Sorry, only the dog food flavour was put on the shelf
“The Jingzhou Army is unable to hold on.”
Meng Qi glanced at the city wall, speaking in a strange tone.
Even though they had disrupted the Tianshou King’s army formation, caught and killed people from the Holy Lotus Sect, and destroyed the Eight Ox Crossbows, the Jingzhou Army, which had rotted to the core, could not be propped up in any way.
The elite of the rebel army attacked the city fiercely.
These former Yizhou soldiers had suffered enough from desertion at the front and repeated defeats.
Straying into remote mountains and wilderness to band together as bandits, they never got to enjoy fish or meat. Sometimes, they even had to dig up wild grass on the mountains to fill their stomachs.
The wealthy lands of Jiangnan would not have been so miserable. Robbing casually once could have let them eat well for ten days or half a month, but what about afterward?
The authorities would eventually come to wipe them out, and members of the martial world would show up to cause trouble. At best, they would be extorted or given a beating—maybe they would gain a new leader skilled in martial arts—but they would be bossed around daily, watching others drink and feast. It was worse than being a soldier.
The Tianshou King had taken them in, using trickery and superstition. Some were fooled, but compared to believing in the Purple Star Lord, what lingered deeper in their hearts was desire.
——They did not want to live in constant fear anymore. They wanted to become the officials they had envied, commanding hundreds of subordinates, with silver in their pockets and fields and houses at home, and marrying seven or eight women.
Those who had once served as Yizhou soldiers wanted it even more. Jingzhou’s army was just like they used to be. They had already fled once on the battlefield, only to find no way to survive after running. Under the Holy Lotus Sect’s brainwashing, they had a sudden realization that having money alone was useless. They had to become officials. They gambled for a chance at fish and meat for the rest of their days, and if they lost, they would simply start over after eighteen years. They had had enough of living like stray dogs!
“Kill!”
One side fought for their lives, and the other side was cowardly. The tide of the battle tipped uncontrollably toward the Tianshou King.
The Jingzhou nobility had their carriages ready, calling on their private soldiers, prepared to flee once the city fell.
Precisely because they refused to hand over their private soldiers for the city’s defense, the King of Jing flew into a rage. Yet the aristocratic families each felt fortunate that they still had a chance to escape.
The private soldiers, raised comfortably by the gentry, were extremely formidable. They could ride on horseback and fight at night. They had full armour and sharp blades, enough to protect their masters while they broke out.
But at this point, they could not carry many belongings with them.
The city of Nanping County was filled with desperate cries. In deep courtyards, one scene after another of loved ones being torn apart took place. Some wept silently, some tried to follow, only to be mercilessly pushed off the carriage by the family head.
Once adorned by pearls, fine jade, and brocades, these beautiful women fell into the muddy ground.
They carried only banknotes, leaving behind gold and silver. They even abandoned their daughters or young sons. Who would have the spare thought for cherished wives or concubines?
——If the carriage carried too much weight, the chances of escape would sharply decrease.
If not for fear of stray arrows, those who could ride would not have wanted to sit in a carriage at all. What if the bandits assumed the carriage held treasure and charged at it in madness? The less conspicuous they were now, the safer they would be.
“Alas, Jingzhou is finished.”
An old man seated in a carriage spoke in agony.
His son rode ahead without glancing back at his crying wife and daughters behind him.
“Is there a place for us in Yangzhou? I fear that once we arrived, we would inevitably be ridiculed and never be able to make a comeback.”
“All this talk is pointless. Let us first preserve our lives!”
The King of Jing sat alone in the palace, watching the attendants and maids scramble for their lives. Suddenly, he let out a burst of mad laughter.
His grown sons had deserted him, each planning their own escape. Only a cluster of wives and concubines and a few underage children remained in the palace.
No one had expected that on the day the rebel army arrived, the outer city would fall.
When the King of Jing went to inspect the city walls, he was carried back unconscious. The last thread of hope weighing on everyone’s mind snapped.
“…Fire? This is bad!”
Meng Qi’s pupils shrank as he disregarded stray arrows and lunged forward again.
The Purple-Edge Sword gathered force and rippled out in front of him. In an instant, the qi force surged, scattering sparks like stars.
The torches the rebels held flew into the air one by one, accompanied by severed, bloody fingers. Right there, it was as if a crimson-flamed purple moon had risen, looming with power and crashing into the densest part of the crowd.
A deafening boom erupted, the ground sinking three feet.
The rebel soldiers could not even scream. Their bodies, like heavy sacks, were hurled into the air and landed with a heavy thud, utterly motionless.
“This——”
Ning Changyuan gawked, speechless.
He had never witnessed anyone use swordsmanship so extravagantly with their inner power.
No, no supreme master would dare use such techniques casually in a battlefield of ten thousand. That would be courting death. Inner power was not infinite, and people could make mistakes. Fighting ten thousand alone was no joke.
But one had to admit, squandering inner power in such sweeping moves was indeed the most direct way to break out of an army of ten thousand.
Daoist Ning lowered his head to look at his sword, his expression tense as he dodged the hidden weapons flying from behind with precision.
Gazing at the Holy Lotus Sect masters closing in with twisted faces, Ning Changyuan gave a twirl of his sword flower and said calmly, “It seems all of you have made up your minds. Come on, then!”
“Arrogant fool! You think you alone could withstand so many of us? I’ll let you in on something: The Thunder Hall is already lying in wait.” An elder, with a shriveled appearance like a wraith, laughed sinisterly. The skull at the tip of his wooden staff glowed with a dim green light.
“The number one sword under heaven? Hmph, prepare to die!”
People from all sides lunged at once. The fierce wind whipped Daoist Ning’s hair beneath his daoist cap, tossing it across his forehead, yet those keen eyes did not blink.
The sword moved faster than its wielder, piercing the ribs of the man on the right.
Daoist Ning suddenly applied force, twisting his wrist so that the sword edge jammed into the bone seam, then yanked the man toward him, using him as a shield in front.
All those vicious attacks landed on the poor soul, killing him on the spot.
Before the others could react, Ning Changyuan channeled power again. Inner energy coursed along the sword blade, shattering that fellow’s ribs. The sword pulled free, darting like lightning to strike at another man’s throat.
“You!”
The sword left a rouge-red mark, then burst instantly. A jet of blood shot skyward from the man’s neck.
The sword’s aura felt as cold as snow on Tianshan’s sheer cliffs, as frigid as a bitter wind in the firmament.
“Worthless. Let me handle this!” The gaunt elder slammed his skeletal staff.
Everyone scrambled backward.
The wooden staff stirred a sickly, foul wind. Even the inner power the gaunt elder released was visibly eerie and gray.
The rebel soldiers who brushed against it developed patches of black-gray skin. They kept scratching at them. Any scratch that drew blood began rotting, and their miserable wails echoed all around.
“Southern Border Gu arts.”
Ning Changyuan frowned, using his sword’s wind to crush the flying insects around him.
The cannon fire rained down on the crowd one shot after another, leaving the rear ranks increasingly scattered, while Meng Qi charged into the front lines, killing three more enemy generals.
The other generals under the Tianshou King saw the situation was dire and swiftly dismounted under the protection of their personal guards, hiding themselves among the masses.
Meng Qi simply slashed at the ornate carriage. The two Holy Maidens on it panicked, trying to block and parry. One had her arm severed at the elbow and fell off the carriage in a bloody mess. Meng Qi kicked at the wheel. Startled, the driver from the Holy Lotus Sect whipped the horse. The carriage suddenly tilted, and the “Tianshou King,” full of terror, tumbled hard to the ground, still trying to maintain a dignified posture.
Before Meng Qi could capture him alive, and before the remaining Holy Maiden could save him, the puppet was trampled beneath the horse pulling the carriage. His entire chest caved in on the spot.
All around, it seemed to have fallen briefly quiet. The Holy Maiden on the carriage, in a moment of desperation, delivered a palm strike that killed the horse.
“Heavenly tribulation was not crossed; the heavens had no eyes.”
She tossed aside her hairpin, letting her hair loose to cover her face, then lunged at Meng Qi.
Yet halfway through, she flew backward like a kite with a broken string. At that speed, Meng Qi would not have caught her without using his lightfoot skill.
Meng Qi sneered coldly. In his eyes, these cowardly scoundrels of the martial world posed far less threat than the generals under the Tianshou King’s command.
Besides, this Holy Maiden believed herself clever, but it did not mean she could truly carve out a path to survive.
“Bang.”
A tremendous force swept in. The moment the Holy Maiden landed in the darkness, she was flung into the air by a surge of qi.
This time, she truly crashed, slamming straight into the wall.
In the next instant, the wall collapsed into rubble. Zheng Tu stood there, face livid, and snorted coldly, “Desertion at the brink of battle was a crime beyond pardon!”
The grand momentum he had painstakingly created was about to be ruined. Zheng Tu instead reined in his fury and used all his might to fight Mo Li. Not only did his moves grow fiercer, but as time went on, he also adapted more and more to Mo Li’s sabre intent.
“You thought you had won?”
Zheng Tu let out a series of cold laughs, as though he was foretelling something. A clamour arose below.
Mo Li frowned and cast a glance, only to see that the fires within the city had grown more and more evident.
They were inside the city, not below the walls.
“A thousand miles of dike would collapse from an ant’s nest. A hundred-fathom house would burn because of a thin wisp of smoke. Jingzhou had long been a decrepit house full of openings—Xiliang people could even take a bite out of it.” Zheng Tu did not attempt to hide the mockery in his tone and laughed aloud. “They launched surprise attacks at a rapid pace, assembled troops beneath the city walls, and attacked nonstop… Just like that, they broke them down!”
Abandoned by his subjects and sons, the King of Jing had set fire to his palace in despair.
Those official families who had also been left behind feared being plundered by the bandits. Some leaped into wells, and some hanged themselves.
Yet even more people wanted to survive, only to be coerced into dying together. Some were covered in blood; some beat at the flames, struggling to escape.
——Clearly, the rebel army outside had already fallen into disorder, and the situation was about to end, yet people were killing each other within the walls.
It was possible to eliminate a rebel army, but one could not save people’s hearts.
The sounds of weeping suddenly felt very close. They echoed in Mo Li’s ears, and he unconsciously slowed the blade in his hand.
Zheng Tu had been waiting for just that moment. He pressed forward with his spiked gauntlet, unleashing killing moves in a row.
His figure whipped about like a gale. In an instant, a net of claw marks crossed and slanted over the wall behind Mo Li, each gouge cut three inches deep. As Mo Li retreated in haste, portions of the wall and buildings collapsed in his wake.
The ground shook repeatedly. Seizing the advantage, Zheng Tu refused to let up. He taunted, “Where were your companions? That Grand Preceptor of the former dynasty—why did he avoid showing up and leave you alone to face such a troublesome foe like me? Did he have too much confidence in you, or did he simply not care about you?”
Mo Li lowered his gaze, eyelashes drooping. Right then, the battle moved into a brighter patch of firelight, illuminating half his face so that a shadow fell across it. His expression could not be seen clearly.
A sudden foreboding struck Zheng Tu. He immediately saw Mo Li release his grip.
He abandoned his sabre.
The bladeless weapon flew around the spiked gauntlet several times, propelled by the force still lingering. The collision of icy steel sparked bursts of fire, preventing Zheng Tu from advancing.
Mo Li stopped his backward momentum. In a flash, he exploded with power. He braced his right foot, halting his decline. Under his boot, the ground cracked several deep lines. Qi current whirled, and dust covered the sky. He swept his sleeve, fully releasing his inner power, and all the torches turned into streams of flame.
They beheld a fiery dragon soaring into the night sky, illuminating a hundred miles.
All of this happened quickly. Zheng Tu had just struck down the bladeless sabre when he saw the flames raging.
A silhouette stood within them, gathering qi with bare hands. Light flickered at his fingertips, bursting into a foot-long white glow—this was the ultimate killing move of a top-tier master, forging qi into a blade.
“You…”
Zheng Tu tried to block, but what barreled toward him at that moment was—
Sword intent?
It was unclear whether the flames at the forefront made everything look like daylight, or if the sword intent resembled a blazing sun. But the sky felt vast, and a mighty power surged forth.
He miscalculated his move, leaving an opening.
In the next instant, his spiked gauntlet and right fist fractured like baked clay, and his arm broke. Losing his defence, he took a “sword” blow to his right flank. He slammed into the ground like a sandbag.
With a deafening crash, half the bones in Zheng Tu’s body shattered.
Their battle stunned everyone, bringing hostilities both inside and out to a temporary halt, and all retreated in dread.
The stabbing pain roused Zheng Tu’s dizzied mind. He snapped his eyes open and discovered he could not move at all. No one dared approach the crater where he had landed.
“How was it… a sword?” Zheng Tu had not misread who unleashed the final move, which was precisely why he found it so unbelievable.
That was a perfectly executed sword intent, of such imposing grandeur it felt like the scorching sun overhead, lording over all beneath it.
Such a sword move, such an insight into sword intent, could not be mastered casually.
And this master of the blade, using his bare hands to unleash a sword technique?
Coughing up a mouthful of foul blood, Zheng Tu still did not understand.
In the distance, Daoist Ning wore a peculiar look and glanced at Meng Qi. The latter sensed it keenly and responded with a half-sneer, half-smile.
Mo Li’s face remained impassive. He stood closest to Zheng Tu.
“It belonged to someone you had never fought. Until just now, he deliberately concealed his sword intent, using only deft power or broad inner force to sweep aside his opponents. Naturally, you had no way to anticipate it.”
“No, you… used a saber…”
“I only knew that one move, it was when I first met him…”
Mo Li cut himself off abruptly, swallowing his words.
It had been a sword that even he found astounding.
In Pingzhou, when we first met, we fought day and night, racing over four hundred li.
——The world actually housed such a master, wielding such sword intent.
Yes, finally, I fought to a draw with Meng Qi.
Author’s Note:
Mo Li’s recollection: When we first met in Pingzhou, we fought day and night, over four hundred li, then he unleashed a sword that astonished me.
Meng Qi sighed: Then we both fell into the lake together.
Mo Li: …
Meng Qi: And we both pretended to be freezing.
——————
Someone asked whether Meng Qi’s swordsmanship was greater or Ning Changyuan’s. Well, strictly speaking, Ning Changyuan did not have as large a mana pool as Meng Qi.
Regarding this, Grand Preceptor Sand Rat had something to say.
Meng Qi raised an eyebrow and sneered: A sword match? My mind worked better!
