Chapter 217: Three Thousand Mediocre Years

Next,

Jiang Ding no longer struck out at every opportunity.

His flight path was no longer a straight line, but a crooked, zigzagging one, and every so often he even had to double back.

This was to prevent opponents from tracing his path of casualties and deducing where he would be, then laying an ambush along his inevitable route.

Although he might not necessarily be afraid,

a life was only lived once, and there was no reason not to be cautious.

After a while, he drew within thirty kilometres of the Xiang Qiyu Sect marker.

A large number of Xiang Qiyu Sect disciples and Xuetudian disciples had gathered nearby; the spiritual light of spells burst apart as both sides engaged in a brutal life-and-death slaughter.

"Kill them! Slaughter every last thief of the Xuetudian!"

"Any who retreat will have their entire families refined into walking corpses!"

A thousand metres away, Jiang Ding silently came to a halt and watched, making no move.

It was not that he was cold-blooded.

This was not an immortal sect; the abilities and character of temporary allies could not be relied upon. Betrayals and backstabs were commonplace, so he had to look after his own safety first and gather more battlefield intelligence.

This was a classic small-scale team encounter battle.

The Xiang Qiyu Sect disciples numbered over fifty, led by a peak Qi Refining cultivator whose features faintly resembled those of the drunk-nosed old Daoist Li Li Mingda.

This gave them a strict hierarchical order.

The remaining disciples were no pushovers either: six late-stage Qi Refining cultivators, over thirty mid-stage Qi Refining cultivators — Gong Gong Caiyu was among them — and finally over twenty early-stage Qi Refining cultivators.

Their opponents, the Xuetudian disciples, likewise had one peak Qi Refining cultivator, while the number of late-, mid-, and early-stage Qi Refining cultivators was all far fewer than the Xiang Qiyu Sect's.

It would not be an exaggeration to say it was two against one.

In theory, they should have held an absolute upper hand and swiftly crushed their opponents.

"Yet they're at a disadvantage — what's the reason?"

Jiang Ding watched the battlefield, rapidly analysing the situation.

Growl growl!

Over thirty hideous, ferocious black-furred zombies let out low roars, wreathed in black mist with a foul stench, charging at tremendous speed toward the fifty-plus Xiang Qiyu Sect disciples.

"Fire Bird Art!"

"Quicksand Art!"

Li Li Sanyuan's response was also commendable: he had a small contingent of disciples cast spells to block and slow down the relatively Clumsy and Heavy black-furred zombie horde.

The remaining majority of disciples, meanwhile, poured everything into unleashing volleys of spells — thunder spears, fireballs, water arrows and the like — hurling them at the Xuetudian disciples, hoping to crush them outright with an overwhelming tide of force, or at the very least shatter their formation.

Rumble rumble rumble!

The instant over forty spells of various colours were unleashed, the Xuetudian disciples also made their move.

"Poison Cloud Art!"

The Xuetudian peak Qi Refining cultivator was a hunchbacked old crone, who hoarsely waved a dark brown lump of flesh as she spoke.

"Poison Cloud Art!"

"Poison—"

The instant she struck, over thirty Xuetudian disciples struck at the same time; the marks of training were heavy — it was the same spell, cast in an orderly sequence one after another.

Over thirty emerald-green clouds flew out one by one, fusing to a certain extent in the sky to form one enormous green poison cloud, its aura vastly strengthened.

Sizzle sizzle…

When the Xiang Qiyu Sect disciples' awe-inspiring spells struck the green poison cloud, sounds of corrosive crumbling rang out; fire birds, earth spears, water balls and the rest dissolved one after another, losing every last shred of their power.

Yet the green poison cloud still seemed to have some left.

"Kill!"

Li Li Sanyuan's heart sank, and once again he and his junior brothers cast spells together, Yu Shi Fa artifacts, and snuffed it out.

Unfortunately, this could not be sustained.

Another wave of green poison clouds came, and shortly after came volleys of bone arrows, sheets of emerald-green poison fire, swiftly battering the Xiang Qiyu Sect disciples into a rout.

The black-furred zombie horde, which had been held back by the small contingent of disciples, also broke free and came slaughtering toward them.

Panic flashed in Li Li Sanyuan's eyes; he gripped a talisman in his hand and looked back.

"The Xuetudian disciples' spells and Gong Fa are highly unified."

"There are traces of trained formation coordination between the disciples — though it's only the most rudimentary formation cooperation, far inferior even to an apprentice formation master."

"Zombies have the advantage in close combat, and the brutal chain of command suggests there must be binding restrictions."

Jiang Ding summed up several reasons the enemy had overcome a superior force.

By comparison, the Xiang Qiyu Sect fell far short in these respects.

Their Gong Fa — the Seven Veins Gong Fa of metal, wood, water, fire, earth, wind, and thunder — sounded pleasant to the ear, but in reality it had been picked up piecemeal by the founding patriarch through chance encounters; it was scattered and unsystematic, and far from coordinating between the elements, it would be doing well if the spells did not clash with one another.

As for trained formations, the disciples were raised entirely on their own; even among Foundation Establishment registered disciples, all that was taught was Gong Fa and spells — nothing else was attended to.

On the final point, hierarchy, the gap was not so large.

"Three thousand years, and excluding those who died in battle, under orderly inheritance there have been no more than five generations of Jin Dan."

"For the organisational form of an ordinary sect, that seems far too brief — no great changes could possibly have taken place."

Jiang Ding Zi murmured to himself.

Gong Fa, spells, and formations —

these three might look simple, but in reality each was a matter where pulling one hair moved the whole body; change one thing and pills, cultivation environments, spirit-plant cultivation, and disciple training all had to change with it.

It was equivalent to updating every single inheritance the sect possessed, from top to bottom.

Without a peerless genius appearing out of nowhere, or an extremely efficient and suitable sect organisational form, three thousand years of accumulation was still brief — in the Cultivation World, this was called a sect's foundation being insufficient.

"Battlefield information collection complete."

Jiang Ding tapped a finger.

Eight or nine hundred meters away, the world's spiritual energy fluctuated almost imperceptibly for a moment, and a pale blue sword qi openly materialized on the battlefield—its spiritual light utterly ordinary, carrying not the slightest threatening aura.

"Little Martial Ancestor has arrived!"

Li Li Sanyuan, who had been about to flee for his life, was overjoyed. Taking the lead, he turned and charged back into the great throng of Xuetudian disciples, fearless.

"Young Master!"

Gong Gong Caiyu's little round face lit up with pleasant surprise as she looked around intently, searching for something.

"Greetings, Little Martial Ancestor!"

It was not only those two—every Xiang Qiyu Sect disciple's morale surged.

They no longer cowered. Magic power flooded into their meridians recklessly, and one spell after another, even more powerful, flew forth—somehow they once again forcibly withstood the Xuetudian's spells.

"Little Martial Ancestor?"

The stooped old crone's expression shifted.

In the Cultivation World, seniority and strength were tightly aligned.

Ancestor.

That title usually belonged to a Jin Dan cultivator!

"Ridiculous!"

The old crone quickly caught on and sneered, "Even Foundation Establishment cultivators cannot enter the Nine Heavens Remnant. How could a Jin Dan old monster? If you wish to intimidate us, you ought not be so foolish!"

"Kill! Kill the demonic scoundrels!"

The Xiang Qiyu Sect disciples paid her no heed. Their morale soared to bursting, spell after spell raining down, looking at them as though they were piles of spirit stones, utterly disregarding their own defenses.

For the moment, not only did they hold their ground, they even showed signs of counterattacking.

"All the better—you won't escape."

The old crone's expression was cold, unmoved. She continued to calmly and methodically command her Xuetudian disciples to launch spell after spell.

So long as the Xiang Qiyu Sect disciples' magic power flagged even slightly, she could easily slaughter them in droves—escape would no longer be possible.

At the same time, she also noticed the pale blue sword qi in the sky and gave it the highest priority.

"Poison Spear Art!"

The old crone's lips moved slightly, and a green-glowing upper-grade poison spear magic treasure shot forth. The other Xuetudian disciples who still had strength to spare followed suit at the same time.

Whoosh whoosh whoosh!

At least sixteen or seventeen emerald bone spear magic treasures streaked toward the sky with shrill, piercing shrieks.

Everyone was confident—even a peak Qi Refining cultivator would be slain in a single strike!

Whoosh!

The pale blue sword qi pierced straight through, its speed unimaginably fast. Only two emerald bone spears stood in its path—both were pierced through, stalled for a heartbeat, then dissipated.

In the blink of an eye, at a speed even divine sense could not track, it pierced through a bone shield and appeared inside the old crone's skull.

(End of chapter)