The sun rises in the east.
Even the citizens of Tai’an City were drawn to this breathtaking spectacle, lifting their heads to gaze skyward.
Xuanyuan Qingfeng, the Purple Robe of Huishan Mountain, had arrived at the Ninety-Nine Pavilion unnoticed. The young waiter recognized her at a glance and promptly served the signature lamb hotpot. Expressionless, she picked up her chopsticks.
There was someone who stood even closer to the Imperial Astronomical Bureau than veterans like Wu Jian and Chai Qingshan—closer than even Luoyang’s Deng Tai’a and Cao Changqing.
A young girl stood behind the base of a high wall, adjusting her tilted marten-fur cap that partially obscured her vision.
No one knew when she had arrived—not the immortals at the gates of the Imperial Astronomical Bureau, nor even Xu Fengnian, who was wholly focused on the impending battle.
In truth, she was separated from the heavy cavalry reduced to mere pawns by nothing more than a single wall.
As an assassin, the number of lives she had taken was surprisingly few—countable on one hand.
For instance, Wang Mingyin, once ranked eleventh in the martial world.
Or Liu Haoshi, the gatekeeper of the capital, who had narrowly escaped Xu Fengnian’s pursuit when the latter was possessed by the Great Qin Emperor, only to be slain by her in the end—his head kicked around like a ball.
Apart from her failed attempt to kill Xu Fengnian, she had only faltered once: when she tried to stop Wang Xianzhi from entering Beiliang.
This time, she would not allow herself to fail.
On the street, over four hundred cavalrymen charged toward each other.
If Xu Fengnian’s twelve flying swords blocked them again, the next assault would likely involve the remaining thousand riders launching a full-scale attack.
But Xu Fengnian’s flying swords were already on the verge of shattering, their energy nearly depleted, forcing them to retreat into his sleeves.
In truth, Xu Fengnian’s endurance had already surpassed the feat of piercing sixteen hundred armored soldiers in a single breath.
Yet the White Deer Immortal, now a streak of rainbow light, gave him no chance to recover. The four hundred cavalry thundered toward him.
The jujube mark between Xu Fengnian’s brows glowed brilliantly as a trickle of blood seeped from the corner of his mouth.
He raised both hands, assuming a sword stance.
In his life, he wielded only a three-foot blade—wherever a dragon lurked, he would slay it.
Two sleeves of azure dragons.
He recalled how the old man in sheepskin had once boasted of teaching him this move, a technique as renowned as “Sword Opens the Heavenly Gate.” Back then, the young heir had wondered how a one-armed elder could conjure two sleeves of azure dragons.
Sixty years ago, the martial world had known only one such man.
Sixty years later, atop the Great Snowy Ridge, two words echoed: “Sword, come!”
The young swordsman’s debut had been marked by laughter as he soared over Guangling with his flying sword.
The old man’s final act was a single sword stroke by the Guangling River, shattering two thousand six hundred armored soldiers.
He entered the martial world with brilliance and left it with grace.
This was Li Chungang.
In a thousand years, only one swordsman could stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Lü Zu—Li Chungang.
Cao Changqing and Deng Tai’a widened their eyes almost simultaneously. Even these two land deities among the Four Great Grandmasters of the martial world were stunned and perplexed.
They faintly glimpsed the figure of an old man in sheepskin standing beside Xu Fengnian. This time, his presence was not merely a superficial resemblance—it was a spiritual embodiment!
The hunched elder stood behind the young Prince of Beiliang and smiled. “Brat, consider this our farewell. Don’t keep bothering this old man. It’s time to move on. Even I have no regrets left—why can’t you let go?”
Xu Fengnian nodded slightly. From his sleeves, an overwhelming surge of azure energy erupted like a flood.
“You’re trying to imitate my riverbank battle, aren’t you? Such recklessness—no regrets?”
“If I’m not stronger than her, I won’t have the face to bring her back.”
“Fair enough. Back then, I was stronger than Lü Pao’er—otherwise, she wouldn’t have looked my way. Oh, and don’t bully her just because you’re stronger. I’ve been there—you’ll regret it. Remember, taking a woman’s affection for granted is the worst thing a man can do.”
“Spare me the lecture.”
“You brat!”
“All this time, I’ve been watching you show off. How about this last time, you take a good look at me?”
“Fine by me.”
Two sleeves of azure dragons—one left, one right—surged forth like rivers breaking their banks, each carving its own path.
Li Chungang’s form gradually dissipated, his eyes filled with nostalgia and exhilaration. Finally, he whispered, “A hundred years of the martial world—with me, Li Chungang, Wang Xianzhi to carry the torch, and now you, Xu Fengnian… Even without wine, it’s enough…”
The two azure dragons charged forth, sending the four hundred golden-armored cavalrymen into chaos. Fifty or sixty riders struggled against the tide, but their golden radiance quickly dispersed.
The wall at the end of the street crumbled with a thunderous roar.
Amidst this scene of utter defeat, four riders stood out. In life, their military ranks had been modest, and their individual prowess paled in comparison to the cavalry commanders. Yet without exception, they had been personally handpicked by Jin Xin’an from the camp—previously inconspicuous in Ma Lulang’s heavy cavalry. Their selection for the battle at the Imperial Astronomical Bureau had baffled them, though they assumed they’d caught the eye of some high-ranking officer.
Unbeknownst to them, while they might have been ordinary in Ma Lulang’s eyes, to the grandmaster of Qi cultivation, Jin Xin’an, they were vessels of fate. Their ancestors hailed from the old Liyang, Dongyue, Beihan, and the remnants of Western Chu, making them the true hidden weapons against Xu Fengnian and Beiliang—the most insidious trap of this battle.
Though their charge faltered, the four riders still inched closer to Xu Fengnian. The leader, wielding a golden spear, urged his steed forward until it could advance no further, rearing in despair. The spear tip inched toward Xu Fengnian’s head.
The horse finally collapsed, its hooves slamming to the ground as the spear slid downward.
But the spear melted like snow near a furnace, vanishing inches from Xu Fengnian’s shoulder.
The Liyang cavalry captain, whose grandfather had been a Dongyue general, disintegrated into dust.
Invisible to all, the pillar of fate standing over Dongyue’s capital trembled as if struck by lightning.
Next, tremors rippled through the old Beihan territory near present-day Jizhou, unsettling the descendants of the Spring and Autumn era.
In the Western Chu capital, where the first empress of the Central Plains had risen, scholars—whether esteemed Confucians in their studies or children reciting texts in village schools—paused inexplicably before resuming their reading.
When the last rider, whose father had fallen at the Battle of Xileibi, shattered into golden fragments, a mournful dragon’s roar resounded over Tai’an City.
Xu Fengnian’s body trembled four times in succession, blood seeping from his brow during the final tremor.
Seizing the opportunity, three immortals launched a coordinated assault, aiming to cripple the young prince, who was barely holding on.
Xu Fengnian exhaled heavily—a breath laced with blood.
With this expulsion of stagnant energy and blood, the hundreds of flying swords above him plummeted like rain. The three immortals nimbly dodged the falling blades, darting between the gates of the Imperial Astronomical Bureau and Xu Fengnian. Though the chaotic swords delayed them momentarily, it was a precious instant.
In that fleeting moment, Xu Fengnian’s thumb pressed against the hilt of his Beiliang blade at his left waist. With a gentle push, the saber slid almost entirely free, leaving only the tip sheathed.
Rooted in place, Xu Fengnian leaned back. The hilt of his partially drawn blade struck the chest of an immortal wielding a horsetail whisk.
The immortal’s body shattered like jade from Kunlun.
Still leaning back, Xu Fengnian’s scabbard tip touched the ground like a dragonfly skimming water before he straightened. Another push of the hilt shattered a second immortal.
As the third immortal abandoned close combat and retreated, Xu Fengnian clenched his fist. The unsheathed blade trembled, sliding back an inch instead of returning to its scabbard.
Thunder erupted behind the fleeing immortal.
In an instant, all three immortals vanished like dissipating rainbows.
The five hundred cavalrymen on the street were annihilated.
At that moment, a petite figure darted toward the White Deer, her hand-blade piercing the chest of the immortal reforming atop the deer.
She struck and retreated without hesitation, but the explosion of golden light still slammed into her.
Crashing through multiple walls in her retreat, she finally halted in the distance, coughing blood. Adjusting her marten-fur cap, she wiped her mouth with her sleeve, then leaped onto a wall. From her pocket, she pulled out a scallion pancake she’d bought on the way and took a big bite.
Cao Changqing and Deng Tai’a exchanged amused glances. Killing an immortal and then eating a pancake—quite the fitting combination.
At the gates of the Imperial Astronomical Bureau, after the White Deer Immortal was inexplicably ambushed by the girl, the old Daoist in the lotus crown and the founding ancestor wielding the talisman sword finally moved together.
The cracks beneath Xu Fengnian’s toes were from his refusal to retreat even a step, his shoes grinding against the ground.
Though the three immortals had failed to return, their delay of Xu Fengnian’s recovery was as effective as his falling swords had been against them.
The founding ancestor of Longhu Mountain, sword in hand, glided toward Xu Fengnian.
With no time to gather fresh energy, Xu Fengnian met the charge head-on.
His left-hand saber finally left its sheath.
The aged Beiliang blade clashed against the talisman sword Yulei.
The youthful-looking ancestor slid back dozens of feet, nearly crashing into the gates, yet his smile remained bright.
Xu Fengnian advanced ten steps but was forced back nine. Yet the elderly immortal in the lotus crown phased through the sword-wielding ancestor, swapping places. The latter slapped Xu Fengnian’s forehead with a palm and uttered two words:
“Split the Mountain!”
Xu Fengnian’s head jerked back slightly, his heels lifting as his toes dug into the ground.
One step.
Only one step back.
But he still hadn’t retreated from his original position facing the sixty-odd immortals.
The lotus-crowned immortal floated backward as the sword-wielding ancestor shot forward again, grinning. “The land trembles with wind and thunder.”
Xu Fengnian stepped forward, gripping his saber with both hands, and cleaved downward without hesitation.
Saber vertical, sword horizontal.
Between them, wind howled, clouds churned, and thunder roared.
The founding ancestor’s sleeves billowed wildly, while Xu Fengnian’s hair fluttered unrestrained.
The lotus-crowned immortal overlapped with the sword-wielder, his right palm thrusting through the crossed blades to strike Xu Fengnian’s chest.
To amplify the blow, the elder pressed his left palm against the back of his right hand and shouted, “Ascend to Heaven!”
Layer upon layer of immense force, like an immortal climbing a tower, surged through Xu Fengnian’s chest, causing the mourning robes on his back to billow outward.
His brow marked with purple-gold but his face deathly pale, Xu Fengnian’s lips moved soundlessly.
Sword Nine.
The next moment, the two immortals stood side by side at the gates, their expressions no longer calm but grave.
Xu Fengnian advanced instead of retreating.
The sword-wielding ancestor swept his sleeve, raising his blade horizontally to block the young prince’s path.
Blood streamed from Xu Fengnian’s chest and back.
His brow was split horrifically.
Yet he charged onward.
※※※
Cao Changqing was speechless.
Deng Tai’a sighed. “He’s really going all out.”
The man and the immortal had exchanged a single, simple move.
The Yulei sword pierced Xu Fengnian’s chest.
The Beiliang saber pierced the immortal’s chest.
Xu Fengnian pushed the saber forward—
Slamming both the Yulei sword and the founding ancestor of Longhu Mountain through the gates of the Imperial Astronomical Bureau!
Not only that, but the Li family’s infantry formation was also shattered in the collision!
Xu Fengnian, Prince of Beiliang, had entered the Imperial Astronomical Bureau.
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