Chapter 827: Totem Army

Li Banfeng sent out his shadow to reconnoiter, then replaced Jiu'er to prepare the array.

Looking at the state of Wuyou Ping, Jiu'er also frowned: “How can we set up an array here?”

Gazing far into the distance, only endless white snow stretched out—no variation, no depth. In such a place, not even setting up a simple illusion would be easy.

As Jiu'er pondered, Ayu responded: “Younger brother, you can establish a boundary at Wuyou Ping, but what form it takes is uncertain. Before nightfall, don’t let the enemy cross the Prince’s boundary!”

“What’s the Prince’s boundary?”

“It’s the dividing line between Jianren Gang and Wuyou Ping!”

Ayu showed Li Banfeng a map: from the Chun Prince’s mansion as a single point, a line over three hundred li long ran east-west—north of it was Jianren Gang, south of it Wuyou Ping.

“Younger brother, pay close attention: the boundary I’ll create lies along this line. If you can’t hold this line, my boundary is useless.”

“I’ve already informed Ayi—the path from Hulucun to Wuyou Ping is sealed. Once it’s cleared, she’ll bring troops to reinforce us immediately!”

Li Banfeng checked his pocket watch—it was already noon, six hours until nightfall.

How long would it take to travel from Jianren Gang to the Chun Prince’s mansion?

That depends on who’s traveling.

The first time Li Banfeng led Xiao Yeci and the others outward, he didn’t know the route, the Sage had secretly intervened, and there was a group of children with no cultivation—so it took thirteen days.

Now, if Li Banfeng traveled again, he could reach it in minutes.

How fast is the enemy?

When Li Banfeng walked slowly, the previous three-headed soldiers could barely keep up. If the enemy moves at that pace, roughly speaking, it would take at least three hours to march from Huai’en Village to the Chun Prince’s mansion.

“Wife, if we hold for just three hours, the boundary will be set!”

“Three hours—” Zhao Xiao’s face grew grim. She studied the map and felt this time was too long.

Across three hundred li of borderland, the enemy has countless paths—impossible to defend everywhere.

“Husband, Wuyou Ping has no natural defenses. We must take the initiative and maneuver against the enemy.”

Li Banfeng knew this battle would be hard: “Wife, think positively—maybe the enemy is still resting in Jianren Gang and won’t come to Wuyou Ping today.”

His wife shook her head: “War values speed. The enemy won’t delay long—they’ll arrive at Wuyou Ping today.”

As Zhao Xiao predicted, half an hour later, Banfeng Yi returned: “The enemy is coming.”

“How many?”

“Over ten thousand. Banfeng Zi is watching them.” Banfeng Yi marked the enemy’s position on the map.

“Over ten thousand—” Zhao Xiao’s eyes darted to Jiu'er. “Can the Confusing Blossoms Array hold back ten thousand?”

Jiu'er shook her head repeatedly: “I’ve never used an array against so many. Besides, this place is terrible for setting one—plant a few sticks in the snow, and ten thousand men could walk right through without seeing a thing—”

As she spoke, Jiu'er coughed from the wind. Old Tea Pot automatically poured her a cup of tea.

Looking at the tea, Jiu'er had an idea.

“Husband, how much water can Old Tea Pot produce?”

“Plenty—it can fill a whole street!”

This wasn’t Li Banfeng boasting. When Old Tea Pot first joined him, it could easily fill an alley. Now, after years of fine food and drink, filling a street was nothing.

“Husband, lend me the teapot—I’ve got a plan!”

Zhao Xiao chose an ambush site fifty li ahead based on the enemy’s route. Jiu'er took the teapot and began setting the array.

Tea spilled on the snow, melting patches into dimples, creating texture and depth.

Jiu'er had Old Tea Pot pour diluted tea—the color differed slightly from snow, but not so much as to stand out. The tea-stained snow left speckled marks, forming the array’s shape.

Zhao Xiao and Hong Ying went to the array’s perimeter, poking holes into the snow. The cold wind whistled through, producing faint, ghostly music—real yet illusory.

All prepared, they waited less than half an hour before the enemy appeared.

A column of three-headed soldiers marched across the snowfield—massive in size, countless in number, moving swiftly like a dark cloud, sweeping up snow as they entered the array.

Hidden in the shadows, Jiu'er’s face turned pale. She feared they’d trample the array flat.

Fortunately, most markers were placed along the edges; some were buried under snow, but the overall effect remained intact.

Jiu'er couldn’t make ten thousand men lose their way all at once. The main force, originally marching south, now veered slightly southeast.

That slight deviation was enough. Jiu'er grabbed the teapot and ran ahead, continuing to lay the array, guiding them further off course.

Everything seemed to be going well—until they reached the second array, when one three-headed soldier suddenly stopped.

The central head belonged to a man in his thirties; the left was an old hag; the right, an old man.

The old hag and old man urged him forward, but the central head sensed something wrong—he noticed the snow’s color had changed. Where did all these yellow specks come from?

It looked like someone had urinated on the snow—but not this much.

Jiu'er’s heart tightened.

This was the flaw of large arrays.

Every array has weaknesses; the larger the array, the more weaknesses.

A small array might have only one flaw. One person entering—even a supreme expert—has low odds of spotting it.

A large array might have dozens of flaws. Ten thousand people entering—even if all are mediocre—will inevitably spot one or two.

Li Banfeng and Hong Ying hid in the snow. If necessary, they’d kill this man.

But killing him would expose even more flaws!

More soldiers halted, sensing something odd in the snow. Soon, over a dozen had stopped.

In the balance, a gust of wind howled, carrying urgent, melodic notes urging the troops forward.

The soldiers, influenced by the music, stopped examining the snow and kept marching.

This was Zhao Xiao’s preparation: singing outright wouldn’t work. A subtle cultivation technique, woven into the wind, perfectly deceived the three-headed soldiers.

Li Banfeng remained crouched in the snow, waiting silently for the enemy’s center to approach.

In the heart of the army, beneath the commander’s banner, stood an eight-wheeled carriage. Nian Shangyou sat inside, stroking his fish-like beard, occasionally glancing at the front and rear formations.

Is this Nian Shangyou real or fake?

Li Banfeng stared with Jin Jing Qiu Hao for a long while, then turned to his wife.

Zhao Xiao shook her head slightly—she couldn’t tell either.

If they couldn’t tell, they couldn’t act.

Jiu'er laid down one array after another. Guided by these arrays, the enemy’s path shifted from southeast to due east. The wisest tactic now was to stand still—ideally, delay until nightfall.

Pfft!

Sitting in the eight-wheeled carriage, Nian Shangyou used his beard to dig his nose, then licked the residue.

The motion was swift—but Li Banfeng saw it.

Li Banfeng sensed something was wrong.

Nian Shangyou did look a bit ridiculous, but he was Grand Secretary of Shang State, and Qiao Yi’s most trusted subordinate.

He was meticulous about his image. On such a critical battlefield, how could he make such a ridiculous gesture?

Could this Nian Shangyou be fake?

His posture was more lax than the real Nian Shangyou’s. If he’s not real, where is the real one?

Could there be another enemy force?

As Li Banfeng continued observing, Banfeng Zi suddenly appeared beneath him, whispering: “Seventy li east, another enemy force is marching south.”

East?

“How many?”

“Over ten thousand.”

“Why is there another ten thousand?”

Nian Shangyou hadn’t united his forces—he’d split them!

Zhao Xiao’s expression darkened further. Jiu'er was already struggling to maneuver against one force; she couldn’t possibly handle another.

Li Banfeng signaled for his wife and Jiu'er to stay put. He and Hong Ying headed east.

Seventy li east, another army of nearly identical size marched south. At this pace, they’d reach the Prince’s boundary soon.

Hong Ying whispered to Li Banfeng: “Attack.”

Li Banfeng was about to act when his body pendant rang with Yuan Miaoping’s voice: “Boss, let me try! If you start fighting here, they’ll hear the noise over there and blow the cover.”

Yuan Miaoping had a point. Li Banfeng asked: “What’s your idea?”

“Head south a few dozen li first. Give me time.”

Li Banfeng marched south thirty li, then released Yuan Miaoping.

Yuan Miaoping chewed bubblegum, surveyed the surroundings: “Any more complex terrain?”

Hong Ying said: “Everything looks the same here. Make do.”

Yuan Miaoping stared at the snow a moment longer: “Fine. Bring out the projector to help me.”

At home, the projector and Yuan Miaoping got along well. Now, with time running short, they had perfect synergy. Yuan Miaoping explained briefly; the projector instantly understood the tactic.

The projector selected the flattest patch of snow as a screen, hovered in midair, and projected a massive image onto the ground.

The projection looked identical to the surroundings—but it added subtle changes. Its core idea matched Jiu'er’s Foolish Cultivation Array: misdirect the enemy.

But Jiu'er’s array was refined; this projection had countless flaws. Li Banfeng didn’t even need Jin Jing Qiu Hao to spot them.

Yuan Miaoping blew a bubble: “A few flaws don’t matter. In film, it’s about atmosphere—if the atmosphere’s right, the audience understands.”

Li Banfeng cut in: “What’s ‘atmosphere’? Explain.”

“That’s too profound. You wouldn’t understand even if I explained.”

“If you can’t explain, stop talking nonsense. This is life or death.”

“Who’s talking nonsense?!”

Yuan Miaoping, usually so lazy and careless, suddenly grew serious, carefully adjusting the details on the projector’s image.

“Add a tree over there—not too tall, but with leaves on the branches. Just six leaves total, one about to fall off, the others swaying twice in the wind.”

“Make the snowdrift slightly raised in the middle, so it looks like something’s buried beneath, but not obviously so.”

“Add a faint blue speckle on that snowy ground, just enough to make viewers think they’re seeing things—after a moment, they’ll feel dizzy.”

Li Banfeng stood in the snow, feeling the same flaws he’d noticed before were still there, plainly visible.

Hong Ying walked slowly from afar and saw not a single flaw—her attention was entirely drawn to the details Yuan Miaoping had arranged.

“Big Sis, help me out—this snow isn’t level, some scenery’s warped!”

Yuan Miaoping called Hong Ying “Big Sis,” and Hong Ying didn’t get angry; she used her unique “Treading as on Level Ground” technique to smooth the snow.

Soon after, the enemy troops arrived, and the shifting lights and shadows passed completely unnoticed.

Yuan Miaoping projected her own screen’s imagery onto the snow, perfectly complementing the projector; together, they adjusted the angles, slowly diverting the enemy’s direction.

Hong Ying worried: “This is pure illusion—if they realize it, they’ll find their way back.”

Yuan Miaoping was confident: “Let them find their way back—I’ll switch the show on them soon enough.”

This enemy unit was contained, but Li Banfeng couldn’t relax—he waited quietly for Nian Shangyou to appear.

The Nian Shangyou in that earlier group was fake—was this one real?

When the central column passed, Nian Shangyou appeared—unlike the previous one, he was no longer lax; this Grand Secretary stood straight on his carriage, occasionally summoning subordinates to give orders.

This was how Nian Shangyou should behave.

Li Banfeng examined him repeatedly with Jin Qing Qiu Hao—found no flaw—until Nian Shangyou’s carriage suddenly skidded, nearly toppling over.

In panic, Nian Shangyou’s shoulders sprouted two extra heads; both turned into Nian Shangyou, then hastily retracted into their skulls.

This Nian Shangyou wasn’t real either.

Could there be a third force?

Banfeng Yi hurried with his shadow east to investigate; Li Banfeng, with Hong Ying, went west. After flying over a hundred miles, Li Banfeng spotted the third force.

Still over ten thousand strong, but much closer to the Prince’s territory.

Hong Ying asked: “Seventh, what other arrays are there?”

Li Banfeng shook his head: “No more arrays.”

They were less than five li from the Prince’s border—at their marching speed, they’d reach Wuyou Ping in minutes!

Li Banfeng signaled Hong Ying to wait in the air for backup; he dove straight down toward the central column to kill the enemy commander.

Whether this central column was Nian Shangyou or not—he’d kill him first.

The central column still had eight-wheeled war chariots, indistinguishable from the other two forces; Nian Shangyou stood atop, whipping his horse incessantly, ordering faster advance.

Li Banfeng advanced and slashed off his head.

Another head sprouted from Nian Shangyou’s body, still urging the entire army to press forward.

This Nian Shangyou was fake too—but his orders were real; their marching speed was terrifying.

Li Banfeng used Tread Through Ten Thousand Rivers to crush the chariot and rider into pulp. With the commander dead, the enemy should have collapsed.

But the enemy didn’t collapse—they kept marching, not even glancing at their fallen commander.

Li Banfeng cut down their standard flag—the army still surged south at full speed.

They seemed programmed—no matter what happened, they marched on.

Li Banfeng stared ahead and used Duan Jing Kai Lu; a curtain of snow rose ahead, blocking their path.

The formation shifted instantly—two rows of soldiers rushed forward, spewing fire to melt the snow curtain, charging through the slush.

BOOM!

Not far ahead, the ground collapsed into a hundred-foot-deep trench; Hong Ying also used Duan Jing Kai Lu.

Three-headed men leapt across, others flew over, some flung a silk thread to the other side and swung across.

They crossed—but the trench broke their formation.

Hong Ying stood on the far side, stomped with Tread Through Ten Thousand Rivers, and overturned dozens of three-headed men.

Not many—perhaps because their formation wasn’t dense enough.

But other three-headed men farther away suddenly dodged aside—this surprised Hong Ying.

The overturned three-headed men weren’t all dead; one spat a thread of silk that stuck to Hong Ying’s ankle; she quickly used Chang Xing Wu Ai to shake it off—only to be instantly wrapped again, this time around both legs.

Two three-headed men, six heads total—all body cultivators, all able to spit silk—wove a cocoon around Hong Ying.

Hong Ying slashed the cocoon open with her spear; ahead, six three-headed men were qi cultivators, weaving layers upon layers of nets.

Trapping her in the center.

When Hong Ying tore through the endless silk webs, she realized she was surrounded.

Hong Ying stood still, spear in hand, watching the battle.

She wasn’t afraid of being surrounded—she feared her own fighting style had failed.

Only a hundred enemies surrounded her.

Before her, tens of thousands more surged forward—but all avoided her.

Behind her, countless enemies raced south, ignoring her entirely.

If she kept repeating the same tactics—Duan Jing Kai Lu, then Tread Through Ten Thousand Rivers—she could kill a few more, but stopping this horde was futile.

Hong Ying silently admired: What fierce soldiers.

These soldiers were too disciplined—only by killing their commander now could they be stopped.

Hong Ying looked up—Li Banfeng still hadn’t found their commander.

He’d killed many in the center, but killing anyone seemed to have no effect—they were like robots, each soldier’s actions pre-programmed before the march.

Li Banfeng pulled out his gloves and waved them at Hong Ying—he’d use explosives.

Hong Ying understood, and used Duan Jing Kai Lu repeatedly to scatter the marching troops.

After the formation broke, the enemy didn’t rush to reform—they kept advancing, never forming a thousand-man array, never bothering with proper battle formations.

Li Banfeng pulled a bag of explosives from his gloves, used Feng Xiu technique, and hurled it out.

Hong Ying desperately dodged—before the explosives detonated, sixteen food cultivators with three heads opened their mouths and used Qi Swallow Mountains and Rivers to swallow them whole.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

A dozen muffled explosions rocked the three-headed men—they spat blood.

Wiping blood from their lips, they kept marching.

A Yi’s explosives—eaten and shared!

What kind of stomachs did these people have?

Could Qin Xiaopang eat A Yi’s explosives?

How did they manage it?

Qiao Yi sat in a cave, watching a mirror.

The mirror was a Kui Xiu magic treasure—he saw Li Banfeng throw the explosives and sighed: “Shangyou, they used this same method to destroy the Dai Kou Camp, to blow up the Great Altar—I’ve recorded every drop of blood on the Great Totem!”

Nian Shangyou said: “Li Qi has come, with Hong Ying. I suggest we send reinforcements immediately.”

Qiao Yi shook his head: “If ten thousand troops can’t handle these two, all my efforts have been wasted!”

Nian Shangyou glanced at the other two mirrors: “What of the other two forces?”

Qiao Yi didn’t even look—he ordered: “Keep marching!”

Li Banfeng pulled Hong Ying from the crowd and vanished.

Nian Shangyou said: “Li Qi retreated?”

Qiao Yi smiled: “Do you think he’ll come back?”

Nian Shangyou said: “I believe he will.”

Qiao Yi nodded slightly and kept watching the mirror.

Soon after Li Banfeng vanished, dozens of three-headed men began convulsing—their limbs stiffened, faces twisted, joints bent into impossible angles.

These were travel cultivators—their level was far below Li Banfeng’s; logically, they shouldn’t sense malice from Li Qi.

But there were so many—each sensed minor anomalies and pooled them together, sensing imminent danger.

Under the travel cultivators’ warning, some listened, some watched, some smelled the unique odor of gunpowder—they were Kui Xiu. At their level, they couldn’t see Li Banfeng—but hundreds of eyes, working in concert, could catch faint traces.

Li Banfeng secretly threw out explosives—Qiao Yi’s Kui Xiu treasure couldn’t detect them.

But these Kui Xiu spotted the explosives and warned the food cultivators in time—the food cultivators leapt into the air and swallowed them again!

The army kept advancing, never stopping.

Li Banfeng dropped a drop of blood on the ground—an invisible boundary rippled outward.

Where the boundary passed, three-headed men shed flesh and blood, fell wounded; some wounded ones who crossed it died instantly.

The three-headed army finally halted—they couldn’t bypass Li Banfeng’s boundary.

Li Banfeng, carrying the boundary, prepared to walk through the enemy formation. He took two steps—then his head split with pain.

Using Guan Men Bi Hu required prolonged mental focus—some of the army’s Nian Xiu sensed Li Banfeng’s presence.

These Nian Xiu weren’t low-level—and there were countless of them; over a thousand in total.

They didn’t try to control Li Banfeng’s thoughts—just flooded his mind with chaotic, random thoughts.

The sensation was familiar—he’d experienced it fighting the Wu Zui Army—but the Nian Xiu technique’s strength was incomparably greater. With his Shuang Yun Liu cultivation base, he’d nearly lost consciousness under the assault.

Guan Men Bi Hu’s boundary vanished. Confused and reeling, Li Banfeng appeared in the crowd—before he could recover, over a dozen weapons pierced his body.

No time to use Xing Zhe Wu Jiang—he used Zhai Xin Ren Hou to harden his body. He wasn’t mortally wounded, but bore over a dozen cuts.

The Nian Xiu kept chanting, the Wu Xiu kept slashing—Hong Ying charged forward with her spear and slaughtered every Wu Xiu around Li Banfeng.

Li Banfeng used the technique of riding wind and cloud, lifting a group of Nian Xiu around him into the air, then flung them to the ground, smashing them to pulp.

But there were plenty of Nian Xiu in the army; now that they had found the key, other Nian Xiu gathered to attack Li Banfeng and Hong Ying.

The two were overwhelmed defending themselves, while the rest of the enemy army continued advancing.

Li Banfeng touched his pocket watch; Meng De told him it was only half past three, far from nightfall.

Less than a li remained to the Wang’s boundary; if he used the boundary again, he’d surely be detected by over a thousand Nian Xiu—but without it, what other option did he have?

Li Banfeng recalled all his shadows and launched a direct, brutal assault.

Banfeng Yi led over a hundred Lv Xiu shadows, fighting alongside Hong Ying at the heart of the enemy army.

Banfeng Zi led over a hundred Zhai Xiu shadows, constantly launching hit-and-run strikes around the enemy ranks.

Li Banfeng, accompanied by dozens of shadows, darted back and forth through the enemy army; wherever he passed, three-headed men danced wildly, driven mad.

The ten-thousand-strong army once again halted; Nian Shangyou grew concerned: “My Lord, send reinforcements!”

Qiao Yi’s tone was resolute: “No reinforcements! Inform the other two columns to keep marching!”

Nian Shangyou glanced at the other two columns and felt something was wrong: “My Lord, they seem to have taken the wrong direction.”

Qiao Yi looked at Nian Shangyou: “Are you asking me?”

Nian Shangyou immediately ordered: “Stop marching, recheck our direction!”

Qiao Yi roared: “We cannot stop marching!”

Nian Shangyou quickly corrected himself: “Check while we march!”

Qiao Yi watched the battle near Li Qi and slowly smiled.

Less than a li from the boundary, Li Banfeng fought desperately—but could not halt the ten-thousand-strong army’s advance; many enemy troops had already crossed the Wang’s boundary.

Suishenju prepared to appear and join Li Qi in defense, when suddenly a voice cried beside his ear: “Little brother, wait—I’ll go first!”

“You’re here?” Suishenju gasped, voice trembling.

“That’s right—I’m here!”

HOOOOO!

The deafening whistle of a steam engine tore through the air as a pitch-black train crashed into the crowd, overturning men and horses in its path.

Li Banfeng exclaimed in delight: “Brother! You’ve come!”

Lao Huochē laughed loudly: “Load more coal, add water—we’re on the move! The train’s power is boundless, brother—don’t slack off! I came the moment I got your message—fight them!”

Nian Shangyou pointed at the mirror: “My Lord, Shiba Lun has arrived—still no reinforcements?”

Qiao Yi gritted his teeth: “Perfect! No reinforcements needed—keep fighting!”

CLANG!

The carriage door opened, and a massive human head rolled out.

“HOOOOO!” Tou Youlu opened his mouth, spat out yellow bile, and shouted, “Shiba Lun, you damn old train nearly gave me motion sickness!”

PS: Only Lv Xiu can move fast enough.