Chapter 6: Chapter Five: Breaching the Estate

Gathered in one place, the heroes were quite lively; all cultivated in Jingxiang, though they rarely met, they were all scattered cultivators, naturally feeling a sense of kinship, exchanging recent news and tales, the scene bustling with energy.

Liu Xiaolou had few acquaintances and was young, so he did not interrupt recklessly, merely listening silently. This was his first time attending a gathering of heroes, and it truly opened his eyes—he heard many fascinating tales of cultivation.

After much discussion, the heroes began to denounce the many misdeeds of the Zhang family of Jinping Mountain.

Scattered cultivators had been bullied too severely by the great sects, and many had suffered great losses at the hands of the Zhangs—either their hard-won spirit stones were seized, or their cleverly acquired cultivation materials forcibly reclaimed, or their hard-fought elixirs snatched back; they left the scattered cultivators no room to breathe, and all were filled with righteous fury.

Liu Xiaolou, listening, felt the same indignation and injustice.

By dawn, all eyes turned toward the Zhang family estate nestled in the mountain hollow, awaiting Old Man Wang’s command.

The lights elsewhere in the estate had dimmed slightly, but the central courtyard remained brightly lit—it was the ancestral hall of Zhang Xianbai, once illustrious in southern Xiang, unchanged as ever, revealing the Zhang clan’s utter lack of vigilance.

Soon after, a letter adorned with twin tails suddenly rose into the valley, bursting into flame in the night sky, instantly illuminating the mountains in brilliant light.

Hero’s Letter!

Dai Sanren rose to his full height and shouted: “Comrades, follow me—charge the estate!” He leapt from the cliff’s edge.

The heroes surged after him, each employing their own methods—climbing vines, leaping across rocks—swiftly descending to the cliff base.

Liu Xiaolou also descended along the vine he had prepared earlier; the cliff, over ten zhang high, was soon beneath him—his mind held no distractions, only the Zhang family estate ahead!

How much you take depends entirely on yourself!

From all sides of the forest, over a hundred figures surged forth, shooting toward the Zhang estate on the central plateau—some agile and nimble, some swift as thunder, some graceful as startled swans, some like tigers descending the mountain!

A single Hero’s Letter had gathered half the heroes of southern and western Xiang.

As he ran, Liu Xiaolou pulled a black cloth from his sleeve, donned his wide-brimmed hat, and covered his face, then pushed his speed further. But no matter how fast he moved, he was still a young man fresh from his sect—he could not outpace the heroes of Wulong Mountain; these elders, too, wore black cloths, or broad-brimmed hats, or soft caps, their hair buns fully concealed, charging the estate like madmen.

After enduring famine in the mountains for so long, when else would one dare to risk it?

Such commotion naturally alarmed the Zhang clan within the estate. Though Zhang Xianbai was dead, the family still had many skilled cultivators; had Old Man Wang not summoned heroes from all corners with the Hero’s Letter, few would have dared to pluck the Zhangs’ tiger’s whiskers.

Instantly, bronze gongs rang out in the estate, and a voice shouted: “Who are these nocturnal thieves? Do you seek death?”

From the soil surrounding the estate, countless green vines suddenly erupted, intertwining tightly as they rapidly grew upward, forming a vine wall that rose higher and higher—one chi, three chi, five chi…

Simultaneously, a few vines had already bloomed and fruited; the fruits burst, launching scattered arrows—arrows like falling stars!

Under night attack, the estate had activated its massive, highly effective protective array!

The array must be stopped before it fully forms—otherwise, breaking in would be dozens of times harder.

Dai Sanren, leading the charge, struck first; beams of light shot toward the growing vine wall, igniting flames upon it. But the effect was poor—barely better than nothing.

The heroes raised shields, hammers, and blades to block the speeding arrows, but the array’s arrows carried immense force, often exploding into meteor-like flames; the Wulong Mountain heroes’ protective spells shattered on contact, proving ineffective.

Liu Xiaolou, with low cultivation, lagged behind; he drew his sect’s Three Mystery Swords and spun them above his head in a sword dance. The dance was merely psychological comfort—luckily, the arrows were still sparse, and the heroes ahead shielded him; none came his way. To be struck by such a powerful arrow barrage would be utterly fatal.

Meanwhile, heroes from Mengdong River, Pai Sect, Yunshan Guild, and southern Xiang arrived from all directions; colorful auras flared against the vine wall, magical treasures whirled and crossed in the night sky, and countless shouts rose and fell:

“Brothers, charge!”

“Break into the estate—take what you need!”

“The Jinping Estate is the richest in southern Xiang—its vaults hold hundreds of spirit stones…”

“And the Foundation Establishment elixirs from Dongyang Sect!”

“True or false?”

“Whoever grabs it first keeps it—Old Man Wang takes no cut!”

“Damn this array…”

“Ow! I’ve been hit! Someone pull me up!”

“You bastard, you hit me!”

“I’m a hero of Pai Sect…”

“Idiot, stop yelling nonsense!”

The Pai Sect had many members and skilled experts, even two Cultivation Stage Ten masters leading them; they reached the vine wall first from the east, but were blocked by the now ten-foot-tall wall—when they leapt upward, several were shot down by the increasingly dense arrows; cries of pain echoed endlessly.

Suddenly, brilliant light erupted, the mountains glowing as bright as day; Liu Xiaolou, blinded by the glare, instinctively shut his eyes and slowed his pace.

After several breaths, a thunderous boom reached his ears, shaking him, leaving him dizzy and disoriented, nearly falling.

Moments later, all returned to normal; when he opened his eyes, it was pitch black—darker than before, so dark he could not see his hand before his face.

But louder, wilder shouts now filled his ears:

“The array’s broken! The array’s broken!”

“Old Man Wang’s got skill!”

“Kill! The Zhangs hoard Jinping Mountain, denying brothers any chance to cultivate—today we steal it all!”

“Head for the ancestral hall! Open the coffin, take the burial treasures…”

“You fool, can you just open a coffin? Find the main vault!”

“Shut up, you’re the fool!”

“Where’s the main vault? Who knows where the main vault is?”

“Stop shouting—follow me!”

“The targets are tough—brothers, this way…”

“Help! Quick, help!”

Those in front faced greater risk but greater gains; those lagging behind were safer but risked coming away empty-handed—each man must choose for himself.

Liu Xiaolou’s cultivation was too low; he had been stunned by the array’s destruction. Now that he’d recovered, there was no real choice—he was already behind, and hurried after the shouts toward the estate.

Fires blazed within the estate; guided by the flames, Liu Xiaolou found the breach: a gap over two zhang wide, the broken vine walls on either side still writhing and growing, trying to heal the opening—but a layer of purple-white phosphorescent light prevented it, burning away whatever grew.

Such a technique was beyond Liu Xiaolou’s comprehension; only Old Man Wang could orchestrate such chaos—this was the very reason he had sent out the Hero’s Letters far and wide.

Fires erupted throughout the estate; shadows darted everywhere, the clashing of magical treasures, the casting of spells, the crashing of buildings—all rising and falling, overwhelming the senses.