Chapter 115: Unstoppable

Hidden Wing has long been one of the Qi Kingdom's most solid and crucial cities. This is not only because of its strategic position, but also because its easy defense and difficulty of attack make surprise assaults ineffective.

The so‑called disadvantage to surprise attacks does not refer only to armies; it also includes assassins and killers. In Hidden Wing City, most structures are high‑walled and slippery, and the civilian houses are attached end to end, lacking a network of narrow alleys. Even an assassin cannot find a proper way to hide or escape.

Moreover, with many open spaces, one only needs to clear the surrounding civilians; even the most formidable person, once heavily surrounded and lacking the ability to fly or shield the ground, will inevitably be worn down to death. This is a scene the citizens of Hidden Wing City see every day.

But today, they hid inside their homes, crouching by the windows trembling with fear, and felt increasingly shocked. That dense army formation numbered at least fifty thousand, and the equipment looked like elite troops, yet after half an hour they still could not deal with those three mere individuals.

Yet the citizens of Hidden Wing City were more delighted than frightened; others might not recognize them. But how could they forget that graceful maiden in white dress and flowing long sword, the Empress who once gave her life for the safety of a thousand? Gradually, the once empty battlefield, which had only the sound of clashing weapons, became lively and noisy. No matter how the clearing soldiers tried to block, they could not stop the intermittent cheers, nor prevent the civilians from causing disturbances and sabotage. Even cheering for those three bold heroes who turned the odds, why not? Moreover, this battle was deeply tied to the lives and freedom of hundreds of Hidden Wing citizens. Everyone thought so.

Cheng Er wore a plain thorn‑embroidered cloth skirt, a light veil covering her face, and quietly watched the three fighting side by side amid the encircling tens of thousands.

The man in black was at the front, the boy in blue stood to his left rear, and the maiden in white stood beside him; the three formed a "pin" formation. Cheng Er's gaze drifted lightly, finally fixing on the man in black as if enchanted, a pang in her chest, she whispered silently: Bu Sha…

His expression remained cold as ever, his features firm, his aura cool and thin, even his grip on the sword exuded frost. Though nothing seemed to have changed, something was different. Those eyes—Cheng Er stared blankly at his night‑black eyes, now speckled with tiny stars. When alone, such brilliant light never ignited in his gaze; when alone, he could never shed layers of indifference and vigilance, yet without looking behind, he could charge forward with full force.

In that instant, Cheng Er suddenly recalled the valley world—a realm enveloped in song, with fluttering maple leaves and natural, effortless harmony—an place no one could intrude upon or destroy. She remembered, too, the gentle, peaceful black‑shining eyes illuminated by firelight.

Everyone has their own happiness. Tears slipped from Cheng Er's flawless white face as she slowly turned and walked away.

It turned out that not everyone needs protection to be happy. It turned out that was truly his happiness—the happiness of jointly holding up a sky.

Ping—pang— rang out, another long sword snapped, my arm tingling from the shock. I stepped back, my shoulders bumping the two, and the shared internal energy instantly flowed through me as a conduit. I don't know who replenished whom, but the new force depleted and the old force revived; I pulled out a severing thread to cut several incoming spears, feeling a fresh, reborn vigor.

I retracted the thread, reached out to catch the long sword Qi Ran tossed, hesitated not a moment, and rejoined the fight.

Being on the battlefield, we are far from as carefree as outsiders think. Though Qi Ran and Bu Sha are masterful, the saying goes that many ants can bite an elephant to death; now fifty thousand elite soldiers are besieging us!

I don't know which wuxia novel I read this in, but a three‑person pin formation requires complementary internal energy among them; each holds a side, attacking without defending, looking forward without regard for the rear. It's not guaranteed victory, but it can buy time and cut down more enemy officers.

I cleanly beheaded the enemy on the right; my arm still tingled, while on the left a cold blade aura swept, the blood‑siphoning strike slashing all incoming swords on my left with a force like a thousand pounds, a semicircular killing aura enveloping my whole body.

A warm, pure internal breath pressed against my back, spiraling smoothly within me, then naturally flowing into Bu Sha's body, completing the cycle.

I looked back; his eyes were night‑black and sea‑blue, mixed with a few caring glints in his chest. I lifted the corner of my mouth, and the three of us smiled at each other—an innate tacit understanding, a wholehearted trust.

Even on the battlefield, even when death looms, as long as the three of us remain together, as long as we fight side by side, even at the last breath, happiness will not stray from us.

If the heart is free, the body bathes in the long wind; unbound across the world, never leaving nor staying. We are the Unwandering Squad, invincible, unstoppable! After half an hour of futile assault, Mu Lifen's patience finally wore thin. He raised his left fist, swung his right hand hard, and the exhausted, terrified crowd that had been besieging us fled in disarray.

A dazzling cold glint flashed before my eyes; I blinked, and when I looked out I was startled. Thousands of archers were stacked in layers surrounding us. The first layer were shield‑bearing soldiers, the second layer crouched archers drawing bows aimed at us, the third layer were soldiers with long bows, poised to replace the front line at any moment.

Mu Lifen ultimately gave up the idea of capturing Qi Ran alive.

"Continuous Execution Arrow Formation," Qi Ran shrugged, laughing helplessly, "If big brother doesn't come to rescue us, we'll all become targets."

"You still have the mood to laugh?" I groaned with a headache, tossed the blunt‑edged long sword aside, lifted a long knife with my toe, gripped it—it fit well enough. I thought: Why am I always lingering on the brink of a dying struggle today?

In a flash I saw Bu Sha's rare thoughtful look; his eyes landed on the few soldiers drawing bows, his black pupils twinkled, and inexplicably a surge of excitement lit up within him.

Damn! I couldn't help cursing inwardly, "Are these two even human?"

Before the insult could finish, Mu Lifen's roar sent a rain of long arrows toward us. I swung my sword like a puppet to parry; had Qi Ran not cleared most of them, I would have been pierced by countless arrows. Yet I had no time to care, mouth agape, eyes wide, watching that black silhouette flit in and out of the arrow formation like a wraith; before Mu Lifen could react to the surrounding onslaught, he had already felled a dozen archers, then, like a phantom, stood before us, detached.

"Bu… Bu Sha, what are you doing?" I stared blankly at the dozen or so long bows that suddenly appeared in my hands.

Bu Sha relaxed both hands, and the dozen long bows clattered to the ground, startling me. He then tugged the string of the only long bow in his hand and said coldly, "Shoot."

"Good idea," Qi Ran smiled brightly, brushed aside the dozen long arrows aimed at me, and said, "Bing Yi, don't zone out again, watch out for getting hit."

I… I… I wasn't the one zoning out! I watched the dozen arrows whizzing toward Bu Sha; he didn't dodge, and his black eyes suddenly flashed with a sharp light, his hands reaching out like shadows, a flurry of movement, conjuring a dozen hand silhouettes. When I came to my senses, his bronze‑colored palms already held a dozen arrows.

Bu Sha slightly loosened one hand, leaving eight arrows, each gripped between his fingers, bow drawn, as if a tangible, cold, fierce aura emanated; I couldn't help trembling. The eyes followed the arrows, and the sound of breaking through the air rang to the heavens. They struck flesh, pierced, entered again… those eight arrows seemed powered by super‑strong batteries, indestructible and razor‑sharp, cutting through a dozen bodies and shattering four shields.

Shocking! Shocking! What kind of mind‑shattering horror is this? What a breathtaking spectacle!

Everyone's faces turned ashen, eyes filled with terror as they stared at him, trembling—only trembling. Human or monster? God or demon? Could anyone truly be so strong as to disregard overwhelming odds and fear of death?

I seemed to recognize Bu Sha anew—not the world's number‑one assassin, a hellish Asura, but one who constantly grows, constantly strengthens, becoming invincible and unstoppable.

But what expression did he wear now? He tilted his head slightly, looked at the fallen soldiers, then lowered his gaze at the long bow whose string had snapped, a bewildered look in his eyes.

"It's a matter of finger strength," Qi Ran's cheerful voice rang, warm as sunshine, clear as a mountain spring, "Your finger force is too evenly applied, so the penetration isn't as strong as you think."

As he spoke, he bent down, picked up a long bow, four arrows, turned sideways, nocked, shot straight, killing… twelve people in an instant. He turned, raised his hand, and Qi Ran spread his crystal‑clear white fingers, waved them at Bu Sha, an angelic smile that sent chills, and said, "Did you see? The force applied by the middle finger should be over seventy percent." MYGOD! Let me die, what kind of people are these!

Seeing Bu Sha's eyes light up with excitement, he nocked and drew eight arrows that roared out, cutting down thirty soldiers, even shattering Mu Lifen's long sword, turning his face ashen as he fled back into the ranks.

The Continuous Execution Arrow Formation was clearly useless now; even if it existed, few soldiers would dare fire their arrows, only adding more weapons to Bu Sha's hands.

It seemed Bu Sha had become addicted to archery, shooting eight arrows per string with glee. So when the remaining forty thousand soldiers closed in again, his face gloomy, the blood‑siphoning strike flashed with cold lightning.

Alright! I admit I'm overthinking. But this guy is just too perverse; his first use of a bow scared all the trained archers into becoming trembling birds.

"No one may retreat!" a clear yet icy voice rang from outside the formation, "All‑out slaughter, or face military law!"

My hand on the sword trembled; Xin Luo… is Xin Luo still here? He actually ordered my slaughter himself.

Beside me, Qi Ran's brows knit slightly, his cool hand clasped mine, and softly said, "Don't worry, I'll capture him alive. Everything's under my control."

The words were arrogant and willful, yet coming from Qi Ran they oddly steadied my heart. I felt that as long as I fully trusted this person beside me, there was no need to worry about anyone or anything.

After speaking, Qi Ran's eyes lit up, and he turned to ask Bu Sha, "Bu, without me, how long could you hold out?"

Bu Sha paused briefly, then coldly replied, "A incense stick's worth of time."

"That's enough," Qi Ran smiled gently, warned me to be careful, and then, alone, leapt toward the densest part of the formation—the direction where Xin Luo's voice had come from.

Mu Lifen was shocked, about to command the whole army to redeploy, when he heard Xin Luo's trembling voice call out, "Ignore me, seize the lady while you can!"

One could say we burned our boats, while Mu Lifen's side also fought to the death. At this life‑or‑death moment, everyone knew their lives hung by a thread, so they cast aside all fear and terror. Wave after wave of tidal attacks crashed at us; each person fought recklessly, fearless of death, each soldier fought with life‑risking frenzy.

The crushing pressure and airtight formation almost took my breath away; even with Bu Sha's power, confronting such a mountain‑like onslaught began to sap my strength, my complexion turning rigid.

Perhaps fully aware of our current predicament, Qi Ran strained to accelerate the assault despite Xin Luo's severe injury. A terrifying wail reached my ears, and the relentless onslaught suddenly stalled. I steadied my trembling hands, looked up at a soldier whose face showed anger and fear, and slowly yielded a passage.

In the center of the passage, Qi Ran's complexion was pale as he carried Xin Luo, whose neck hung limp like a tattered cloth, toward us. Xin Luo's throat still emitted a low moan, his lips were ghastly pale, blood trickled from his mouth corners, and his gold‑silver irises were dim and lifeless.

Mu Lifen's face turned grim, and as Qi Ran was about to join us, a fierce glint flashed in his eyes, his face twisted into murderous madness, and he roared, "Ignore that little monster, go kill them!"

I couldn't even get angry at his insult to Xin Luo, nor worry whether Qi Ran would be injured; I only felt the previously withdrawn assault surge back like a raging tide toward me. My body, just relaxed, let my guard down, leaving me unprepared for the sudden onslaught; I could barely fend off, let alone think. Yet even so, I grew increasingly powerless as the dense formation tightened, leaving no gaps. Qi Ran's figure drifted farther away, and a pain struck my arm—a blade cut me, and my long sword nearly slipped from my hand.

"Fall back to me," Bu Sha's voice, cold as ice yet as solid as rock, rang in my ear. My arm tightened, instantly enveloped by a chilling, thin aura.

Looking from behind, I saw Bu Sha facing the direction where Qi Ran was surrounded, swinging a horizontal slash, a fierce killing aura forcing the attackers to retreat in disarray.

Bu Sha's right hand flipped, a cold blade flash, the blood‑siphoning weapon retracted to his waist. I felt a stir in my heart, my palm slightly sweaty, watching his left hand lift, both hands gripping the sheathed blood‑siphoning blade, his whole aura surging like a tide. I knew he was about to use that move.

The scattered soldiers reformed and surged toward us again; I kept a firm eye on his hands gripping the blade from behind, slashing the ambushers behind me, knowing the black sword in his hand was about to be drawn.

But, unexpectedly, Bu Sha's hand gripping the sword lifted slightly, revealing the cold blade. Before I could stop him, his left palm clenched the blade hard and forced it down; blood dripped drop by drop along the black edge.

"Bu Sha!!" I shouted, my face turning pale, as I tried to stop him. Suddenly a bone‑chilling force burst from the blade, instantly enveloping the surrounding world. Though the sword aura should have been invisible, it seemed solid around Bu Sha, steaming before my eyes. My body went rigid, I could not move a step, and my trembling lips could not form a word.

To draw blood and break the blade, to take it, one must first… with it.

A dragon's roar rose to the heavens, the blade's shadow flashed, blood was drawn, moving like a startled swan, appearing like a flood‑dragon. Nine streams of pure cold sword aura howled from his swift, cross‑cut long sword, like nine great dragons, solidifying ice water into sharp edges, turning the gale into thorns, crushing decay and breaking wood, none could stand against them.

Nine‑Headed Dragon Flash—this was a technique I had narrated to Bu Sha from my memory of the wandering swordsman's style back when the Untraveled Trio roamed, and after he refined it himself, its power turned out astonishingly great.

But no matter how great the power, it could not become this terrifyingly grotesque! What was originally a barely visible silvery sword aura seemed to materialize into real dragons. The dragons' roars echoed through the heavens, as if solid; wherever the nine dragons passed, blood‑filled mist rose, and no one could muster even a breath of resistance.

"Huff—huff—"

I forced myself to regain a lost composure, moved my stiff body, and heard Bu Sha's heavy breathing; large beads of sweat fell from his forehead drop by drop.

I hurried forward to support him, cast my eyes over the battlefield strewn with corpses, and couldn't help but shiver—could this truly be the strength of humans?

My gaze suddenly stalled, fixed on the blue‑clad youth ahead who had been fighting for a long time yet showed no sign of disarray; looking at the bloody scene before me, the corner of my mouth twitched—who can tell me, these two… are they truly human?

I saw Qi Ran holding a Cold‑Blood Sword in one hand; the swirling silver light had dimmed to silence, perfectly blocking the after‑effects of Bu Sha's strike, while his other hand grasped a translucent blood‑red jade flute. One end bore a sharp tip, which was precisely lodged in Mu Lifen's chest. Mu Lifen's face showed horror and disbelief, his bulging eyes streaked with blood reflected a smile as peaceful and gentle as an angel's on the young boy.

Qi Ran withdrew his hand, the blade on the blood flute automatically retracting; he bent, lifted the unconscious Xin Luo from the ground, and leapt back to our side.

"Are you okay?" he examined us closely, his blue eyes flashing concern; after confirming we were unharmed, he relaxed.

"Peerless Divine Healer!" a scream rang out like thunder striking the ground.

"Cold‑Hearted Blade Master!" another startled shout followed.

"Ugly… strange woman?" Everyone's eyes fell on us as if seeing a ghost; some with fear, some with shock, some with panic, and some with awe and guilt.

The army of tens of thousands fell eerily silent as if possessed, eyes occasionally landing on the three of us, then passing among themselves; whispers rose from somewhere and eventually spread across the entire battlefield.

"The Untraveled Trio, they are the three‑person Untraveled Group!" at last someone shouted, breaking the strange silence.

The legend that had lain dormant for two years now revived slowly like an unquenchable wildfire or spring grass that the wind cannot burn away. That sense of respect and gratitude, that unattainable admiration, was neither strong nor weak, yet it took deep root in people's hearts.

"They saved the lives of everyone in our village…"

"If they hadn't eliminated Liu Shiwei, our general would have been wrongfully executed in prison long ago!"

"They rescued hundreds of lives, yet never asked for any reward…"

"They competed in arena duels, poetry and songs, literary and martial contests, and have never known defeat…"

……

"They are the invincible Untraveled Trio!"

The commander was dead, the fighting spirit vanished. I looked at the soldiers before me, each with a bewildered, fearful expression, and let out a long sigh. This battle finally need not be fought any longer.

Once I relaxed, I felt bone‑deep soreness throughout my body. A pair of warm‑cool hands promptly lifted me, gently cradling me in his arms so I could rest my head on his chest and fall asleep.

"It seems your big brother's side also achieved a complete victory," Qi Ran whispered close to my ear.

I was startled, about to ask, when the great gate behind the hidden wing suddenly flung open; the Heavenly Armor Elite, clad in white armor and golden gear, streamed in like a school of fish, surrounding the Yin Yao allied corps that could no longer resist.

(End of Chapter)