Chapter 244: The Great Li Chen Ping'an Is Here

Chapter 244: The Great Li Chen Ping'an Is Here

(A chapter of ten thousand words.)

The sword that Song Yushao wore at his waist, retrieved yesterday from the waterfall, was a divine weapon that even mountain-trained qi refiners would avoid crossing blades with. It was named "Yiran".

In fact, the first time Song Yushao had seen this sword in his life was at the deep pool beneath the waterfall, right under Chen Ping'an's feet when he practiced the Sword Furnace Standing Stake on the rock that seemed like a pillar in the middle of the current. Hidden within the massive stone was a mechanism. Back then, Song Yushao, by a twist of fate, had obtained this sword by chance. The sword art and the renowned blade complemented each other, leading to his future title as the Sword Saint of Shushui Kingdom.

After his son Song Gaofeng died, Song Yushao changed his personal sword, hiding away the Yiran sword—with its scabbard made of special green bamboo—back into the massive rock. Song Yushao scoured through ancient texts until he finally found a page of secret history. According to records, this sword was once personally forged by a Martial God from another continent and was lost in Bottle Gourd Continent, whereabouts unknown. There was a line of text that read: "Its polished light splits the Five Sacred Mountains; its sword qi cuts through the great rivers."

Now, Song Yushao wore the long sword with its yellowed scabbard, gazing at the imperial troops whose horses had suddenly slowed. True to the name of his sword, the old man in black stood firm, showing no trace of fear.

This "pacification army" of nearly ten thousand men from Shushui Kingdom included three thousand elite cavalry, the personal troops of Grand General Chu Hao. All were veterans from frontier battlefields, the top-notch warriors of Shushui Kingdom. Additionally, there were four to five thousand local elites drawn from various regional garrisons, over a thousand veteran constables dispatched from the prefectural city government, and a number of martial arts heroes recruited with heavy gold. Of course, there were also the group of martial arts experts that Grand General Chu Hao had gathered himself—almost all of them were the generous "dowry" brought by the woman whom the emperor himself had arranged as a match. Though her father, the former Martial Arts Alliance Leader, had died in a gangland vendetta, he had still spent nearly twenty years as the leader before his death. With the imperial court as his backing, he had secretly cultivated many shadowy martial arts followers, who later became Chu Hao's retainers and death warriors.

Chu Hao's bedfellow, that woman, even after so many years, still harbored deep hatred and an unbreakable grudge against Sword Water Mountain Villa.

Chu Hao understood this clearly. He would voice agreement, but would never act rashly. Without the emperor's explicit command, using the public identity of the Grand General's mansion to provoke a Martial Arts Grandmaster whose swordsmanship was unrivaled in Shushui Kingdom was unwise. So the woman had many complaints. Fortunately, this time, Sword Water Mountain Villa had brought about its own destruction. The emperor had been furious, and Chu Hao had seized the opportunity to volunteer for the campaign. Everything fell into place smoothly.

To be honest, Chu Hao's wife had an unresolved knot in her heart. Chu Hao himself, as a man of renown who had galloped across the border for many years and maneuvered in the imperial court, also had his own knot. You, a woman, knowing full well that Song Gaofeng was already betrothed, and that the young couple were deeply in love, and that his father was a Sword Saint—what made you think he would divorce his wife just because you were the daughter of the Martial Arts Alliance Leader? And then, in a fit of rage, you sent people to destroy the flower garden and harm that woman's life? If it had been Chu Hao, he would have mobilized his army and slaughtered everyone in sight.

However, having said that, Chu Hao was ultimately not the poor wretch Song Gaofeng who had suffered unjust calamity. Since they were already married, he had gained the emperor's trust, married a beautiful woman, and obtained a dozen or so top martial arts experts to command. Three birds with one stone, a hugely profitable deal. Chu Hao, a man of ambition, took this knot lightly. Moreover, after the former Alliance Leader had been killed by Song Gaofeng—whose face was destroyed—on the day of his retirement from the martial arts world, the woman had been much more restrained over the years. She mostly focused on being a good wife and mother in the capital of Shushui Kingdom, building good relationships with other titled ladies, which added to Chu Hao's reputation and smoothed his official career. Chu Hao felt he owed thanks to that man surnamed Song for teaching her a lesson; otherwise, he himself might have suffered.

Before leaving the capital this time, the wife had secretly accompanied him and was now staying incognito in the prefectural city. She had proposed that after they razed Sword Water Mountain Villa, the old Sword Saint Song Yushao could be allowed to escape if he ran, but that bastard Song Fengshan, who was said to resemble his mother in appearance, must be ground to dust. She would personally take Song Fengshan's urn of ashes, smash it on the graves of that pair of adulterous dogs, and make them watch as the Song family line was extinguished.

A green snake's mouth, a wasp's tail stinger—both are venomous, but the most poisonous is a woman's heart.

No wonder she was Chu Hao's lawfully wedded wife. Good stuff!

Chu Hao withdrew his thoughts, reining in his horse with one hand while shielding his eyes from the sun with the other, continuing to leisurely observe the road ahead.

Here, the official road was wide, and both sides were flat. Not only was it suitable for infantry to form battle formations, but cavalry charges were also not too difficult. That old man Song, who had been lording it over the martial arts world, was truly a reckless fool who knew nothing of warfare. He dared to play the hero—it was time for him and Sword Water Mountain Villa to be annihilated.

Chu Hao looked at the old martial arts man, who was famous even in the capital, curled his lips, lowered his arm, and rubbed a golden paper-knife bestowed by the emperor, smiling. "It's a pity about this heroic spirit. Well, it's fine. When future generations speak of this matter, they will only say that I, Chu Hao, beheaded a Sword Saint on the battlefield."

The battlefield often boasted of men who could defeat ten thousand, but those were just flowery praises from petty scholars. On the vast territories of Shushui and a dozen other kingdoms, there were indeed formidable generals with astonishing physical strength and a talent for leading charges. With a fine steed, they were even more formidable. But a man who could defeat ten thousand? That didn't exist.

Chu Hao had fought in a hundred battles; he was no scholar lounging in comfort. He had never seen such a divine figure.

Song Yushao stood where he was. Since he had already come this far, the old man was unwilling to retreat a single step. But he looked back helplessly.

Why did you, Chen Ping'an, have to come and make a scene?

For this trip, Chen Ping'an had strapped on the sword case for subduing demons and monsters, with the ropes already tied tightly.

He jogged all the way to Song Yushao's side.

The old man showed a trace of anger. "Back at the waterside pavilion, when you clashed with Horizontal Sword Mountain Villa, I once said, 'In the martial arts world, life and death are your own responsibility.' These eight words. Chen Ping'an, do you understand what they mean?"

Chen Ping'an nodded.

Song Yushao laughed angrily. "You understand nothing! That Wang Shanhu pointed at you with her scabbard tip—that's walking the martial arts world. That attendant from the Sword Villa shot an arrow from behind someone's back—that too. My grandson Song Fengshan, every time he challenges someone with his sword—that also. And me, Song Yushao, blocking an army today—that especially!"

Song Yushao's words came like a storm, but in the end, he only sighed. "Chen Ping'an, you shouldn't have come."

Chen Ping'an said softly, "No matter what Senior Song does today, I am only responsible for one thing: making sure Senior Song leaves here alive. That's all. I won't kill anyone."

Chen Ping'an added, "I'll try not to kill anyone."

Song Yushao took a deep breath, trying to speak calmly. "Right now, both sides are like two armies facing off. You say you won't kill, and you think it's possible? You think this is a children's game? In this army, there are thousands of cavalry that can charge and maneuver, heavily armored infantry forming impenetrable formations, and thousands of strong bows and crossbows aimed at you. Without warning, it'll be like a downpour of arrows. And don't forget, Chu Hao has over a dozen martial arts experts and some military officers with divine bows from the strategist school. These are national treasures specially designed by the imperial court to target qi refiners and martial arts grandmasters. Even I, Song Yushao, would be severely wounded if I took an arrow to a vital spot!"

Chen Ping'an countered, "Since the enemy is so powerful, is Senior just here to die?"

Song Yushao said solemnly, "I want to capture the chieftain first—capture the commander Chu Hao as quickly as possible, throw the army into chaos, and then threaten Chu Hao into handing over that woman. Acting alone, I have a fifty percent chance. But if you follow me into battle and get surrounded, you'll only be a burden. So listen to me: hurry back to the villa and take your two friends far from this trouble."

Song Yushao looked up. It was early summer, yet the sky was clear like a spring day—not bad at all. He turned to the northern youth and smiled. "Chen Ping'an, I appreciate the kind intention. But whether I, Song Yushao, live or die, and whether Sword Water Mountain Villa stands or falls, I can say I have no regrets. Walking the martial arts world, isn't that enough? More than enough!"

Chen Ping'an patted the gourd at his waist, grinning brightly. "When I run, I don't mean to brag, but my two legs are faster than a warhorse's four. And I have some life-saving trump cards. Don't worry about me, Senior. Just go all out against that Chu Hao. If I didn't have this confidence, I wouldn't be showing up today."

Song Yushao was furious. He wanted to flick this blockhead on the forehead. "You idiot! Do you really think that little wine gourd of yours is a Sword Immortal's Sword-Nurturing Gourd? And even if it were, what good would a pure martial artist who tempers his physique have for a legendary Sword-Nurturing Gourd?!"

Chen Ping'an sidestepped, standing behind Song Yushao, out of sight of the Shushui imperial troops. He slapped the Sword-Nurturing Gourd with the seal "Jiang Hu" heavily and said in a low voice, "Chuyi, someone is looking down on you. Come out."

Song Yushao froze.

What was he doing?

The vermilion wine gourd didn't move.

Chen Ping'an was a bit embarrassed. "Shiwu."

With a whoosh, a startling emerald sword light shot out of the Sword-Nurturing Gourd at lightning speed. The crystalline miniature sword hovered in the air between them, then began to drift slowly as if showing off to its master Chen Ping'an.

Chen Ping'an had already known this would happen. The two little masters in the Sword-Nurturing Gourd: the flying sword Shiwu was docile and obedient. Wherever Chen Ping'an's mind directed, Shiwu's sword tip would point. It was like his little cotton-padded jacket. As for that Lord Chuyi, his airs were sky-high. Unless it was a life-or-death situation or something that interested him, Chen Ping'an basically couldn't command him. But Chen Ping'an didn't force it and didn't expect Chuyi to be as accommodating as Shiwu. At least in several critical moments, Chuyi had never let him down.

Song Yushao exclaimed in surprise, "It really is a Sword Immortal's Sword-Nurturing Gourd?!"

Chen Ping'an grinned.

But Song Yushao's next choice and words remained stubborn, like an old veteran of the martial arts world. He patted Chen Ping'an's shoulder. "Chen Ping'an, remember: a man of worth does not sit under a hanging roof! Go on. Coming to see me off is already more than enough. Since your martial arts path is smooth and you carry such treasures, you should cherish your safety now. Go, go! Don't be wishy-washy. Do you believe I'll beat you black and blue before I even engage the army?!"

Song Yushao said fiercely, "I, Song Yushao, mean what I say!"

But there was still a "however".

The young man, new to the world, full of straightforward martial spirit, showed not a bit less than the old veteran Song Yushao.

The northern youth, wearing straw sandals, carrying a wooden box on his back, with a Sword-Nurturing Gourd at his waist that held flying swords, and who had already traveled thousands of miles, said to the old man with solemn sincerity, "I, Chen Ping'an, am from Clay Vase Alley, Huaihuang County, Longquan Commandery, Great Li. And I, too, am walking the martial arts world!"

The old man turned around and laughed heartily. "Silly boy, are you a fool or what?"

Chen Ping'an stepped forward, standing shoulder to shoulder with the old man. "I still have to treat you to a hotpot meal."

The old man still couldn't let it go. Though looking into the distance, he had to ask again, "If things go wrong, can you really run away as soon as you want to?"

Chen Ping'an nodded. "Not only do I have the Sword-Nurturing Gourd and flying swords to protect me, but last night I also wrote twenty Square Inch Talismans in one go. They can help me shrink the earth into inches. If I really need to escape, the speed will be whoosh-whoosh—I'd even have to give myself a thumbs up."

Though it sounded like a joke, the old man turned to carefully examine the youth's expression. He wasn't joking at all.

So the old man relaxed, full of heroic spirit. He pressed the hilt of Yiran and said, "Good! Then I'll wait for you, boy, to treat me to that hotpot!"

Chen Ping'an suddenly asked softly, "If we go to a restaurant for hotpot, can we bring our own alcohol?"

With the addition of a Sword-Nurturing Gourd, flying swords, and Square Inch Talismans, his miserly, penny-pinching manner was still the same.

The old man laughed heartily. "What's not allowed about that? It's perfectly allowed!"

Song Yushao shot forward. The long sword left its bamboo scabbard, sword qi swirling between heaven and earth. He laughed aloud, "Allow me to go first! Just cover my rear!"

On one side were just two people. On the other, an army of ten thousand.

Yet the latter, facing those two martial arts figures—one old, one young—everyone felt as if a great enemy was upon them. When war drums thundered, some young soldiers from regional garrisons unconsciously swallowed their saliva.

Because sword qi was near.

Against two reckless martial arts men, wearing them down would suffice. There was no need for elaborate battlefield formations. Simply let the vanguard cavalry charge, then appropriately spread the line, flank and coordinate, and try to cover the entire route of the Shushui Kingdom Sword Saint's breakthrough with a rain of arrows. Then the infantry would form up behind, with sword-and-shield men in front and spears thrusting out, forming a layered wall of bronze and iron.

In addition to the standard infantry crossbows and bows of the Shushui military, there were also several dozen divine bows from the imperial treasury, meticulously crafted by Mohist artisans, highly valued by military generals. The arrowheads were engraved with cloud patterns and talismans, the shafts forged from refined iron, and the fletchings made of golden eagle feathers. Each arrow was tough and heavy, so ordinary elite archers could not handle them. Only warriors with considerable martial arts skill could draw the bowstring fully. The power was immense, and the speed, range, and accuracy far surpassed ordinary strong bows.

Finally, around Grand General Chu Hao were gathered nearly twenty martial arts dogs and experts, forming a protective circle. For Song Yushao to break through the formation alone and reach Chu Hao's side was as difficult as reaching the heavens.

But Chu Hao knew victory was in his grasp. His three thousand elite personal cavalry, battle-hardened and unafraid of a Sword Saint's title, dared to charge head-on. But that didn't mean the rest of his troops were fearless. Chu Hao had been on the battlefield for a long time and knew this well. So he sent word to several regional garrison generals: for this battle where the martial arts world would be trampled by horses, for every soldier who died in battle, the imperial court would pay an astonishing one hundred taels of silver in compensation. Families of fallen soldiers would be exempt from labor service for ten years!

But anyone who dared to retreat in battle would be summarily executed. Moreover, according to frontier military law, their entire clan would be exiled a thousand miles!

With such rewards and punishments, the entire army had no choice but to fight to the death.

Grand General Chu Hao sat on his horse beneath the majestic banner fluttering in the wind, full of pride.

The army pressed forward. The martial arts fool was nothing but a mantis trying to stop a chariot. The emperor had privately promised him that half of Sword Water Mountain Villa's assets could go into his pocket to reward the Chu army for this campaign. The other half would be turned over to the national treasury. But all losses and compensations for the regional troops would be his responsibility; he was not to trouble the Ministry of War or the Ministry of Revenue.

With those silver expenses, after looting the villa, Chu Hao would still make a huge profit.

Song Yushao did not immediately leap into the air to become a conspicuous arrow target. Instead, he lowered his head, bent forward, and ran with Yiran in hand, his momentum like a rainbow, fast as thunder.

He charged directly into the neatly formed line of Chu's elite cavalry.

The first volley of arrows poured down. Dense black dots gathered in the sky, shooting sharply. The bowstrings, after being tightened, were suddenly released, making a humming sound.

That was just the first volley from the cavalry bows.

Song Yushao stomped heavily on the ground. His already swift forward dash became even more erratic. He moved forward at an even faster speed, twisting his wrist and spinning his body. Sword qi surged, coalescing into a ball within several zhang, then suddenly exploded in all directions.

Behind Song Yushao, the ground was instantly covered with arrows that had arced down. Soil cracked, dust rose.

The remaining arrows that came straight at him were all shattered by his scattered sword qi.

Although Song Yushao's speed was beyond imagination and his sword qi was so abundant that it opened the eyes of the battlefield soldiers, the second volley of cavalry bow shots followed in an orderly manner, falling like rain.

Song Yushao, holding Yiran, spun rapidly like a top. In an instant, hundreds of "Yiran" swords appeared around the old Sword Saint of Shushui Kingdom, their tips pointing outward from the circle.

In one continuous motion, thousands of sword qi.

Song Yushao no longer held the sword in his hand. He pressed his two fingers together in a sword gesture, pointed to the sky, and shouted softly, "Go!"

Then he stamped his foot. The sword array in the half-circle in front of him—swords formed from condensed sword qi—swung toward the front-row elite cavalry charging with spears and lances. In an instant, the legs of several dozen horses were snapped, and the necks of twenty elite cavalry mounts were pierced. On the path of the frontal cavalry charge, men and horses tumbled in chaos.

One Yiran sword soared into the sky, guided by Song Yushao's sword gesture. Sword qi crisscrossed like a huge umbrella shielding against rain. When the arrows landed on the umbrella, without exception, they shattered like eggs against stone.

On the flanks, two groups of elite cavalry accelerated forward. At the same time, side cavalry bows shot arrows at an angle toward Song Yushao. The remaining half-circle of sword qi behind the old man quickly filled the previous semi-circular array and shot out again. Another several dozen horses on the flanks died on the spot, their riders falling off. But Chu Hao's ability to command troops was evident here. Except for a few who fainted, the vast majority of the cavalrymen landed nimbly, rolled to their feet, drew their battle sabers, and charged directly at Song Yushao.

The title of Shushui Kingdom's Sword Saint, the so-called number one in the martial arts world, could not intimidate these hardened warriors who had soaked in blood and lain among bones.

In the central-western region of Bottle Gourd Continent, within a dozen or so kingdoms including the Colored Garment Kingdom, the Colored Garment Kingdom had the most troops—ostensibly the strongest country on the surface, especially in terms of cavalry numbers. But as for actual combat effectiveness, whether it was the Ancient Elm Kingdom, known for its heavy infantry, or the Pine Stream Kingdom, skilled in archery and cavalry, or the Shushui Kingdom, with its fierce folk and elite infantry and cavalry, all could mock the Colored Garment border troops as embroidered pillows. Once, a formidable general surnamed Ma had barely emerged there, but he was squeezed out by border lords into the Rouge Commandery, a den of powder and women, to retire. That piece of greasy fat was enough for the three neighboring kingdoms to feast on together.

This time, Chu Hao personally led the army to intimidate the martial arts world. Apart from his wife's personal vendetta, the root cause was his struggle for the position of commander in the campaign to conquer the Colored Garment Kingdom, to gain more prestige in the court and among the people. Otherwise, even if the emperor's personal choice leaned toward Chu Hao, it could still provoke criticism from meritorious elders and noble clans.

The Sword Saint's head, delivered to him on a silver platter, was no less valuable than the entire Sword Water Mountain Villa.

Under the heavy protection of the formation, Chu Hao couldn't help but laugh. "Heaven helps me! Song Yushao, kill, just kill. When you're at the end of your rope, we'll see how you show off. I, Chu Hao, will soon command a hundred thousand frontier troops and march north. When I take the lead in annihilating the Colored Garment Kingdom, the decade-old Guanhu Academy review of martial generals in Bottle Gourd Continent might just include my name! That Song Changjing from the Great Li in the north is just relying on being a relative of the imperial family. When it comes to real battlefield tactics, that northern barbarian who eats raw meat is nothing!"

Chu Hao gripped the emperor's bestowed paper-knife tightly, his smile deepening. He repeated, "Heaven helps me!"

On the road, Song Yushao, facing the cavalry charge alone, successfully blocked two volleys of arrows. He was now only fifty steps from the cavalry formation. At his forward speed, the cavalry abandoned their mounted archery and, in their most familiar formation of charging and piercing, rammed into the old man in black.

Song Yushao's mind stirred. During his forward rush, he sidestepped a few steps, dodging an extremely fast and treacherous arrow. Its force far exceeded the earlier volley of massed cavalry arrows. Then the old man changed position three times, each time perfectly evading the specially made arrows. He shook his finger-sword gesture, guiding the long sword in the air to descend and charge forward, laughing, "Splitting horses to open the formation!"

The cavalrymen who had fallen from their horses and drawn their sabers wanted to fight to the death, but all of them struck empty air. They only felt a wisp of ethereal green smoke brushing past, and the old man in black was gone.

Yiran sped forward like a flying sword, like a dragon swimming through a river. In the blink of an eye, the legs of several warhorses were severed. The sword simply cleared a unimpeded path for its master behind, either piercing through a horse's spine, cutting a huge gash along its side, or ripping open a mass of bleeding intestines from its belly. Wherever it passed, horses fell, riders tumbled, and then a faint shadow-like figure gracefully shot forward.

The elite cavalry's charge formation was thus pierced through in one go by the Sword Saint of Shushui.

After Song Yushao successfully breached the first formation, he was faced with a wall of shields lined up like a mountain. Between the gaps, sword light glinted, and rows of spears stood in a forest at a slight angle, more than one and a half man-heights tall. The even spearheads gleamed under the sunlight, exuding an awe-inspiring aura unique to the battlefield.

If he leaped high into the air and flew toward the commander's banner, the Chu army's hospitality would surely be a volley of infantry bows aimed upward from behind the spear formation.

Earlier, because Song Yushao's formation-breaking speed was too fast, the infantry's parabolic volley had no chance to be used. But that certainly didn't mean the infantry bows had lost their deterrent effect, let alone the Mohist divine bows treasured by the imperial court.

Song Yushao forced a new breath. The qi mechanism in his body flowed like a flood surging. At this moment, from behind the infantry formation, where Song Yushao's sight didn't reach, several top martial arts experts of Shushui Kingdom, attached to the imperial court, stepped on the heads and shoulders of soldiers and descended in unison. They timed it perfectly to catch Song Yushao's breath exchange. Leaping high over the dense forest of spears, each wielding a sharp weapon, they came crashing down on Song Yushao's head.

Song Yushao lightly tapped his toes, refusing to retreat. He reached out and grasped the Yiran sword, slashing horizontally, sweeping toward the waists of the airborne attackers.

They had calculated that Song Yushao would need to exchange breath. But there was a difference in martial arts realm. These so-called martial arts masters in the eyes of the world had no idea how fast a Sixth Realm martial artist's qi circulation could be!

Three Fourth Realm minor grandmasters with different weapons were instantly cut in half by that half-arc sword qi.

Martial arts origins, dying on the battlefield.

I wonder if those three would die with eyes open in regret.

Song Yushao brought the sword down in a vertical slash. Four or five heavily armored infantrymen in the formation, along with several behind them, were struck by this straight sword qi splitting through the air. Men, armor, and weapons were all shattered. The surrounding infantrymen had their iron armor splattered with blood and severed limbs. Fortunately, the heavy infantry formation was always known for its stability. As soon as the sword qi cut a path through the formation, the rear soldiers almost instantly surged forward to fill the gap. Soldiers on the left and right also consciously converged toward the center.

On the battlefield, those who fear death may not necessarily live, but those who are afraid often die.

Song Yushao, in the brief moment of the path being opened and then closing, got a rough idea of the infantry formation's thickness. He sighed inwardly. With a light tap of his toe, he held Yiran and could only leap into the air. A streak of sword qi spilled out wantonly, cutting through the dense forest of spears in the front rows. At the same time, he suddenly clenched the sword, infusing the blade with sword intent. The sword qi shook violently. Song Yushao, as if holding a full moon, seemed to contend with the sun overhead for brilliance!

Song Yushao let out a loud shout. His body rose more than a zhang. Sword intent and sword qi both surged. The full moon, originally the size of a jade platter, abruptly became enormous, enveloping Song Yushao. Allowing the rain of arrows to strike, he followed a straight line, rolling through the air toward the commander's banner. When the arrows hit the full moon, their tips broke and their shafts shattered.

As the old man in black broke through the formation for the second time, the youth carrying a sword case far behind him did not stand idly by. He began to run forward, moving like a startled hare, incredibly agile.

Chu's elite cavalry, of course, had no need to turn their horses, which would only cause mutual interference between cavalry and infantry. So they naturally vented their anger on the youth.

But none of them expected that not only would the Sword Saint of Shushui, renowned in the martial arts world for sixty years, break through their formation ferociously, but this young martial arts boy who had popped out of nowhere was equally troublesome. The youth's speed was simply too fast. Each step covered two to three zhang. Moreover, his agility in tight spaces was extremely flexible. Not only did he dodge four or five specially made Mohist arrows, but a volley of arrows was also easily evaded as he passed through.

Whenever there were arrows in his path that he couldn't avoid, the youth simply used his hands to push aside the heavy arrows. When he collided head-on with the cavalry, the charging horses had the advantage of momentum.

But this youth, whose martial arts background was unknown, was like a slippery loach. He slid through the gaps between the charging elite cavalry. Occasionally, when he engaged, he would either punch the side of a horse so hard that both horse and rider flew sideways two or three zhang, or he would slam his shoulder into them, causing horses to rear and topple. In the end, he lightly leaped onto the back of a horse, like a dragonfly skimming water, and vanished in a flash over the heads or backs of several horses behind him. The cavalrymen only felt a breeze brushing their faces. They swung their sabers and thrust their spears, but they couldn't even touch a corner of the youth's clothes.

Definitely a Fourth Realm peak, or even a Fifth Realm martial arts grandmaster!

A cavalry officer, wielding a finely crafted long lance, thrust it accurately at the youth's neck in the air, bellowing, "Die!"

Chen Ping'an tilted his neck, just dodging the lance thrust. At the same time, he reached out and grabbed the lance—a weapon coveted by all battlefield cavalry officers. Even though the officer's palm was bloody, his treasured ancestral lance was still snatched away. Chen Ping'an switched to a two-handed grip on the lance and thrust it heavily into the ground. The exceptionally resilient lance bent like a drawn bow, making a dull thud. Chen Ping'an was launched into the air, up seven or eight zhang.

Still holding the lance by one end, he didn't discard it.

The resolute youth with the sword case on his back, in the sight of a large group of cavalrymen who turned to look, under the gaze of all, seemed like a celestial being riding the wind. He landed on the open ground in front of the infantry formation behind the cavalry. His sleeves fluttered. After landing, he didn't stop. He took a step back, swung his arm, and hurled the lance high into the air with a clamor. Then, after making a motion of slapping his wine gourd, he leaped up. His figure vanished in an instant, as if the celestial being had used the miracle of shrinking a thousand miles. Then, miraculously, he landed on the lance, one foot in front, one foot behind, like a legendary Sword Immortal riding a sword, full of a free and easy aura that battlefield warriors could hardly comprehend.

If not for the fact that he was on the enemy side, some might have applauded.

Then an even more infuriating scene occurred.

Not only did the youth ride the lance forward through the air above the formation, but he actually took off his wine gourd, tilted his head, and took a swig!

While the crowd gnashed their teeth in anger, deep in their hearts, wasn't there some... longing?!

The brutality of the battlefield, the boldness of the martial arts world.

Originally, the two were worlds apart. Just earlier, when the Shushui Kingdom Sword Saint broke through the formation, especially when he slashed the infantry formation with sword qi, it was so bloody and cruel.

But this youth with the sword case on his back, advancing all the way without killing a single person, silently following the old man in black as he broke through—also breaking through the formation—was nonetheless so graceful.

Because the lance was flying too fast, and this action was too incredible, the infantry archers in the formation were somewhat confused. But under the shouts and orders of the commanding officers, the strongest-armed elite soldiers among the troops were ordered to intercept and kill this person with strong bows. Of course, those with the authority to use Mohist divine bows needed no further orders. They had already drawn their bows to the full moon, and one by one, military treasures shot out, tracing streaks behind the youth.

A strange phenomenon occurred. Another jaw-dropping surprise appeared.

From the vermilion wine gourd that the youth had tucked back at his waist, suddenly two brilliant fireflies—one snowy white, one emerald green—shot out. Below the lance, they shattered the arrows one by one.

Without the youth needing to dodge, the relatively few but highly threatening arrows all fell uselessly to the ground.

After flying several dozen zhang, the lance Chen Ping'an stood on began to descend. Chen Ping'an stomped on the lance, no longer caring about it falling to the ground. His body rose straight up, just dodging the airborne interception of a top martial arts swordsman. The latter landed regretfully, turning back with a fierce gaze and a face full of resentment.

If he had failed to stop Song Yushao earlier and was knocked back into the formation by the almost impenetrable torrent of sword qi, that was excusable. But to not even touch a nameless youth—what was that about?

"You raise an army for a thousand days to use for a moment." How could he still enjoy wealth and honor in front of Grand General Chu Hao from now on?

Further ahead, less than a hundred steps from the commander's banner, the cohesive sword qi that had enveloped Song Yushao had already been severely depleted by countless spears and arrows, plus successive attacks from a dozen or more martial arts experts. So when a green sword qi carrying the sound of wind and thunder came, Song Yushao held his sword horizontally in front of him. The sword qi, as thick as a green python, finally broke through the old man's full-moon sword formation, but it was also split in two by the Yiran sword. It rushed past the old man's side, killing several dozen heavily armored infantrymen behind him on the spot.

Song Yushao retracted his horizontal sword stance. Blood seeped from the corner of his mouth. Even so, he still dared not easily exchange breath.

Because the swordsman who had struck from a hundred steps away was at least a Fifth Realm sword master.

That man stood right beneath the commander's banner, beside Grand General Chu Hao. He wore a blue-green robe, one hand behind his back, the other holding a sword pointing directly at Song Yushao.

His age wasn't old. He looked to be about thirty years old, but his actual age might be around forty. The sword in his hand was not some divine weapon that could cut through iron like mud. It was a piece of glossy green bamboo, two feet six inches long, about the length of a sword.

He stood proudly on horseback. Grand General Chu Hao, who was much taller on his horse, didn't mind. He grinned happily.

The swordsman, using a green bamboo as a sword, smiled. "That bamboo scabbard of Song Yushao's sword is not bad. General Chu, could you give it to me?"

Chu Hao laughed heartily. "Why not? Not just the scabbard—I'll give you the sword too!"

The swordsman shook his head with a smile. "No need. As for the Yiran sword, if you, General Chu, could present it to your emperor, it would be a fine story of the martial arts world bowing to the imperial court."

Chu Hao suddenly understood. He clapped his hands and laughed. "As expected of the Green Bamboo Sword Immortal! You've thought it through. That would be best!"

Song Yushao held his breath and focused, standing in a small open space that the soldiers had voluntarily vacated.

The young swordsman, known as the Green Bamboo Sword Immortal of Pine Stream Kingdom, asked with a smile, "Old Sword Saint Song, do you believe that the moment you exchange breath, that will be the moment you die?"

Song Yushao's face was cold.

From behind the old man came waves of commotion.

Chu Hao squinted, took a small silver ingot-like object from his sleeve, squeezed it in his palm, then tilted his neck. Soon, two white-haired old men with long, steady breathing walked out from beside him. One wore a brocade robe and held a cyan talisman between two fingers, with golden characters on the talisman. The other was burly, holding a double axe with auspicious cloud patterns engraved on them. Neither wore armor, clearly not military officers.

Both looked toward the area behind Song Yushao. Compared to the Green Bamboo Sword Immortal's calm composure, the two old men accompanying the army appeared somewhat solemn.

As senior qi refiners serving as imperial tutors for Shushui Kingdom, they knew what it meant when a sword cultivator who had nurtured a destined flying sword, regardless of age, was willing to fight to the death like a cornered beast.

Chu Hao said softly, "One of you, help the Green Bamboo Sword Immortal finish off Song Yushao quickly. The other must stall that youth."

The burly man holding the double axes strode toward Song Yushao, grinning menacingly. "Let me force the old man to exchange breath!"

The old man in the brocade robe smiled wryly. He composed himself and lightly tossed the treasured cyan paper talisman he had kept for many years into the air. With a great enemy before him, there was no point in being stingy.

The talisman rose into the sky and vanished in an instant.

It appeared a hundred and fifty steps away in a flash. Golden light exploded, and a golden-armored general crashed to the ground. He was two zhang tall, standing out among the infantry formation like a crane among chickens. He held a large halberd. Within the solemn golden armor, only silver light flowed; the general had no physical body.

Chen Ping'an sprinted all the way. It looked like he was walking on air, but in truth, each time he landed, he stepped on the two flying swords Chuyi and Shiwu.

If one said Chen Ping'an was a stubborn man, that was certainly true.

But when he began to walk the martial arts world alone, compared to the boy from Clay Vase Alley who used to love leaping over streams, Chen Ping'an had actually changed a lot.

Now, seeing the golden-armored, silver-bodied champion not far away, holding a golden halberd and ready to strike, staring intently at him.

Chen Ping'an's mind tightened. Back in Rouge Commandery, the Chongmiao Daoist had two bronze champions to protect him. It seemed a high-grade bronze champion from the talisman sect could rival a Third Realm martial artist. This golden-armored champion, two zhang tall, was probably at least a Fourth Realm martial artist in combat power, possibly even Fifth Realm.

But Chen Ping'an was not afraid of anyone when his mind was set. He had dared to confront a Mountain-Moving Old Ape from Zhengyang Mountain head-on when he first started practicing boxing.

He had accumulated slowly and now had a sudden inspiration.

Almost instinctively, Chen Ping'an reached back and grasped the handle of the locust wood sword.

At the same time, he silently commanded, "Chuyi, Shiwu, go help Senior Song deal with that swordsman and the burly man. I'll handle this champion myself."

They were less than twenty steps apart. The two streaks of sword light beneath Chen Ping'an's feet veered left and right, arcing around the golden-armored champion, who had begun to stomp heavily on the ground and charge forward with his halberd.

Still keeping his hand behind him, gripping the wooden sword's hilt, Chen Ping'an leaped into the air, shouting, "Senior Song, just exchange breath with confidence!"

With the great enemy before him—the burly man's double axes about to strike, and the Green Bamboo Sword Immortal watching like a hawk—Song Yushao smiled knowingly. And he really did exchange breath.

Standing on horseback, the Green Bamboo Sword Immortal slashed out with his sword.

Chen Ping'an, in midair, muttered words that no one could hear. Then his entire being entered a never-before-experienced state of emptiness.

Self and world forgotten, sword heart clear.

Once upon a time, at an ancient temple, a locust wood sword had lightly split open the golden light formation of a pink-robed great demon.

Since my strength is insufficient, today I will wield the sword as I learn boxing—one punch at a time, one step at a time. There will be a day when I throw a million punches. For now, I take only its intent, not its form!

Just thrust out the sword!

When there is a mountain, cut the mountain; when there is a river, sever the river!

The eighteen stops of sword qi in his body no longer held back. Like a flood bursting through a dam, they rushed through the cold, secluded qi mansions that current sword cultivators considered useless.

Chen Ping'an suddenly drew the locust wood sword, bringing with it a brilliant sword qi that he himself couldn't see. He slashed at the two-zhang-tall golden-armored champion!

Even the huge halberd was cut through. The golden-armored general was sliced open with a clatter!

Chen Ping'an landed on the ground. Before him, the golden-armored champion showed a huge diagonal gap. Silver light burst forth, golden armor shattered.

He fell forward, then crashed to the ground, shattering into golden light and silver sparks that flew everywhere.

Sweating profusely, Chen Ping'an crouched slightly on his knees. He was dazed for a moment, but quickly came to his senses, straightened up, and tightened his grip on the locust wood sword.

Walking the martial arts world, I have one sword!

Never had the youth felt so exhilarating, so eager to vent the pent-up feelings in his heart. Amid the army of ten thousand, holding the locust wood sword that had accomplished its task, the youth declared loudly, "The Great Li's Chen Ping'an is here!"