Chapter 1129: My Arrow
That dark shadow could be described as a mountain range, or as the arm of a demon god.
At the very front of the mountain range, in the sky above Chen Changsheng and Xu Yourong, five peaks stood like five fingers.
The rain of swords fell upon those peaks, raising clouds of dust and sending cracking sounds echoing without end.
The peaks’ descent grew slower and slower until finally they came to a halt.
Throughout the entire process, Xu Yourong did not glance once at the night sky, as if she were unconcerned—or perhaps it could be understood as her trust in Chen Changsheng.
She thrust her Zhai Sword into the grass beside her.
With a soft hiss, green smoke rose from the blades of grass, yet they did not scorch; instead, they stood straighter, brimming with vitality.
From behind her back, she unstrapped a longbow made of paulownia wood.
A paulownia bow—this was the Tong Bow on the Hundred Weapons Ranking.
Only a handful of people—Nan Ke, Chen Changsheng, Qiu Shanjun, and Gou Hanshi—knew that Xu Yourong’s strongest skill was not her swordsmanship.
The Zhai Sword was found by Chen Changsheng in the Zhou Garden and later sent back to the Holy Maiden Peak.
The Great Radiant Sword Technique was something she mastered only after obtaining the Zhai Sword.
The Tong Bow, however, had been carried on her back since childhood.
On ordinary days, no one could see this longbow.
It only appeared when she needed it.
Like now.
Xu Yourong took out an arrow and nocked it on the string.
This was the Wu Arrow.
Her expression calm, she raised the bow.
Her movements were steady and smooth, flowing like clouds and water, or like the overlay of a dozen images, crystal clear.
The bowstring was drawn back, gradually curving like the moon worshipped by the northern demons.
Her eyelashes did not flutter.
The wind rose.
Her white ceremonial robes fluttered gently.
Her black hair also lifted, floating parallel to the arrow.
Her delicate fingers released the string.
The Tong Bow emitted a sound like a zither.
It was said that paulownia wood was the finest material for zithers; no wonder it sounded so beautiful.
The string’s tone echoed across the grassland.
The arrow arrived before the sound.
A mile away.
A blood hole appeared in the center of a demon cavalryman’s brow.
That hole was perfectly round, its edges smooth—so much so that one might even want to describe it with the word “delicate.”
Then, Xu Yourong drew the bow a second time, a third, a fourth…
Her movements remained steady, possessing a clean, precise beauty.
In a very short span of time, the quiver was empty.
Thirty Wu Arrows left the string of the Tong Bow, flying into the night, straight toward the wolf cavalry a mile away.
Muffled grunts rang out without pause.
Blood blossoms burst open again and again.
Demon cavalrymen fell one after another.
Cries of terror filled the air.
The wolf cavalry scattered in all directions.
Thirty arrows could, at most, bring thirty deaths.
Logically, spreading out the formation was the best choice.
Xu Yourong raised the Tong Bow once more, though it no longer held any arrows.
This time, she took noticeably longer than before.
Finally, she released the bowstring.
A trace of blood stained the string, meeting the night wind, rubbing, igniting, and bursting into golden flames.
Those arrows that had pierced the skulls of demon cavalrymen.
Those arrows that had skewered the bodies of bloodthirsty giant wolves.
Those Wu Arrows that had brought death and then vanished into the night… suddenly returned.
Thirty Wu Arrows, trailing fiery tails, chased after the scattered wolf cavalry across the grassland, like burning firebirds or brilliant meteors.
Years ago in the Zhou Garden, at the end of Mu Valley, Nan Ke had experienced a similar attack.
That night was the first time Xu Yourong had used this technique.
How could those wolf cavalry avoid it?
Thud, thud, thud, thud.
The sound of Wu Arrows piercing hard objects rang out across the grassland.
The Wu Arrows, with their fiery tails, chased the wolf cavalry, driving away the night; wherever they went, death followed.
No one knew how long passed before those sounds finally ceased.
The grassland under the night sky returned to tranquility.
But it was more fitting to call it deathly silence.
Because this grassland had become a graveyard.
Within a radius of several miles, corpses lay everywhere.
Both demon cavalrymen and bloodthirsty giant wolves were dead; none had escaped.
The grassland reflected the starlight, feeling somewhat damp.
It was not an empty mountain, but it seemed like after a fresh rain.
Those were not raindrops, but blood.
Xu Yourong thrust the Tong Bow into the ground.
The Tong Bow was very long; standing upright, it was taller than she was, looking very much like a harp.
In truth, it was not a harp, but a tree.
In an instant, countless branches sprouted from the Tong Bow, bearing countless green leaves that swayed gently in the night wind.
A fresh, clear aura cascaded like a waterfall onto her and Chen Changsheng, and also onto the Earth Hound.
The Earth Hound, who had been sneaking a glance at her, was startled, then felt its injuries healing at an unimaginable speed.
The green branches continued to grow, quickly forming a great tree.
This was a parasol tree.
Within this parasol tree lay the Tong Palace Formation.
She pulled out the Zhai Sword, walked to Chen Changsheng’s side, and looked up at the mountain in the night sky.
“The parasol tree can hold for about eighty breaths. Think of another way.”
The corners of her temples were slightly damp, her expression weary, but her eyes remained as calm as ever, as if she had done nothing at all.
…
…
On the dark grassland, a solitary parasol tree had suddenly appeared.
Its branches stretched through thousands of swords, blocking the mountain in the night sky.
The Tong Bow and Wu Arrows combined to form the parasol tree. The previous Holy Maiden of the Southern Streams Sect, with unimaginable wisdom and ability, had embedded the Tong Palace Formation into the bow and arrows, doubling their power. Only such a divine artifact could withstand the attack of a legendary figure like Yanzhi Mountain Man.
Of course, even this parasol tree could not hold out forever.
Countless thunderclaps echoed across the grassland.
These were the sounds of the heavy mountain dragging against the ground, of rocks and soil deep beneath the earth grinding against each other.
Yanzhi Mountain Man was walking toward them.
His pace was slow, but without flaw, like a moving mountain range, bringing an unimaginable sense of oppression.
There was also a mountain in the night sky, exuding an ancient and weathered aura, immensely heavy, chilling the heart.
The parasol tree rustled loudly; hundreds of green leaves fell, and the trunk gradually bent, creaking as if it might snap at any moment.
Thousands of swords ceaselessly struck at that mountain, sending stone chips falling, which then turned into green light and dissipated midair.
Chen Changsheng’s eyelashes trembled incessantly. He looked down at the ground, lost in thought.
Xu Yourong had told him to think of another way; if he couldn’t, they might have to risk a desperate gamble.
Chen Changsheng’s nature did not favor taking risks, but at this moment, staring at the ground—what plan could he possibly come up with?
He couldn’t exactly make a flower bloom from the earth.
In fact, Chen Changsheng was indeed looking at a flower.
Xiao Zhang lay on the ground, unconscious.
The white paper on his face fluttered in the night wind, the blood spots on it shifting constantly, like winter plum blossoms in the breeze.
Two holes were left in the white paper, where the eyes should be; the nose and mouth were drawn with ink.
This was the origin of the name “Painting Armor Xiao Zhang.”
Why Xiao Zhang covered his face with a white paper was a question everyone was curious about.
Some said he had a birthmark on his face, extremely ugly.
Some said he was born very handsome, often mistaken for a woman in his youth, and frequently encountered peculiar troubles, so he covered his face.
The most famous and widely accepted theory was that, years ago, in order to surpass Wang Po, Xiao Zhang forcibly practiced some evil technique, resulting in a qi deviation that left him severely injured, especially his face, which was nearly disfigured; thus, he covered it with white paper. It was said that the Heavenly Fortune Elder once asked him why he didn’t use a mask or a bamboo hat. Xiao Zhang replied that he covered his face with white paper only to avoid scaring children, not because he was ashamed to show himself—so why use a mask? As for a bamboo hat, it was even more stifling.
Based on Chen Changsheng’s understanding of Xiao Zhang, the story of this conversation between the Heavenly Fortune Elder and Xiao Zhang was likely false; it was said to be just idle talk, so the theory itself might not be true. Xiao Zhang’s face might not have any terrible wounds.
So what lay beneath the white paper?
Many people wanted to peel it off and see, but few dared to do so, and those who had tried were already dead.
Now, with Xiao Zhang unconscious, it was perhaps the best chance to see his true face.
It was indeed a great temptation, and Chen Changsheng seemed unable to resist. He reached out, ready to lift the white paper.
But with the demon clan’s powerful enemy before them, the pressure like a mountain, and the situation so perilous, why was he still thinking about such things?
…
…
(I know absolutely nothing about bows and arrows, but I love them deeply because I find them beautiful. That’s why in “Joy of Life,” there was Yan Xiaoyi; in “The Interstellar Guest,” there was Young Master Shi playing with a sniper rifle; not to mention “The Night’s End”—Ning Que’s iron bow was the most carefully crafted weapon I’ve ever written. In “The Path Toward Heaven,” my favorite is Xu Yourong using a bow and arrow. Though it happens rarely, every time I write it, I get excited. Back when I wrote her battle with Nan Ke, I told everyone that Yourong is my Kikyo. I love her. Thank you. The previous chapter had some typos corrected and some sentences revised. Regarding the difference between winter plum blossoms and plum blossoms, a reader reminded me—I genuinely don’t know the difference. Anyway, this is a different world, so let me paint it as I please, hehe.)