Chapter 354: The Bloody Wind and Rain on the Mountain
The wind and rain were heavy. At the foot of the mountain, Duke Gao Shizhen of Shen State refused the umbrella offered by his household attendants, standing in the downpour, letting raindrops the size of soybeans pelt his body.
"Don't talk to me about loyalty to the family and the state, or about mountains and rivers and the kingdom. The entire Duke of Shen State mansion has only my son Gao Shuyi as its last thread of incense—if he's gone, he's gone. Moreover, for over twenty years I poured all my heart and energy into raising that son. In every aspect, as a father, I could find no fault with Gao Shuyi. Before I received that secret letter from the Third Prince, I always believed that Gao Shuyi would become a pillar of the Great Spring court. No matter who sat on the dragon throne, the Duke of Shen State mansion would restore its family prestige, hold sway over the court and the country, rise to the rank of a princely mansion, become the new emperor's trusted confidant, annex the two great powers of Northern Jin and Southern Qi, and become the largest dynasty in the middle of Tongye Continent."
His Majesty the Emperor said he would compensate the Duke of Shen State mansion; the Third Prince said he would compensate Gao Shuzhen; the honored guests and advisors all advised him to endure.
Gao Shizhen had been behaving very calmly during this period. No one could tell that this was a man who had lost his only son. First, he left the Imperial Palace, then quietly left the prince's mansion, and finally secretly left the capital, serving as His Majesty's secret envoy to the Qicheng Station to meet Yao Zhen—all without a ripple. The Duke of Shen State mansion remained that noble and righteous mansion of the Great Spring dynasty. Gao Shizhen had never disappointed the aging Emperor Liu Zhen.
Without that heaven-sent opportunity, Gao Shizhen indeed could not have stirred up any trouble, after all, Shenjing City belonged to His Majesty, and the Great Spring dynasty was surnamed Liu.
But now it was different.
Someone had approached him, Gao Shizhen. He had then approached the Great Prince Liu Cong. Liu Cong had summoned five thousand armored soldiers. As for how many mountain forces they had secretly recruited, Gao Shizhen was not interested.
Even a lion uses its full strength when hunting a hare. Never let your opponent accumulate strength piece by piece—that is a cardinal mistake in military strategy.
Even he, Gao Shizhen, a pampered man of the capital, understood this simple truth. He believed that the Great Prince Liu Cong had thought it through even more thoroughly.
Gao Shizhen was waiting, waiting for Liu Cong to descend the mountain carrying that head to present to him, so that he could take it to his son Gao Shuyi's new grave.
In front of the ruined temple, Chen Ping'an looked at the last two men hiding among Liu Cong's attendants.
Sensing Chen Ping'an's gaze, the two exchanged glances and stepped forward a few paces. They were the military officer Xu Qingzhou and the immortal master Xu Tong—old acquaintances. At the border inn, they had fought against Lu Baixiang and Sui Youbian respectively.
Xu Qingzhou took off his straw rain cape and tossed it aside, revealing a suit of armor. Besides the ceremonial waist knife of the Great Spring border army, he also carried the saber "Da Qiao," a weighty treasure of the military strategist school.
Xu Qingzhou remained silent. But Xu Tong, the master of the Grass Wood Nunnery, smiled and said, "Chen Gongzi, we meet again. Last time in the southern border, this time in the northern border. Just like General Xu's beloved saber named 'Da Qiao'—it's a very great coincidence."
Of the ten attendants behind Liu Cong, besides Xu Qingzhou and Xu Tong, the other eight were all military cultivators who had long experienced battle on the northern frontier. The border wars of the Great Spring dynasty were only on the northern and southern fronts, bordering Northern Jin and Southern Qi respectively. In the south, the Yao family's iron cavalry guarded the state for the Liu family; in the north, the Great Prince commanded a hundred and twenty thousand border troops, constantly at war with Southern Qi. The fighting was frequent—they often launched northern expeditions. Regardless of their combat prowess, they drew their blades more often than the Yao family's iron cavalry.
For military officer Xu Qingzhou, his purpose in climbing the mountain to surround and kill Chen Ping'an and his group was very clear: he wanted that unusual Ganlu Armor, and preferably that saber too, both in his possession.
Liu Cong had only agreed to give up the armor. The narrow saber could be sold but not given away. It would depend on how much sincerity Xu Qingzhou and his military family could show to "purchase" it.
The high-crowned immortal master Xu Tong, master of the Grass Wood Nunnery—the foremost immortal sect within Great Spring—excelled in thunder techniques and was skilled in alchemy for longevity. Through this, he had made connections with countless high-ranking officials and nobles. Beneath his straw rain cape, the dharma robe he wore, when its spiritual energy flowed, radiated a misty scene of colorful cloud talismans, like a painted landscape scroll. In fact, this spiritual tool robe, named "Five Colors Peak," was a heirloom treasure of Grass Wood Nunnery and was extremely close to the rank of a dharma treasure.
Immortal master Xu Tong wanted the Golden Nectar Dharma Robe on Chen Ping'an—the one that, after its true form was restored, looked like a golden dragon's robe.
He coveted it with drooling, dream-defying desire!
Chen Ping'an looked at Liu Cong and asked, "Is it for that chair?"
Liu Cong said fiercely, "Otherwise? Do you think the lives of my five thousand border soldiers are worthless?!"
Saying this, the Great Prince gnashed his teeth. "If I didn't walk to the door of this ruined temple today, if I didn't see you, Chen Ping'an, with my own eyes, I would feel..."
Liu Cong pointed at his own chest. "—I wouldn't be at ease!"
Chen Ping'an said, "Not at ease? Isn't that your own doing? Five thousand Great Spring border soldiers died on this small mountain... Well, you understand the reasoning. You probably tell yourself that great men don't dwell on minor details. When you become emperor, these five thousand armored men died for their country—they died a worthy death."
Chen Ping'an gently waved the withered branch in his hand. "One last question: Why do you think the token at my waist is fake?"
Liu Cong had been chatting so casually—maybe to bolster his own courage, or maybe to get past some obstacle in his own heart.
Chen Ping'an was willing to go along with Liu Cong's rambling for the sake of this last question.
A crucial question.
The one who wanted his head was definitely Duke Gao Shizhen of Shen State. The one who wanted that item from Biyou Manor—Chen Ping'an had long suspected who it might be. But who exactly wanted the Sword-Nurturing Gourd?
After leaving the Qicheng Station, Chen Ping'an had already hung up the jade pendant.
When he reached Taoye Ferry and was about to part ways with the Yao family, on that very day, Chen Ping'an had used the words "Peace Mountain Cultivate True Self" to announce to the world. It was equivalent to making clear to Shenjing City his identity as "a direct disciple of the Peace Mountain Patriarch Hall." He hoped this would reduce the pressure on Yao Zhen in the Great Spring capital. If those restless enemies in Shenjing City couldn't even recognize the jade token, the Yao family had nothing to worry about.
And those who could recognize the jade token were likely formidable experts who would retreat upon seeing the difficulty. In fact, back in the small black-canopied boat at Taoye Ferry, Du Hanling—the master of the Golden Summit Temple who used the divine palm to oversee the mountains and rivers—was one such person. As soon as he saw that jade token, even at the risk of displeasing Shenjing City, he insisted on extricating himself and leaving.
Liu Cong's eyes were strange. He only gave Chen Ping'an half the answer.
"This token from the Peace Mountain Patriarch Hall is real—absolutely real—but at the same time it's also fake. If you hadn't hung it up, it might have been better. Since you've hung it at your waist, I'll return those two words to you: 'Looking for death'!"
Chen Ping'an looked at the Great Prince of Great Spring, who was speaking more and more self-righteously.
Indeed, it was harder to talk with people born into imperial families.
First, there was his neighbor Song Jixin.
Now, before him, each side had its own reasoning. Although there were differences of right and wrong, sequence and magnitude, Liu Cong and his five thousand armored men, along with the qi cultivators and martial grandmasters concealed among them, were already arrows on the string, forced to shoot. And some kind of grand trend was pushing Liu Cong from behind. Chen Ping'an couldn't very well say, "Let's all go into the temple peacefully, have a bowl of rice, and call it done." Competing for the dragon throne required using righteous means. Chen Ping'an didn't want to waste his breath. If it would work, he'd be willing to talk, but the other party wasn't interested in listening.
Chen Ping'an lifted the withered branch and tapped it twice in Liu Cong's direction.
The stooped old man beside him was the first to charge out. Capture the chieftain first—even if it were a trap, so what? He, Zhu Lian, truly wanted to experience the mountain conspiracies of this world!
Sui Youbian on the right side and Lu Baixiang on the left both dashed out.
Wei Xian, wearing the Divine Man Receives Dew Armor, strode forward to follow the martial madman who was ahead. He wouldn't be charging into the enemy formation for now; his main task was still to protect this ruined temple.
Chen Ping'an, with patience, waited for the enemy's trump card.
---
At a peak higher than the hillside temple.
Two people stood on the summit. Whether they were transcendent experts or not, it was hard to say, but at least they occupied a very high position.
One was an old man in a Confucian scholar's robe, without the jade pendant gifted by the academy hanging at his waist. In the Great Spring dynasty, no one would dare to question his presence anywhere he stood, even if the old man were standing on the roof of the Golden Throne Hall in Shenjing City.
Beside the elderly scholar stood a burly, muscular giant, whose barbaric aura did not seem human.
Given the gravity of the matter, the old man still asked a question that bordered on great disrespect: "Your master won't break his word, will he?"
The giant's reply was even more blunt and rude: "How my master acts—how would I dare spout nonsense here? If you have the guts, go ask the master yourself. But that's only if you have the nerve."
The old man muttered to himself, "I am acting on righteous principles, so at least I am justified in name. Even if afterward the academy is angered by Peace Mountain and blames me, taking away my title... it doesn't matter."
The giant sneered, "Hypocritical—that's the word for you scholars, isn't it?"
The old man said bitterly, "To err and then to correct—there is no greater good. I have read tens of thousands of volumes, dabbled in a hundred schools of thought, but I missed this very teaching from our own sage."
The giant didn't want to push his luck by continuing to mock this old bastard—lest he suddenly change his mind in some kind of "awakening" and ruin the master's impromptu scheme. So he comforted him, "That treasure is so rare—it's no wonder you're tempted and have painstakingly schemed for so long. I'm actually tempted too. After you get it, let's make a deal. I'll give you that dharma treasure my master bestowed on me. You just need to pass me half the text. Then I'll work for you for sixty more years. After that, pass me the remaining half. How about it?"
The old man considered for a moment, then nodded and agreed, "Deal!"
The giant warned, "My master instructed me before leaving that unless it's to save your life, I am not to act. He also said you'd better not act lightly yourself. Even if you do, take it easy. Otherwise, you'll easily attract the attention of that Holy Man of the Literary Temple. Although that holy man is currently busy searching for that old ape from Peace Mountain, if he rushes over quickly and arrives here, it's fine for ants like Liu Cong, but the two of us will definitely be in big trouble."
At the mention of that holy man, especially the prefix "Literary Temple," the old man's already heavy mood sank even further. On the Central Continent Divine Land, those "Righteous and Orthodox" seventy-two attendant sages—none of them were easy to mess with. These weren't mere academy mountain masters or the "sages" flattered by secular dynasties, but genuine Confucian sages! The old man's face darkened. "Life and death are at stake; of course I understand."
The wind and rain were even heavier on the mountaintop, but the raindrops seemed to hit an invisible oil-paper umbrella, splashing away in all directions above their heads.
The giant yawned. He actually didn't quite understand why his master, with such great status and ability, would bother with that young man.
If it were the top figures from Tongye Sect and Jade Gui Sect at the northern and southern ends of this continent, that would barely make sense. Or if it were someone like Zhong Kui, the gentleman of Dafu—who was cleanly killed by the sword-carrying old ape—a future grand libationer of some Confucian school, that would also be qualified.
But unfortunately, the master had calculated everything, almost encompassing the entire Tongye Continent. Yet a young handyman disciple from the lower gate of the Procession Divination Sect had stumbled upon the existence of that twelfth-realm senior, and one move affected the whole situation, completely messing up the master's long-prepared, magnificent scheme.
Could it be that the fate of this Tongye Continent was so thick? Even surpassing that Posuo Continent, the one closest to Inverted Hanging Mountain?
After all, in Southern Posuo Continent, there was that old Chen who shouldered the sun and moon. According to the master, he was quite famous even in the master's homeland, listed among the top formidable enemies. Even the master himself said that as long as he was in the Righteous Qi Great World, he absolutely could not defeat the pure Confucian Chen Chun'an.
---
A young Daoist, wearing a hibiscus crown, arrived at a small border town in southern Great Spring. He didn't enter Fox Village. Instead, he walked slowly along the not-so-high loess city wall, extending a palm and gently sliding it across the rough surface, a smile on his face.
Finally, he followed the official road to the inn near the town. Business there was slow. The little lame boy was dozing on the table; the old hunchback was smoking a pipe behind the curtain; the woman was sitting behind the counter doing accounts. The more she calculated, the more she wanted to smash that abacus.
The young Daoist stepped over the inn's threshold, his gaze tender, softly calling, "Jiu Niang, Jiu Niang."
The little lame boy lifted his head, drowsy and annoyed. First a down-and-out scholar, now a young Daoist coveting the landlady's beauty? Was there no good-looking woman left in the world?! Why did they all have to come and harass the boss lady at their inn?
The woman looked up, puzzled. "Little Daoist, do we know each other?"
The young Daoist was not particularly striking in appearance, aside from his rather rare Daoist crown. In other respects, he was unremarkable: ordinary looks, medium height, and his Daoist robe looked old.
The woman felt that his gaze was strange. It lacked the lewdness of the young men of Fox Village, nor did it have Zhong Kui's baffling infatuation. It was like he was greeting a long-lost acquaintance, but while looking at her, it was as if he were looking at something much farther away.
Jiu Niang was displeased. After she spoke, the young Daoist just smiled at her. His eyes grew brighter and brighter, more and more unsettling.
Without reason, the young Daoist's face was streaming with tears, and yet he asked with a smile, "Jiu Niang, let's go home?"
Before Jiu Niang could start cursing him out, the young Daoist had already wiped his tears, laughed at himself, and said, "I mistook you. My apologies, my apologies."
He sat down at a wine table, pulled a few pieces of broken silver from his sleeve, slapped them on the table, and smiled. "All for wine. However many jars this buys."
The inn was in the borderlands, a place of mixed company, attracting all sorts of travelers. During his years working odd jobs at the inn, the lame boy had seen plenty of guests with water in their heads. He didn't think it needed much thought. Taking the silver, he said, "Our inn's green plum wine comes in three grades. If it's the best grade, honored guest, you can only buy one jar..."
Before the little lame boy could finish, the young Daoist smiled and said, "I'll take one jar of the best green plum wine."
Traveling far from home, the world vast—you couldn't open your heart to anyone. On such a lonely journey, more lonely than the sages, how could you not drink?
He had drunk almost all the fine and poor wines of Tongye Continent.
He liked to drink. Having a Sword-Nurturing Gourd of passable quality as a flask was just right.
As for the two natal flying swords of mysterious origin inside the Sword-Nurturing Gourd—if they were destroyed, so be it; if they survived, all the better.
After returning to his homeland, he would give them as gifts to the younger generation of his clan, a small compensation for missing their coming-of-age ceremonies. In his homeland, giving a sword was better than giving anything else.
This change of events on Tongye Continent had leaked the heavenly mechanism too early. That his two subordinates failed to lie low until the end was not his fault. It was just that the "timing" was still with the Righteous Qi Great World. Now it remained to be seen whether matters on Posuo Continent and Fuyao Continent would go more smoothly.
Originally, both Peace Mountain and the Procession Divination Sect should have been destroyed. The Heavenly Lord Ancestor and sect master of Peace Mountain, the couple Ji Hai, would all die. Even the female Daoist Huang Ting, a favored child of heaven who had gathered much of the continent's fortune, would not be spared.
As for Zhong Kui, the gentleman of Dafu Academy, he ranked quite high on this young Peace Mountain Daoist's list.
Killing one Zhong Kui was as significant as leveling a Peace Mountain.
So when he gave the sword-carrying white ape the order, it was not a loss even if it was a life-for-life trade. If afterward the ape could successfully escape into that broken dragon vein, no matter how severely wounded, it would be a gain. After that, just hide low and stay put—otherwise, he couldn't protect the old ape either. After all, he could only take one person from the Righteous Qi Great World. If the old ape hadn't damaged the roots of its Great Way and remained at the twelfth-realm sword cultivator realm, he might have taken it instead of clinging to some old sentiments. Hence, he came to this border inn to drink in silence.
Zhong Kui should have lived longer, loved more deeply.
Hunchback Third Uncle gestured with his eyes for Jiu Niang to be careful of this man. But the woman insisted on carrying the wine jar and two white bowls herself, coming to sit opposite the young Daoist.
Jiu Niang poured two bowls of wine, smiled, and asked, "Little Daoist, did you mistake me, or do you actually recognize me?"
The young Daoist picked up the bowl, took a sip of the green plum wine, praised it as good wine, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and said, "I was mistaken."
Jiu Niang asked with a sly smile, "Little Daoist, you're bold and generous. In your words, you never call yourself 'the poor Daoist.' Could you be a fake Daoist pretending to be an immortal from Peace Mountain?"
The young Daoist shook his head. "A real Daoist—as real as can be. I borrowed a random body and cultivated on Peace Mountain for over a hundred years before I finally got a jade token. Then, during my travels down the mountain, I died. No bones left. My sect couldn't even retrieve the token. Pitiful. After that, I changed my face, wandered around, and started looking for wine again. Finally, I came back to Great Spring, visited many places—like the Buried River, for instance—and in Shenjing City I met a scholar named Wang Qi. The man was quite old by then. 'Qi'—the sages interpret the character as 'tall of stature, sincere and steadfast of heart.'"
"But unfortunately, a gentleman—a thousand-mile dike destroyed by an ant hole. He was ruined by one 'greed'—the greed for life."
Jiu Niang's wrist trembled as she raised her bowl to drink.
She drained all the wine in one gulp, put down the bowl, and asked, "Why are you telling me all this? Are you going to kill me?"
The young Daoist looked as if he had heard the greatest joke under heaven, muttered, "I already said I mistook you. It has nothing to do with you. That old acquaintance of mine—nine lives! How do you kill someone like that? Kill you once, and Old Man Bai would sense it in his heart. You don't know how miserable Old Man Bai made us. Even if a Confucian sage killed me, I would only be half-dead—it would just help me go home sooner. But if Old Man Bai saw me with his own eyes, even across an entire world, he could grind my bones to dust."
He was somewhat sad, sighed, and said, "I can't bear to kill you either."
This "young Daoist," who could drive two great demons to fight to the death, smiled, lifted his wine bowl, and took a sip. "Tongye Continent suffers this great calamity—when we look back later, it will have been a blessing in disguise."
Jiu Niang's heart was a stormy sea.
"Don't worry. I've already drunk fine wine and spoken my complaints. You won't remember anything." The young Daoist set down his bowl, traced a finger around its rim, then stood up, turned, and left the inn.
The scene inside the inn was bizarre, as if time were flowing backward. Jiu Niang, Third Uncle, and the little lame boy began to speak and act in reverse order.
Finally, as the young Daoist stepped over the inn's threshold, everything returned to normal. The little lame boy was dozing at the wine table, the old hunchback was smoking his pipe behind the curtain, and Jiu Niang was still working the abacus.
Everything was still.
Only the young Daoist's wine bowl remained conspicuously on the table.
He leaned back, looking toward the counter.
"Jiu Niang" looked up at him coldly, locking eyes with the young Daoist.
The young Daoist looked behind "Jiu Niang." Snow-white tails, thick as roof beams, crowded densely behind the woman.
The young Daoist counted the fox tails, frowned slightly, then relaxed his brow and left with a smile.
"Jiu Niang" said coldly, "You'll be caught sooner or later."
Though he was far from the inn, his voice lingered within: "I would welcome it. Otherwise, why would I bother this time and deal with a young man Peace Mountain is protecting?"
A moment later.
The little lame boy continued to snore softly, the smoke continued to curl, and the woman's abacus clicked in a chaotic rhythm.
After a long while, the woman noticed the white bowl on the table. She slapped her hand down on the abacus and snapped, "Little lame, are you blind?! Why didn't you put away the bowl on the table?!"
The little lame boy jolted awake. Seeing the extra white bowl on the table for no reason, he scratched his head. He clearly remembered cleaning up, but he didn't dare talk back to the boss lady in her bad mood. He picked up the bowl and headed to the kitchen.
In the vast borderlands, a young man with a crooked Daoist crown sang as he walked: "Gather the gourd, gather the wine gourd! Gather the wine gourd to hold wine! The beloved young lady's hand that pours the wine, tender like white jade lotus root..."
---
Outside the ruined temple, wind and rain swayed.
But even in such a torrential downpour, one could smell a bloody scent.
Sui Youbian dashed to one side. Tonight, she was not like at the inn, where she had wielded a sword like a sword master. Instead, she held Blameless Heart. Her movements were agile as a mountain monkey, leaping and weaving through the trees. Each time her sword struck, sword qi burst forth, cleaving Great Spring border soldiers, armor and all, in two.
Lu Baixiang went in the opposite direction from Sui Youbian, striding forward boldly. Whenever a border soldier with a blade got close, he made a casual cut. Unlike Sui Youbian's grand, sweeping swordwork, Lu Baixiang's saber edge or the razor-sharp qi as fine as hair targeted only the necks of the armored soldiers, or he used the tip of his blade to "point" at the foreheads of the border elite troops.
Meanwhile, from the forests on both sides, martial arts experts and military strategist cultivators were hidden among the ordinary border soldiers, lying in wait and ambushing Lu Baixiang and Sui Youbian.
Barrages of crossbow bolts shot in.
Sui Youbian's aura was so sharp it was even denser than the sword qi of Blameless Heart in her hand.
Truly worthy of being the first female sword immortal in the history of Lotus Flower Blessed Land to attempt to open the heavens with a sword and ascend bodily.
Lu Baixiang strolled as if in a leisurely courtyard.
These men, at best elite mortal soldiers, even with a few somewhat troublesome enemies mixed in, could they be considered a "siege"? Did they not know that in Lu Baixiang's final battle in life, he had gathered against how many masters and grandmasters from both righteous and evil paths?
Moreover.
Along with Zhu Lian, the three who had stepped out of the scroll from the inn outside Fox Village were now far different from before.
Sui Youbian devoted herself to practicing swordsmanship, rapidly adapting to the flow of qi in this Righteous Qi Great World. How could Zhu Lian and Lu Baixiang be slackers? A sixth-realm martial artist who needed to be distracted to adapt to this world's spiritual energy pouring into him was vastly different from a stable sixth-realm peak martial artist.
Directly in front of the ruined temple's main entrance.
Chen Ping'an had used only the flying swords First and Fifteen, cooperating with the martial madman Zhu Lian, to make a surprise attack on the prince Liu Cong once. After that, he didn't act again, still holding the withered branch and standing under the eaves.
Xu Qingzhou, clad in the Golden Crow Solar Armor of the military strategist school, along with the immortal master Xu Tong of Grass Wood Nunnery and the group of military cultivators, shielded Liu Cong. At the cost of Xu Tong's one talisman strongman and one military cultivator's life, they blocked this wave of offensive.
There was no other way. When Chen Ping'an had dealt with the eunuch Li Li in his python robe, he had revealed all his cards. Xu Qingzhou and Xu Tong were well aware of this, so they had anticipated the elusive flying swords First and Fifteen.
Liu Cong retreated as he fought, with Xu Qingzhou and Xu Tong staying close to protect the Great Prince.
The other battle-hardened military cultivators did their best to block the stooped old man's assaults while also watching the short, wiry man in white armor who had yet to make his move.
Two thousand armored soldiers on the mountain, plus three thousand more who could be called up at any time, along with all the military cultivators and the martial arts experts recruited at heavy expense—Liu Cong didn't expect such a lineup to be able to kill Chen Ping'an and his four master-level attendants. But if he could kill or heavily wound two or three, that would be enough to secure victory.
At this moment, Zhu Lian fully lived up to his nickname "Martial Madman."
His entire body was like a spring, bulging with force in all directions, moving as fast as thunder.
At the slightest stir—a hidden attack from a military cultivator—his fur would stand on end like halberds. With precognition, he dodged with precision.
As Zhu Lian charged, the stooped old man bent even lower, his hands dragging on the ground. With every stamp, no one knew where he would shoot off like an arrow. His movement was simply too fast.
Seizing an opportunity, Zhu Lian appeared like a ghost before a middle-aged military cultivator, punched through the man's abdomen with one blow, then used the instantly dead corpse as a shield to block the saber slash of one of Xu Tong's silver-armored strongmen. After discarding the corpse, he instantly shifted sideways, took a few steps forward, and without looking, slammed his arm horizontally into the head of another military cultivator. With a crack, it shattered, leaving a headless corpse that crashed heavily several zhang away.
Wei Xian, wearing one of the eight ancestral Sweet Dew Armors, Xi Yue, reached out to grab the cultivators' magical tools that brushed past Zhu Lian. Once he got them in his grip, he either crushed them directly or bent them with both hands.
Additionally, armored border soldiers with blades kept pouring out from both sides of the road.
Wei Xian began to fall back.
Zhu Lian often used hands or feet to kick or slap the magical tools controlled by the cultivators toward Wei Xian. Wei Xian had to both kill the soldiers charging the ruined temple and clean up the broken gear Zhu Lian threw his way.
In the distance on the mountain path, Liu Cong, straining to look toward the battlefield, kept his face calm. "Do we really have to exhaust my five thousand men? Use five thousand lives to bury these bastards alive?"
Xu Qingzhou said gravely, "It's the only way. Xu Tong and I, along with the three men Your Highness arranged ahead of time, will all watch for the moment when these four change their breaths, and deliver a fatal blow. We'll try to ensure these men don't die in vain."
Liu Cong clenched the saber at his waist, veins bulging. "Why is the information in the intelligence reports so far off from the actual strength of these four martial grandmasters?!"
Immortal master Xu Tong said bitterly, "Actually, General Xu and I are even more baffled than Your Highness. Back at the inn, we could still fight our opponents to a draw. Tonight, if we fight one-on-one, Xu and I are as good as dead."
Liu Cong exhaled a mouthful of turbid air. "I don't blame you. It's that Chen Ping'an hiding his depth too well. It doesn't matter—no matter how heavy our casualties, we'll recoup everything from this bastard!"
Under the eaves of the ruined temple, Chen Ping'an looked down. Hanging at his waist was the jade token from the Peace Mountain Patriarch Hall, gifted by that young Daoist. Chen Ping'an fell into deep thought.