Lv Qiantang dismounted and drew forth the vermilion Rosy clouds Jian (Crimson Cloud Sword), striding towards the Yu Xiao Sword Formation composed of eighteen swordsmen. A great sword often belongs to the Overbearing Jian (Overwhelming Sword) school of swordsmanship, aspiring to sweep away legions and break through armies like the Wu family sword graveyard. Whether the tale of the Wu family’s nine swords truly annihilating ten thousand armored cavalry from the Northern Wilderness two centuries ago is legend or not, it still stirs the blood and spirit of every swordsman who wields a great sword.
Lv Qiantang observed the great tidal currents of the Guangling River for ten years to comprehend the Way of the Sword. Every year on the eighteenth day of August, he would sail upstream on the turbulent river in a small boat, cleaving his sword toward the tidal crest until exhausted and falling into the river. He nearly drowned many times. Fortunately, someone stood guard by the river, rescuing him back to a thatched hut. Through every trial facing the roaring tides, Lv Qiantang’s sword techniques, martial cultivation, and physical endurance grew immensely. Hence, today he faced the Yu Xiao Eighteen Swords without a hint of fear.
Wu Shizhen furrowed his brows. Was this youth truly prepared to break a formation? Where had this arrogant and conceited young nobleman found the audacity? The saying “Princes and Dukes Dismount”—a phrase personally penned by the emperor himself—was tantamount to an unspoken imperial decree. His father, Wu Lingsu, had been granted the title of king. Even the Governor of Yuzhou wouldn’t dare flaunt his status atop the mountain. Both sword arrays were famous and formidable. Did this group of people lack insight or harbor unfounded confidence? Could it be the king of Qingcheng would be forced to personally emerge today?
Wu Shizhen stood upon the threshold of the grand hall, affording him an even vaster view of the battle. Raised amidst the mountain’s serenity, his mind was not narrow; he had fine relations with the sons of noble families in Yuzhou, and whether ascending the mountain or descending to the city, he was always shown reverence as an immortal scion and royal offspring. He had heard tales of the unruly and lawless Northern Liang nobles, and now witnessing one in person, he found it truly matched the rumors. Holding a sword sash between two fingers, Wu Shizhen muttered, “It seems I must, in due time, personally witness the might of the Northern Liang King’s eldest son.”
Xiao Shanzha had already returned the Xiudong Blade to Xu Fengnian and, gazing upwards with concern, asked, “Master Xu, are you truly going to fight against immortals?”
Xu Fengnian chuckled. “It’s all in good fun. If we can win, splendid. If not, we run. Didn’t Old Master Meng teach you that?”
Xiao Shanzha wore a bitter expression, muttering, “Of course he did. But Elder Reed Pole said our little bandit group is different—we’d rather let someone go wrongly than rob wrongly. If we attack and get caught, it’s disgraceful, and we’ll be dragged to the public squares for execution. Old Master Meng could always say ‘eighteen years later, you’ll rise again,’ but I haven’t even reached eighteen yet! If I die, I won’t know anything about what comes next. I just want to take Que’er and go see the outside world. You’ve always told me the lands below the mountain are beautiful and almost talked both of us into going then. I don’t want to be a petty thief forever. I wish I could find a safe profession for Que’er and me. Sure, I joke that she’s dark-skinned, but she’s like a little sister to me. I’ve got to find her a good husband someday. I couldn’t kidnap some scholar and make him her groom, could I? Besides, she doesn’t like that. Sigh, she only likes you, Xu Fengnian. Why does she like you? Back then, it was okay, but now you have so many fairy-like ladies around you—it’s nowhere near her league.”
Xu Fengnian gave Xiao Shanzha a tap on the head with the Xiudong Sword and laughed. “You’ve grown up, haven’t you? How about joining the army somewhere peaceful in Northern Liang? At least you could earn Que’er some dowry. Being a soldier is better than being a thief—no need to live in fear.”
Xiao Shanzha bent down, hand running through the horse’s flowing mane. Old Meng and the others were hopeless—can’t even raise horses or wield a weapon properly, and can’t even be a decent thief. He was completely smitten with Xu Fengnian’s steed. With a sigh, he said, “I’d love to, but what about Old Meng, Master Kong the Lame, and Elder Reed Pole? If I just left them, who knows if they’d survive in a few years? They’re too stubborn to come down the mountain and live like normal folk. I’ve been stressing over this endlessly.”
Xu Fengnian murmured, “Indeed, you have a worry.”
Yu Youwei cradled Que’er, who held the Wu Mei Lang cat, staring at the terrifying formations being set up by the immortals. Xu Fengnian had sent that big fellow with the massive sword to fight. She, like Xiao Shanzha, was filled with anxiety. Turning pitifully toward the older girl who was even more beautiful than the Taoist immortals of the mountain, she asked, “Noble Fish Senior Sister, can you stop Xu Fengnian from fighting?”
Yu Youwei looked toward Xu Fengnian’s proud back and gently poked Que’er’s nose with a slender finger. Softly, she replied, “He never listens to me. He’s only especially kind to you and Xiao Shanzha. He hardly ever shows anyone else a warm face. Little Que’er, how many little girls in this world have the honor of being carried on his back? This senior sister of yours isn’t as lucky as you.”
Que’er let out a surprised ‘Ah!’, her little mind unable to fathom it—how could such a beautiful fairy sister not be adored by Xu Fengnian?
Observing that the formations and imminent battle were about to erupt, Xu Fengnian gently nudged the horse’s flank, guiding it to hand Xiao Shanzha over to Master Wei Shuyang. Then he softly called to Yu Youwei, “You take Que’er down to the base of the steps. The plaza will become bloody, not a pleasant sight for you. Stay away near the carriages, and wait for my call to come back up.”
Yu Youwei and Wei Shuyang each took a child and rode from the battlefield.
A master swordsman breaking a formation must strike swiftly and decisively, avoiding hesitation, which allows the formation to entrap and kill. As formations go, it is akin to military maneuvering—capturing the thief must begin with seizing the leader.
Lv Qiantang sprang into the plaza, plunging into the rotating Yu Xiao Sword Formation of eighteen swords. His Crimson Cloud Sword didn’t hold back one bit.
The sword pressure surged like a rainbow piercing the sky.
From an outsider’s perspective, a sword aura might only be intimidating; unless it truly shatters their courage, it’s merely flashy spectacle. However, the sword techniques beneath the pressure could kill. Lv Qiantang’s Crimson Cloud Sword collided with an Qing Gang Sword, one of the Qingyang Temple’s specially-crafted blades, sending the Taoist practitioner flying backward. Still midair, the Taoist’s fall was arrested as three swords bent in an elegant arc, steadying him before recoiling, letting him land gently with an unruffled expression.
Lv Qiantang’s mind remained as calm as still water. The essence of overwhelming swordplay was to break the enemy in one strike. Yet among the countless swordsmen in the realm, how many could attain the realm of an Earth-Bound Sword Immortal? Since that pinnacle had not yet been reached, a swordsman’s heart must possess unyielding tenacity to face such towering peaks. Lv Qiantang moved in a flowing dragon-like arc, darting straight toward another Taoist’s head. The Taoist didn’t need to strike—merely retreating triggered nearby sword companions to intervene. The true marvel of the formation lay in how all the swordsmen fused into one. Sword cries rang out like the long calls of immortal cranes, and in an instant, three swords erupted forward: one parried Crimson Cloud Jian, another aimed at Lv Qiantang’s sword-wielding arm, and the third, insidiously, pierced his back. Several Taoist practitioners soared into the air like immortal cranes circling above, swooping down upon the intruder in the formation. It was a spectacle to behold.
Xu Fengnian narrowed his eyes, watching the eighteen Taoists move with grace, their swordlight dazzling. He mused appreciatively, “A sword formation like this is impressive. If I ever get the chance, I should establish one too. Round up all the sword experts in my mansion. I wonder if Li Chungan would be willing to train them, or if I should learn from Wu Lingsu and imitate one of the three great formations? The Longhu Mountain’s Cordon of 108 swords sounds invincible, but is overly grand. The Wu sword graveyard is small in number, but where can I find nine sword Grandmasters all at once? The Wudang Tai Chi Sword Array of 81 participants seems the most feasible. Perhaps the Ox-Riding Cultivator could refine it into something for 20 or 30 men.”
Lv Qiantang’s sword techniques were fierce, but the Yu Xiao Sword Formation countered with softness triumphing over force, speed overcoming brutality. Although Lv Qiantang sought to avoid wasting strength, he found it hard to kill even a few, let alone inflict serious injury on any.
Xu Fengnian muttered, “This formation is untouchable beneath the First Tier cultivators. Seems old Wu’s boast was rare this time—maybe even legitimate!”
Recognizing that Lv Qiantang alone couldn’t overcome the formation, Xu Fengnian, no fool obsessed with pride, promptly called out, “Shu Xiu, Yang Qingfeng—go assist him!”
Wu Shizhen watched as the formation resisted the lone swordsman, heaved a sigh of relief. This was more reasonable. If a single swordsman broke the Yu Xiao Formation, it would ruin Qingyang Temple’s reputation, an imperial-endorsed honor. One swordsman proved insufficient, so adding two more? Wu Shizhen held no fear. The Yu Xiao Sword Formation, originally meant to have its eighteen swords, could never reach the ultimate technique of “Ten Thousand Swords Felling Simultaneously.” That was the divine realm of the Longhu and Wudang formations. There were disadvantages and advantages. Adding two adversaries meant the formation could divide into three parts, intersecting and complementing each other, six swords against a single opponent—perfect for unleashing the Yu Xiao Formation’s might.
The Qingyang Temple might not specialize in incantations, talismans, or weather manipulation, but trapping and slaying foes with sword arrays was their specialty.
Wu Shizhen held his sword sash with one hand and wrapped the other around the narrow waist of a young female Daoist beside him, gently kneading the slim curve. He kept his eyes fixed on Shu Xiu in the formation. That woman had a full and mesmerizing bosom contrasting with her wasp waist—truly enticing! It felt pleasant stroking the petite waist of the girl next to him; how much more exhilarating would it be to caress Shu Xiu’s slender frame? Especially when Wu Shizhen saw Shu Xiu, using her copious inner energy, actually bending a Qing Gang sword meant for her chest—had it not retracted, the blade would have snapped decisively. Wu Shizhen let out a light whistle, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard, teasing, “My goodness, this enchantress is truly impressive with her inner energy. No wonder her double peaks are so spectacular! What a match she’d make for me in bed. An ancient saying says a single moment of passion is worth a thousand pieces of gold, and a day has a hundred moments. So in one full night, I can already earn ten thousand pieces of gold! Compared to that, the young ruffian boasting of a thousand pieces of gold is barely worth a scrap!”
Wu Shizhen, raised with remarkable patience by Qingcheng King—who had only one son—lacked Xu Fengnian’s temper. Xu’s voice rang out coldly, “Shu Xiu, if you don’t break the formation now, believe me—I’ll hand you out to be toyed with after this!”
At his words, Shu Xiu shuddered, and her chest swayed enticingly. Even the sword formation practitioners were momentarily entranced.
Before Shu Xiu could exert herself, Lv Qiantang, who first entered the formation and had best discerned its pattern, suddenly surged with sword intent, increasing the weight of his strokes. He struck two swords from their formation trajectories. Seizing the moment, instead of striking, he broke into an eight-man section of the formation, rushing toward Shu Xiu’s side and tearing a gap open. Almost simultaneously, following the unspoken understanding born from previous battles—including the encounter with the crimson-armored spirit soldiers—Shu Xiu and Yang Qingfeng understood the opening instantly, both unleashing killing intent.
Lv Qiantang ignored the twelve swords now flying toward his back, heavily cleaving Crimson Cloud Jian downward onto a Taoist. This great swordsman momentarily disrupted two smaller formations, drawing widespread attention. Yang Qingfeng struck swiftly, targeting the still-organized segment of the formation. It seemed as though he was coming to the aid of Lv Qiantang’s exposed back, offering Shu Xiu a crucial opportunity. She bent her knees and sprang into the air, seizing an Qing Gang Sword mid-flight, slamming the Taoist practitioner and sword together against the ground. Using the momentum, she launched upward again toward a hovering Taoist—slapping aside his hasty sword strike with one hand while placing the other on his forehead. A dull ‘crack’ resonated, cruelly crushing his skull. Blood splattered all over her.
One fell lifeless to the ground, another dead. The Yu Xiao Formation, already less refined than the Divine Thunder Array, collapsed instantly. Lv Qiantang’s Crimson Cloud Sword was finally free from surrounding restraints. With a single stroke, he severed an arm from a Taoist’s sword grip. Yang Qingfeng took this opportunity to approach like a ghost, spreading his frost-white hands—striking the chests of two sword practitioners with each hand. As if silent, the two Taoists crumpled like limp noodles.
Once a formation breaks, it collapses like a mountain falling. The three attendants assigned to the Crown Prince—carefully selected veterans of the Northern Liang Kingdom—were not mere theorists. They understood the strategy of crushing a fallen opponent. The trio sliced into the formation, forming a compact triangle with their backs together, fearlessly splitting off to slaughter. In a swift contraction and expansion, four more lives were claimed.
Hand resting on the dual blades of Xiudong and Chunlei, Xu Fengnian loudly proclaimed, “This is skilled work. Double the reward!”
He added, “Kill them all!”
Whether to slay the Emperor’s appointed Qingcheng King needed careful deliberation, but what were a handful of Taoists?
Wu Shizhen, cold and indifferent by nature, felt no anguish over the deaths—only frustration at the unexpected collapse. Gritting his teeth softly, he commanded, “Form the Divine Sky Sword Formation.”
Shen Xiao referred to the celestial heavens, the highest realms of Daoist divinity. Suspended a hundred thousand feet above earth, the sky was supported by firm and indomitable energy. Immortals drew celestial thunder from the nine heavens as swords—rainbow blades descending for a hundred thousand miles, unmatchable by any mortal!
This was the Qingyang Temple’s ultimate array—the one that once conjured stormy skies within the palace walls as a formidable formation.
When the Divine Sky Sword Formation completed its arrangement, the remaining members of the Yu Xiao Sword Formation were already deceased. Upon the stone square outside the hall, blood stained the ground.
The female Daoists grew pale.
Where was the leisure and ease they had shown before emerging from the temple?
The hooves of horses thundered upon Qingyang Peak, drawing closer and clearer.
A multitude of cavalrymen wielding crossbows and drawing swords rode up from stone steps, coming into view and arraying into a line upon the square, like the surging tide of the Guangling River.
Could it be that these riders would break a sword formation with cavalry?
This elite force of one hundred light cavalry, clad in white, bore one hundred Northern Liang blades.
At their forefront rode a heavily armored general, gripping a great halberd, its tip aimed straight at the main hall of Qingyang Temple.
Behind the halberd, the regiment of light cavalry was among the most battle-hardened of the Northern Liang’s sixty-four banners, ranked among the top three for valor and prowess—the Feng Zi Battalion!
Comprising eight hundred riders,
They were known as the Xu Family’s Eight Hundred White Horse Cavaliers!
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