On the Dragon’s Eye Plain, a straight line of dust stretched from north to south.
When a middle-aged man of short stature but with arms as long as an ape’s came to a halt, the swirling yellow sand behind him, resembling a coiling dragon, gradually dissipated. The man raised his gaze, his imposing demeanor belying his humble origins, for his arms, emerging from plain sleeves, shimmered with a golden radiance—threads of light coiling around them like countless tiny dragons.
At this critical moment, as the second Liang-Mang war was about to erupt in the autumn winds, he, the former Northern Court King, had quietly journeyed to the northernmost reaches of the Northern Desert. Using an iceberg as a vessel, he crossed the sea and finally achieved his goal. He should have been attending military discussions in the Western Capital of the Southern Court. Even stripped of his title, he remained the stabilizing pillar of the entire Northern Desert. The blind trust the steppe cavalry placed in him was akin to the Liyang court’s reliance on Gu Jian Tang. No matter how disastrous the Guangling campaign had been, even allowing the Western Chu to briefly regain its former glory on the battlefield, as long as Gu Jian Tang and the border armies of the two Liao regions remained unmoved, Liyang still had the confidence to contend with the Western Chu rebels.
After Tuoba Pusa slowly returned south, he quickly sensed the overwhelming surge of energy from the north—Xu Xiao’s territory. At first, he thought it was a provocation from that young man. Having reached the pinnacle of martial prowess, Tuoba Pusa naturally had no intention of retreating. But when he later detected the second unique aura on the Dragon’s Eye Plain, though his fighting spirit remained undiminished, he couldn’t help but feel a trace of resignation. It turned out to be a baffling misunderstanding—Hong Jing Yan had somehow provoked the young prince, driving him to charge thousands of miles alone into battle.
Tuoba Pusa didn’t mind being used as a pawn in Hong Jing Yan’s scheme, but he was deeply curious why this recognized martial genius suddenly showed signs of breaking through the threshold of the Heavenly Realm. So, Tuoba Pusa didn’t rush into battle. In his eyes, a fight with Xu Feng Nian could happen sooner or later—in fact, the later, the better. Once the Northern Liang’s 300,000 iron cavalry were depleted and the young Xu found himself cornered, he would be free to fight with his full strength.
Thus, Tuoba Pusa decided to save Hong Jing Yan, the so-called “second Tuoba Pusa” of the steppe and leader of the Rouran cavalry. He would save him for both public and private reasons, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t let this scheming junior suffer a bit.
The Northern Desert had lost too many top-tier experts in recent years—Di Wu Kui of the Tipping Mountain, Huang Qing of the Chess Sword Music Manor, the Bronze Ancestor, and the Princess Tomb’s Little Thought. The emperor, who had always viewed the martial world as a mere servant of the court, was deeply troubled. After all, even if maids and servants in a grand household were expendable, losing too many would leave no one to serve tea or sweep the courtyards, making the estate appear less grand.
But that was the extent of it. To a ruler, martial masters were nothing more than fish in a pond or birds in a cage.
Tuoba Pusa slowed his pace, moving south step by step, his body growing more imposing with each stride. The golden radiance around his arms intensified, dazzlingly bright.
In the martial world of the Northern Desert, those he considered worthy opponents could be counted on one hand—and two of them happened to hail from the Chess Sword Music Manor.
This generation of the manor had produced two prodigies: Huang Bao Zhuang, known by the poetic name “Mountain Fading to Green,” who had inexplicably transformed into the white-clothed demon Luo Yang before defecting to the Central Plains. Rumors claimed she had once appeared in Tai’an City during the climactic battle involving Xu Feng Nian, Cao Chang Qing, and Deng Tai A, though she never intervened.
The other was Hong Jing Yan, whose poetic name, “Night Watchman,” had originally ranked only fourth in the manor’s hierarchy. Yet, with Luo Yang gone, he became the undisputed pillar of the sect. Despite the support of the Northern Desert’s imperial tutor, the Taiping Order, and the crown princess (known as “Cold Aunt”), Hong Jing Yan, who commanded the Rouran cavalry, still lost the position of Southern Court King to Dong Zhuo.
During the Battle of Hulu Pass, Hong Jing Yan led his troops to evade the Northern Liang’s heavy cavalry, abandoning General Yang Yuan Zan’s main force to flee north alone. This allowed the Northern Liang cavalry to encircle and crush the Northern Desert army, tarnishing his reputation as a martial master and costing him the favor of the old empress dowager. In the second southern campaign, he was relegated to a deputy role under the Jiedushi, Murong Bao Ding.
Hong Jing Yan retreated sixty li and stopped.
To retreat further would mean encountering Tuoba Pusa. Though he had intended to use the Northern Desert’s god of war to force Xu Feng Nian into retreat—hoping to tarnish the young prince’s spirit—if Xu Feng Nian truly feared Tuoba Pusa not at all, and Hong Jing Yan had to seek shelter beside him, it would backfire. Having just stepped into the Heavenly Realm, he risked losing that transcendent state.
Besides, Xu Feng Nian had once faced Wang Xian Zhi head-on, knowing he was outmatched but refusing to retreat, using the old monster as a whetstone to sharpen his skills. Why couldn’t Hong Jing Yan do the same with Xu Feng Nian, now the undisputed strongest in the world?
If he couldn’t defeat Xu Feng Nian today, he could always retreat later. Tuoba Pusa’s presence on the Dragon’s Eye Plain was his ultimate safety net. As long as he stabilized his Heavenly Realm, Hong Jing Yan believed he would one day reach the level of the four great martial masters—and that day wouldn’t be far off. Then, he would kill Xu Feng Nian, then the Peach Blossom Sword God Deng Tai A, lead his hundreds of thousands of cavalry to breach Tai’an City, cross the Guangling River, and let his warhorses drink from the southern sea. What greater joy could life offer?
Hong Jing Yan halted, waiting for Xu Feng Nian, his aura soaring.
This was the first time in his life that the “Night Watchman” of the Chess Sword Music Manor had ever yearned for an all-out battle.
Just as his momentum peaked, thunderous words exploded in his ears—not from Xu Feng Nian, but from Tuoba Pusa, who had seemed content to observe until now:
“Hong Jing Yan! Retreat another thirty li!”
Hong Jing Yan’s mind reeled. Instinct screamed that Tuoba Pusa’s warning was no bluff—he should retreat immediately. But pride refused to let this supremely arrogant martial master yield.
Tuoba Pusa, now sprinting south, roared, “Fool! A damaged spirit can be repaired—but do you have two lives to spare?!”
In Hong Jing Yan’s vision, a speck of light appeared, like a firefly flickering a few feet away on a summer night.
But by the time he realized that speck had become as bright as the full moon, it was too late to dodge.
Xu Feng Nian had thrown his spear before arriving—a single, straightforward thrust, like a white rainbow piercing the sun over the desert sands.
The spear came faster than Hong Jing Yan had ever imagined. Desperate calculations flashed through his mind, only to conclude with bitter resignation: the only option was to endure severe injury.
And if he were wounded before Xu Feng Nian, not even Tuoba Pusa could save him—unless Cao Chang Qing returned from the dead, Deng Tai A appeared, and the three joined forces!
This didn’t mean Xu Feng Nian could single-handedly challenge the three top martial masters. At that level, combined strength wasn’t additive—Cao Chang Qing plus Deng Tai A didn’t equate to two Grand Controllers or two Peach Blossom Sword Gods. Thus, Xu Feng Nian’s solo battle against two in Tai’an City didn’t mean he possessed double Deng Tai A’s power. When Wang Xian Zhi once boasted of fighting the world alone, it was both arrogance and truth.
Tuoba Pusa didn’t shatter the spear’s light. Instead, he lunged to Hong Jing Yan’s right, fists raised high, and smashed them down on the spear’s shaft!
A deafening clang, like a colossal bell, reverberated.
Hong Jing Yan stared, stunned, as the spear—bent into a crescent by Tuoba Pusa’s strike—remained unbroken. Where the fists met the metal, blinding white lightning erupted.
Tuoba Pusa stood before him, arms crackling with silver serpents of electricity.
The spear, though deflected, hadn’t snapped—only hurled far to Hong Jing Yan’s left.
In his peripheral vision, Hong Jing Yan saw the young man—one hand behind his back, the other gently grasping the trembling spear—standing thirty zhang away.
The spear’s momentum was so fierce it still quivered in his grip.
Hong Jing Yan’s spirit dimmed. A single step’s difference was still a chasm.
He could see every detail—count every tremor of the spear—but couldn’t stop it. The first strike had been like this. So was the second.
Rumors claimed that below the Earthly Immortal realm, if Xu Feng Nian decided to kill, it would take but one move.
Turns out, it was true.
Tuoba Pusa said coolly, “Must you only bully those weaker than you, Hong Jing Yan? If so, you disappoint me. Even if you breach the Heavenly Realm, you’d still lose to any newcomer who just became an Earthly Immortal.”
A flash of insight struck Hong Jing Yan. “You mean Xu Feng Nian only wins through momentum?”
Tuoba Pusa kept his eyes locked on the young man. “He defeated Wang Xian Zhi and me. In Tai’an City, Deng Tai A and Cao Chang Qing deliberately teamed up to fuel his spirit. His momentum is unmatched. Your loss is no surprise.”
Hong Jing Yan smirked, his despair vanishing. He turned to the young prince. “No wonder you didn’t press your advantage after that first strike!”
Tuoba Pusa shook his head. “Wrong. He wants you trapped here. As long as I try to save you, he gets a chance to kill us both—not just one.”
Hong Jing Yan’s face darkened. “Fine! I’ll abandon my hard-won realm! Then the tables will turn! Would you really trade your life for mine? I doubt it!”
True to his reputation as a top master, Hong Jing Yan fled without hesitation. If Xu Feng Nian chased him, Tuoba Pusa—no longer distracted—could exploit the opening.
As Hong Jing Yan retreated, Xu Feng Nian and Tuoba Pusa surged north in unison. The three formed a triangular chase across the plain, swift as gusts of wind.
Xu Feng Nian sought to kill Hong Jing Yan.
Tuoba Pusa waited for Xu Feng Nian to strike.
The outcome was clear.
So Hong Jing Yan couldn’t believe Xu Feng Nian would risk death.
Yet the second spear came with such resolve that his courage shattered.
Tuoba Pusa’s fists struck Xu Feng Nian’s back before the spear could pierce Hong Jing Yan’s heart.
The blows, with mountain-splitting force, ravaged Xu Feng Nian’s organs—but also lent unstoppable momentum to his spear.
With a twist of his wrist, Xu Feng Nian yanked the spear free, leaving Hong Jing Yan’s chest a ruined cavity.
The ambitious “Night Watchman” of the Chess Sword Music Manor died then and there.
The man who dreamed of ruling the world died with eyes wide open.
He never understood why Xu Feng Nian would trade his life.
So many plans left unrealized—the pact with the schemer Yelü Dong Chuang, the plot to overthrow the Taiping Order in both court and manor.
If he could turn back time, he’d never have killed that Iron Pagoda commander.
His final thought wasn’t hatred for Xu Feng Nian’s madness, but for Tuoba Pusa’s cunning.
Tuoba Pusa eyed the bloodied figure leaning on his spear and sneered, “Hong Jing Yan died fittingly. But you, Prince of Northern Liang—don’t you regret perishing here? I regret it for you. I always thought you’d die on the walls of Jubei City, amid thousands of troops—or by my hand then.”
The young man’s back was drenched in blood. He said nothing.
Earthly Immortals weren’t true immortals.
Xu Feng Nian had taken Tuoba Pusa’s full-force strike. Though he’d held back slightly on the spear thrust to conserve energy, the difference was negligible—it only delayed death.
Tuoba Pusa chuckled. “If this were the me you fought in the Western Regions last time, you might’ve escaped with half a life.”
He studied his hands, sleeves in tatters, golden veins pulsing beneath the skin.
The Northern Ocean had a fish that devoured dragons.
The first time he sought it, Luo Yang interfered, causing the divine weapon to vanish into the depths. But misfortune proved a blessing—this time, he gained something greater.
Tuoba Pusa looked skyward. “I’ve never understood why you refuse to kneel.”
He frowned. “Are you waiting for someone? Huyan Da Guan? No, I sensed him near Dunhuang earlier—he couldn’t arrive in time. Xu Yan Bing? The aura doesn’t match. Who else in Northern Liang could save you?”
Xu Feng Nian turned, leaning heavily on the spear, blood streaming from his seven orifices.
A figure appeared beside him—robed in white, transcendent as an immortal, twin sabers at his waist. The contrast between their states was stark.
The newcomer glanced at him and sneered. “Still look like a beggar, just like our first meeting.”
Xu Feng Nian coughed weakly, forcing a smile. “I’ll try not to next time… White Fox.”
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