Chapter 51: Kill If You Can

Jiang Ding glanced at the swarm of arrows flying toward him.

They hadn’t reached supersonic speed, so they could be dodged; moreover, the village guards’ movements were overly obvious, giving him ample time to anticipate.

He tapped his foot, channeling his inner force through a complex structure, his body gliding like a shadow to evade most of the crossbow bolts.

Step-Sword Style! A few bolts remained unavoidable—Jiang Ding drew his sword; a flash of blade-light cut through, accompanied by afterimages, snapping the bolts into pieces.

“Shoot! Keep shooting!”

Zhou Kun watched in icy dread, roaring repeatedly.

This speed.

Far exceeded every opponent he’d faced in years—unheard of. If alone against him, he wouldn’t even have time to react!

Many village guards grew terrified, retreating step by step; the high morale built on grief and rage collapsed rapidly, the tight formation beginning to scatter.

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Too fast! In just two breaths—one retreat and one advance—eleven or twelve strong village guards lay dead, a sixth of their numbers gone.

“This bandit is too cunning, Second Boss, don’t blame yourself too much…”

“This isn’t human!”

The remaining village guards froze, staring in terror at the young man in blue robes and the fading sword shadows behind him.

The village guards frantically reloaded their crossbows—but it was too late.

Shhh! Shhh!

Jiang Ding surged into the dense formation; instantly, eight or nine spears stabbed out, while several agile village guards who practiced Ground-Cutting Blade rolled along the ground, slashing their bright blades at his legs.

One swing of his sword severed and sent flying eight or nine spear shafts; he stepped back, then swung again.

“Kill! Avenge our Boss!”

Inaccurate—aimed at one man, yet the arrow missed by several meters; at just sixty to seventy meters, this would make him the laughingstock of any school classroom.

“Don’t panic! Raise your shields! Come behind me!”

Zhou Kun, furious, slammed his bronze hammers hard against a rock—sparks flew, a boulder the size of a zhang shattered and tumbled down the cliff; his eyes reddened: “If I let this bandit escape, what face will I have to show Uncle Lu in the netherworld?”

“Stay here, and you’ll all die!”

Shhh! Shhh! Shhh! Arrows kept flying; these village guards below Qi Refining had no way to resist—screams rose in waves.

Shhh! Shhh!

Jiang Ding’s footwork shifted lightly, as graceful as a bird, floating down the cliff—Zhou Kun’s hammers and other weapons struck empty air.

Puff! Four rolling heads flew up, blood spraying inches high, staining the soil red.

Zhou Kun roared in triumph, unleashing his Eight-Cloak Hammers in rapid succession—hammer after hammer, his technique growing increasingly exhilarating; under the pressure of a formidable foe, his long-stagnant hammer art subtly hinted at breakthrough.

Each arrow that flew brought a village guard’s death; even when a skilled archer-leader led a counterattack, they despairingly realized the enemy simply shrank against the cliff wall to dodge them all.

This helpless feeling of taking punishment without retaliation was crushing—the morale collapsed swiftly.

The formation fell silent for a moment.

Down-the-Mountain Tiger Lang Yi and Scorpion-Tail Tiger Xu Erniang hurried to comfort him.

!.

No way—cold weapons were already obscure; bows and arrows were utterly out of interest.

Jiang Ding was forced into constant retreat, soon reaching the cliff’s edge.

“Save me!”

The dense formation collapsed in chaos; village guards fled in all directions. Zhou Kun and the other two bosses slashed down several men—but it was useless; soon only a few lonely figures remained.

Jiang Ding, retreating, stepped into empty air.

“Shoot arrows!” Zhou Kun and the two bosses turned pale.

“Who stands in my way—dies!”

The three turned sharply and saw a village guard with a spear, pierced through the chest, face twisted in terror, collapsing lifelessly as blood soaked the ground.

“Ah!” Jiang Ding slashed through eight or nine spears, about to slit their throats with his blade—when two massive eight-pointed bronze hammers, the size of watermelons, descended with perfect form, blocking his sword.

Zhou Kun’s eyes blazed with light; he roared, pouring all his inner force and blood qi into his hammers—the hammer aura nearly solidified, crashing down like Mount Tai upon that handsome head! The other bosses and village guards roared in unison, each unleashing their strongest strike with knives, spears, swords, and halberds.

Fresh life withered.

“Follow me!”

At a cliff bend, Jiang Ding stood calm, drew his bow, and shot.

“Second Boss, mighty!”

Jiang Ding remained calm, moved to a new position, and drew his bow fully—like a full moon.

A scream cut short their conversation.

The young man in blue robes tapped his toes lightly—the cliff face became as flat as ground; he stepped on juniper branches and rock protrusions, his figure flickering several times, evading most arrows, the rest easily deflected.

“Kill!”

Even when occasionally hit, a single sweep of his sword could deflect them.

Before the village guards behind could react, Jiang Ding surged forward again; his blade, speckled with white light, danced—eight or seven spearmen felt a chill at their throats, then collapsed limply.

The surrounding village guards, heartened, thrust wildly with waves of spears to block and protect their flanks; the two Qi Refining bosses occasionally struck from the shadows.

But with dozens of village guards stabbing spears from all sides and the two bosses constantly covering gaps, every opening vanished—transforming into an opponent far more terrifying than Lu Jingtian, Yang Dongsheng, and all others combined.

Jiang Ding ignored them entirely—just plunged his sword into the fray, advancing or retreating, his form ghostly, swordlight dancing within, occasionally bursting forth in chains of blood.

These village guards formed a dense formation—a massive mass—hard to miss even if you tried.

Zhou Kun knew he couldn’t let this continue—he growled, gripped his pair of heavy eight-pointed bronze hammers, and charged through the spear wall, unleashing linked hammer strikes.

Shhh! An arrow, much faster than before, pierced the shield wall, shattered the round shield, and pinned a shield-and-sword village guard to the ground.

A few more breaths later, around a cliff bend—the figures vanished.

His words had some effect—the village guards gathered behind the shield-bearers, raising round shields to form a wall before them.

Zhou Kun smashed one arrow flying toward him with a hammer, a flicker of fear crossing his face as he roared.

Yet, the anticipated misstep or stumble never came.

Over a dozen village guard leaders nocked and fired simultaneously—the arrows surged like a locust swarm.

If it were only Zhou Kun’s pair of hammers, he could simply retreat a step and kill him with one sword—his openings were everywhere.

The village guards reloaded and fired again—but only struck a patch of scrubwood.

Jiang Ding frowned.

“Ghosts… the children turned into ghosts to seek revenge…”

“Worthless!”

Jiang Ding softly spoke—the words clearly carried to every ear around.

“Eight-Cloak Hammers!”

“Ah!”

Ding! As sword met hammer, Jiang Ding used the impact to retreat—but the bronze hammers relentlessly pursued; he could only swing his sword again and again, stepping back continuously.

No matter how the leaders tried to encircle or flank him, they could never fully surround him—only watch helplessly as that blade-light reaped lives.

Fortunately, it didn’t affect accuracy.

“Run!”

Zhou Kun and the two bosses suddenly changed expression, sprinting toward the thickest crowd and blending in.

Several of their steps halted abruptly—faces filled with despair.

“No…”

A young man in blue robes appeared among the fleeing crowd—walking against the tide, holding a long sword, heading straight for them.

(End of Chapter)