Chapter 76: Fight Until No Sweat!

Gu Qing killed Möngke at the Hun River!

Gu Qing killed Ariq Böke at Yanran Mountain!

Gu Qing’s exploits on the steppe kept breaking records.

“It is said Möngke rode a thousand-li horse, galloping south with a retinue of elite guards, each capable of hitting any target within a hundred paces. But Gu Qing, the Immortal, seeing arrows rain down, simply lifted a three-thousand-jin boulder. The arrows struck it with sharp cracks—back and forth they shot, advancing together until they reached the banks of the Hun River. Möngke reined in his horse; the Immortal sprinted forward and crushed him beneath the stone…”

In a teahouse in Kaifeng, a storyteller solemnly recounted Gu Qing’s pursuit and killing of Khan Möngke.

Ever since Gu Qing declared, “I will kill until no one on the steppe dares call himself Khan,” the order in Karakorum collapsed entirely; Mongol nobles fled in all directions. Gu Qing showed no mercy on the steppe, and his victories kept arriving in the Southern Song.

Only then did the Southern Song learn a terrestrial immortal had appeared—faster than arrows, more enduring than a thousand-li horse, impervious to blades and spears, immune to all poisons, immensely strong, and unafraid of fire or water.

The Southern Song thus erupted in upheaval.

Yang Guo raised a banner, declaring himself a disciple of Gu Qing. Wherever he went, Mongols dared not resist. From Huaixi to Yangzhou, he swiftly began seizing Shandong and Henan—this army, independent of the court, had become glaringly conspicuous.

The Quanzhen Sect also claimed Gu Qing was a Qing-character disciple, trained by Li Zhichang, whose master was Qiu Chuji, of the Chongyang True Man’s lineage. Suddenly, the people believed immortality was within reach, and flocked to worship Quanzhen.

Shaolin Temple followed suit, claiming that after retaking Dengzhou, Gu Qing was plagued by inner demons and sought the Yi Jin Jing at Shaolin, thereby achieving his present stature—its incense offerings surged accordingly.

Even the Wu Lin Alliance admitted Gu Qing’s fame now surpassed Guo Jing’s.

“After Gu Immortal killed Möngke, Ariq Böke immediately declared himself Khan. Gu Immortal immediately pursued him. Ariq Böke was cunning—he fought while retreating, pleading for mercy all the way. But Gu Immortal refused to spare him, chasing him for four months until they reached the foot of Yanran Mountain. Ariq Böke suddenly summoned tens of thousands of troops to surround him. Yet Gu Immortal stood unmoved, shook his spear, and pinned him to Yanran Mountain!”

The storyteller recounted this feat again, earning another round of cheers.

The Great Mongol Empire, which had dominated the age and controlled countless territories, had long been regarded as an invincible behemoth. Now, this behemoth was being dismantled by Gu Qing alone—and the common folk, emboldened, began dreaming of the glory days before Jingkang.

Gu Qing sat on the second floor, ignoring the crowd’s gossip, ate a few bites of venison jerky, then slurped down a bowl of porridge. Xiaolongnu and Cheng Ying hurriedly wiped his lips and ordered another bowl of noodles.

“You’re back now—no need to eat so hastily.”

Cheng Ying spoke softly, her heart aching. Gu Qing had spent a year on the steppe, never eating well or sleeping soundly.

After killing Ariq Böke, Gu Qing patrolled the steppe twice more; no tribe dared declare itself Khan. Each tribe grew cautious, none daring to contemplate invasion southward. More than a month ago, Gu Qing returned from the steppe, rested for several days in the Ancient Tomb, then set out with Xiaolongnu and Cheng Ying to wander mountains and rivers, to relax his spirit.

He sought to dispel the bloodlust clinging to his body and ease his taut nerves.

Xiaolongnu handed him the noodles. Just as he raised his chopsticks, he frowned, glancing toward the door. A few breaths passed—several Daoists entered. One looked up and met Gu Qing’s gaze, then stepped up the stairs.

“Master.”

Gu Qing rose and bowed.

The Daoist was Li Zhichang—Gu Qing’s master in Quanzhen, who had taught him all his Quanzhen martial arts.

Li Zhichang was also extraordinary in Daoist circles; the famous “Record of the Western Journey of Changchun Zhenren” was written by him.

“Sit, sit, no need for formalities.”

Li Zhichang urged Gu Qing to sit, saying: “Our Quanzhen Sect has always loved the nation and cared for the people, rescuing them from fire and water, accumulating virtue for generations—this is why we have a disciple like you…”

Li Zhichang looked at Gu Qing with unmistakable pride. First he asked if Gu Qing had been wounded in the Mongol lands, then inquired: “Did you really carry a three-thousand-jin boulder to crush Möngke?”

Li Zhichang doubted this.

Gu Qing shook his head vigorously: “I picked up the stone by the Hun River—it wasn’t three thousand jin, maybe three or five hundred.”

Since Möngke was dead, only Gu Qing could set the record straight.

“What about Ariq Böke’s tens of thousands of troops?”

Li Zhichang asked: “How did you escape them?”

No martial artist could ever stand against tens of thousands of soldiers head-on.

“When he reached Yan Mountain, he had no tens of thousands—only a thousand or so ambushers. My body technique is fast enough over short distances to outpace arrows. After killing him, I climbed Yanran Mountain. They surrounded me for a while, retrieved Ariq Böke’s corpse, and left.”

Gu Qing said.

At Karakorum, the archers had been outside, arrows raining down. Gu Qing had dodged them all by his body technique—Mongol archers were too precise, their aim too concentrated. After evading the first volley, he used lightness skill to weave through the crowd and escaped through the gate.

Xiaolongnu nodded slightly, knowing Gu Qing’s evasion must have been the Ancient Tomb’s lightness skill—when she used it, even in close quarters, she could vanish before a person’s eyes without notice.

Li Zhichang absorbed every word, then said to Gu Qing: “You’ve carved your name on Yanran Mountain—you’ve earned a place in history. Didn’t you leave a stele there?”

Killing an enemy beneath Yanran Mountain without leaving a stele was like killing for nothing.

“I did. I did.”

Gu Qing said: “I carved on Yanran Mountain: ‘Fight Until No Sweat.’ To record this deed and inspire future generations.”

Fight Until No Sweat?

Li Zhichang found the slogan excellent, and said cheerfully: “All these great deeds—I want to write you into the Ji.”

“Absolutely not!”

Gu Qing quickly stopped him. Daoist texts included Ji biographies—those recorded Yuan Shi Tianwang, Tai Shang Lao Jun, and various Heavenly Emperors. As a transmigrant, Gu Qing didn’t even understand his own system, and always held reverence for the divine and the occult—he dared not boast.

Li Zhichang smiled. To him, Yuan Shi Tianwang and the like were too ethereal. Gu Qing, a Daoist by origin, had single-handedly silenced every Khan on the steppe—he was unquestionably a Daoist hero. The future incense of Daoism would come from Gu Qing.

After Gu Qing’s death, a Great Emperor reincarnated to purge calamities was inevitable.

“Why are you in Kaifeng?”

Gu Qing asked curiously. He had returned without seeking any martial friends, and had revealed no martial arts on the journey. For Quanzhen to find him in Kaifeng puzzled him.

“Once, Kaifeng’s Daxiangguo Temple teemed with thousands of riders, rivers of people, a hub for merchants. Now the Mongols are finished—Kaifeng’s liberation is near. I’ve brought Quanzhen disciples to convert Daxiangguo Temple into a Daoist shrine first.”

Li Zhichang revealed his plan.

He couldn’t be stopped…

Gu Qing recalled Li Zhichang’s historical record—the disputes over seizing Buddhist temples, the Daoist-Buddhist debates lost to Pakpa, the subsequent decline.

“Do as you like.”

Gu Qing shrugged: “Besides, Yang Guo has already claimed Quanzhen as his sect.”

Gu Qing had decided: Yang Guo would be emperor. Let Yang Guo handle the bias.

(End of Chapter)