Chapter 276: A Sleeve of Blades

Whether due to his illustrious lineage or extraordinary talent, Tuoba Chunsun carried an innate arrogance, as if the world revolved around him. Accustomed to seeing others groveling in submission, he felt an uncontrollable chill and an unprecedented surge of jealousy upon witnessing this young scholar from the Southern Dynasty silently tying his hair in quiet defiance.

Though possessed of a cruel and bloodthirsty temperament, Tuoba Chunsun was no fool. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have allowed Qin Chare to hunt freely at the periphery despite holding a dominant position, fearing that this slippery fish might escape. Now clenching his teeth in rage, he took a few steps back, sheathed his blade with a light motion, and coldly commanded, “Duanbosi Huihui, you must ensure this brat draws his sword.”

The man in the brocade robe, the Devil of the Crimson Robe, knew that once Duanbosi Huihui, a master of close combat, gave his all, there would be no need for his own involvement. He walked over to a colorful python pet, squatted beside it, and pulled out a porcelain vial containing several rare and exotic insects. He poured the contents directly into the mouth of the giant serpent, which had been grievously wounded by a severed river. Then, turning toward the young swordsman, he stared with a hatred he hadn’t felt toward anyone in a long time. And what made it worse was that this youth was so young—like an elderly man in bed, impotent and full of resentment toward the strong and vigorous. He had always hated prodigies who stood unrivaled in martial cultivation. During this journey with the young master, under his subtle influence, they had already destroyed several promising young warriors destined for greatness. Some had died beneath Tuoba Chunsun’s blade, others had been devoured by the colorful serpents, and some had been torn limb from limb by Duanbosi Huihui’s brute force. None had escaped. And now, this unfortunate young man was to be the next target of their hunt—his fate even more grim than the rest.

Duanbosi Huihui, known as the Dragon-Spine and Bear-Shoulder, possessed hands, feet, knees, and shoulders all honed into deadly weapons. Now that the young master had issued his command, he no longer held back. His already fierce visage—broad head and wide eyes—became even more terrifying. Those who understood martial arts could tell that his killing intent had surged to the extremities of his body. His hair, the blood tip, rose in fury; his fingers, the tendon tip, could slice through iron like mud. His internal circulation and qi flow reached their peak, unleashing the domineering aura of a Realm of the Indestructible warrior. His qi surged into his tendons and limbs, and each step he took caused the grass beneath his feet to sink. His punches carried no Schemes, no Schemes at all.

Xu Fengnian, relying on the mirage-like illusions constructed by the Great Huangting cultivation technique, seemed like waves crashing against a copper mirror—layer upon layer, yet each shattered by the sheer force of Duanbosi’s strikes. His arms, already wounded by Tuoba Chunsun’s blades, bled profusely as he attempted to block.

With a savage grin, Duanbosi roared and threw a straight punch, shattering the young swordsman’s clever parry. He charged forward with a shoulder strike. Xu Fengnian placed both hands on his shoulder, attempting to redirect the force with the principle of “four ounces deflecting a thousand pounds,” but even so, he couldn’t fully dissipate the crushing momentum. One surged forward, the other slid backward in a cloud of dust. Each step Duanbosi took made the ground tremble. As he closed in on the young man’s cold, emotionless face, he drove his elbow forward with the force of dragon and tiger, striking the youth’s chest with a punch that unleashed a torrent of internal energy.

With a thunderous *bang*, the young man was blasted backward, but not in a straight line. Instead, his body arced through the air before landing, his feet skimming the ground like a dragonfly touching water—graceful, effortless.

Yet Duanbosi, a master of killing techniques, would not allow this youth a moment to recover. Seizing the brief hesitation caused by the arc Xu Fengnian had used to dissipate the force, he calculated the landing spot and charged forward like a wild horse galloping toward a feeding trough. As he neared, his foot sank into the mud, his massive body twisting like a tightly coiled rope, like a fully drawn bowstring, before unleashing a brutal whip kick.

All these ferocious actions unfolded in an instant. The young swordsman, unable to channel his qi to the summit of Kunlun Peak, instead sank it to the Yellow Springs, refusing to retreat or dodge. He planted his feet and, in an incomplete *Shake the Kunlun* stance, braced himself to endure the blow.

The collision sent shockwaves rippling through the air like firecrackers, the sound echoing like thunder. Duanbosi’s body spun mid-air from the recoil of his whip kick, and before he even landed, he launched a second kick aimed directly at the youth’s head—intent on cleaving him in two.

Watching from the sidelines, Tuoba Chunsun sneered mockingly, “That must hurt. It sure looks painful.”

The young man, expressionless, leaned back, falling toward the ground. With a single palm strike, his body spun like a top, evading the whip kick. Duanbosi, ever adaptable, retracted his leg mid-swing and advanced with the force of a plow, delivering a kick aimed at the youth’s waist. The strike landed, yet contrary to expectation, he did not follow up. Both Tuoba Chunsun and the man in the brocade robe furrowed their brows in silence.

Duanbosi, standing still, had blood streaming down his leg, as if pierced by something. He reached up to his neck and found it similarly bloodied. Had he not sensed something amiss and reacted instinctively, that kick would have severed the young man’s spine in two.

Xu Fengnian slid sideways and slowly rose to his feet, spitting out a mouthful of blood. He had summoned the flying swords *Pifu* and *Emei*, yet failed to land a fatal blow on this devil. The crystalline *Pifu* hovered before him, while the slender *Emei*, like a strand of black silk, dangled just in front of Duanbosi’s neck as he stood mid-kick. At his current level of sword mastery, he couldn’t match the speed of a drawn blade. Beyond the grand display, it offered little practical advantage. But like the ambush in the Duckhead Green Inn against the Zhahong soldier, he had chosen to wait and strike opportunistically. Unfortunately, Duanbosi’s sharp senses allowed him to evade *Emei*, though his leg still bore a wound. With his Indestructible Body physique, however, the injury from *Pifu* was minor. But the effort of controlling the swords had cost Xu Fengnian dearly, as the force of that earth-shaking kick left him gravely injured.

Duanbosi ran a hand along the bloodied groove on his neck and sneered, “Cunning trickery!”

The man in the brocade robe’s expression darkened. He had a rough idea of the truth and thought to himself, *This youth’s hands are more than just cunning—they’re deadly.* Glancing at the now serious-faced young master, he felt a flicker of schadenfreude. The more impressive this unscathed swordsman proved to be, the more certain his doom. The young master’s physical cultivation had been personally forged by Tuoba Busa, and he had lived up to the title of Northern Wastes’ War God. Across the entire Northern Wastes, his gaze had always been fixed on the Eighteen on the List. Now, after suffering a minor setback in Longyao Prefecture, with Tuoba Second Master’s vengeful nature, how could he not seethe with hatred?

Xu Fengnian spat out a mixture of blood and stagnant qi and smiled faintly. “Cunning it is. But for two masters of Realm of the Indestructible and a noble just shy of that level, to gang up on me like this—how noble and righteous.”

Unmoved, Duanbosi’s bones cracked audibly as he readied himself once more.

Eyes blazing with excitement, Tuoba Chunsun asked, “Where did you learn that sword-flying technique? Tell me before you die, and I’ll grant you a swift end.”

Xu Fengnian ignored him completely, focusing instead on regulating his breath and silently reciting the incantation: *Cultivate the Dao root, nourish the spirit, preserve the true essence of Yang. The Great Huangting cultivates the lotus of immortality, a treasure worth more than ten thousand taels of gold.* The true power of the Daoist Great Huangting lay not in destruction but in nurturing life. What was immortality? Perhaps like the illusory mirage, intangible and elusive. Yet the speed of qi circulation could only be truly understood in the brink of life and death. Xu Fengnian inwardly thanked the rigorous training of the *Kai Shu Shi* techniques, which had gradually opened his meridians under the relentless “torture” of sword qi in the *Rolling Dragon Wall*. Though he had mastered only fifty to sixty percent of the Great Huangting, the cultivation he had received under Li Chungan’s hundreds of *Green Snake Sword* strikes had refined it to perfection. Without that, he would have been reduced to a broken corpse long ago under Duanbosi’s relentless assault.

Tuoba Chunsun, curious, asked, “You’ve even used the sword-flying techniques of the Wujia Sword Tomb. If you won’t draw your sword and are just bluffing, do you have any other tricks up your sleeve?”

As if knowing the cold-faced youth wouldn’t answer, he continued smugly, “I know. You must have more than two flying swords, right? Three? Four?”

Xu Fengnian smiled faintly. “I do have a few flying swords.”

Tuoba Chunsun laughed. “Duanbosi Huihui, continue.”

Duanbosi obeyed, resuming his assault with undiminished ferocity, though now more cautious, wary of the unpredictable flying swords. For the Northern Wastes, the legendary *Nine Swords Piercing Ten Thousand Cavalry* from two centuries ago remained etched in every martial artist’s memory. Thus, they never underestimated any swordsman from the Wujia Sword Tomb. Though the Sword Tomb had been silent for two centuries, and the Jianghu of the Liyang Dynasty no longer feared the Wujia as they once did, the Northern Wastes still held them in deep reverence—a bitter irony indeed.

Duanbosi, wary of the elusive swords, remained vigilant, probing cautiously. Though distracted, his fists and kicks remained as fierce and relentless as ever, maintaining the overwhelming advantage of a lion pouncing on a rabbit.

*The Green Silk Knot*, like a maiden’s tangled thoughts, a knot of a thousand threads.

Xu Fengnian had never understood this seemingly effeminate seventh page of the sword manual before. Now, he had no choice but to mimic its principles, though he barely grasped its essence. In the heat of battle with Duanbosi, he treated it like a desperate attempt—placing his flying swords at the nodes of the Green Silk Knot, setting traps in midair.

Tuoba Chunsun watched patiently, counting the swords. Excluding the first two, four more had appeared. He sneered, “Hey, that’s six already. Have you emptied your bag of tricks?”

Xu Fengnian replied flatly, “Seems like that’s all.”

Then, swiftly, the seventh sword—*Chaolu*—emerged.

Even a hardened devil like Duanbosi Huihui nearly cursed aloud in frustration.

*Chaolu* and the previous six swords formed the Green Silk Knot, creating a net that ensnared Duanbosi, severely limiting his combat effectiveness.

Tuoba Chunsun sneered, “Let’s see if you can pull off another one.”

Xu Fengnian said, “This time, I really am out,” before sending forth the newly forged *Huangtong*.

Duanbosi Huihui finally erupted in full fury.

The flying swords carved deep wounds across his body, but Xu Fengnian, too, was repeatedly struck, each blow sending him flying like a broken kite.

When the eighth sword, *Taohua*, finally appeared, Duanbosi, bloodied and enraged, roared and shattered the net with sheer force, charging forward to land a punch on the young man’s chest.

The kite drifted.

But it drifted deliberately—toward Tuoba Chunsun.

“Beware, young master!” Duanbosi shouted.

The man in the brocade robe sent a colorful serpent crashing sideways into the relentless young swordsman.

Tuoba Chunsun swiftly gripped both sword and saber on the same side.

Xu Fengnian’s airborne body rose slightly, stepping onto the serpent’s head. With a sudden push, he veered—not toward Tuoba Chunsun, but toward the devil in the brocade robe!

Northward he flew.

Spring thunder finally cracked.

“I have one slash!”

A dazzling, unparalleled streak of brilliance flashed across the heavens.

Purple tinged with green.

Li Chungan had two sleeves; I have one.

One sleeve of Azure Dragon.

The streak passed.

The man in the brocade robe slowly looked down.

His body split at the waist.