When Xu Fengnian controlled twelve swords mid-air, charging alone with his saber in hand, Han Diaosi did not focus much on this young man. Borrowing the power of Yin entities was hardly worth mentioning. The sword-controlling techniques of the Wu family’s Sword Tombs were not even comparable to his own Red Snake Entwining the Dragon. The Heaven and Earth Cat paid more attention to the distance between Xu Fengnian and his dual-phase Yin entity. Since they shared a connection and nurtured each other’s cultivation, it was no surprise they could synchronize. Han Diaosi wanted to see how far their forms could stretch. Previously, when the Yin entity had lain dormant beneath the snow, it had been over thirty zhang behind Xu Fengnian. Now, though Xu Fengnian appeared to charge alone, the Crimson Robe Yin entity followed closely like a shadow, matching his pace, drifting and ethereal. The Yin entity, clad in a wide robe, moved like an actor flicking water sleeves—fluid and graceful, always maintaining a distance of exactly eighteen zhang, neither a hair closer nor farther. It seemed eighteen zhang was the optimal distance for their mutual cultivation resonance.
After the first unsheathed strike, Xu Fengnian did not immediately strike again. Beyond three zhang but within ten, the twelve swords gifted by Deng Ta’a—each a fully matured sword embryo—flashed in dazzling, erratic trajectories. His sword-controlling technique had reached its peak, guided only by the eight-character principle: where the heart and mind lead, the sword follows. Yet Xu Fengnian deliberately exposed his weakness, acting contrary to convention, intentionally scattering his focus, letting the flying swords whirl and hurl chaotically, like a child fighting or a furious woman blindly clawing at a face. No longer the refined chaos of a master swordsman, Han Diaosi sneered inwardly, strolling leisurely, extending his index finger to flick at the air. Before any sword could approach within ten feet, it was deflected away.
If Xu Fengnian had fully concentrated on controlling the swords, Han Diaosi, with his mastery of the Fingertip Mysticism, would have made him suffer greatly. Fingertip Mysticism—where one taps a finger to ask for longevity—was merely a poetic metaphor for Daoist reverence. Its true subtleties ran far deeper. All things in the world followed certain patterns: great as the ebb and flow of tides, the waxing and waning of the moon; small as the blooming and falling of flowers, the stirring of the faintest breeze. With Fingertip Mysticism, it was as if snow fell from the sky. To Han Diaosi, every flake, whether falling or about to fall, traced a clear path in his eyes. The clarity of these invisible threads correlated directly with one’s mastery of Fingertip Mysticism. At its early stages, the paths were blurred; with time and deep cultivation, they became increasingly vivid. In the past, the Wu family’s Nine Swords shattered ten thousand cavalry, though most perished. Among them was Wu Ca’an, whose cultivation was only moderate, never progressing beyond Fingertip Mysticism, far inferior to his two Heaven-Observing peers. Yet in the battle on the grasslands, when the nine joined their swords, it was he who stood as the “sword tip,” slaying no fewer than 3,700 cavalry before his strength gave out and another took his place. As the sword attendant of that generation’s Sword Crown, Wu Ca’an had followed his master out of the tombs to train, never engaging in duels. After the Sword Crown’s rise to fame, he journeyed alone east to the Jieshi, west to the great river, and eastward to the sea. In one night, he broke into the realm of Fingertip Mysticism, following the river eastward to its source, a man and his sword flowing with the current until reaching the sea, where his Fingertip Mysticism reached its pinnacle. Hence, later generations joked that Wu Ca’an had accomplished in twenty short days what other martial artists spent a lifetime achieving.
“You dare challenge me, Han Diaosi, with the cultivation of Yin entities and Heaven-Observing? That is seeking death. Even if you approach me with Fingertip Mysticism, a clever and unconventional path, it only delays your demise.”
Within half a stick of incense time, Han Diaosi had studied the erratic habits of the twelve flying swords and began to wrap things up. He stomped heavily, his left hand’s thumb and index finger stretching out to unexpectedly seize the tail end of a flying sword. Ignoring its sharp resonance, he clamped his fingertips together, snapping the sword in two with a loud crack. His right hand flicked red threads, fishing in the chaos, and caught two narrow swords entangled together. With a tug, the two swords twisted into a knot within his clenched fist.
Han Diaosi casually discarded the shattered swords, as effortlessly as cooking green plums, chopping bamboo, or breaking peach blossoms, smirking, “Only when Deng Ta’a wields these twelve swords does it count for something.”
Xu Fengnian’s heart remained still as water. His right hand swayed, finally guiding the remaining nine swords with his intent, striking down like an immortal brushing the heavens, while his left hand swung the Beiliang saber straight and true. The black-robed Heaven and Earth Cat remained calm. As the sword rain poured down, he simply stepped forward, exiting the sword formation. Though the nine swords struck at his back after missing their mark, Han Diaosi ignored them entirely, advancing instead toward that soaring Azure Dragon. With one palm, he shattered the fierce Qi radiating from the saber, the energy scattering and exploding outward, even blowing his silver hair wildly. Yet the Heaven and Earth Cat still reached out, pressing his palm against the tip of the Beiliang saber, his fingers curling into a hook, gripping the blade tightly. “The Beiliang cavalry and saber—once the wielder changes, it’s nothing more than ordinary.”
Before Xu Fengnian could loosen his grip, Han Diaosi lifted the saber and kicked Xu Fengnian in the abdomen. Though Xu Fengnian seemed unharmed, the surrounding snow-covered ground rippled like boiling oil, and the earth cracked violently. Han Diaosi frowned slightly—this youth, still carrying a sword without a sheath on his back, still refused to let go of the saber. Han Diaosi pulled the blade back, and the hilt struck Xu Fengnian’s chest like a bell hammer, causing him to pale. Eighteen zhang away, the Crimson Robe Yin entity spat a mouthful of blood. Han Diaosi showed no mercy. Turning, he swept a whip-like kick across Xu Fengnian’s shoulder. Xu Fengnian, like a rootless weed, was blown sideways by the force, his feet lifting off the ground. Yet because he clung desperately to the saber, his nearly horizontal body lingered mid-air, neither advancing nor retreating. Between Han Diaosi and Xu Fengnian hung the broken Beiliang saber, its tip gone. The nine flying swords rushed like moths to a flame, yet struck only the thick paper of the lantern, unable to reach the Heaven and Earth Cat—the wick itself. Seeing this young man’s stubbornness reach such a level, Han Diaosi’s face darkened. A red thread, like a serpent, quickly climbed the saber, about to coil around Xu Fengnian’s hand—when suddenly, Xu Fengnian gripped the hilt with both hands. Recalling the land whirlwinds he had faced in the Northern Wilderness, the great wind rising to the Azure Sky, the countless times he had trained for his life, Xu Fengnian now spun like a whirlwind on flat ground. In an instant, his palms were smeared with blood and torn flesh. Han Diaosi remained unmoved, releasing the saber’s tip and letting the blade whirl wildly in his palm. His eyes glowed with a sinister light, his voice soft yet chilling, “What a fine whirlwind hidden in a wine cup. Interesting indeed. No wonder Li Chungan held you in such high regard.”
As Han Diaosi prepared to deliver the killing blow, a green-robed woman dragging a spear arrived from the southeast. At last, Han Diaosi’s Fingertip Mysticism revealed its true might, like frost upon snow. In the blink of an eye, he crushed Xu Fengnian’s intent behind one of the flying swords. The Xuánléi sword shot straight toward the woman, whose face was as delicate as a flower. With a subtle twist of her wrist, the famed Instant Gun traced a dazzling arc, transforming her one-handed drag into a two-handed swing. With a sweeping strike, she smashed the Xuánléi sword aside, the impact echoing loudly. Using the spear’s rebound, she spun like a top, dodging the sword’s edge, curving forward in an arc. Her foot touched the ground, and she leapt high, bringing the spear down with ten thousand jin of force upon Han Diaosi’s head. All of this seemed complex, yet it unfolded in an instant. Han Diaosi, seemingly aware that finishing Xu Fengnian off was unrealistic, lost interest in further entanglement. He retracted his hand and flicked a finger, sending the swirling saber flying precisely toward the Instant Gun. Not giving the pair a moment to recover, he glided back, lightly pushing Xu Fengnian’s chest with one hand while tapping the air with the other, sending both flying backward. Qing Niao, unable to advance further with her spear, twisted mid-air, tapping the spear tip against the ground. Before her feet even touched the ground, she launched another strike at Han Diaosi’s neck. Han Diaosi snorted coldly. Though only two moves had been exchanged, the Heaven and Earth Cat had already grown tired of this girl’s reckless provocation. His left hand rested a few inches below the spear tip, his feet gliding in a half-circle, completely neutralizing her full-force strike. Then, closing in swiftly, he struck the floating woman’s shoulder with one palm. Without the support of Heaven-Observing cultivation, she flew away like a broken kite. Han Diaosi seized the Instant Gun and hurled it toward where she fell. The speed was so great that no sound of rushing wind followed—only silence. Qing Niao was no longer the same girl from the Reed Marsh outside Xiangfan. Though the spear seemed destined to pierce straight through her chest, she remained calm, her feet treading the air, retreating steadily mid-air, not panicked, but graceful. She grasped the blunt end of the Instant Gun, her body tilting as she landed, her foot stamping a muddy crater, halting her retreat. Her eyes turned red, her meridians reversing, she gripped the Instant Gun once more, charging toward Han Diaosi again.
Truly fearless.
No matter how wretched her fate, Heaven had at least shown mercy, allowing one person in this world—whether near or far—to be worth her life and death, never taking a single step back.
The world’s greatest fools are women.
Perhaps inspired by the green-robed woman’s resolve, Lu Song, Wang Lin, and the others, who had previously been anxious and uncertain, finally awoke to clarity. Without a word, the two cavalry commanders led the charge. The elite riders under their command launched a silent, coordinated assault—no battle cries to bolster courage, no fierce shouts of slaughter, only the rhythmic pounding of hooves.
Han Diaosi could ignore the young woman’s legendary Instant Gun, the famed heirloom of the Gun Immortal Wang Xiu. He could ignore the desperate charges of those ant-like cavalrymen. But he could not ignore that white-haired man’s quiet retreat. Did he think Han Diaosi was some courtesan? That he was a wealthy young master, only to be discarded when the purse ran dry? Han Diaosi’s killing intent grew. Suddenly, his eyes narrowed. At last, it came. He ignored the woman gripping the Instant Gun, ignored the thunderous hooves, and stood still, gazing eastward toward the carriage. There, a middle-aged Daoist priest, clad in a simple robe not as ornate as those of Longhu Mountain, carried three swords on his back. With a smile, he reached behind and touched the topmost sword case. “When distant friends knock on the Chaidoor in a snowy night, a little bark is most pleasing.”
Though called a “little bark,” it was no small matter.
When Wang Xiaoping, the Sword Obsession, swung his blade, the sound of thunderous rumbling echoed throughout the city.
When Wang Xiaoping first began training, he vowed that with every sword strike, from the moment it left the scabbard until it returned, he would be a terrestrial immortal. Thus, this strike had nothing to do with Fingertip Mysticism or Heaven-Observing, nor with cultivation level. Wang Xiaoping was renowned for his pure sword heart, even earning admiration from Hong Xiang. Even back when the young Taoist master had yet to awaken to his identity as the reincarnation of Master Lü, his ox-riding insight had never been wrong.
The “Little Bark” sword strike began with Wang Xiaoping and ended with Han Diaosi, like a rainbow spanning heaven and earth.
This was the first time Han Diaosi had shown such solemnity outside of Divine Martial City. His place among the top ten in the world was earned through his unparalleled advantage in cultivation. Already a peer of Deng Ta’a in Fingertip Mysticism, he had the power to slay Heaven-Observers. Thus, unless one had reached the lofty realm of terrestrial immortality, like Crimson Robe Yin entities, one would not even merit his attention. Let alone someone like Xuan Yuan Qingfeng, who had fled at the first sign of danger. But Wang Xiaoping, a swordsman born for the sword and ready to die for it, was different. Han Diaosi respected that empty-air strike, though he felt no fear. He flicked his sleeve, his arm writhing like a snake pit, red threads hissing like small serpents raising their heads.
This strike could not be dodged, and Han Diaosi had no intention of dodging. Surrounded by deadly traps and relentless attacks, facing an unending barrage of fierce techniques from all, especially Wang Xiaoping’s sword, which surged like a rainbow, he still smiled calmly, raising his crimson Rainbow, shooting skyward to meet the “Little Bark” head-on.
A thunderous clang shook heaven and earth!
The walls of Divine Martial City trembled once more, the cracks in the wall and the snow resting upon them once again disturbed, falling in a flurry.
Dust swirled, black mud and white snow mingling. When the dust settled, Han Diaosi stood unharmed, though the crimson around his arm seemed slightly dimmed.
Han Diaosi tugged at the corner of his mouth, laughing aloud, “Wang Xiaoping, does this strike count as slaying a dragon? You have two more strikes—go ahead and use them all. After three strikes, I’ll flay your skin and strip your bones, and Wudang will lose one of its peaks.”
As he spoke, everyone realized that the red spear in the green-robed woman’s hand had already pressed against the old eunuch’s back, though it seemed unable to pierce even an inch into his flesh.
The Instant Gun bent into a visible arc, nearly a full moon, revealing the woman’s fierce resolve.
Seeing Wang Xiaoping unmoved, Han Diaosi knew that with the Wudang sword Obsession’s temperament, words alone would not provoke him into reckless action. He ceased speaking and turned calmly, smiling, “Little girl, are you not afraid of snapping Wang Xiu’s precious heirloom?”
On the roof of the carriage, the assassin Wu drew his bow in an arc even greater than the Instant Gun. With one snap of the string, two iron arrows flew like lightning toward the old eunuch, who had never been defeated.
After releasing the arrows, the youth staggered back two steps. His right arm’s veins burst, spraying blood like blossoms, his face pale, his eyes locked on that cursed, immortal Heaven and Earth Cat.
“Elegantly named ‘Sun and Moon Together,’ vulgarly called ‘Twin Flights on the Bed.’”
The young master’s naming was refined and elegant, yet also common and accessible. Young Wu was very pleased.
Han Diaosi took a step back. Though a martial artist of immense strength could uproot mountains, even the weight of a feather could be fatal atop such force. The Instant Gun, already bent to its limit, snapped and flung the green-robed woman backward, rolling six or seven zhang. Her once-pristine robe was now soiled and muddy. With great effort, she rose, gripping the fallen Instant Gun tightly. Previously, holding the Instant Gun upside down was the Wang family’s secret technique, later refined by Chen Zhibai’s Plum Green to Purple. But in his hands, it surpassed its origins. Wang Xiu’s greatest regret in life was not having a son to inherit his skills, which is why he poured his knowledge into the disciple Chen Zhibai. Because the Wang family’s spear techniques required a powerful physique and reversed meridians, it was a brutal and damaging path. A woman’s body, being inherently soft and Yin, made this technique even more harmful, like adding frost to snow. Later, when Chen Zhibai killed his master for fame, Wang Xiu’s death was far from the tragic end the world imagined.
Qing Niao gripped the heirloom Instant Gun, exhaled impurities, and swallowed back the bitter blood.
An assassin must die.
Han Diaosi casually caught one of the iron arrows flying near his face, then murmured in surprise—because the second arrow had vanished. Even with his near-legendary perception, he could not detect its trace.
He casually tossed the visible arrow, piercing the skull of a distant rider, who fell lifelessly from his horse. Han Diaosi glanced at the young woman gripping the spear, Gathering Power, but did not look further, his gaze turning coldly toward the black mass of charging cavalry, muttering, “Is the Heaven and Earth Cat not frightening enough?”
Han Diaosi rose from the ground, charging forward like Wang Xiaoping’s “Little Bark” strike. No ordinary strong cavalryman could match him. With one stomp, he crushed a rider and horse in half diagonally. The rider behind, unable to change course, thrust his spear without hesitation. Han Diaosi did not even bother to strike, continuing forward, effortlessly deflecting the spear’s momentum. The charging horse crashed into him like a wall of iron and stone, instantly dying. The skilled rider, in his final moment, kicked off the horse and slashed downward. Before he could move, Han Diaosi split him into countless pieces. Before the blood and flesh hit the ground, Han Diaosi had already advanced again. The third rider slightly veered sideways, instinctively slashing at the black-robed eunuch’s head. Before the blade even rose, Han Diaosi pushed the horse sideways, sending rider and mount flying sideways, knocking down another rider. If it had only been a sideways strike, the two riders might not have died with their horses. But Han Diaosi’s moves were merciless. The red threads on his arm lashed out and returned, tearing the two brave riders apart as if by five horses.
Han Diaosi gave the front-line riders no chance to turn back and counterattack. Retreating while fighting, he clearly intended to slaughter the entire cavalry force alone.
In the second wave of riders’ eyes, it was like iron wire slicing through soft tofu. Whether Wang Lin’s heavily armored cavalry or Lu Song’s light cavalry, all were fragile.
As Wang Lin passed by, one arm and his hammer flew from his body.
Had Lu Song not rushed in at the last moment, blocking the red thread with a spear, Wang Lin would have followed the same fate, torn apart.
The two cavalry commanders, by luck surviving, fought side by side, not retreating from the battlefield but drawing closer to the Heaven and Earth Cat, one of the Three Great Devils of the Spring and Autumn Periods.
Ren Shan Yu gritted her teeth, gripping an axe far too large for her delicate frame, charging forward first. Behind her, the Northern Liang secret retainers followed the graceful woman like hawks, leaping toward the blood-soaked battlefield.
When the entire army faces certain death, the general dies first. When the generals fall, the officers die. Only when the officers fall do the soldiers perish!
In the distance.
Xu Fengnian squatted on the ground, the Beiliang saber planted beside him. His palms were a mess, nearly exposing bone. Xu Fengnian turned his head slightly and asked softly, “One incense stick’s time—was that enough?”
The Crimson Robe Yin entity nodded.
Xu Fengnian scooped up a handful of snow, burying his face in it.
After rising, he seemed to sense the blood-stained snow smearing his face, making it dirtier with every rub. He lifted his arm and wiped his face with his sleeve.
Then he picked up the Beiliang saber.
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