Chapter 138: A Single Man and a Single Sword Break Three Hundred Armors; Evil Ghosts Rise and Fall in the River
The rain fell harder and harder, every single droplet plunging from the sky and striking the expanse of reeds, causing each reed to sway its slender form from side to side.
The interwoven curtains of rain blurred the mist hovering over the riverbank, obscuring the landscape completely. Yet, for a cultivator, the eyes were never the sole instrument for observing the world.
A sweep of divine consciousness ensured that the figure emerging from the dense fog could no longer conceal themselves.
The youth in white wore a sword case and a long saber at his waist, and carried an octogenarian on his back, whose body was wreathed in the aura of death.
Leaping out from a military tent, a robust man released primordial spiritual energy that intertwined with his vital blood around his body. He widened his eyes to the utmost, seemingly determined to manifest the ferocious and untamed spirit of the Yuan-Mongol grassland warriors to the fullest.
"Enemy attack!"
His roar stirred the entire encampment into a frenzy.
Even though the intruder was merely a youth carrying an old man, this warrior of the sixth realm dared not harbor the slightest bit of contempt.
Not everyone was aware of the events that had transpired in Dadu. Zhao Huangting's challenge to the Yuan-Mongol Emperor was indeed intensely heroic, but only those standing at the absolute pinnacle of the cultivation world were qualified to witness and comprehend that duel.
He knew neither the youth's origins nor the background of the old man on his back. However, the murderous intent woven into the fabric of heaven and earth caused this battle-hardened veteran to instinctively sense a deep crisis.
The rain grew heavier, and the water vapor evaporated from the river rushed into the clouds. Upon reaching a critical limit, the accumulated water returned once more to the mortal world.
The raindrops smashed into the ground, mixing with the dust and raising an intensely pungent earthy scent.
Three hundred soldiers of the Yuan-Mongol Empire, clad in heavy armor, stood in a stern and compact formation before him, their interwoven vital blood forming a majestic martial momentum in the sky above.
Martial momentum was the unique aura of an army. The blending of hundreds of souls and breaths was as heavy as a mountain—a direct impact upon the mind and spirit.
Glanves had weight, and when hundreds of pairs of eyes locked onto someone simultaneously, even cultivators would find their minds shaken by the sheer force of the impact.
As An Le walked, he raised a hand and gripped the exquisite sword hilt protruding from the sword case—a masterpiece forged by Master Wang Yansheng. The sword guard resembled the tail of a swallow, and delicate circular patterns wound around the grip, providing a non-slip texture while enhancing the tactile connection with the weapon.
An Le grasped the hilt and slowly drew the blade. This top-tier first-grade sword, crafted with An Le's participation and fused with his very vital essence, seemed to share a single mind with him. At that moment, it emitted a crisp, clear hum that shattered raindrops individually with its mere resonance.
He did not draw Qingshan, but instead hung the bamboo sword Qingshan at Zhao Huangting's waist, allowing its spiritual aura to envelop and shield the exhausted old man, ensuring he would not be caught in the fallout of the impending battle.
This was the first time An Le had ever used Returning Swallow. This top-tier first-grade sword was rather broad and appeared heavy, yet in An Le's hands, it was as light as a goose feather, obeying his every whim as if it were an extension of his own arm.
Perhaps this was the tacit understanding between a swordsman and his sword.
An Le broke into a run. The primordial spiritual energy within his Dantian trembled, merging seamlessly with his vital blood, causing his aura to climb step by step.
He needed a swift and decisive victory, leaving no room for procrastination.
The ancient beast of the five-animal tiger manifestation!
His vital blood surged around him, weaving together to form a magnificent, multicolored spiritual tiger!
His entire body transformed into a charging, blood-red beast, slamming fiercely into the formation of three hundred heavily shielded soldiers.
Military warfare differed vastly from individual cultivation combat; behind the heavy shields were rows of long spears, advancing relentlessly like a war chariot!
Boom!
An Le crashed headlong into the formation.
His vital blood scattered outward, and the high wall formed by the overlapping heavy shields caved in deeply. Yet, due to the compounding strength of the collective defense, they managed to absorb An Le's initial impact.
He was like a massive boulder attempting to dam a river, only to be momentarily held back by the current.
An Le's expression remained unchanged. He planted a heavy foot onto the nearest shield cast from refined iron, thrusting Forward with Returning Swallow. Instantly, the thick, heavy armor was pierced through as easily as if it were tofu.
The Yuan-Mongol soldier behind the shield immediately had his skull penetrated, losing his life on the spot.
As raindrops fell, they were repelled and shattered by An Le's surging aura. Facing three hundred armored troops entirely alone, he took a step back, curled his fingers into a fist, and smashed it forward.
His blow struck Returning Swallow, and the piercing cry of a swallow rent the air!
The sword light, resembling a flood dragon leaping from the abyss, carved straight through the defensive wall of heavy shields, tearing a massive breach in their lines!
Meanwhile, the sixth-realm commander kept a saber at his waist as he casually picked up a profound-iron grand bow, notched a pitch-black arrow, and aimed it from afar at the charging youth.
Cultivators were indeed transcendent, but when facing an entire army, invincibility did not come easily.
If an eighth-realm cultivator were present here, three hundred armored soldiers would have been slaughtered to the last man within moments. If a ninth-realm master stood in his place, the three hundred troops would crumble in an instant.
However, the youth before him was merely in the fifth realm. To face three hundred armored men alone was, in his eyes, sheer arrogance.
Under the overlapping pressure of military momentum, cultivators were heavily suppressed. Many experts refused to face large armies head-on precisely because the unique power of military formations and martial momentum limited a cultivator's output. In a war of attrition, it was far too easy for an army to grind a lone cultivator to death!
"Pull back thirty paces! Hide spears behind the shields and throw them to kill!"
"Drag this out until his vital blood is exhausted and his mind is withered, then treat him to the spectacle of being pierced by three hundred spears!"
The sixth-realm Yuan-Mongol garrison commander drew his bow, bathed in the pouring rain, and roared ferociously.
The troops pierced through by An Le instantly shifted their formation, forming a wide circle to surround him completely.
Returning Swallow whined as it flew back. An Le caught the hilt and pressed a finger to the center of his brow.
His sword furnace rang out with a metallic clash as sword qi surged.
His divine consciousness sat cross-legged atop his heart-sword, the zizhuo light radiating to a height of a hundred feet!
A multicolored multicolored splendor swept outward.
The sixth-realm archer's expression changed drastically in sheer horror.
Was he seeing things, dammit? Zizhuo radiance reaching a height of a hundred feet?!
And the scene that unfolded next made his pupils contract violently and a chill course through his entire body!
A majestic momentum surged from within An Le, echoing like a dragon's roar in the ears of every single soldier, plunging them into a momentary daze.
Then, they beheld a heavenly dragon ascending from the white-robed youth, winding through the air with an invisible, oppressive weight that swept over them, making them feel as though the youth became invincible the moment he drew his sword!
"An invincible momentum?!"
The sixth-realm commander had some knowledge of such matters, and upon recognizing it, he grew even more terrified.
An Le flicked his finger, his mind intertwined, his expression as calm as an ancient well—devoid of joy or sorrow.
When it came to fighting, he favored rainy days.
Because for him, rainy days meant an infinite supply of swords.
Every single drop of rain was a sword.
The intent of his heart-sword expanded. With a tap of his finger toward the front, ripples like those on a calm lake spread outward. Within the interior of every suspended raindrop, in the span of a mere heartbeat, imperceptible sword qi sprouted.
"Sword qi draws near," An Le murmured.
All things in heaven and earth feel the proximity of sword qi.
Every raindrop was a sword.
Puff, puff, puff!
Rain fell, swords fell, heads fell.
Blood instantly dyed the ground crimson, and though the heavy rain beat down upon the earth, the coppery stench of carnage refused to dissipate.
Dozens of second- and third-realm soldiers surrounding An Le had their heads severed by the rain-turned-swords. One head after another fell to the ground like split cabbages.
The military formation showed signs of immediate collapse!
An Le charged forward once more, his sword rising as if he were dancing.
The sword technique: Bamboo Branches.
It was as if emerald bamboo stalks were sprouting from the earth, piercing straight through the bodies of the Yuan-Mongol soldiers one after another.
Returning Swallow hummed, its blade trailing a string of blood pearls. As the fractured military formation failed to regroup its momentum, An Le faced minimal pressure, allowing him to slaughter with terrifying speed.
Zhao Huangting squinted his eyes, resting upon the youth's back with a smile at the corner of his lips, feeling a deep sense of peace.
An Le was killing enemies using the sword techniques taught by the old man himself, executing them with absolute mastery—a sight that filled Zhao Huangting with boundless astonishment.
The corpses on the ground piled ever higher. Even when the soldiers attempted to reform their array, the dwindling numbers meant the pressure on An Le grew less and less.
Two fifth-realm deputy commanders flashed forward at a hand gesture from the sixth-realm archer.
The sixth-realm commander continued to draw his bow, searching for an opening!
As the two fifth-realm deputies closed in, their vital blood and spiritual wills intertwined. The fifth realm was not weak, but not every fifth-realm cultivator was a genius.
Returning Swallow swept through the air like a streak of light, gently tapped by An Le, and a shockwave exploded outward. Manipulated by his mind, the five-note sonic slash blasted half of one deputy commander's body into a bloody pulp.
Pressuring them with his invincible momentum, An Le let Returning Swallow flash past, sending a fine head flying into the heavens.
The other fifth-realm expert seized the opportunity to strike. An Le drew the gold-bladed Ding Fengbo from his waist and brought it down heavily. Wielding strength far surpassing the fifth realm, combined with the domineering nature of the second-grade divine weapon Ding Fengbo, he instantly shattered the enemy's weapon and carved a deep gash across his neck. As blood spurted in torrents, An Le delivered a follow-up blow to end his life.
Killing a fifth-realm expert while in the fifth realm—was it truly this effortless?
Ever since he began his cultivation journey, the opponents An Le encountered were hardly ordinary practitioners. Aside from the ordinary carriage-driver-turned-blacksmith Jian Shan, whom he met back when he knew Luo Qingchen, every other cultivator he faced could be deemed a genius.
Yet An Le had emerged victorious every time, even soaring all the way up the Little Saint Ranking.
Now facing peers of the same fifth realm, enhanced by an invincible momentum and wielding weapons of superior grade, victory naturally came with supreme ease.
A cold tremor gripped the heart of the sixth-realm commander. He knew that this charging youth, even among the peerless geniuses of the Yuan-Mongol Empire, was second to none.
This realization cast an ever-thickening shadow of unease over his heart.
Yet, amid the gaps in An Le's killing spree, his eyes narrowed as he found his moment, releasing the arrow instantly.
Time itself seemed to freeze beneath that single shot; raindrops were pierced right through and shattered.
The arrow contained the mental suppression of his sixth realm, driven by primordial vital blood, and launched at the absolute optimal timing. Even a fifth-realm cultivator would find it hard to dodge and was bound to be impaled.
However, the so-called suppression he wielded was utterly useless against An Le. Glancing at the oncoming missile, An Le flicked a finger with precise accuracy against the shaft. The arrow veered off course, screaming through the air to pierce several Yuan-Mongol soldiers and kicking up a mist of blood.
An Le looked toward the bow-wielding sixth-realm commander. His heart-sword, reforming after its initial wave, pressed downward with a gentle gesture of his palm.
Instantly, fresh flowers of blood burst forth among the surrounding soldiers once more, and more heads tumbled to the earth.
Amidst the blooming blossoms of blood, An Le guided Returning Swallow, gripped the blood-stained golden saber Ding Fengbo, shifted his stance, shattered the beads of frozen rain, and lunged straight toward the sole sixth-realm expert remaining in the Yuan-Mongol army!
...
...
When An Le unleashed his spiritual aura to charge and slaughter the army, wave after wave of immensely formidable divine consciousness swept across the area instantly.
The sound of air tearing apart rang out without stop. The powerhouses who had chased him all the way from Yuan-Mongol's Dadu arrived at this very moment.
However, high up in the vault of heaven amidst the howling torrential rain, the Sixth Mountain Master stood with a松 wood sword case on his back and his arms crossed, blocking their path once more.
With a mere inch of the case opened, sword light poured forth like a waterfall. All three thousand hidden swords emerged, transforming into three thousand human figures suspended in the sky above.
Yet, the Sixth Mountain Master could only intercept those of the ninth realm.
Eighth- and seventh-realm cultivators of the Yuan-Mongol Empire were beyond his ability to stop entirely.
As for sixth-realm experts, there was no need for the Sixth Mountain Master to hinder them at all. Although the gap between the sixth and fifth realms was massive—a watershed in cultivation tiers—in the face of a true genius, this dividing line was as good as nonexistent.
With An Le's soaring momentum on the Little Saint Ranking, coupled with the invincible momentum he had learned to gather from Li You'an, any ordinary sixth-realm expert daring to block his path... was simply seeking death.
They would experience the crushing weight of genuine talent.
They would understand that between human beings, vast and insurmountable differences truly existed.
Down on the northern bank of the Canglang River, the pillars of vital blood surged relentlessly. The assaults launched simultaneously against the Yuan-Mongol border army by Ye Longsheng, Zhong Shiji, Di Zang, and Li You'an had indeed taken effect.
Even though An Le's exposed location and the beacon of his vital blood had ignited too late for the main armies to render immediate support, scattered Yuan-Mongol practitioners stationed across various regions rushed toward the scene at breakneck speed.
A rare smile touched the stern face of the Sixth Mountain Master.
With arms crossed, swords danced around him, tearing open a scroll of paintings amidst the rainy canopy of heaven. Within the scroll, sword qi fluttered, completely enveloping the numerous ninth-realm masters.
Down in the reed marshes, a wave of air swept across abruptly, forcing the reeds to bend their stalks to either side, unable to straighten themselves again.
The sound of air breaking echoed continuously as raindrops were shattered into misty vapor.
Though the ninth-realm powerhouses were intercepted by the Sixth Mountain Master, numerous eighth- and seventh-realm cultivators still managed to arrive in pursuit.
When they reached the military camp, the heavy stench of blood lingering in the air had yet to disperse.
The three hundred armored troops of the Yuan-Mongol Empire had been utterly annihilated, torn apart and slaughtered to the last man.
Intermingled blood flowed in winding streams, forming what was nearly a small river.
Two eighth-realm cultivators walked step by step through the fields of corpses with gloomy expressions.
Finally, they halted before a headless corpse kneeling on both knees. That headless corpse was none other than the commander of the three-hundred-strong garrison squad.
A sixth-realm cultivator who had transcended body-tempering and stepped into the Qi-Observing Sea realm.
"Carrying a burden stripped of his cultivation, a mere fifth-realm cultivator broke through three hundred armored troops and crossed realms to slay a sixth realm..."
Even the two eighth-realm experts felt a heavy weight pressing upon their hearts.
Had they been in the fifth realm themselves, they would have been utterly incapable of such a feat.
An army of a hundred formed a unit, and the military momentum driven by three hundred armored men under the leadership of a sixth-realm commander possessed a combat efficacy no lesser than that of a seventh-realm cultivator.
Yet, An Le... not only carried a dead weight on his back, but he had also broken through the three hundred armored soldiers single-handedly.
The various cultivators exchanged glances, deep shock reflected in their eyes. Suddenly, they all flashed forward, landing on the riverbank.
There, upon the turbulent and churning river, they spotted a solitary skiff cutting through the relentless pounding waves, heading toward the opposite shore.
Upon that small boat, they saw a white-robed figure leaning on a sword. His clothes were stained with blood, and as he faced the river wind, he looked back at them with absolute calm.
hovering above the youth's head, a heavenly dragon formed from white spiritual aura coiled and roared silently.
The many powerhouses of the Yuan-Mongol Empire fell silent. The two eighth-realm cultivators wore cold and desolate expressions, even harboring an impulse to stride across the waves in pursuit and capture the white-robed youth.
However, reason quickly conquered that urge.
"Forget it. Such a genius is bound to possess trump cards beyond our comprehension. To chase him down while defying the terrifying great evil lurking within the Canglang River—it would be a joke if we were ambushed and wiped out."
"Geniuses should be hunted by the talents of our Empire's Falcon Ranking. Iron Lie, Wotai, Tuzhen, Boqi—the top talents of the Falcon Ranking should find great joy in hunting down this person."
The Falcon Ranking was a roll of honor maintained by the Yuan-Mongol Empire ever since their days of galloping across the grasslands.
All geniuses under the age of thirty were listed upon it. Now, as the Yuan-Mongol Emperor refined the Central Plains dragon vein, the power of the dragon vein and the national fortune of the empire nurtured these talents in return. It was said that the top prodigy on the Falcon Ranking had already stepped into the twin seventh realms, exhibiting strength not the least bit inferior to some older-generation cultivators.
This was precisely why Yuan-Mongol practitioners increasingly looked down upon Great Zhao, Western Liang, and the Dali Kingdom.
In terms of succeeding generations of geniuses, the combined forces of Great Zhao, Western Liang, and Dali fell short of the Yuan-Mongol Empire.
"In the past, our Yuan-Mongol geniuses lacked the qualifications to contend for the position of Sacred Mountain Master. But things are different now. As His Majesty refines the Central Plains dragon vein, the seventh sacred mountain is about to open, giving the geniuses of our Falcon Ranking a chance to fight for the title of Seventh Mountain Master at last."
"Even the Sacred Mountain itself shall be conquered by us!"
...
...
River water battered the skiff, while rain pattered against the boat's canopy, making a rustling din.
This modest vessel was the only boat found docked near the encampment.
After slaying the sixth-realm commander, An Le had promptly seized it, hoisting the entire boat into the Canglang River.
Crossing the river was far easier with a boat, unless one was a ninth-realm powerhouse capable of ignoring the terrifying monsters lurking at the riverbed and strolling effortlessly across the waves.
When Zhao Huangting had traveled north across the river previously, he had stepped on a single sword called *Shooting the Dipper*, cleaving the waves straight across.
With An Le in tow, his speed had been lightning-fast.
At that time, Zhao Huangting had ignited his Nirvana, climbing his cultivation to the absolute peak and almost touching the tenth realm, making the river crossing naturally effortless.
Yet now, journeying south, attempting to cross with that same level of nonchalance was simply out of the question.
With the skiff beneath him, isolating him from the crushing pressure and suction of the Canglang River, An Le finally found a rare moment of relaxation.
Zhao Huangting sat inside the cabin, gazing out at the boundless, roaring river current and the spray splashing onto the deck, a trace of exhilaration in his eyes.
He looked at the blood-stained youth in white standing tall upon the deck leaning on his sword, and his expression softened significantly.
In the distance, pillars of vital blood surged as terrifying experts clashed. Even from far away, one could hear the beating of war drums carried upon the river wind.
"That is Ye Longsheng and Zhong Shiji stirring up war to cover your retreat, preventing the Yuan-Mongol naval forces from hunting you down," Zhao Huangting said softly.
An Le nodded, having already guessed as much.
Otherwise, the moment the vital blood beacon rose in this region, all stationed powerhouses of the Yuan-Mongol Empire would have converged upon it.
The reason they had not come was obviously because they were being held back.
Ye Longsheng must have learned his location in advance, likely due to secret intelligence relayed by the Sixth Mountain Master, ensuring the battlefield did not spread to this area.
An Le knew that his smooth southward return was fundamentally thanks to the assistance of numerous top-tier experts.
The Sixth Mountain Master held back the ninth-realm figures rushing from Dadu, while peerless martial generals like Ye Longsheng and Zhong Shiji launched fierce assaults to pin down the military experts of the Yuan-Mongol side.
Only then was he able to enter the river with ease.
"Of course, there is another reason. Because the Yuan-Mongol Emperor chose not to kill you, the powerful figures of the empire instinctively followed the Emperor's will, even believing that leaving a genius like you alive for the talents of the Falcon Ranking to hunt would be far more meaningful," Zhao Huangting chuckled.
"The Falcon Ranking?"
Vital blood steamed from An Le's body, vaporizing the rain and river water into a mist.
He stepped into the cabin, looking at Zhao Huangting with a puzzled gaze.
"Just as Dali has the Astral Ranking, Western Liang has the Earth-Slaughter Ranking, and Great Zhao has the Little Saint Ranking... Yuan-Mongol maintains a similar classification for geniuses under thirty years old. That is the Falcon Ranking. However, in recent years, nourished by the Central Plains dragon vein and the ever-growing national fortune of Yuan-Mongol, the talents there have grown stronger in both cultivation and innate aptitude."
Zhao Huangting's voice was low, carrying a hint of lingering emotion.
An Le nodded, though he did not pay it too much mind.
He had not even reached the summit of the Little Saint Ranking yet, so he naturally had no interest in paying attention to some Falcon Ranking.
"You will likely encounter them soon enough. The seventh mountain is about to open, and there will be no shortage of geniuses from the Falcon Ranking..."
Zhao Huangting drew a breath and spoke softly.
An Le smiled, sitting cross-legged inside the cabin to channel a wisp of primordial spiritual energy into Zhao Huangting. While banishing the biting chill, this kept the old man's vitality and spirit sustained.
Silence quickly fell within the cabin once more.
Zhao Huangting leaned against the bulkhead, closing his eyes to enjoy a moment of peace.
An Le let out a long breath of turbid air and began organizing his years of accumulated time-qi.
Before the battle against the three hundred armored soldiers of the Yuan-Mongol camp, An Le had extracted a batch of time-qi, yielding thirty wisps.
Pity that none of them were golden time-qi.
Though three days ago, he had managed to extract a wisp of golden time-qi from the Yuan-Mongol Emperor, An Le had yet to contemplate it.
He had worried that observing the golden time-qi would trigger fluctuations detectable by the ninth-realm experts of the Yuan-Mongol Empire, exposing his tracks.
Now, however, out upon the Canglang River, An Le finally relaxed his mind.
He began to contemplate that single wisp of golden time-qi harvested from the Yuan-Mongol Emperor.
Yet, almost immediately, he opened his eyes, his brows knitting together slightly.
...
...
The skiff cut through the waves.
Due to the heavy downpour, the mist over the river grew thicker and denser by the moment.
Suddenly, within the fog blanketing the river, twisting dark figures began to appear one after another. One skiff after another, carved with ferocious ghost faces upon their prows—resembling vessels galloping forth from the nether-world of the Yellow Springs—shattered the mist and cleaved the waves.
Accompanied by the weeping of ghosts and a heavy stench of blood, they rapidly closed in on the small boat carrying An Le!
Atop the lead ghost-prowed vessel, Tong Diao Si was wrapped entirely in a black robe, his hands hidden deep within his sleeves.
He narrowed his eyes, staring fixedly at the skiff rising and falling in the river, his expression entirely devoid of emotion.
Requests for monthly tickets and recommendation tickets, everyone!
(End of this chapter)