Buzz!!!
The sound of bowstrings releasing echoed in the pitch-black night like a storm crashing down.
Countless arrows, coated with incendiary oil, rained down from all directions toward the Mountain God Temple. These were arrows from the Northern Dynasty's Ying Kingdom—long, barbed shafts, designed specifically to pierce armor and break through protective auras. Each arrow cost three taels of silver, and at this moment, the dense barrage was enough to instantly turn a hundred armored soldiers into porcupines.
Yet in the next instant, the endless storm of "Cang Wolf" arrows froze midair, as if the void itself had solidified.
These arrows were fired from thirty-stone strongbows by warriors of the Condensing Qi Realm, arranged in three rows for continuous volleys. Each Cang Wolf arrow could penetrate three layers of armor instantly. But now, they were suspended in the air, with only their tails trembling violently.
Even the archers' expressions changed.
Still, they drew arrows faster, maintaining their continuous rain of shots. The sound of the arrows slicing through the air filled the night like a storm.
Yet these Cang Wolf arrows, designed specifically to break through protective energy, couldn't even come within a zhang (about 3 meters) of the Mountain God Temple.
As they drew arrows once more, suddenly, they heard an intense, buzzing whistle from the trembling arrows. Countless arrow shafts were stuck in the air, their tails quivering violently, the tremors growing faster and faster until the sound resembled a swarm of bees.
And amidst this sharp buzzing—slow, steady footsteps echoed forward.
A burly man stepped out slowly. His curly black hair danced in the night wind, his clothing stained with dirt and grime. His back was ramrod straight, his hands and feet large, his brows calm and steady—like a tiger silently hunting its prey.
The suspended arrows began to twist backward in midair.
He lifted his hand and casually brushed aside the arrows in front of him. They dropped to the ground like powder, disintegrating as they landed.
The archers up front held a final, special arrow in their hands.
Cold sweat soaked their backs.
Ahead, twelve men clad in dark armor stood upright, right hands resting on their sword hilts. Their hanging sleeves were embroidered with intricate cloud patterns, their presence brimming with killing intent. The leader spoke slowly:
"General Yue Qianfeng of Great Chen's Zhenwei Army. It's been a long time."
Yue Qianfeng's gaze was cold. "Just you few? Where are Xiao Wuliang and Zhao Mannu? Without them, how long do you think you will last?"
The leader answered confidently, "General Yue, your strength is extraordinary, but your Dharma Form has already been destroyed by the Grand Marshal. For three months, you'll be unable to unleash your full power. With only your physical body and inner energy, how much stronger could you possibly be than us?"
Yue Qianfeng sneered, "Stronger? Why don't you come try for yourself?"
The leader of the Night Riders said coldly, "You shouldn't have come to save him."
"You've thrown away your bright future."
Suddenly, Yue Qianfeng's rage erupted. "Marshal Yue was falsely accused! Twelve imperial decrees called him back to the capital and shattered his Dharma Form—that kind of court? To hell with such a 'bright future'!"
The surrounding atmosphere turned rigid, hostile energies locking against each other. Each side watched for the slightest opening in the other's defenses. The heavy humidity of the night began to condense from their clashing murderous intent, turning to rain, drizzling softly, and splashing against armor with faint patterns.
Soft metallic murmurs echoed.
The Night Riders, in perfect unison, began to draw their swords.
Their blades were long and narrow, lethally sharp. As they slid out of their scabbards, the steel seemed to merge with the night, and the air grew colder. In the next instant, the Night Riders suddenly lunged forward!
Their charge thundered like rolling storms.
They split apart like phantoms, each taking a position and executing complementary formations. Beams of brilliance fell like shooting stars on a rainy night.
Suddenly, Yue Qianfeng burst into loud laughter. With a flick of his wrist, the arrows still suspended midair twisted violently.
Thousands of arrows instantly reversed course toward the archers and Night Riders.
In that instant, the sky filled with an azure dragon of arrows.
"Night Riders! You underestimated me!"
Yue Qianfeng roared with laughter, his wrist turning again, the whine of the arrows rising to a crescendo, like a dragon's roar.
In the blink of an eye, the arrows tore through the front-line archers, dragging blood and flesh with them. Blood flooded the ground, painting the rain-soaked night crimson.
The Night Riders' blades descended, yet they could not cut through Yue Qianfeng's flesh. The towering, mighty man suddenly turned, grabbed one Night Rider by the head, and slammed it against the wall of the Mountain God Temple, grinding his skull along the bricks into a smear of blood and tissue.
With a sharp twist, he flung the corpse aside. It landed heavily on the ground.
His right hand had already seized one of the Night Riders' waist blades, using it to parry the incoming strikes of others. Twisting his wrist, the blade slid along another sword's edge, severing the other Night Rider's arm cleanly at the shoulder.
Flesh and blood flew wildly.
Towering like a lion standing amidst a pack of wolves, Yue Qianfeng brandished the narrow stabbing blade not for piercing, but for brutal, cleaving strikes. In the rain and darkness, glints of cold light swept around him like a storm.
Even without the power of his Dharma Form, Yue Qianfeng was still stronger than these Night Riders.
It was a massacre.
One by one, he butchered the dismounted cavalry. The Night Riders, having abandoned their horses to prevent their hoofbeats from alerting Yue Qianfeng, paid dearly for the decision—they had underestimated his ferocity and the infamous bloodshed of his battlefield reputation.
Twelve Night Riders lay dead on the rainy night.
Yue Qianfeng, bleeding from multiple wounds, lifted his hand to gently trace the blade now pockmarked and dented from the slaughter. He murmured, "It's a sharp blade, I'll give it that. But just like people—with no spine, it's just a weapon for killing. It's not a true masterpiece."
The Night Rider from whom he'd seized the blade was still alive, his face twisted, flesh mangled, struggling forward on the ground. Yue Qianfeng moved to finish him off—
—but then sensed another faint presence.
His tiger-like gaze swept over—and in a small alley to the side of the street, he spotted a thin, small figure curled up.
Li Guanyi.
Both sides had been focused entirely on each other, and this weak child had been subconsciously ignored. But now, with the battle finished, Li Guanyi's presence could no longer be hidden.
He had come here to learn martial arts, yet witnessed firsthand the brutal slaughter between Great Chen's feared Night Riders and this formidable man.
That mutilated Night Rider instinctively crawled toward him, drenched in blood and mud.
In the rainy night and moonlight, the towering Yue Qianfeng stood with a blade in hand, blood splattering his clothes, staring at Li Guanyi. His first thought—Was this kid brought here by someone?—flickered through his mind, but he soon dismissed it, only for another thought to rise: He heard too much. Saw too much.
Mercy has no place in war. Yue Qianfeng had taken countless lives. He was bold, but never soft-hearted.
Now, having slaughtered the Night Riders—and with the treasonous truth of Marshal Yue's downfall spoken aloud by the enemy—this child having witnessed it all might become a threat to the grand plan.
The rain grew heavier, the killing intent more suffocating.
The struggling Night Rider reached Li Guanyi's side, panting desperately.
Li Guanyi looked at the blood-soaked, cloud-embroidered sleeve—the same young Night Rider who had arrogantly flaunted his power earlier that day. The faint, ancient bronze cauldron aura stirred faintly around him, and in the reflection of his eyes, blood-red dragons flickered faintly.
He understood then—he had seen what he shouldn't have seen, heard what he shouldn't have heard—and it had ignited the killing intent in this fierce man before him.
Yue Qianfeng raised his blade. "You saw. You heard."
"I'm truly an unforgivable villain."
The boy nodded silently.
Killing intent swelled, resolute and firm, within Yue Qianfeng's heart.
Looking at this pale-faced, black-eyed child, Yue Qianfeng sighed inwardly.
Such a frail child…
The Night Rider, sensing that Li Guanyi might know Yue Qianfeng, desperately grabbed at his clothes, like clinging to a final, fragile hope of survival.
His hand tore the boy's garment, revealing a poisonous sigil on his chest.
The Night Rider's pupils shrank.
Poison!
And then—
The frail-looking boy suddenly drew a short sword from his waist.
A streak of green light flashed.
Li Guanyi gripped the short sword in both hands and drove it down mercilessly, stabbing directly into the Night Rider's throat. The man's protective energy seemed nonexistent—the blade drove through effortlessly.
With a brutal yank, Li Guanyi pulled it free and drove it again into the man's heart.
He hesitated slightly, then pulled the blade free once more and plunged it into the right side of the man's chest for good measure.
Warm blood gushed out, mingling with the cold rain, soaking the cloud embroidery.
The rain of ten years ago seemed to overlap with this one.
Yue Qianfeng froze, his killing intent dissipating, watching the delicate-looking youth pant heavily before lifting his head. Blood splattered his pale face, and a faint, almost gentle smile appeared:
"Now… we're accomplices."
(End of Chapter)