Chapter 828: Wan Xiu Blood Battle

Tou Youlu was vomiting when a group of three-headed men circled around him and continued charging toward Wuyou Ping.

The massive heads turned half a circle, and Tou Youlu felt humiliated.

“Even if you don’t think I can fight, at least notice I’m good-looking—walk right past without even glancing? What’s your meaning?”

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Anyone who passed by Tou Youlu, no matter how many legs they had, became entangled and fell to the ground.

Shi Ba Lun took advantage, rolling forward and crushing everything in its path, spraying blood and flesh.

Tou Youlu leapt onto the roof of the carriage; wherever his gaze fell, the three-headed men exploded one after another.

Hong Ying exclaimed: “This big-headed fellow really knows how to use the Horse-Galloping-View technique!”

Nian Shangyou watched in terror and asked Qiao Yi: “My lord, shouldn’t we send reinforcements?”

Qiao Yi shook his head: “No need. Just command from here.”

How could you possibly command against such a formidable foe?

Seeing Shi Ba Lun charging too fiercely, Nian Shangyou ordered the brigade cultivators to gather and set up obstacles together.

The brigade cultivators complied, clustering in one spot to use the Broken Path Opening technique; layers of trenches immediately appeared in the formation. Shi Ba Lun wasn’t afraid—he could fly.

The train wheels lifted an inch off the ground, rendering the trenches useless. The old steam engine blew its whistle, spun its wheels, and charged straight into the enemy ranks.

The enemy changed tactics: mud and sand churned within the trenches, rising into Cengcengtuqiang .

Shi Ba Lun smashed through several walls, then suddenly stopped moving.

Tou Youlu asked: “What’s wrong? Hit twice and already hurt?”

Shi Ba Lun wasn’t hurt—he was jammed. Massive amounts of mud had clogged the connecting rods and axles, locking the wheels.

Even though the wheels didn’t touch the ground, if they couldn’t turn, the old steam engine couldn’t move.

Tou Youlu drew a deep breath and created a vast vortex around the wheels, trying to suck out the mud.

After sucking for a moment, the mud didn’t budge. Shi Ba Lun sensed something strange: “Damn it, they used glue!”

The earthen walls were only meant to slow the steam engine; what truly stuck the wheels and rods was glue mixed into the mud. The enemy army had thirty thousand heads—every sect under heaven was represented—and dozens of Glue Cultivators hidden among them had just pulled off a successful ambush.

A massive wave of sand and sludge surged toward the steam engine. Tou Youlu sensed the danger and flew high. Hong Ying used Broken Path Opening to erect a snow wall, blocking the sludge from engulfing the engine.

Sludge splattered everywhere, some landing on the steam engine—seemingly harmless.

Li Banfeng seized the chance to rush forward and rescue the steam engine, but it shouted: “Brother, don’t come! There are Corrosion Cultivators!”

What were Corrosion Cultivators?

Li Banfeng froze as he saw rust spots sprouting across the steam engine’s body.

Tou Youlu spotted a man in the enemy ranks using Corrosion Cultivation technique—his face was streaked with rust, and he was secretly exerting force, aiming to rust the steam engine completely.

“There really are Corrosion Cultivators? Such rare things are hard to find!” Tou Youlu made the Corrosion Cultivator fly up, then slammed him down, smashing him into pulp.

He thought that had saved the steam engine—but the rust on its body grew deeper, threatening to pierce through.

There were more Corrosion Cultivators in the enemy ranks!

Corrosion Cultivators had vanished for years—how could there be more than one in this army?

Qiao Yi sipped tea in the cave: “Every loss the Great Merchant suffered is meticulously recorded on the Great Totem.”

The steam engine shouted to the others: “Don’t bother with me—keep fighting!”

As he spoke, black water surged from the steam engine’s body, flowed down its frame, turned yellow, and seeped into the axles.

How easily could a Master Artisan be subdued? The steam engine had countless tricks—removing rust above, dissolving glue below; the wheels could move again.

But there were too many Glue and Corrosion Cultivators—the steam engine’s rust-removal couldn’t keep pace with the rusting. Just as the axles loosened, they rusted shut again.

Li Banfeng and Hong Ying continued slaughtering through the enemy ranks; Tou Youlu, airborne, smashed and struck, killing entire groups at a time.

A mist enveloped Tou Youlu; he felt slight burning—meaning the mist was poisoned.

Ordinary poisons didn’t concern him, but this mist contained countless toxins—nearly every known poison in the world was present. One of them might bring him down.

The poison mist pressed downward; to evade it, Tou Youlu had to descend. At low altitude, Cloth Cultivators had woven nets everywhere, Arrow Cultivators fired volleys in succession, forcing him to land.

Landing wasn’t easy—he had no feet. To land, he had to create a vortex beneath his neck to suck himself down, and he’d never mastered the force precisely.

This time, the force was too strong. Tou Youlu thudded into a mud pit with a wet splat.

Earth Cultivators had prepared a swamp below. The moment he landed, his mouth and nose sank into the mire.

Hong Ying rushed to rescue him—but as she neared, her movements suddenly slowed.

She had grown flesh all over her body, using her long spear as a skeleton; she felt no different from Zhao Xiao after her resurrection.

But she’d forgotten one thing: this spear could rust too.

Now the spearhead was rusted, as if rust had seized her core—her body moved stiffly.

Three of the four top brigade cultivators were trapped in moments; Li Banfeng, relying on his many Dao sects, still struggled desperately.

Qiao Yi watched in the mirror, lips curling with suppressed delight.

Nian Shangyou now genuinely admired Qiao Yi—this Totem Army he’d forged was terrifyingly powerful.

Facing such a formidable foe for the first time, with no familiarity with their formations or tactics, the Totem Army’s adaptability, coordination, and combat prowess were flawless.

Whooosh!

A steam whistle shattered Qiao Yi’s smile—the steam engine broke free from the Glue and Corrosion Cultivators’ control and charged wildly through the ranks.

Nian Shangyou sighed: “After all, he’s a Master Artisan—he knows too many techniques.”

“It’s not just techniques!” Qiao Yi was a Glimpse Cultivator; through the mirror, he saw changes on the steam engine’s body.

The steam engine flung away a dozen soldiers; Qiao Yi saw their reflections on its surface.

It was gleaming—covered in oil!

That oil blocked the Corrosion Cultivators’ rust and made the Glue Cultivators’ adhesive slide off the wheels.

Where did the oil come from?

The battlefield was chaotic; the mirror’s view was limited. Qiao Yi watched for a long time before noticing the truth.

A shadow clung to the steam engine’s body—was the oil coming from him?

The mirror flickered—the steam engine passed Hong Ying and removed the rust from her spear.

The man on its body also used a technique, smearing grease on the spear’s tip. Hong Ying’s movements, once sluggish, gradually regained their former fluidity.

“This man’s face isn’t big?” Qiao Yi murmured. “If his face isn’t big, where did he come from?”

If he’d come with the steam engine, he should’ve joined the battle long ago.

If someone else brought him, where was that person?

As he pondered, a song suddenly rose from the battlefield.

“Brother, slow down your pace—/ The horse-tassel flowers on the mountain are blooming!”

The Totem Army didn’t recognize the song, nor did they find it special.

They only saw hundreds of bombs flying through the air—three or five hundred, each the size of a fist.

A group of Food Cultivators rushed forward and swallowed each bomb whole.

A Yi was astonished when Tou Youlu, still trapped in the swamp, lifted his head, scanned the hundreds of Food Cultivators, and lit them all up.

Li Banfeng cried out: “Good sister! Good Ancestor!”

He surged forward with hundreds of shadows, each grabbing one of the glowing Food Cultivators and beating them to death!

Hong Ying darted through the ranks, aiding everywhere; in moments, all the Food Cultivators were dead.

Nian Shangyou stared in awe: “They coordinate so perfectly.”

Qiao Yi shook his head repeatedly: “It’s not just coordination.”

A Yi threw bombs; Food Cultivators ate them—that was standard Totem Army discipline, perfectly logical.

Tou Youlu was fighting desperately in the swamp, yet he still had the presence of mind to notice distant events—and pinpointed every single Food Cultivator with perfect accuracy.

How could he make such precise judgments in such a short time?

The only reasonable explanation: sheer luck.

Tou Youlu’s luck was indeed good. Amid fierce battle, he sensed danger above, looked up—and to see clearly, he activated the Night Torch Walking technique.

Thanks to his superior technique, that single glance lit up every Food Cultivator.

How was his luck so good?

Tou Youlu himself was puzzled, but he had no time to think—he still had his mouth and nose submerged in the swamp, and a thick poison mist hovered above his head. His situation was dire.

A cold wind blew, scattering the poison mist.

Tou Youlu rejoiced and immediately used Wind-Riding Cloud to soar upward. The Poison Cultivators were still replenishing the mist; their movements were crystal clear to him.

One glance—he lit up the Poison Cultivators too.

“Old Seven! Shi Ba Lun!” Tou Youlu shouted. “Kill them all—wipe out their entire sect!”

“Wipe out a sect” meant slaughtering every cultivator of that type—so the enemy lost one kind of response.

As Tou Youlu fought, he marveled at his luck when the Old Witch behind him said: “Big Head! You owe me.”

“You have to pay me back.”

His good luck was because the Old Witch had lent him fortune.

Tou Youlu ignored the Old Witch. She reclaimed her fortune, and a group of Arrow Cultivators surrounded him, firing arrows relentlessly.

Amid the rain of arrows, Tou Youlu activated the Carefree Escape technique, dodging effortlessly, seemingly under no pressure.

Lu Qianjiao, far away, drew her bow—ten arrows per shot, targeting only Arrow Cultivators.

Tou Youlu glanced downward deliberately.

This woman, Lu Qianjiao—so beautiful, and so helpful to him—she must have feelings for him.

This made Tou Youlu want to jot down a line about “talented man and beautiful woman” in The Floating Cloud Inquiry Station.

Not only was there Lu Qianjiao, but another woman was also very beautiful, and she seemed to like Old Seven very much.

The seduction sect ancestor Sui Chanxin came to Li Banfeng’s side; using her seduction arts, she had made many who attempted to ambush Li Banfeng unwilling to strike. She whispered softly to him: “Young Master Qi, are you still holding a grudge over what happened before?”

“I’m not holding a grudge. But she might be.”

“Who are you talking about?”

Sui Chanxin turned her head—and nearly got skewered by Hong Ying’s spear.

Qiu Luoye smashed through a line of enemy troops, clearing space for Shui Yongquan, who summoned a water array and fired droplets the size of bullets at the enemy ranks.

Behind the enemy lines, the liquor sect ancestor Liu Hutian unleashed a torrent of potent liquor; as the eighteen waves surged forward, he ignited them, and roaring flames swallowed vast swathes of the enemy.

The enemy tried to reorganize their formation, but the clothing sect master Feng Xuanzhen released countless threads and needles that tangled and tripped everyone’s feet.

Li Banfeng found it strange—why had these people come too? Weren’t they causing chaos at the Ink Fragrance Shop with Hen Wuyou?

Had they not been working for Neizhou all along?

Or had they changed their minds now that the situation had shifted?

Qiao Wuzui glanced at Ye Jianhuang: “Don’t just stand there—let’s set fire too, brother!”

Song Qianhun looked at Gui Jianchou: “You said your ghost servants outnumber mine—show me!”

The two truly revealed their ghost servants—and the tide of battle shifted.

Together, their ghost servants exceeded ten thousand; in the chaos of combat, it felt as if both sides were evenly matched in numbers.

Among the enemy, a three-headed vulture soared into the sky; one head shrieked pitifully, another growled hoarsely, and the third spoke in human voice:

“Heavenly Gang purifies filth, Earthly Sha burns forms; Wind of Xun binds souls, Fire of Li refines essence; Five Thunder cuts off all, Nine Yous illuminates the void; spirits retreat and scatter,

Dissolve form. Turtle and Snake entwined, Tiger roars, Dragon chants; Three Corpse Nails pierce bones, Seven Fiends sever sinews; Golden Crow blinds eyes, Jade Rabbit freezes hearts; Ten Thousand Ghosts bow low,

Eternal imprisonment in Langyin.”

Song Qianhun sensed something was wrong—he had seen this before. It was called “Death Bell Circling the Beam.”

The three heads of the vulture were respectively a sound sect cultivator, a funeral sect cultivator, and a demon sect cultivator.

The sound sect cultivator handled vocal projection, the funeral sect cultivator chanted the incantation, and the demon sect cultivator controlled the dead souls.

With their cultivation levels, they could not directly confront Song Qianhun or Gui Jianchou, nor could they compete for ghost servants—but they excelled at breaking the will of the dead. Song Qianhun and Gui Jianchou’s ghost servants lost much of their fighting spirit.

Lu Qianjiao fired several arrows into the sky, trying to bring down the vulture—but hundreds of three-headed vultures rose together, relying on their thick hides to share damage and absorb every arrow.

The hundreds of vultures shrieked and roared in unison—and the ghost servants’ fighting spirit vanished instantly.

Under these conditions, Gui Jianchou and Song Qianhun could no longer participate in battle.

As they pondered a solution, a crane’s cry pierced the sky—Bai Wusong arrived with the White Crane Sect, seizing the three-headed vultures midair and engaging them in combat.

The vultures were locked in fierce struggle and could no longer weaken the ghost servants; the ghost servants reentered battle, and the tide of war turned.

Nian Shangyou looked at Qiao Yi: “Lord, the situation is dire—we must send reinforcements.”

Qiao Yi remained silent. So many skilled fighters had come from Puzhou; even now, after this much fighting, this ten-thousand-strong Totem Army was still responding correctly and holding their ground.

“Wait a little longer!”

After another moment of watching, Qiao Yi could no longer sit still.

The center of the formation suddenly collapsed, and a golden stream erupted forth.

Golden light spread, engulfing half the formation; Xu Han snatched up a ladle and unleashed two more waterfalls.

It was hard to counter Jin Xiu—their Dao was not easily restrained; the best method was to kill the Jin Xiu himself.

But killing Xu Han was no easy task—he had dared appear at the center of the formation, proving he was prepared for bloody combat.

The corrosive golden fluid forced soldiers to retreat to either side, splitting the formation in two; coordination and mutual support between units became impossible.

Qiao Yi ordered: “Inform the other two detachments to move in and support!”

Nian Shangyou said: “There are still two other units—shouldn’t we—”

Qiao Yi shook his head: “The remaining two units remain on standby!”

Nian Shangyou issued the order; both detachments received it.

The trapped unit confirmed their direction and rushed to rescue—but their direction was still wrong; Jiu was still leading them in circles.

But Yuan Miaoping’s side was far worse off—the illusion technique was far less effective than the array; the enemy had gathered spy cultivators who spotted flaws in the snow.

It wasn’t Yuan Miaoping’s fault for being careless, nor the projector’s for being reckless—they chose snow as their screen, which inevitably had flaws. At first, Hong Ying had smoothed the snow with her “Walk on Level Ground” technique, but once she joined battle, the snow grew increasingly uneven, and the flaws multiplied.

The Totem Army gathered dozens of fire sect cultivators, who all spat fire, melting the snow into pools of water.

The melted water flowed beneath their feet, scattering the projections across the rippling reflections; Yuan Miaoping and the projector were exposed.

Now, there was no hope of continuing to distract the enemy—whether they could even escape was uncertain; there were many traveler cultivators among the enemy.

Yuan Miaoping stared at the snowwater, then plunged her antenna into it; a surge of electricity shot through, causing the front-line enemy soldiers to shudder violently.

Seizing the moment, Yuan Miaoping grabbed the projector and ran.

Yuan Miaoping wasn’t fast—mainly because the television was sluggish, and the projector’s speed was even more limited.

They thought they couldn’t escape—but after running several miles, they realized the enemy wasn’t chasing them.

These enemies had no concept of pursuing others; once they found the correct direction, they immediately rushed to reinforce the battlefield.

Yuan Miaoping froze: “Ah Ji, they’re not chasing us—so what do we do now?”

The projector replied: “Can you find Old Seven? It’s better to reunite with him now.”

Yuan Miaoping paused, then looked at the projector: “Have you never thought about living a free and easy life?”

The projector gave no reply; his lens flickered repeatedly—Yuan Miaoping could feel he had prepared his Withering Art.

He was merely a magic treasure; the opponent was an ancestor—the gap was immense.

Yet the projector showed no fear; the film still spun inside the cabin, recording his final moment of art.

“Don’t be so tense—I’m not trying to run. I signed a contract with Li Qi. Let’s go reunite with him,” Yuan Miaoping sighed. “I truly don’t understand why you’re so loyal to him.”

Yuan Miaoping soon sensed the signal of battle—and amid the chaos, she sensed one of her disciples.

“Ah Ji, Old Seven is fighting them—and that group just went over too. Should we still go?”

The projector said: “I don’t much like battlefield art—but I have no reason not to go.”

Yuan Miaoping led the projector toward the battlefield; as her two antennas swayed, she found the right position and contacted Song Shu.

Song Shu was fighting on the battlefield when she heard Yuan Miaoping’s voice: “How’s it going over there?”

“Ancestor!” Song Shu exclaimed in delight. “Where are you?”

“Don’t worry about where I am—a group of enemies is heading your way.”

“How many?”

“Over ten thousand.”

Song Shu was stunned and immediately relayed the news to Li Banfeng.

Though her heart trembled, it was exactly what Li Banfeng had expected—he couldn’t rely on a television and a projector to hold out until nightfall.

Their coming now was actually good—if they’d kept running south into Wuyouping, Li Banfeng wouldn’t have known what to do.

He glanced at Meng De—the time was 4:30.

Looking at the fallen enemy commanders, over half of this enemy force had been killed.

Overall, they still held a slight advantage.

If another ten thousand came, they’d keep fighting—and he hoped they arrived late, so Yu could finish the boundary faster.

Li Banfeng had figured it out—but someone beside him hadn’t.

“Another ten thousand!” The spy sect master Zhen Luoming, overhearing Song Shu and Li Banfeng, shouted: “What do you mean ‘another ten thousand’? You don’t mean there are still ten thousand more like this, do you?”

His voice was extremely loud—everyone on the battlefield heard it.

Li Banfeng was busy fighting and ignored him—but others reacted differently.

Not everyone had come to fight a brutal battle; some had come merely because they heard “ten thousand” and thought it was nothing—only to find the enemy was this formidable.

The liquor sect ancestor Liu Hutian said: “Gentlemen, this won’t do. The enemy is numerous, we are few—we can’t just throw our lives away. I say we must deliberate carefully before deciding whether to fight on.”

As he spoke, Liu Hutian retracted his wine flask, preparing to withdraw.

Qiao Wuzui, half-drunk, asked: “Ancestor, what’s wrong? Did you drink too fast and need to rest?”

Liu Hutian snorted: “Where I go is none of your business!”

The seduction sect ancestor Sui Chanxin called out: “Old Liu, don’t leave alone—take me with you!”

The clothing sect master Feng Xuanzhen also prepared to leave.

The ancestors and masters from the Ink Fragrance Shop all readied to retreat—but seeing Ku Pozi didn’t move, they hesitated; they had all come through Kucaizhuang, and without Ku Pozi’s approval, they had no way out.

But Ku Pozi had no intention of retreating; she had brought dozens of hardship sect cultivators, and none of them were leaving.

If Ku Pozi retreated now, it would not only weaken their combat power but also ruin their fortune—so she was determined to hold the line.

Yet Ku Pozi was also worried—could they even win if another ten thousand came?

She wasn’t the only one worried; after so long of fighting, Old Train was nearly exhausted.

Lian Budab leaned on Old Train: “Can’t we think of a way to catch our breath?”

“How? Ask the enemy if they’ll listen to you?”

Ye Jianhuang wiped blood from his face and said to Qiao Wuzui: “Your ancestor is leaving—aren’t you going with him?”

Qiao Wuzui gulped down more yellow wine, gasping: “Why follow him? He’s so old—if he dies one day, am I supposed to die with him?”

His words sounded bold, but his hand holding the wine gourd trembled; among those present, few could still hold on.

Li Banfeng discussed with Old Train, suggesting he take the exhausted soldiers to rest first—but before Old Train could respond, Li Banfeng heard Yu’s voice: “Old Seven, pull everyone back—the boundary is ready! It’ll activate in five minutes!”

Li Banfeng consulted with Lao Huochē, suggesting he take those without strength to rest first; before Lao Huochē could respond, Li Banfeng heard Ayu’s voice: “Old Seven, lead everyone back—the boundary’s set, it’ll be usable in five minutes!”

A full hour and a half earlier than expected!

An hour and a half earlier than expected!

Li Banfeng was overjoyed and whispered to Old Train: “Let’s retreat—the boundary is formed.”

As he spoke, Li Banfeng’s legs trembled; he could barely stand.

Old Train asked no questions, turned the train around, opened its cars, and charged through the enemy ranks once more.

Anyone they recognized was pulled into the cars; in less than two minutes, everything on the ground was aboard—except what flew in the sky.

Li Banfeng soared into the air, holding Hong Ying, and led Tou Youlu and the White Crane Clan in retreat; in an instant, only three men remained on the battlefield, and the fighting halted abruptly.

The Totem Army reformed its lines and continued southward; in their mission, moving south was the top priority, combat came second, and everything else was irrelevant.

As the Wang Mansion’s boundary came into view, Qiao Yi suddenly ordered Nian Shangyou: “Halt the march!”

Nian Shangyou relayed the order, and the army stopped near the boundary.

No one knew Qiao Yi’s intent; Qiao Yi merely felt Li Qi’s retreat had come too suddenly.

While the army waited for further orders, a vast cloud of dust erupted across the snow.

The boundary, about one meter wide, erased the snow, the soil, the withered leaves and wild grass.

Nian Shangyou gasped: “The boundary!”

Qiao Yi shook his head repeatedly: “Wuyouping cannot have a boundary.”

Nian Shangyou didn’t know what to say—the boundary was right before the army, yet it defied all logic.

Song Shu stared at the dust on the snow and whispered to Ku Po Po: “How can a place of mystery have a boundary?”

Ku Po Po was stunned—if Wuyouping had a boundary, did that mean Kucai Zhuang might one day have one too?

That was not a result she wanted.

Everyone was stunned; Li Banfeng refused to explain.

So what if Wuyouping had a boundary?

This was a matter of life and death—why cling to convention now?

With this boundary in place, let’s see how Qiao Yi gets out.

If he can’t get out, I’ll find another chance to cross over and have a quiet talk with him somewhere no one will disturb us.

Li Banfeng smiled at the boundary when he heard Yu’s voice in his ear: “Old Seven, this boundary won’t last long.”

“Last? Isn’t the boundary made by the Heavenly Maiden? Doesn’t it exist forever once formed?”

“Wuyouping is special—creating this boundary drains the Heavenly Maiden greatly. If lucky, it lasts five days; if unlucky, it vanishes in three. You must plan your next moves soon.”

Li Banfeng stood beside the boundary, his gaze blank.

Plan?

What plan could there be?

I’ll just get my wife back first.

PS: Thank you, Emperor Is a Maggot, for your tremendous support of this work.

Yesterday, “The Lord of Pulu” earned the Glory Three-Star award. Readers, you’ve pushed me, carried me, step by step to this day—I bow deeply to you all, and thank you for your profound kindness!

Once Shala recovers, the extra chapters will be delivered!