Chapter 55: The Eight Immortals Surround and Kill

As a guesthouse that welcomed travelers, Yunlai Guesthouse was located in an excellent spot.

It occupied a small valley; turning southwest for less than two hundred paces, one could bypass a towering cliff and reach Feixian Ferry.

If one turned at the ferry but did not head south, instead following the riverbank northeastward, there lay a direct road leading to Hengsha Pass in the north.

The guesthouse’s front door faced west, with a large, flat grain-drying yard ahead—now the Yangyang Marquis’s encampment. Beyond that, the straight road led to villages and fields, stretching all the way to the western border of Shu—Xishui Pass—and beyond that, into the western states.

At this very moment, as the “immortals” attacked the Yangyang Marquis’s camp, those staying in the guesthouse had almost nowhere to flee.

Whether taking the northeast road or crossing Feixian Ferry, one must first leave the guesthouse, walk two hundred paces, and turn to circle the towering cliff.

The front courtyard lay at the edge of the battlefield; Xiao Yu, Guan Zhong, and others were trapped at the valley mouth, too terrified to step outside, forced to sprint backward instead. Though the rear was also blocked by a ring of hills, the slopes were steep—but at least one could climb them.

“It’s just a hill. You can’t even climb it?” Xiao Yu exclaimed in disbelief.

“Miss, they’re part of the Three Thousand Fire Crows Formation!”

Seeing her puzzled expression, Guan Zhong quickly explained: “In the Central Kingdom, hundreds of schools vied for dominance; among them, the Military School developed the art of battle arrays.

By uniting the strength of many soldiers through an array, they could easily slaughter immortal warriors capable of fighting a hundred or even a thousand alone.

If the commander’s martial strategy realm was high enough, his personal strength sufficient, and his troops numerous, he could even confront immortals.

The Yangyang Marquis is a master of martial strategy, able to unify his entire army into an array.”

He pointed to the massive, ancient-looking shield formed of flame in midair: “As you see, Miss, that is the ‘battle array technique,’ forged by merging the true qi and martial aura of every soldier in the camp.

Within the array, any soldier who truly respects the commander will, upon its activation, channel his own true qi and martial aura into it.

Sand accumulates into a tower; fur gathers into a fur coat; united will builds a city; the army’s momentum is boundless.

The more the commander wins his troops’ loyalty, the stronger the array technique he unleashes.

Though Song Changqing and the others were brought here by us, they were already enrolled in the ‘Fire Crow Army’ by the Master when they welcomed the Yangyang Marquis.

The key is, their hearts cannot resist the Yangyang Marquis’s orders.”

“What kind of immortal art is this? Father never told me about battle arrays,” Xiao Yu murmured.

“Martial strategy isn’t really an immortal art—I don’t fully understand it either... Hey hey hey, you bastards, don’t run! Damn it, Yun the landlord, you’re just a commoner—how dare you defy military orders?

Know this: you may run now, but your guesthouse and property won’t escape!”

While Guan Zhong spoke to Xiao Yu, the guesthouse’s staff and landlord did not linger to listen—they kept climbing the slope without stopping.

After all, the thunderstorm outside hadn’t ceased!

“Lord Guan, I’m just the landlord, not the owner! I’ve an eighty-year-old mother above me and a three-year-old child below—please spare me! Go find some younger staff... Damn it, Li Er, Zhang San, you’re running faster than me!

Listen up: Lord Guan’s order—every able-bodied waiter must go down immediately and await Lord Guan and Miss Guan’s commands.

Anyone who disobeys will be executed by martial law—I guarantee your buttocks will burst open!”

The staff ignored Yun’s shouts entirely.

No matter how terrifying martial law or how fearsome Lord Guan was, could they rival the sky-covering thunderstorm?

Besides, they’d faced military disasters before. Last year, bandits from the Thirty-Six States had already purged the slow, obedient ones; those alive today were all clever little foxes.

“Ahh—”

A piercing scream echoed from above the slope.

“Someone’s up there! No, don’t kill me, ahh—”

Another short, sharp cry followed. Everyone on the slope and below froze in horror.

“Damn it—this assassination was a long-planned conspiracy. All escape routes were blocked in advance.”

Xiao Yu’s face darkened, but her gaze sharpened; she scanned left and right, searching for a sliver of hope.

“What’s that place?”

She grabbed Yun the landlord, who was tumbling down the slope, and pointed to a wooden shed at the foot of the hill.

“It’s the wine cellar—carved from a crack in the cliffside. It stores many jars of wine and aged vinegar, and some cured meats at the very back.

Miss Xiao, what... what should we do? Waaah—I barely survived the last war. I don’t want to die!” The old landlord’s face was smeared with tears and dust.

“Stop wailing!” Xiao Yu struck him with the flat of her sword, leaving a red mark on his doughy, fat face.

“How deep is the cellar?”

“No matter how deep, there’s only one entrance. Block it, and it’s a dead end,” the landlord said.

“Uncle Zhong, let’s go to the cellar. Deputy Commander Song, all of you—you’re just slow, not paralyzed. You can’t climb the steep slope, but you can at least enter the cave.”

The assassins’ target was surely the Yangyang Marquis.

Their strength must be immense—likely die-hard remnants of the Thirty-Six States’ “human immortal leftovers.”

Human immortal assassins probably wouldn’t bother hunting lowly followers like us.

Otherwise, Yun the landlord and the others who climbed the slope wouldn’t have had time to tumble back down.

If someone blocked the mountaintop, as long as we didn’t force our way through, they’d ignore ordinary people.

“Miss Xiao, hiding in a cave with no escape is worse than returning to the camp.”

Song Changqing didn’t move; the other armored knights hesitated.

They’d calmed down now. Though thunderstorms rained down endlessly overhead, as if about to drown the entire camp, the Three Thousand Fire Crows Formation held firm—and even now, the Yangyang Marquis hadn’t shown his face.

Hu Chen had followed the Yangyang Marquis for months.

As deputy commander, Song Changqing was also in the Fire Crow Army; he knew well that the Yangyang Marquis possessed far more tricks than this.

In truth, their victories under the Yangyang Marquis had been swift and relentless, forging absolute trust in him.

Trust the cave and chance—or trust the Yangyang Marquis?

This wasn’t even a choice. No decision needed.

“Carry Father to the cellar entrance. Do as you please,” Xiao Yu said.

“Take General Guan to the cellar,” Song Changqing said firmly.

They reached a compromise quickly—the cellar wasn’t far.

Soon, they pushed open the thick peach-wood door and laid Guan Huichen on a wooden rack inside.

“Miss Xiao, take care!” Song Changqing bowed and immediately took his leave.

Xiao Yu hesitated a moment, then urged: “Deputy Commander Song, if I were you, I’d never go back.

A conspiracy long-planned—even if it fails to kill the commander, will surely wipe out the foot soldiers.”

“Miss Xiao, you go too far. We are the Lu Ye Guard’s armored cavalry—the elite among elites—not foot soldiers!” Li Shangxian, one of the “foot soldiers,” protested bitterly.

The others also looked grim.

Xiao Yu merely waved them off, signaling for them to leave at once.

She’d warned Song Changqing only because he was decent and had genuinely taught her the “Heroic Dragon Art.”

She’d said all she needed to say. She’d done her duty.

“In an array, soldiers and commander are one—life and death shared... Still, thank you, Miss Xiao!”

Song Changqing bowed again, then led the armored knights out of the cellar.

“Sigh—if only we’d kept Wei Wu to tend to the Master,” Guan Zhong sighed.

“Keep him for what? All he does is complain and speak gloomily—he can’t even do that properly.

The sole physician of the Lu Ye Guard’s iron cavalry, and he’s this incompetent?” Xiao Yu sneered with disdain.

Then she glanced back at Huichen and whispered: “Uncle Zhong, I hate saying this, but we must prepare for the worst.”

Hearing the suppressed sorrow in her voice, seeing the grief and helplessness on her face, Guan Zhong shed a few more tears.

How could he not understand?

The Master’s wounds were so grave—he was already beyond saving.

Now, with assassins setting a trap to kill the Yangyang Marquis, even the fantasy of seeking a divine physician was shattered.

Not only was the Master beyond help—they were all trapped, with no escape.

“Huh, the thunderstorm stopped.” Xiao Yu stepped to the entrance, peering out her small head toward the west.

Purple-red lightning still flickered across the sky—but no longer exploded like nuclear bombs, one after another.

Xiao Yu had counted the strikes: ninety-nine.

The moment she thought this, a booming laugh echoed from above the cave: “Ha ha ha! How’s that, Lei Yuanzi? Now you’ve seen the Yangyang Marquis’s power?

You used to be arrogant, mocking us for dragging down the reputation of the ‘Western Human Immortals,’ claiming we couldn’t even take down a mere military commander.

Now your ‘Ninety-Nine Fire Wheel Thunder’ is spent.

Your aura was mighty—the weather changed over a hundred li.

But the Three Thousand Fire Crows Formation stands firm as a mountain—not a single foot soldier killed.”

“Ah, so it’s Lei Yuanzi—no wonder...” Guan Zhong gasped, then his face turned pale with realization and despair: “Lei Yuanzi—he’s a famed human immortal from the west!”

“Miao the Monk, stop talking. Get moving.”

Lei Yuanzi’s voice was ancient yet powerful.

And his voice came from all directions—impossible to pinpoint, unlike Miao the Monk’s.

“It’s over. Even Miao the Monk from the bottle has come.”

Guan Zhong’s face turned as white as paper; only despair remained in his eyes.

“The monk isn’t as arrogant as you, fooling himself into thinking he alone can destroy the Yangyang Marquis and two or three thousand western elite soldiers.”

“Giggling,” came a tinkling, feminine laugh from the north: “Enough jesting, gentlemen. Don’t let tempers flare.

No matter our past, today we set aside grudges, swear blood oaths, and unite.

At this moment, the Eight Western Immortals stand together, each wielding our full power, and we shall surely accomplish the task of killing the Yangyang Marquis.”

“The Eight Western Immortals? Eight top-tier human immortals?”

Guan Zhong nearly fainted. “We’re finished. Completely finished. Even the Yangyang Marquis will die with the Master!”

A voice brimming with killing intent appeared beside Monk Miao, and also above Xiao Yu.

“Yu Yu, weren’t you putting a bounty on my head using the Jin Yang City God’s position? Now ‘Blood Hand Arhat’ Song Zhong is here—to deliver your end.”

“Yu Yu, today Dou intends to avenge everyone who died in the Jin Yang massacre—come out and die!”

“Yu Yu, you vile scoundrel, come out and die!”

Eight voices of hatred merged into one, like eight crashing thunderclaps, causing heaven and earth to tremble slightly.

Xiao Yu pulled her head back, retreated into the wine cellar, and said quickly: “Zhong Shu, of these eight Golden Immortals, how many do you recognize? What are their signature great arts?”

Guan Zhong lay on the ground, face ashen, like a corpse long dead; at these words, he murmured only: “Miss Yu, we’re finished—this wine cellar is the grave of us all.”

“Why say such things? What’s wrong with the wine cellar?”

“Monk Miao the Bottle Immortal is here, right above our heads—no need to guess, the floodwaters will soon rise over Mount Jin.”

No sooner had Guan Zhong finished speaking than fat raindrops began pattering outside the door.

“Hunter Flag Immortal, what are you waiting for? Half a month ago, you came to survey the terrain—surely the Flag Gate Array is already ready?”

“Monk, how much water have you brought today?” came a coarse, middle-aged male voice.

Xiao Yu’s heart lurched—the Hunter Flag Immortal was also atop the mountain directly above them.

“Since the Eight Immortals’ Blood Oath was formed, the monk has never stopped wandering the thirty-six states, deliberately seeking remote mountainous regions, and has stored nearly every heavy rain in his treasure bottle!”

“Especially that spring rain over Wanzi Mountain—it rained five inches deep, enough to flood Luo Capital, let alone this tiny Feixian Ferry.”

Flood Luo Capital… flood Feixian Ferry…

Xiao Yu suddenly understood.

No wonder, upon hearing Monk Miao’s name, Guan Zhong’s face had twisted into the despair of someone who’d lost both parents.