Chapter 23

One sword.

Another sword.

Zhao Manren was stunned.

That black-robed warrior, whose internal qi was thick as mountains and seas, in Zhao Manren’s eyes, possessed internal qi equal to, even exceeding, that of a Primordial True Realm cultivator.

So powerful, so arrogant.

Yet he was slain by Dou Changsheng with a single sword strike.

And what followed was even more astonishing—the enemy galloping toward them on horseback, one Zhao Manren recognized: Long Ying.

A notorious, evil-ridden bandit of the martial world; though he despised the man’s conduct, Long Ying’s strength was Five Qi Convergence, Primordial True Realm.

There was no pretense here—he was a true, solid Five Qi Achiever.

His Primordial internal qi had already transformed into Primordial True Qi; every gesture radiated overwhelming might.

Yet such a powerful figure, whom Zhao Manren feared would doom this raid on military funds, turned the tide—within Dou Changsheng’s hands, the Primordial True Realm cultivator was still slain by a single sword.

This pace of killing was terrifying.

Zhao Manren could not help but look at Dou Changsheng, his mind still echoing the morning’s words.

I’m all show—my Primordial internal qi is just a bit more, and my sword technique? Only one move… just enough to buy time.

Is that “a bit more”?

Thinking of Dou Changsheng’s humble demeanor back then, pretending his strength was weak, Zhao Manren’s face involuntarily twisted.

This was pure flexing.

Zhao Manren’s doubts about Dou Changsheng vanished completely—he was no rustic boy.

What villager’s son, so young, possessed such profound Primordial internal qi and such refined sword art?

Dou Changsheng’s strength was unfathomable; what he showed—slaying a Primordial True Realm cultivator with one sword—was merely because the enemy was only Primordial True Realm.

Zhao Manren was shocked; the middle-aged man in blue robes was desperate.

But Dou Changsheng did not stop—he cleanly severed the Primordial True Realm cultivator’s head, then swung another sword at the purple-robed giant.

The sword strike was swift as a falling star; a flash of cold light appeared across heaven and earth.

Though the purple-robed giant’s face was ashen, he had not fully abandoned resistance—he raised his broadsword upward, intending to block Hero Sword head-on.

The next instant, a sharp crack rang out.

The broadsword shattered instantly; one fragment fell and plunged into the earth.

Hero Sword, razor-sharp, cleaved through the broadsword like dry grass, then pierced the purple-robed giant’s chest. His eyes gradually lost their light as he gasped, “Strong strength, and a better weapon.”

“What can one do!”

The purple-robed giant’s massive body crashed to the ground, blood gushing from his chest, staining the soil red.

Dou Changsheng stepped forward, stepping over the giant’s corpse, approaching the blue-robed middle-aged man. He glanced at Zhao Manren, and from the corner of his eye saw the blue-robed man spring up from the ground like a cannonball.

The blue-robed man exploded into motion—not toward Dou Changsheng, knowing it was futile, but toward the white horse nearby.

The white horse, since Long Ying’s death and his body being thrown clear, had slowed; now it stood beside Long Ying’s corpse. The blue-robed man intended to seize the horse and flee on its speed.

Dou Changsheng sighed—he had anticipated this.

Because every move the enemy made was guided by Dou Changsheng.

His own strength was merely Primordial Realm, just slightly more Primordial internal qi, and Hero Sword was just sharper—he lacked absolute dominance over them.

He could kill them, but it would take effort.

Only by understanding their weaknesses had he crafted this stunning victory.

This place was too close to Chen Family Fortress; a Primordial True Realm cultivator could arrive as reinforcement, meaning another would follow. Dou Changsheng dared not waste time—he chose the fastest method.

He deliberately gave the blue-robed man an opening. The man, terrified of him, would surely choose to steal the horse and flee.

Fleeing like this, avoiding combat, he could not unleash even one-tenth of his ability—especially since his lower body was unstable and he had no skill in footwork. That was a fatal flaw.

The blue-robed man, overwhelmed by fear, had lost his wits and made this foolish choice.

Had he been given time to calm his terror, he would have knelt, surrendered the military funds, and begged for mercy—or at least thrown the funds down and gone for the horse.

Now he wanted both to run and keep the funds—he was too greedy.

Dou Changsheng thrust his sword.

Fearless Sword Art.

The tip of Hero Sword spat Primordial internal qi; a pure white aura surged in the wind, growing to over three meters in an instant.

The brilliant aura pierced the blue-robed man’s back, then pierced through his chest, continuing forward for over half a meter before fading completely.

The blue-robed man spat blood, his body toppling. Zhao Manren had already rushed forward, fingers gripping tightly—he seized the bundle, flipped onto his feet, and stood beside Dou Changsheng. He did not open the bundle, but held it out with both hands toward Dou Changsheng.

Strength is everything.

Though Zhao Manren was from the Wang Mansion, Dou Changsheng was merely an outsider.

Moreover, this escort of military funds was Zhao Manren’s responsibility; after recovering the funds, by right, Zhao Manren should have kept them. But Dou Changsheng’s overwhelming power had utterly subdued him, causing Zhao Manren to lower his own status, placing himself as Dou Changsheng’s subordinate.

In this operation, the leader was now Dou Changsheng.

Dou Changsheng did not take the funds; he gently pushed them back and said, “Put the things away. We leave at once.”

“This place is too close to Chen Family Fortress.”

Dou Changsheng strode toward the white horse, eyeing the blood dripping from its coat with mild distaste—but he suppressed it.

No man could refuse a fine steed.

This white horse was clearly priceless—not just for travel, but even if sold, it would fund luxury for years.

Now that he had Tang He’s Hero Sword, he was missing only a good horse.

A famous sword, a precious steed—now both were complete.

The Black Eagle Patriarch had arrived without notice, leapt onto the horse, ignored the blood on its coat, and called to Dou Changsheng: “Dou brother, hurry and go.”

Dou Changsheng mounted the horse brought by the Black Eagle Patriarch; with Zhao Manren and the others, they prepared to leave immediately.

But Dou Changsheng suddenly looked up—he heard hoofbeats in the distance. He gazed toward the horizon and saw a group galloping toward them; one figure was a familiar face—Feng Zhongyi.

Before Dou Changsheng could react, Feng Zhongyi leapt into the air and sprinted back toward Chen Family Fortress.

He didn’t even bother with his horse.

Why? Because his legs are fast.