Chapter 36: Dorchad

Fifty Iron Wolf Soldiers each wielded a long saber nearly half a person’s height. As their horses charged forward, a single downward slash revealed how fragile the human body was, like paper being torn in half, with blood splattering everywhere.

The martial artists from the jianghu each possessed their own lightness kung fu skills, but on flat ground, their speed could not match galloping horses. Suppressed by Dorchad’s momentum and his strange aura, they had completely lost their will to fight. In an instant, screams echoed, and casualties were heavy.

If not for their large numbers, the fifty Iron Wolf Soldiers would not have had time to kill them all, and total annihilation was a real possibility.

The slaughter terrified the martial artists, but it also awakened them. They scattered toward the rugged foothills, hoping to escape by relying on the terrain.

The one-sided massacre by the Iron Wolf Soldiers was finally curbed, and the battle devolved into a normal pursuit.

About ten Iron Wolf Soldiers split off toward the inn, coincidentally encountering Meng Qi and others who were attempting to sneak into the temple.

Cold glinting light flashed as Meng Qi faced a horizontal saber slash. The attacker’s momentum, enhanced by the horse’s speed, was ferocious, making Meng Qi feel that even his Iron Shirt Kung Fu could not withstand a direct hit.

He wouldn’t be cut in half like others, but he feared being disemboweled.

While rushing out of the inn, Meng Qi had been observing how the Iron Wolf Soldiers pursued others, constantly analyzing how to evade and counterattack. Now, without time to think, his accumulated knowledge manifested in his actions.

He crouched low and tumbled, evading the saber with the agility of a martial artist executing ground maneuvers. Rolling beneath the horse, he swiftly drew his monk’s blade, striking straight at the animal’s hooves.

The horse neighed and reared, throwing the Iron Wolf Soldier from its back. Meng Qi immediately pounced, delivering a powerful downward strike—Solo Peak Cleaving.

Clang!

The blade struck the helmet, producing a crisp sound. However, the Iron Wolf Soldier’s armor seemed forged from tempered steel, and Meng Qi’s sword was no sharp weapon. His full-force strike only left a crack in the helmet.

The soldier shook his head slightly, seemingly dazed, but his blood-red eyes showed no emotion. He stepped forward mechanically and swung his saber downward.

Meng Qi activated the Divine Steps, dodging to the right. The Iron Wolf Soldier was slow to react and couldn’t evade, getting struck in the chest. However, only the sound of metal clashing echoed.

Before Meng Qi could capitalize, the Iron Wolf Soldier retaliated with a saber slash across Meng Qi’s left shoulder, leaving a shallow wound.

“He feels like he’s the one practicing Iron Shirt Kung Fu!” Meng Qi thought, quickly analyzing the situation. He recalled Zhen Miao’s strategy during their sparring and decided to fight methodically, fully utilizing the advantages of the Divine Steps to create an opportunity to strike the Iron Wolf Soldier’s only exposed part—the eyes.

With this approach, the Iron Wolf Soldier could barely touch Meng Qi anymore. Roaring in fury, he called for nearby comrades to form a formation.

These soldiers had been tempered through secret techniques, granting them immense strength to wield heavy tempered steel armor. Devoid of pain or fear, they became ruthless killing machines. However, their sluggishness was a fatal flaw. Thus, Dorchad devised a formation of three to five soldiers, compensating for their slowness by mutual support. The strategy proved effective, with many renowned lightness kung fu experts being surrounded and hacked to death.

This time, however, the Iron Wolf Soldier’s comrades couldn’t approach in time because Jiang Zhiwei was gracefully weaving through their formation. With each elegant sword swing, an Iron Wolf Soldier would clutch his eyes and collapse. Zhang Yuanshan stood firm like a rock, occasionally counterattacking, always resulting in a silent fall of an Iron Wolf Soldier.

Qi Zhengyan fully utilized the characteristics of the “One Hundred Transformations and Thousand Illusions: Cloud and Mist Thirteen Forms.” His sword moved like mist and illusion, with cold stars flickering. Occasionally, an Iron Wolf Soldier would clutch his eyes and roll off the horse.

Another weakness of the Iron Wolf Soldiers was their eyes!

Meng Qi was fully aware of this, but compared to others’ swords, his monastic knife lacked the precision required for eye-striking techniques.

Suddenly, inspiration struck. Meng Qi flipped his ringed blade, using the back to strike repeatedly at the helmet of the Iron Wolf Soldier before him.

After a dozen strikes, the soldier suddenly froze, his saber slipping from his limp hand. A trickle of blood seeped from his eyes and other gaps in the helmet before he crumpled to the ground.

I may not know the piercing technique, but I’ve got the vibrating technique! Meng Qi secretly felt proud.

The “Four-Man Team” charged like tigers descending from the mountains, quickly wiping out the Iron Wolf Soldiers heading toward the inn.

“Hey, where are Xiaozi and Master Wang?” Amid the chaos, Meng Qi hadn’t noticed that Wang Jin and Xiaozi were missing.

Jiang Zhiwei, without pausing, said, “Wang Jin entered the temple gates while we distracted the Iron Wolf Soldiers. As for Xiaozi, after leaving the inn, no one knows where he ran off to.”

“Never mind,” Qi Zhengyan said expressionlessly.

Meng Qi didn’t object. He had neither the time nor the ability to search for Xiaozi and had to enter the temple gates immediately.

Regarding the protection of others, Meng Qi currently held a single principle—do his best and stay at peace. The main reason this time was Xiaozi running off recklessly.

Everyone understood this implicitly, and no one spoke further. Taking advantage of the Iron Wolf Soldiers chasing the martial artists, they slipped into the temple and proceeded up the mountain path toward the temple.

“Enter the Shaolin territory, hold out until the last moment, do not leave the actual Shaolin territory, hide in the deep mountains, and enter the temple as soon as possible.” Beside the road, falling leaves swirled into words.

Seeing this, Meng Qi secretly sighed in relief. Earlier, in his rush to save time, he had felt as if he were in a real-life race against death.

Following the mountain path upward, numerous corpses lay scattered—martial heroes and Shaolin monks, with very few Iron Wolf Soldiers.

The four didn’t delay and soon noticed a dark cloud hovering over the opposite hillside, with fierce winds howling. The Iron Wolf Soldiers surrounded Dorchad, slaughtering the Shaolin monks stationed there. The previously chaotic martial artists were now few in number, intermingled with the Iron Wolf Soldiers, including Wei Wuji.

“They seem like spies…” Meng Qi observed quietly.

Before Jiang Zhiwei could reply, Dorchad suddenly turned his head, gazing toward their mountain path with cold, emotionless black eyes.

“There are still innate experts,” he said gravely, and the howling wind carried his voice clearly.

Jiang Zhiwei tightened her grip on her sword, feeling a mix of fear, vigilance, and barely concealed excitement.

Just as Dorchad turned to step forward, a figure suddenly descended from the sky. A withered, bony hand holding a string of prayer beads struck toward Dorchad.

Though small, the hand seemed golden, and in Meng Qi’s eyes, it filled his vision.

Layer upon layer of golden light radiated from the prayer beads, and faint chants echoed in his heart.

The dark clouds dispersed, and the wind weakened. Suddenly, the ten or so Iron Wolf Soldiers in front of Dorchad let out painful screams and collapsed.

They had no sense of pain, yet they screamed in agony!

Dorchad let out a cold snort, swinging his one-legged copper idol with hurricane force.

Crack!

A bolt of lightning split the sky, illuminating a corner, allowing Meng Qi to see the withered hand squarely strike the copper idol.

After a dull sound, dark clouds gathered again, the wind howled, and raindrops began to fall.

Is this the confrontation between two peak Qi-opening experts? Meng Qi silently marveled.

“Your Vajra Palm technique is indeed formidable,” Dorchad’s voice rang out from the storm’s center. “Unfortunately, you’re old…”

“Amitabha Buddha, why not lay down your sword and attain enlightenment right now, benefactor?” Xin Ji’s voice was aged and deep.

At the site of their clash, surging winds radiated outward, making the surrounding armored soldiers waver unsteadily, too afraid to approach. The nearest soldiers had already fallen, their armor filled with blood and flesh turned into mud.

Jiang Zhiwei bit her lip and suddenly spoke, “I’ll go assist Master Xin Ji! If we can kill Dorchad, we’ll definitely complete the main mission.”

This was an opportunity that couldn’t be missed!

If they allowed Dorchad to kill Xin Ji, they might become his next target, leaving them with no chance of victory!

Everyone understood this logic, so no one stopped Jiang Zhiwei. Instead, they followed her to help intercept the armored soldiers along the way.

Meng Qi, now adept through repeated practice, continuously employed the “Shock” technique against the armored soldiers. Even when the accumulated force fell short, it left them dazed and unable to fight effectively. Meanwhile, Qi Zhengyan unleashed the “Hundred Transformations and Thousand Illusions: Thirteen Forms of Cloud and Mist,” darting through the crowd like a phantom.

Zhang Yuanshan, seeing Jiang Zhiwei join the fray to assist Xin Ji against Dorchad, hesitated briefly before moving closer. Though he stayed on the periphery, he was waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

“Hey, there’s Wang Jin,” Meng Qi noticed during the intense battle. Wang Jin was fighting off armored soldiers, trying to find an opportunity to sneak into the temple.

Ding ding ding ding! Jiang Zhiwei’s sword became a white rainbow, her techniques exquisite and sharp, yet Dorchad countered with brute force. His massive one-legged copper idol completely blocked Jiang Zhiwei’s sword strikes. Each time her blade struck the idol, her body involuntarily shook, clearly outmatched in power. If not for Xin Ji blocking most of Dorchad’s attacks, she would have already been overwhelmed by the relentless copper idol assault.

More importantly, with each of Dorchad’s attacks came a fierce wind, severely disrupting Jiang Zhiwei and Xin Ji’s vision and hearing. Despite the two-on-one advantage, they were still at an absolute disadvantage.

Xin Ji’s face suddenly flushed with redness, seemingly unable to suppress his internal injuries. He sighed softly, and suddenly his string of prayer beads exploded, each bead bursting into a series of illusory Buddhas.

“All phenomena are non-phenomena; all sentient beings are non-sentient beings.”

These illusory Buddha images simultaneously chanted sutras, overpowering the thunderous roar and howling wind, as if creating a pure and serene realm.

Xin Ji’s right hand turned completely golden, like it was cast from gold. With a gentle palm strike, he pierced through the one-legged copper idol.

For the first time, Dorchad’s expression turned serious. He discarded the idol and threw a single punch.

Crack!

A bolt of lightning descended from the sky, wrapping around his fist.

Indeed, the Outer View had surpassed the level of ordinary martial arts, nearing the realm of immortals… Meng Qi was startled by this situation but then felt a surge of excitement at the thought that he, too, might reach such a level someday.

The dark clouds shattered, the wind calmed, the rain stopped, and the two clashed fists and palms, as if time had frozen, with only electric sparks dancing.

Then, surging winds erupted like dragons in all directions. Xin Ji spat blood, his palm blackened, and flew backward. Dorchad’s face turned pale, and he took two steps back.

At that moment, a brilliant sword light suddenly appeared, like an ethereal azure from the heavens, coming and going without a trace, exquisitely indescribable.

“Blade of No Self…” Meng Qi was slightly dazed, and everyone, including the armored soldiers, was momentarily stunned.

This was a Dharmakaya-level sword technique, embodying the laws of heaven and earth. Though Jiang Zhiwei had only grasped its surface meaning and couldn’t unleash even a fraction of its true power, it still evoked an awe-inspiring sense of cosmic transformation.

At this level of martial techniques, body movements and steps were useless. It was about comprehending the Dao and cutting through principles!

It is precisely for this reason that those with exceptionally high comprehension could grasp a superficial understanding even at lower cultivation levels.

“Ahh!” Dorchad’s scream rang out like a muffled thunderclap.

With this scream, a whirlwind rose from the ground, encircling Dorchad. His left hand tightly gripped Jiang Zhiwei’s “White Rainbow Piercing the Sun Sword,” blood flowing, yet as solid as stone, unmoving, because the sword tip had pierced his eye and could go no further.

“Damn it!” With a swing of his right hand, he struck the side of the White Rainbow Piercing the Sun Sword. The blade immediately bent, covered in cracks, and popped out of the eye socket.

Jiang Zhiwei’s tiger mouth split open, but she gripped the sword tightly, not letting go. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth, and her face turned pale, clearly having suffered serious injuries.

Dark red blood mixed with strange liquid slowly flowed from Dorchad’s eye socket. He looked like a mad demon, taking a step forward, determined to kill Jiang Zhiwei with a single palm strike.

Although the “Blade of No Self” was of an extremely high level, Jiang Zhiwei had only grasped a superficial understanding and could not defeat Dorchad, who was far superior to her.

Suddenly, another sword light flashed, like the faint starlight in the darkness, elusive yet brimming with killing intent. It was Zhang Yuanshan, who had been waiting for the perfect moment.

Dorchad screamed again, having been pierced in the ribs by “Heaven and Earth in Chaos.” Summoning his strength, he flicked his sleeve, sending Zhang Yuanshan flying.

Zhang Yuanshan spat blood, his chest caved in. He struggled to his feet with difficulty, seemingly having lost his fighting ability.

Dorchad hated Jiang Zhiwei the most, determined to tear her to pieces. But just as he was about to attack, he saw Xin Ji returning, his palms golden like a Buddha.

“Hmph!” Weighing his injuries, he decisively turned and left without hesitation, and the armored soldiers retreated like a receding tide.

“He isn’t seriously injured. Once he recovers, he will definitely return. It would be better for all of you to disperse now,” Xin Ji said gravely.