Chapter 511: Failure and Success: The Death of Yang Jian

Shh…………

Xia Chuan’s self-awareness had always been crystal clear.

He only broke through to Xianyang level in October of the year before last; though he possessed Jade Bone talent, he was still only at the early stage of cultivation, and after two years of miscellaneous enhancements, his base strength had reached nine jūn.

With Xianyang early-stage cultivation and nine jūn strength, combined with Sacred Marks and martial arts, his maximum personal output could exceed fifteen jūn.

Why say “personal”? Because he had one greatest advantage—the legacy of the Wood Puppet Devil—the massive sword puppet forged at great cost with vast amounts of Bai Yin and precious materials.

Puppetry arts rely on using small to control large, channeling one’s limited power through mechanisms to activate puppets and unleash far greater strength.

Over the years, as he studied and developed puppetry, and as his understanding of the Wood Puppet Devil’s legacy deepened, Xia Chuan gained a far more profound grasp of his own puppetry arts.

The transparency threads’ conductivity allowed him to control weights up to twice his own strength—that is, no matter the material or forging method, the puppet’s total weight could not exceed roughly twenty-four jūn.

A twenty-four jūn object, even without added power, would create a terrifying spectacle merely by moving slightly, let alone a sword puppet manipulated by threads—extremely agile and razor-sharp.

The inertia from the puppet’s own weight amplified his strength beyond its limit, and this amplification grew continuously as his puppet control grew more refined.

Since accidentally acquiring the Wood Puppet Devil’s legacy at Luo Ge’s camp all those years ago, fourteen years had passed.

Xia Chuan knew well that in terms of talent, he could not match his elder brother.

Thus, the Wood Puppet Devil’s legacy was likely his only means to close the gap with his brother—how could he not value it?

A sixty-five percent strength boost was the result of his fourteen years of relentless, day-and-night practice in puppet manipulation!

Therefore, his current maximum output was twenty-five jūn.

But then again, twenty-five jūn was still far from decisive on this battlefield. Leaving aside other factors, Yang Jian’s strength alone surpassed his by a margin—and if one counted the Blood Escape Devil Art, in a one-on-one duel, he would almost certainly lose to Yang Jian.

Moreover, the strongest man in Beishuo right now might no longer be Yang Jian; Yang Zun, the eldest of the Yang clan from Cang, had likely returned. According to the Four Fanzhen Heavenly Rankings, the Southern Wasteland’s Spear Demon Yang Zun had already reached forty-one jūn several years ago—his strength now could only be greater.

Precisely because of this clear self-awareness, Xia Chuan understood that his greatest reliance in this battle was the Xia Army.

More accurately, it was the five thousand Yunjiao soldiers, one thousand Longjin Guards, and the First and Second Battalions—ten thousand troops total—the entire elite force of Great Xia.

From the battle’s outset, he had remained at the center of the formation, using the sword puppet to entangle Yang Jian and prevent him from inflicting heavy casualties on his own troops, while simultaneously leveraging the puppet’s massive size to aid his soldiers.

The results proved his strategy absolutely correct.

Yang Jian was pinned down; the Xia Army’s elite surged forward, overwhelming the twenty-five thousand Beishuo defenders with sheer strength, then crushing them from both front and rear with Lu Yang’s ten thousand reinforcements—the Beishuo defeat was now inevitable.

The remaining few thousand Beishuo elites were completely sealed off; the fifteen thousand Beishuo Garrison troops outside the walls were trapped between the two armies. The battlefield was too vast—only a few lucky, nimble soldiers escaped through the edges; the vast majority of Beishuo troops had no path but death.

The largest battle in recorded history on the southern slopes of Mo’ao, the Xia Army achieved absolute victory with overwhelming force. Riding this momentum, Xia Chuan’s heart surged, his emotions swelling.

He could already envision the grand scene of his brother Xia Hong returning, with all southern slope towns bowing in submission. In this swell of emotion, his puppet manipulation grew reckless.

The Beishuo army still had some discipline; after Yang Jian and Yang Fa shouted the retreat order, nearly all soldiers—including Xianyang-level troops—turned southward, toward the gates of Baimu City.

With Xianyang-level opponents gone, the Crimson-Silver Puppet became the most terrifying presence on the battlefield—each downward slash claimed five or six Beishuo soldiers’ lives. Since he was pursuing, Xia Chuan even felt the killing efficiency was too slow; as Grand Secretary of Great Xia, battlefield merits meant nothing to him—victory itself was his greatest achievement.

So he did not use the puppet to kill enemies directly; instead, he lifted it high into the air, repeatedly cutting off retreating Beishuo troops, splitting them into isolated pockets for the following Xia forces to eliminate.

He became immersed in this sweeping, unstoppable momentum, carving out over a dozen small battlefields, even chasing deep into the heart of the Beishuo chaos.

It was precisely when he reached the center that he raised the puppet again, attempting to split another battlefield, when a common Beishuo soldier clad in a hundred-forged silver armor, wielding a long spear, approached him.

Hundred-forged silver armor—that meant a Beishuo soldier with only nine zōng strength…

Instead of saying the soldier actively approached, it was more accurate to say he was overtaken by the puppet. Xia Chuan instantly recognized his strength and ignored him; he flicked his pinky slightly, and the puppet’s left arm tilted sharply, swinging violently toward the soldier.

That swing made Xia Chuan’s heart lurch violently—his pupils flashed with sudden terror.

Why?

Because the soldier, facing the puppet’s left arm, made no instinctive dodge—instead, he raised his black spear, suddenly lifted into the air, and charged straight for Xia Chuan’s face.

Levitation?

This was no Beishuo common soldier—he was a genuine Xianyang-level cultivator!

Someone was hiding among the Beishuo troops, trying to kill me.

Shh…………

A blood-red spear tip slashed through the air, stretching over a hundred meters. Xia Chuan’s terror crystallized instantly—he yanked the threads with both hands. The charging Crimson-Silver Puppet instantly reversed direction, hurtling back toward his body.

But the blood-red spear tip was too fast.

Terrifyingly fast. Earth-shatteringly fast…

The thunderous clamor of the battlefield seemed to freeze in that instant—only the crimson spear tip remained in heaven and earth.

Or perhaps not entirely…

For as the crimson spear tip rose, a powerful black staff aura also erupted from outside the northern gate of Baimu City.

Hu!

Interestingly, the black staff aura and the blood-red spear tip appeared simultaneously—no sequence, no delay—both erupted at once on the battlefield.

“Grand Secretary!”

“Third Brother…”

The stronger one’s cultivation, the faster their perception and reaction.

On the Xia side, besides Liu Yuan, Yue Feng, and five other generals, plus Xu Ning as the battle flag commander, all seven Xianyang-level cultivators instantly fixed their gaze on the blood-red spear tip. Realizing Beishuo had a targeted assassination against the Grand Secretary, their faces filled with horror as they rushed toward Xia Chuan.

On the Beishuo side, Garrison Commander Yang Fa and five other Xianyang-level cultivators also realized Xia Army had a targeted strike against Yang Jian—their faces likewise filled with horror as they rushed toward Yang Jian.

Leaving others’ thoughts aside, Yang Jian’s face was now drenched in terror. Upon hearing his brother Yang Fa’s shout of warning, he had already sensed danger.

The reason? The Xia soldier near Gu Tianxiong, when facing his spear, made no evasive move whatsoever.

Not only did he not evade—he raised his pitch-black, gleaming ten-foot iron staff and brought it crashing down toward Yang Jian’s skull.

This was no common soldier…

“So we thought of the same thing—trying to kill me right before my eyes…”

As this thought surfaced in Yang Jian’s mind, he suddenly heard the Xia soldier’s voice—familiar, laced with contempt. His pupils shrank sharply; his terror instantly transformed into profound dread.

“Xia Hong has come!”

Bam…………

He gritted his teeth—his body erupted in a burst of blood mist.

“You’ve waited long enough—no way you’re escaping now!”

Xia Hong had infiltrated Lu Yang’s forces, so he faced north. When he leapt up to assassinate Yang Jian, he could clearly see the blood-red spear tip targeting Xia Chuan, two to three hundred meters away.

The timing was this coincidental!

Shh…………