Ning Changyuan’s name possessed far greater destructive power than Meng Qi.
Who would have expected that Master Meng of the State had never possessed a formidable reputation back then, and although there had been some rumors at the Chu court, most were mysterious legends of spirits and demons, such as “controlling ghosts and prying into secrets, knowing everything,” which was practically the same pattern as today’s “preserving youth, unfathomable divine skills.”
Zheng Tu had studied under Ancestor Qingwu, then joined forces with Chief Luo of the Holy Lotus Sect to trouble the Purple Star Lord. In truth, he was an expert at feigning the supernatural and particularly adept at using exaggerated rumours to flatter people. Was this Meng Qi person real or fake? Was he an ambitious wanderer leveraging the former dynasty’s State Master title, or was he merely a pawn placed by the Fengxing Pavilion? Zheng Tu would not believe anything unless he witnessed it personally.
Legend on the Jianghu said that Ancestor Qingwu died in Taijing, caught up in an internal palace coup of Qi.
After Ancestor Qingwu’s death, the Cangfeng Temple declined dramatically. His disciples remembered Senior Brother Zheng Tu in Yizhou, and a few went to seek his protection.
Zheng Tu appeared to be chivalrous and righteous in face, but in truth, he was not easy to deal with. These disciples who came from Cangfeng Temple were useless in his eyes, unworthy of being kept around. After he had found out what happened in Taijing, he quietly eliminated them.
Ancestor Qingwu had encountered Meng Qi and that knife-wielding expert calling himself Doctor on Shangyun Mountain, then clashed with them once more in the imperial palace. Ancestor Qingwu died in a particularly unlucky fashion, taking a direct hit from artillery fire—how could that not kill him?
Yet inadvertently, Zheng Tu formed a wrong assessment of the threat posed by Meng Qi.
——They had fought Ancestor Qingwu together, not one-on-one.
Even if Ancestor Qingwu got hit by the artillery because of them, that still was not their true strength.
Zheng Tu heard Ning Changyuan’s shout and hesitated slightly in his move, then the Edgeless Blade instantly brought forth a shower of blood from his shoulder.
“Hmph.”
Zheng Tu collected his spirit and forced himself to fight steadily.
So what if it was Ning Changyuan? Although his title as the world’s greatest swordsman was not undeserved, he had made too many moves; too many people had crossed swords with him, which provided Zheng Tu with countless clues. Zheng Tu had even personally observed one of his duels years ago. It could be said that Zheng Tu had always regarded Ning Changyuan as a future stumbling block he would inevitably encounter.
Having prepared thoroughly and enlisted the help of the formidable Chief Luo, Zheng Tu believed he had nothing to fear from Ning Changyuan and never imagined that day would come so swiftly, catching him off guard.
Wasn’t Ning Changyuan supposed to be roaming the north all this time?
He made false travel permits and monk certificates, mostly for refugees of the northern lands. If he had any business in the south, it was usually with fraudsters, so he seldom crossed the river.
With Nanping Prefecture City not yet captured, where exactly did Ning Changyuan come from? Even if he had heard that the people of Jingzhou had been displaced and crossed the river, how did he happen to arrive at just the right moment to complicate things for Zheng Tu?
In a flash, Zheng Tu reached a conclusion.
“Fengxing Pavilion!”
He snarled in anger, and because his mind was divided, new wounds appeared on his arm and back.
Zheng Tu’s fury grew. Earlier, he had repeatedly tried provoking Mo Li with words, but it had no effect.
Pride was paramount for those living by the sword, especially in the Jianghu. Face and reputation mattered more than life, and the higher one’s martial skill, the more self-assured one became.
Anyone whose martial arts had reached a transcendent state was definitely gifted. Even if they did not enjoy conflict, they would never accept defeat in their pursuit of martial perfection. Even if their moves got seen through, they would try to change them and seek breakthroughs.
Zheng Tu had a familiar routine. He knew what dismissive tone and posture would ignite an opponent’s desire to win.
Because once someone sought a breakthrough in the heat of battle, they would fall into a dilemma, essentially giving up their best skills. No one knew if that breakthrough might succeed, but Zheng Tu would not let any fleeting chance slip away.
Zheng Tu deliberately made his opponent ignore one fact: not breaking through was actually fine. As long as one’s mind stayed calm and the moves showed no weakness, then so what if the blade intent and sword style were discerned? In a duel between masters, there were thirty-six ways to adapt after one strike; even if Zheng Tu recognized the moves, he would always remain in a reactive position!
Since Mo Li gave him no opening, Zheng Tu dared not act rashly.
…Once the previous move got broken, the next move struck again.
He could block or intercept this move, or counterattack, but what about the one after that? There was no predicting.
As long as the moves never repeated nor followed a single pattern, it would remain difficult for Zheng Tu to foresee their variations, and the stalemate would endure.
Zheng Tu likewise persisted in probing. He wanted to find out if the repeated transitions of his opponent were traps, or habits he could not change. If it was the latter, then the outcome of this fight was decided. Therefore, Zheng Tu generally never minded if the battle dragged on. His verbal taunts had been meant to address that unknown figure, Meng Qi.
In the end, this battle felt like a quagmire.
Zheng Tu now believed it was not he who had trapped his opponent, but Mo Li who had trapped him.
He had tested the waters several times, all to no avail.
Zheng Tu could not help but reassess Mo Li. What sort of opponent was this?
——Could it be that he possessed no human emotions, no desire to compete, no personal habits? Why could he control his variations so precisely, even coldly, as though he were playing chess, placing move after move to test the enemy’s patience and willpower?
Was he even human?
***
The main forces of Fengxing Pavilion had withdrawn to Jiangxia, determined to hold out to the end.
Yet they could not simply ignore things at Nanping Prefecture City. Qiu Jing sent Hanshan Tiger and others to search for and assist Mo Li and Su Li.
Shortly after receiving Mo Li’s message, Qiu Jing pondered for a moment. Then she gritted her teeth and personally went to see Ning Changyuan to explain the situation, intending to request Daoist Ning to investigate.
Qiu Jing had thought it would take much effort to persuade him, but unexpectedly, as soon as Ning Changyuan heard Mo Li’s name, he agreed without hesitation.
This famed swordsman of the Tianshan Sect could have lived on in myths and the admiration of the younger generation, yet he lived on in wanted posters and in the word of mouth among the lowest refugees.
Ning Changyuan was a very humble man; he did not think intelligence work was beneath him. Instead, upon hearing that time was short, he took his sword and prepared to leave.
Then he learned it was connected to Mo Li, and there was nothing more to discuss. After all, Doctor Qin Lu of the Mysterious Gourd was his saviour; even if he did not trust the Fengxing Pavilion, he trusted Mo Li.
As for Meng Qi?
When they were at Yejí before, Daoist Ning had already noticed these two had some connection. He was not that surprised to run into them again this time.
He brandished his sword to split the incoming stray arrow. Ning Changyuan’s figure rose, stepping on the tip of the banner to commence a killing spree.
The difference between Jianghu folk and the Tianshou King’s rebel soldiers was so obvious that Daoist Ning spotted them at a glance.
Some of the enraged Holy Lotus Sect masters, desperate to flee, decided to turn back and fight Ning Changyuan to the death. Others were overly cunning, hastily discarding their “distinctive-looking” famous weapons and picking up the blades, swords, and long spears abandoned by the soldiers. Pretending to stagger as though injured, they followed the fleeing crowd.
Those long-renowned demonic experts wished they could find cloth to wrap their faces.
“Ah!”
Each time a short, shrill scream pierced the air, it signified someone nearby had failed to conceal himself and was killed.
“Damn it, they had only three men, and one was pinned down by General Zheng. Why are we losing our nerve? We should risk it all!”
“Exactly! We outnumber them, and we still have bows and crossbows!”
The men of Thunderbolt Hall took the lead in striking back, and their Lei Zhenzi explosives burst into sprays of blood, filling the area with wails.
Never mind Thunderbolt Hall—even the Holy Lotus Sect experts did not care about the rebel army’s casualties under the Tianshou King.
Ning Changyuan had no choice but to leave his vantage point and continue hunting down the Holy Lotus Sect cultists among the masses. In the ensuing chaos, he ran into Meng Qi head-on and hastily spoke: “Brother Meng, this man Zheng Tu excelled at breaking moves. I heard that Doctor Mo displayed his blade skills in Hua County, and now he might be entangled… That fellow was crafty by nature, so I dared not claim certain victory.”
Yet Meng Qi was different. Ning Changyuan believed Meng Qi should be the one to take the field—why had he chosen otherwise?
“I trusted A-Li.”
Meng Qi spoke without emotion.
Daoist Ning paused, unable to react before he saw the Tianshou King’s elite soldiers pushing several large wooden carts to the front lines.
“What is that?”
Daoist Ning instinctively felt this thing was immensely powerful, and Meng Qi had already darted forward.
The Eight Ox Crossbow was formed of three mounted crossbows to create a massive bow, its giant bolts reaching as far as seven hundred paces.
It was formidable, able to embed itself deep into stone walls. If it struck the arrow tower on the city wall, it could even destroy it outright. Its actual might depended on the craftsman who built it. Under Chu’s official system, an Eight Ox Crossbow could reach a thousand paces, and once it launched a volley, it could riddle the opposite city wall with a dense forest of upright arrows.
Its power was such that it broke through fortresses and defeated all defences.
The men of Xiliang had been utterly crushed by such a terrifying weapon. When they tried to defend their city, they lost all courage and nearly lost their minds.
The Jingzhou Army’s Eight Ox Crossbows were too cumbersome to carry up the walls, so they were placed in the second defensive line around the city moat. Nobody expected the Jingzhou Army to collapse so quickly that these deadly weapons went unused, practically handing them over to the rebel army of the Tianshou King.
Operating an Eight Ox Crossbow was no easy task; it required thirty men working together.
Daoist Ning did not recognize the device, and neither did Mo Li.
The battle shifted by the second, so only Meng Qi could rewrite fate by his own efforts.
“…What happened?”
The Tianshou King’s general, who was busy attacking the city walls, grew furious upon noticing the confusion near the Eight Ox Crossbows.
“Someone rushed into our battle lines and damaged the cart’s axle mechanism.”
With that crucial pivot broken, it could not be repaired immediately.
The Eight Ox Crossbows were effectively rendered useless.
“Archers, loose arrows!”
No matter how skilled a grandmaster was, he could not hold off a hail of arrows forever. Even if his energy was boundless, he would tire under a storm of thousands of arrows.
Ning Changyuan sensed danger and wished to help, but saw Meng Qi exploit a gap in the chaos with a few agile leaps and escape effortlessly.
——Meng Qi was familiar with the general formation of archers and their firing intervals. The Tianshou King’s army was neither the iron cavalry of Xiliang, who roamed beyond the pass, nor the elite troops trained by the Chu Empire’s Marquis of Jingyuan, capable of blotting out the sky with their arrows.
“Bring the cannon forward! Cannons!”
“But… our own men occupy the rear, including the Holy Maiden’s protectors and General Zheng.”
At this point, nobody cared about the Holy Maiden. If they failed to capture the city, they would remain mere bandits in the southlands. The rebel leaders, eyes bloodshot, gave a unified order.
“The Holy Maidens are blessed by the heavens; they would be fine. Killing those fiends is what matters!”
“Fire the cannon!”
Meanwhile, Zheng Tu fought with all his might, leaving no room for carelessness. His intent was focused, giving him an aura of fierce invincibility.
The two men’s robes fluttered as their bodies moved like lightning.
Every ridge and wall bore frightful knife marks and claw impressions, resembling a brawl between feral beasts.
Zheng Tu suddenly noticed Mo Li’s misstep and felt a surge of excitement, launching several attacks in quick succession.
Mo Li’s forearm got grazed by his spiked knuckles, leaving a gash about an inch long. He showed no reaction, merely feigning a desperate stagger and retreat.
Zheng Tu was about to press his advantage when a sudden apprehension struck. While he was still in midair, he dropped straight down, then tumbled awkwardly—
“Boom.”
A cannon shot landed exactly on the rooftop where they had just been standing.
Zheng Tu broke into a cold sweat. Amid the flying rubble, he cast a twisted, hostile glare across the distance at Mo Li.
He had come within a hair’s breadth of following Ancestor Qingwu’s fate.
What a pity.
Mo Li held his ground, glanced at the shallow wound on his forearm, and thought to himself that perhaps he had not acted convincingly enough.
However, the cannon came so suddenly that there was no time to prepare.
Author’s Note:
Zheng Tu: What kind of opponent was this? Was he even human?
