northern Xiongnu arrived last year. Of those three, two were among the Ten Greatest Martial Experts: the White-Clothed Luo Yang and the Broken Spear Deng Mao.
Had Zhong Gucheng known this terrifying truth earlier, he would not have been so dismissive. In the martial world, who had ever heard of two of the Ten Greatest joining forces? But today, that was exactly what had happened.
Watching the two hundred riders charging forward so arrogantly, Yelü Dongchuang, a member of the Northern Xiongnu royal family and a rising military star, widened his eyes in bewilderment. He turned slowly to the white-clad woman beside him, a look of dull surprise on his face. “What’s going on? These people don’t even consider us three worth their notice. Is the Zhulu Mountains’ reputation so weak in Liyang? Luo Yang, you tricked me! You told me back then that Zhulu was the target of all, and that once I climbed the mountain, there would be no end to the experts I could kill. But not even a fart came of it. I tolerated it because Zhulu is hard to find, but how come even in the martial world, things are still this bad? I can’t even scare anyone! Luo Yang, you’re not playing fair. After this killing is done, I’m not staying with you in Liyang anymore. The war is about to start in Guse and Longyao provinces, and I need to go south to earn military merit. Otherwise, that fat Dong will leave me behind by ten thousand miles.”
Luo Yang did not respond to the short man’s whiny complaints. She said flatly, “Deng Mao, handle the two thousand riders behind us. Kill as many as you like. As for the hidden cultivators, Yelü Dongchuang, you take care of them. You two don’t need to touch the riders on the road.”
Deng Mao nodded without objection. Yelü Dongchuang immediately bristled. “Luo! You’re bullying me because I’m not among the Ten, right? You look down on me, don’t you? I’m still young. Let’s see who’s stronger ten years from now…”
Luo Yang turned her calm gaze toward the favored son of the Northern grasslands. Yelü Dongchuang shrank his neck and shut up immediately. Back when he was in the grasslands, he had led troops under the Empress’s orders to intercept the White-Clothed Demoness, only to nearly lose his general’s head in the middle of the army. Since then, he had carried a deep psychological scar. Among all the people in the world, he feared only three women: the Empress, whom he could privately call Auntie; the fat girl Mu Rong Longshui, who had always loved to bully him since childhood; and finally, Luo Yang, who had never once smiled at him.
After a moment’s hesitation, Yelü Dongchuang dared not challenge Luo Yang. He obediently turned his horse and darted off the road to deal with the lurking cultivators. Deng Mao glanced at the carriage and asked softly, “We both sensed that strange aura earlier. Are you sure it’s nothing?”
Luo Yang’s lips curved slightly. She said something even Deng Mao could not understand. “It’s fine. At worst, it’s just an old friend meeting again. Besides, that person may not even get involved. I suspect even if Wang Xianzhi himself doesn’t come, even I might not be able to truly wake him up.”
Deng Mao had never been one to ask many questions. Seeing that she was unconcerned, he did not bother to worry needlessly. After all, the White-Clothed Demoness, who had ranked higher than him on the martial list, was not someone he could view as a woman. A demoness who had twice torn through the Northern Xiongnu, a woman nearly equal to the top three on the martial list—what man had the right to look down on her with condescension and pity? Deng Mao gave the carriage one last glance before decisively veering off the road to intercept the two thousand cavalry and prevent them from interfering.
After the two left, Luo Yang felt a quiet regret. If only she were at her peak in martial cultivation, even with Gao Shulü inside the carriage, how would it have turned out? She had once given that man eight hundred years of painstakingly cultivated power. Though he returned it to her after fighting Wang Xianzhi, the back-and-forth had cost her two-tenths of her strength. Now, she was not only at a disadvantage compared to Wang Xianzhi and Tuoba Pusa, but even against Deng Tai’a, who had shifted from cultivating strength to cultivating the heart. Luo Yang gave a self-mocking smile. In the end, she was still a woman. Even though eight hundred years later, women could now become emperors, the martial world still could not accept a woman as the supreme martial expert. Eight hundred years ago and eight hundred years later—still the same.
When Zhong Gucheng saw two riders leave the road, he did not relax his guard. Instead, for the first time, he felt a suffocating sense of impending doom. The formation of two hundred riders advanced steadily, closing the distance to less than a hundred steps. Even the weakest among them, the three- or four-tailed copper-yellow fish bag experts, now saw clearly the lone white-clothed knight: a woman of soft, delicate features, yet exuding a fierce martial aura? Wasn’t there only the Ziyi of Huishan Mountain who had once been the talk of the town in Liyang’s martial world? Who was this woman?
The front six riders spurred their horses forward, eager to claim the first kill for the court. Among them were renowned swordsmen, knife fighters, and martial artists with long-standing reputations. The six rode out in perfect formation, covering each other with practiced coordination. This was the level of mastery expected of true experts.
The knife fighter struck first, using his family’s secret technique—the Throwing Knife Art, a rare martial skill evolved from Flying Sword Techniques. The blade spun through the air, aimed directly at the white-clothed woman’s head.
Luo Yang did not even glance at the spinning blade hurtling toward her. With a single sweep of her eyes, she took in Zhong Gucheng and the other six- or seven-tailed golden carp bag experts. She continued forward at a leisurely pace, then extended one finger and lightly flicked it six times in the air.
The six leading riders, including the knife fighter who believed his Throwing Knife Art had already reached the pinnacle of the knife path, continued forward on their horses. But their heads suddenly stopped mid-air, as if blocked by an invisible wall. Their bodies jerked backward before crashing heavily onto the road, dead on impact.
Finally, the delayed flying knife arrived. Luo Yang, having flicked six fingers, brought her two fingers together and gently brushed the blade. The knife spun around her once before flying back with a speed so great it seemed to vanish from sight. In an instant, several of the golden fish bag riders were sliced apart atop their horses, shocking everyone into realizing this was no mere show of force—it was real, brutal killing.
Moreover, the six riderless horses continued charging forward. When they reached twenty steps from the white-clothed woman, the ground beneath them trembled violently. The horses’ hooves lifted into the air, then shattered into six crimson mists.
The white-clothed woman calmly stepped over the pools of blood. Finally, the spinning blade was intercepted by a six-fish copper-yellow bag expert. Luo Yang’s expression remained unchanged. She brought her two fingers forward from her shoulder, as if drawing a three-foot sword from its sheath. A three-foot-long indigo-violet sword beam shot forth, vanishing in an instant. The master-level expert, who had barely reached the Small Sage realm, had no time to dodge. A hole exploded through his forehead, and he fell from his horse with eyes wide in disbelief.
Luo Yang suddenly halted her horse, adopting a composed and arrogant posture. This startled Zhong Gucheng, who had already been caught off guard. How could this woman, who appeared so young, be so arrogantly dismissive? Did she not care that they might counterattack?
Zhong Gucheng disregarded his dignity and exchanged a glance with two other seven-carp experts. Without a word, they silently agreed on a plan. They all recognized that this woman was at least a top-tier expert deeply immersed in the Zhi Xuan realm. Zhong Gucheng, himself a Zhi Xuan expert, even faintly sensed that the woman wanted to show him what true Zhi Xuan was like.
Even with Zhong Gucheng’s lofty status, he had no access to the secrets of Shenwu City. He certainly did not know that in that city, now reduced to ruins, a woman had allowed Song Nianqing, the Grand Sword Master who had released fourteen swords from the Jianghu, to exhaust all his new techniques before “kindly” teaching the old swordsman of the Dongyue Sword Pond “how to wield a sword.”
Even if Zhong Gucheng had known this terrifying secret, he would have no time for fear. The two hundred riders unleashed their full combat power. Sixteen archers from the Zhijin Guard began firing volleys, while hidden weapon experts spared no secret techniques, throwing everything they had. Several cultivators, regardless of the cost, exhausted their spiritual energy to control their weapons from afar and attack the woman. Such a grand spectacle of many experts uniting against one was rarely seen in the martial world.
In Shenwu City, she had once placed her left hand horizontally, palm up, and slowly pressed her right hand down, merging heaven and earth into a single sword line, forcing Song Nianqing’s final Immortal Sword strike before his death. Today, she was more casual. She simply brought her two fingers together, swiping them left and right in front of her as if commanding the heavens and earth. The arrows and hidden weapons began veering off course mid-air and fell to the ground on either side of her horse.
Zhong Gucheng’s face darkened. What a remarkable Tianxiang realm expert, daring to stand shoulder to shoulder with heaven and earth. But what of it? She was still alone on the road. Though heaven and earth were vast, they were not her servants. Human strength had its limits. One person’s sincerity and righteousness, even if proclaimed to the heavens, could only resonate temporarily with the cosmic forces. Could she truly walk side by side with heaven and earth forever?
Zhong Gucheng fiercely waved his hand, signaling the two hundred riders to continue firing, exhausting the woman’s inner energy. If she wanted to play target, let her show off.
The aged eunuch Zhao Sikou lifted the curtain, rubbed his eyes, and tried to see the carnage on the road. He was no martial expert, so he merely watched in fascination. The old man with two hidden talismans carved into his withered arms suddenly felt a chill and turned sharply to stare at the half-dead figure inside the carriage. Seeing nothing unusual, he sneered and resumed watching the road.
The woman seemed to grow impatient and prepared to unleash her full power. Zhao Sikou smiled. The more chaotic, the better. Only in chaos could Beiliang seize the opportunity. Otherwise, he truly did not believe Beiliang could snatch food from the tiger’s mouth.
At that moment, everyone’s heart trembled. Everyone—even Luo Yang, the Fourth Strongest in the world.
She smiled faintly, narrowing her eyes toward the carriage.
The two hundred riders turned their heads in unison, watching the middle-aged man slowly lift the curtain, stretch his arms, and yawn. From his body, about sixteen or seventeen golden talismans drifted down and vanished into the air.
The man looked at Luo Yang and spoke in a hoarse voice. “Four hundred years later, we meet again.”
Luo Yang was momentarily lost in thought.
Back then, Gao Shulü had fought a fierce battle with a young Daoist. Contrary to rumors, Gao Shulü did not retreat into hibernation after that fight. Instead, the two had a conversation by the Eastern Sea, and she had been watching the ocean at the time, overhearing their words without them minding.
The young Daoist, who carried a sword yet never once drew it in his travels across heaven and earth, had made a bet with Gao Shulü—that Gao could not solve a single talisman. At that time, Gao was so arrogant, believing himself equal to heaven itself.
In the world, every creature had its counterbalance. Even the mightiest force had its hidden weakness. Where venomous snakes thrived, medicinal herbs could always be found nearby.
If Wang Xianzhi was the counterbalance to Li Chungan, then that young Daoist was the counter to Gao Shulü.
After that talisman, the Daoist finally came to his senses, smiled apologetically at Luo Yang, and quickly vanished into the heavens. He had only lived for eighteen years in this world, met her once, and was never seen again.
Only Luo Yang knew that the Daoist was not the reincarnation of Lü Dongbin, but that person himself.
Gao Shulü sat cross-legged, gazing toward the distant northwest. “If he doesn’t come soon, I’ll truly begin killing.”
Everyone felt a warm spring breeze.
A wavering purple-gold figure appeared in an instant, as if the legendary celestial soul stepping into the mortal world.
Then the two hundred riders all recoiled in fear.
That blurred figure, that face—it was none other than Xu Fengnian of Beiliang.
This “Xu Fengnian” reached out as if to hold the white-clothed woman’s horse, smiling at Gao Shulü. “Ninth time stepping out of the body. I was originally sitting atop Kunlun Peak, watching the Eastern Sea.”
Tai Sui Yellow Amulet Paper FuLu Taoist Love Talisman Traditional Chinese Spiritual Charm Attracting Love Protecting Marriage