Chapter 66: The True Power of a Human Immortal

“Damn it, Marquis Lieyang is charging forward—my Nine-Nine Fire Wheel Thunder alone can’t stop the Three Thousand Fire Crows Army!” From within the thick dark clouds overhead, Lei Yuanzi shouted in frantic anger.

“This isn’t what we planned.” On the eastern mountaintop, the fat monk, holding a blue jade vase, poured a torrential river downward, his voice filled with fury: “The Eight Immortals of the West, each display your powers! At this moment, Kong Zan should be aiding us, continuing to confuse the perception of the Fire Crows soldiers.”

“Then Madame Feng uses her tornado to combine with Lei Yuanzi’s Fire Wheel Thunder, preventing them from using the Water-Repelling Spell to leap out of the water.”

His water, Lei Yuanzi’s thunder, and Madame Feng’s wind could have formed the ‘Small Three-Celestial Wind-Water-Thunder Array.’

The wind stirs the water, churning above the Fire Crows Army a massive vortex like a drill bit; Lei Yuanzi then hurls his Nine-Nine Fire Wheel Thunder into the vortex... Had we followed the original plan, Marquis Lieyang and the Fire Crows Army might still have broken through, but never so easily.

In fact, our plan never allowed the Fire Crows Army to break out at all.

Beyond the Small Three-Celestial Wind-Water-Thunder, there is another group of five Immortals forming the ‘Great Five Elements.’

Now, the Small Three-Celestial is missing one person and cannot form; the Great Five Elements is also missing one.

“With a great enemy before us, complaining is meaningless.”

As the organizer of the ‘Eight Immortals Blood Pact’ and the architect of the ‘Shooting the Sun Plan,’ Dou Yilin’s face was equally ashen; he wanted to drag the dead corpse of Kong Zan over and scream at him, then slap himself and Zhou Lang fifty times each.

Others merely complained; he carried within his chest a regret so heavy it nearly crushed his heart: he had made a grave mistake—driven by petty gains, he had allowed Kong Zan to abandon his post!

“We held every advantage of heaven’s timing, earth’s position, and human unity. Even with two missing, it merely turns our crushing sweep into a slight ripple. As long as we unite as one, Marquis Lieyang’s death remains inevitable.”

He not only rallied his companions with words, but leapt forward, arriving above the roaring waters, and roared: “Water Dragon, aid me!”

Dou Yilin’s face was like a jade crown, three long beards flowing, his hair bound by jade rings, his blue robe fluttering.

At his roar, eight serpentine dragons of Liuli -like quality descended from the sky.

“Ang~~”

Eight ten-zhang-long blue dragons let out thunderous dragon roars, passing beside Dou Yilin, then diving headfirst into the raging waters.

Four dragons sank beneath the water, attacking from four directions the “Fire Dragon” surging upward—the three thousand Fire Crows soldiers, their qi linked, each covered in flame-like ‘true qi,’ forming a forty-zhang-long colossal fire dragon.

The other four dragons churned the floodwaters, spinning rapidly above the Fire Dragon, forming a massive vortex in mere blinks.

The vortex created a downward pull, instantly weakening the Fire Dragon’s upward momentum, even causing it to begin sinking slowly.

“Ayya~~~” Xiao Yu felt like she’d been tossed into a washing machine, her head spinning dizzyingly.

She had no warhorse; even if she did, she couldn’t integrate into the Three Thousand Fire Crows Army.

As Marquis Lieyang led the Fire Crows Army in a charge, she had no choice but to grab Song Changqing’s saddle, leap upward, and crouch behind him.

Song Changqing rode the horse; she rode Song Changqing: both hands gripping his cloak, both feet planted on the saddle.

At first, it was fine—the Three Thousand Fire Crows Army charged in a straight line.

But once the eight water dragons hit the water, the Fire Dragon became like a rope caught in a giant whirlpool—the rope didn’t snap, but spun uncontrollably.

Xiao Yu, caught off guard, lost her footing and flew into the air.

Had Song Changqing’s cloak not been so sturdy, she would surely have been flung off.

“Roar~~~” She heard the Fire Dragon’s furious roar, saw Song Changqing lead over fifty armored cavalrymen break from the main force, charging alone toward the writhing, water-spewing blue dragons.

She instinctively thought Song Changqing was seeking death—and dragging her down with him.

But something astonishing happened.

Song Changqing’s fifty-man armored squad became like a colossal flame-claw, wreathed in faint crimson blood- Shaqi .

With one claw, it seized the dragon’s head; then Song Changqing exhaled sharply, “Hah~~”

“Hah!” The fifty armored cavalrymen exhaled in unison, thrusting their spears forward.

The Flame Claw made a “squeezing” motion.

“Puchii~~” Like a strongman popping a balloon, the dragon exploded into a burst of ink, staining the nearby water black, leaving only a skin hanging on the Fire Claw—hanging from Song Changqing’s steel spear.

“Huh... is this... paper?!”

Xiao Yu reached out, tore off a piece—astonished, yet suddenly understanding.

The blue dragon wasn’t real—it was a talismanic technique drawn on paper.

“Hooooh~~~”

The Fire Dragon roared, clawing and biting in the water, dismantling all eight blue dragons in mere moments.

“Ten thousand heavenly soldiers, aid me!”

Dou Yilin remained calm, unfastening the leather pouch at his waist and pouring out a cascade of golden beans onto the water.

Even as the beans hung midair, they swelled into golden-armored, spear-and-sword-wielding mighty divine generals.

“Kill~~~~”

The divine generals shouted as one, sinking into the water, launching a suicidal charge against the Fire Dragon.

Dou Yilin had clearly prepared thoroughly for this battle—his waist pouch held countless ‘bean soldiers,’ nearly emptying into a golden waterfall, each drop transforming into a divine general.

Tens of thousands of divine generals, densely packed, nearly filled the valley’s floodwaters.

At least, Xiao Yu, looking up, saw only a blinding golden expanse above—no trace of the sky beyond the water.

“Aa~~~”

The Fire Crows Army began suffering casualties; Xiao Yu watched firsthand as a Western Sands Garrison soldier was pierced through the chest by a golden-armored general, flung from his horse into the water, swiftly swept away by the turbulent current.

From a higher vantage, one could see the Fire Dragon colliding with a golden flood.

Dragon scales cracked and fell from the Fire Dragon’s body, leaving behind threads of blood (flame-like ‘true yuan’ draining away).

Of course, the losses among the golden-armored generals were far heavier.

Like ancient spear-wielding soldiers charging against modern armored divisions.

Some never even reached the Fire Dragon before being corrupted by the blood- Shaqi —their golden armor cracked and peeled like old, flaking wall plaster, then stiffened and were swept away, vanishing without a trace.

The Fire Dragon’s claws easily tore apart entire swarms of ‘bean generals.’

Song Changqing before Xiao Yu, absorbing the army’s blood- Shaqi , coiled a three-zhang-long ‘crimson sword qi’ around his spear—any golden-armored general who touched it was cut cleanly in two, smashed to pulp.

More thrilling than fighting without limits.

Xiao Yu felt a pang of longing, wanting to try it herself—but she was within the formation, yet not part of the Three Thousand Fire Crows Army; not a single thread of the formation’s blood- Shaqi touched her.

“These golden-armored generals look imposing, perhaps formidable against ordinary individuals, but before the Three Thousand Fire Crows Army, they’re like tofu dregs—utterly fragile.”

Their only advantage is sheer numbers.

Sigh... too many of them.

I wonder how costly this ‘Sowing Beans to Create Soldiers’ technique really is.”

“Miss Yu, stay still, hook your feet around the saddle, stand firm, don’t move, and don’t speak to distract me.” Song Changqing’s muffled voice came from beneath his helmet.

Xiao Yu tugged and swayed his cloak, bouncing up and down, making him deeply uncomfortable—many of his movements distorted.

Only his exceptional martial skill saved him; any ordinary Lu Ye Guard armored cavalryman would have been killed by her interference long ago.

“Do you think I want to shake around? I’m in danger too if I get thrown off!”

She’d already been hooking her feet around the saddle.

But even hooked, the swaying was too violent—far worse than a roller coaster.

“How did you integrate into the Three Thousand Fire Crows Array? What incantations or secret methods?” Xiao Yu asked again.

Both she and Song Changqing were within the same Three Thousand Fire Crows Array, yet their experiences were utterly different.

He and the surrounding cavalry were perfectly stable—even their warhorses moved as if running on flat ground.

Clearly, this wasn’t due to their cultivation depth—it was the effect of the Fire Crows Array.

Song Changqing said: “There’s no secret method—just long-term formation training.”

Xiao Yu sneered: “I believe the Iron Cavalry Regiment trained for years. But the Western Sands Garrison just joined the Fire Crows Army—despite heavy losses, they’ve still integrated into the formation.”

“The Western Sands Garrison also underwent formation drills before... Don’t talk to me, don’t disrupt my focus.”

“If you don’t believe me, try sensing it with your spiritual sense—like cultivating the ‘Tiger Soul Seven Kill’ to perceive the ferocious tiger’s spirit.”

That’s all I’ll say—don’t disturb me again. The Eight Immortals are unleashing their ultimate moves.”

In Song Changqing’s final words, there was not only deep resignation, but a faint plea.

He truly feared being ruined by Xiao Yu.

The bean generals were easy to handle—he could spare a little attention to speak with her.

But now, Dou Yilin, seeing his pouch nearly empty of ‘soldier beans,’ was summoning reinforcements again.

“Zhou Lang, Song Zhong, act now!”

The voice rang loud; Song Changqing heard it too.

“Chang!” A sword flashed like a dragon’s cry, a brilliant blade-light over a zhang long, coalescing into a sword pillar as thick as a man’s embrace, crashing down upon the Fire Dragon’s head.

“Boom, boom boom~~~~”

The Fire Dragon’s upward surge was forcibly halted again.

“Chang chang~~” More continuous sword qi roars—four brilliant blades, like agile fish, dodged the Fire Dragon’s head, either slicing horizontally through its body, piercing it cleanly; or scraping like blades over scales, stabbing deep into its flesh and dragging downward, spraying a cascade of sparks.

This wasn’t all.

Song Zhong, the Blood Hand Arhat, had been guarding the Feixian Ferry.

Even as the torrential flood surged from the Yunlai Inn valley, he stood like an iron tower, arms crossed, expressionless, at the entrance of the iron-chain bridge.

Like Qin Juhan, Song Zhong stood fifteen zhang tall, even more ‘demonic-muscle, iron-bone’ than Qin Juhan.

Ordinary people seeing him would cry out, “A heavenly god!”

The floodwaters crashed over him, smashing the wooden planks laid across the iron bridge into splinters with a crackling sound, then thundering hundreds of zhang down into the abyss, striking the Longjiang River with thunderous booms.

If his feet were welded to the rock, eyes half-closed, utterly motionless—he looked like a sleeping iron arhat.

Until Dou Yilin’s distant shout reached him faintly.

Song Zhong slowly opened his eyes; within them bloomed a crimson, ferocious light, like two red lanterns glowing beneath the water.

“Hah~”

Song Zhong exhaled sharply—his breath blast reversed the rushing floodwaters, sending them surging backward three zhang high.

The water around him was forcibly pushed back.

"Ha!"

Song Zhong, with a palm as large as a winnowing basket, gripped the iron pickaxe embedded in the cliff face, roared again, and yanked with all his strength.

"Splash!"

The iron pickaxe, as thick as a bowl’s mouth and thirty feet long, studded with eight clawed barbs, was ripped clean out of the cliff, taking a massive chunk of the mountain peak with it.

"Go!"

Song Zhong strode forward, ignoring the raging flood, ignoring the iron chain still attached to the back of the pickaxe, making the suspension bridge clang wildly.

The terrified shouts of the soldiers at Hualong Pass echoed from afar.

Until the iron chain, as thick as a large bowl’s mouth, stretched taut into a straight line, Song Zhong roared again, "Get up, you bastard!"

"Boom!" The iron pickaxe on the opposite side of Feixian Ferry was also ripped out with brute force.

Stones from the mountain peak where Hualong Pass stood were blasted into the air.

"Rumble!"

Thus, dragging a hundred-thousand-jin iron chain, Song Zhong strode through the floodwaters, leaping nimbly like a monkey, and reached the summit of the hill.

"Marquis Lieyang, I’ve come to end you!"

Standing atop the hill, Song Zhong swung the hundred-thousand-jin chain as if it were a lasso, spinning it wildly through the air.

It looked like a giant windmill, forming a violent tornado in the sky.

"Boom!"

The iron chain, accelerated by immense force, slammed down onto the "Fire Dragon" beneath the water.