Chapter 25: Chapter Twenty-Five: The Wang Clan

Jianmen Pass.

He stepped into this northern stronghold once again.

Dou Changsheng could clearly feel that the commander, his broad palm resting on his long blade, now regarded him with eyes utterly different from their first meeting—filled with vigilance, wariness, and deep hostility.

This time, he received a grand reception.

Not only did the commander personally oversee him, but a squad of armored soldiers, wielding long spears, now stood behind Dou Changsheng—and their numbers kept swelling, soon exceeding a hundred.

Especially from afar, a man carrying a long bow fixed his gaze upon Dou Changsheng.

A rider atop a massive, fully armored steed—its body likewise sheathed in metal, like a monstrous creature forged of steel—looked down upon Dou Changsheng with cold, glinting eyes.

Its hooves lifted and came down repeatedly, already poised for a charge.

This was only part of it; countless watching eyes were fixed on him.

His sixth sense continuously pulsed with danger; since entering Jianmen Pass, Dou Changsheng’s heart had been clenched tight, trembling with constant dread.

Black Eagle Elder whispered from his side: “The man with the long bow is Sun Changhong.”

“A Thousand-Man Captain, trusted aide of the Breaker of Invaders Captain.”

“The rider clad head to toe in armor, even his steed armored, is the Hundred-Man Captain Bai Sutu.”

“His unit is the Heavy Iron Cavalry—both men and horses fully armored, known as the Black Armor Cavalry.”

“Though numbering only a hundred, they can stand against ten thousand, charge through enemy lines, invincible in assault and undefeated in battle.”

Dou Changsheng raised his hand, cutting off Black Eagle Elder’s introduction—no need to say more. What merit did he have to warrant such treatment? He had barely entered Jianmen Pass, and already the Breaker of Invaders Captain’s favored officers were watching him.

The border garrison of Jianmen Pass numbered barely ten thousand, and by official roster, only ten Thousand-Man Captains.

To hold the rank of Thousand-Man Captain was already a major figure in the military.

The strength of such men was obvious.

They might excel at charging and battlefield slaughter, but their individual combat skills were weaker—yet here, in Jianmen Pass, each commanded their own troops; once battle lines formed, their power would surge dramatically.

He couldn’t beat them.

Honestly, he couldn’t beat them.

Dou Changsheng sighed—why had he, with no provocation, drawn such extraordinary attention? It was like using an ox to kill a chicken.

Yet beside him, Black Eagle Elder seemed perfectly at ease, and spoke up: “The commander of Jianmen Pass doesn’t use these trusted men to resist the Hu Ren, but instead guards against his own.”

“It’s truly disappointing.”

Zhao Manren couldn’t help interjecting: “This is normal.”

“The commander of Jianmen Pass has excellent intelligence—Dou Brother’s abilities must have reached Jianmen Pass long ago.”

“Dou Brother slew the Dragon Fly with a single sword, cut down a Xiantian Zhenjing martial artist, and drove another Xiantian Zhenjing martial artist into retreat—so terrified, he dared not fight.”

“Alone, he reclaimed the military pay, and the enemy, unmoved, dared not send more assassins.”

“Such abilities are exceedingly rare.”

“Who doesn’t know Dou Brother’s strength is unfathomable?”

“Now, killing a Xiantian Zhenjing martial artist isn’t Dou Brother’s limit—it’s merely that the enemy is this weak.”

“Even the Fire Cloud True Person, a guest of the Demon Lord, a master on the Earth List, dares not act rashly. Dou Brother’s treatment is well-deserved.”

“I suspect even the Breaker of Invaders Captain won’t dare meet Dou Brother alone this time.”

Zhao Manren left the rest unsaid, but the meaning was clear—the Breaker of Invaders Captain feared Dou Changsheng might suddenly erupt, cry out “For the North,” and cleave him in one stroke.

Dou Changsheng glanced twice at Zhao Manren, silently muttering to himself.

They had been together the whole time; Zhao Manren never left his sight—how had he come to believe this?

Where did “unfathomable strength” come from? Where did “driving off a Xiantian Zhenjing martial artist” come from?

Black Eagle Elder sighed: “What a pity.”

No one knew what he meant by it.

Outside the gate, the commander did not stop—he led Dou Changsheng straight inside.

This time, the Breaker of Invaders Captain stood before the hall, atop the steps, gazing down at Dou Changsheng, his eyes growing ever deeper.

Beside the Breaker of Invaders Captain stood a man and a woman.

The man’s face was chiseled, his eyebrows sharp as swords, his eyes bright as stars, his figure tall and straight, a precious sword hanging at his waist, a folding fan in hand, gently tapping his palm.

The woman wore a red gown that accentuated her tall figure; her face was veiled in gauze, concealing most of her features, her black hair softly falling, adorned with a purple, exotic flower that made her radiant, as if the center of the world—impossible to ignore.

Seeing these two, Black Eagle Elder’s expression changed drastically, and he growled: “Are the Divine Sword Sect and the Five Color Valley betraying the shogunate?”

The Breaker of Invaders Captain remained silent. The red-clad woman lifted her flawless white hand, brushed aside a strand of hair from her forehead, and gently stroked the purple flower before speaking slowly:

“The shogunate is too arrogant.”

“When did the Five Color Valley become a vassal of the shogunate?”

“For all these years, the Five Color Valley has only obeyed the shogunate’s orders to resist the Hu Ren, to uphold the martial way, to serve the Great Jin court, and to protect the countless lives of the North.”

“There has never been any written document or public pledge of submission to the shogunate.”

“How is this betrayal?”

Her voice was cold, her beautiful eyes filled with frost as she glared at Black Eagle Elder with clear hostility.

Black Eagle Elder did not argue; he bowed and apologized: “The Five Color Valley is a true northern sect—I spoke carelessly.”

The Five Color Valley and the Divine Sword Sect were both great northern sects; though they could not rival the Heavenly Sword Sect’s fame across the land, they were still among the top tier in the North.

Their influence in the North surpassed even the Heavenly Sword Sect.

The red-clad woman did not look at Black Eagle Elder; her gaze fixed on Dou Changsheng, her eyes brimming with combat intent. She stepped forward and declared:

“The Wang Clan of Xiangzhou—”

“A lineage spanning a thousand years, a famed household of the land.”

“Their ancestral Three Yuan Return Qi Art is renowned throughout the martial world, praised as Three Yuan Unification, capable of contending with Heaven.”

“I am Zi Wu, the current Zi-line heir of the Five Color Valley.”

“I left the Five Color Valley under my master’s orders to deliver a letter to Jianmen Pass, yet I never expected to encounter the direct heir of the Wang Clan of Xiangzhou.”

Zi Wu stepped forward several paces, arriving at the open ground before the hall, and had already drawn the slender broken sword from her back.

Zi Wu stepped forward, reaching the open ground before the hall, and drew her slender, broken blade.

Dou Changsheng glanced at the Breaker of Invaders Captain—the man showed no displeasure, made no move to stop this usurpation of the stage—he immediately knew this was arranged.

They meant to test him.

This was Jianmen Pass—the Breaker of Invaders Captain’s domain.

This duel would not end in death.

The commander of Jianmen Pass had not yet defected to the Hu Ren, nor opened the gates to let them pour south—because surrendering was the worst option; the words “Better to be Hu than Jin” were merely meant for Tang He to hear.

The Hu Ren were no good—they were tigers and wolves; inviting them in was inviting disaster.

The shogunate feared them, and the Breaker of Invaders Captain feared them too—both sides were afraid of the other.

Moreover, this event—barring unforeseen circumstances—was backed by the Five Color Valley and the Divine Sword Sect, the Breaker of Invaders Captain’s allies.

Zhao Manren stepped forward beside Dou Changsheng and whispered: “The Five Color Valley is famed for its five colors.”

“The five strongest martial artists each inherit one color: purple, white, gold, blue, black.”

“The Zi-line is the strongest of the five; the current head of the Five Color Valley is Zi Xiu Zi Tianyi.”

Dou Changsheng glanced at Zi Wu—the Zi-line heir wore red, not purple. He raised his hand slightly, halting Zhao Manren’s exposition—even if Zhao Manren revealed the Five Color Valley’s secret arts and cultivation methods, Dou Changsheng had no way to recognize them.

After all, he was no true Wang Clan of Xiangzhou disciple; he had never studied the world’s divine arts and secret techniques as mandatory knowledge.

“There is one point to correct.”

“My surname is Dou, my name Changsheng.”

“I am not from Xiangzhou—I am a native of this land, born in a mountain village.”

“As a child, I accidentally received a fragment of a cultivation manual from an extraordinary person; after years of arduous practice, I’ve gained only minor cultivation.”

“I know only two sword arts: the Xiantian Sword Art, ‘Fearless Sword Art,’ and the Xiantian Zhenjing Sword Art, ‘Infinite Sword Technique.’”

“I have never pretended to be a Wang Clan of Xiangzhou heir. Remember this, all of you—if the Wang Clan of Xiangzhou comes seeking me later, let this be your witness.”

Hearing “Wang Clan of Xiangzhou” again, Dou Changsheng’s brow throbbed—he knew this was an opportunity, and seized it to correct the record. Even if they didn’t believe him, he had tried his best. The Wang Clan was a great family; they would at least care about their reputation.

Zi Wu said nothing. Her slender broken blade became a streak of light, dissolving into countless glittering points.

A sky of sword shadows, dense and overlapping, wove into an inescapable net, enveloping Dou Changsheng—east, west, south, north, all paths blocked; he had no choice but to surrender.

The sword shadows were endless, each strike branching into infinite variations.

The Breaker of Invaders Captain’s eyes narrowed to slits.

This test of Dou Changsheng was the Breaker of Invaders Captain’s idea, but also Zi Wu’s own desire.

The Five Color Valley was a great northern sect; as the Zi-line heir of this generation, Zi Wu had received direct transmission from Zi Tianyi.

This youngest disciple of Zi Tianyi was entrusted with great hope; at twenty-eight, she had only now begun her journey into the martial world, precisely to compete for this generation’s Human List.

Anyone under thirty could ascend the Human List.

Zi Tianyi’s calculations were clear.

Zi Wu, fresh from the valley, was proud and haughty.

She had shown him no proper respect; the Breaker of Invaders Captain intended to teach her a lesson.

If she lost, she would be humbled; if she won, they would learn something of Dou Changsheng’s true strength.

But in the Breaker of Invaders Captain’s view, Dou Changsheng could not lose.

Zi Wu was already twenty-eight, and still only at Five Qi Convergence—merely Xiantian Zhenjing.

Though formidable, she would not reach Three Flowers Gathering until her thirties, and not break into the Divine Realm until her fifties or sixties, becoming a Pure Yin or Pure Yang Master.

Her future was bright—she would be a pillar of the Five Color Valley.

But you must also consider who you’re comparing with?

True Person Huoyun has publicly announced that the Wang family of Shengzhou has produced a Divine Child.

To stand alone atop the throne, one sword suppressing the martial world for a decade.

The only one in the past who achieved this was the Demon Master Lin Xuanqi.

He founded the Heavenly Demon Palace, dominated Southern Chen, and became the greatest enemy of all nations—a terrifying, peerless figure of this age.

The last time Captain Polilu saw Dou Changsheng, his bone age was under twenty, yet he was already a Xiantian martial cultivator—this was exceptional, destined to appear on the Ren List; if he did not perish prematurely or suffer a great calamity, he would inevitably become a Zongshi.

Whether he would enter the Di List, however, was uncertain.

After all, every Di List cultivator had carved their name through seas of blood and corpses.

Without several Zongshi lives in their hands, who in the world would believe in them enough to place them among those seventy-two slots?

Entering the Ren List does not guarantee entry to the Di List, but every Zongshi on the Di List was originally from the Ren List.

But the latest news had stunned Captain Polilu: three-zhang sword qi, invincible, one sword slaying a Xiantian Zhen Realm cultivator and driving off another.

It left a Di List Zongshi powerless, allowing him to reclaim the military pay and calmly arrive at Jianmen Pass without any further action being taken.

What kind of prestige was this?

Beside him, a man with sword-like brows and starlit eyes, his gaze sharp and focused, watched it all intently.

The Wang family’s Divine Child.

These four characters had now shaken the entire world.

A Di List Zongshi had willingly let him trample on their fame to rise.

With the verdict “stand alone atop the throne, one sword suppressing the martial world for a decade,” you couldn’t help but want to know.

What heavenly talent, what celestial immortal born from heaven.

The related terms were countless, making one’s ears weary from hearing them.

He himself was deeply curious, wanting to know if he could live up to the praise.

Dou Changsheng did not know the onlookers’ mindset—watching the sky filled with countless sword shadows, the man stood motionless, yet his Xiantian internal qi surged forth, vast and mighty like a breached river, instantly roaring out in a torrent.

One sword qi after another began appearing out of thin air.

The sword qi was illusory, weak, as if mere bubbles.

But as Xiantian internal qi continuously flowed in, each sword qi gradually solidified, pure and transparent, becoming as real as physical blades.

The exquisitely pure Xiantian internal qi seemed to transform into countless three-foot-long swords, each whistling as they surged forth, spewing sword qi in all directions.

Wu Liang Sword Art.

Seventh Form: Sword Sixty-Four!

The Wu Liang Sword Art had nine forms total; from the seventh form onward, they were all killing techniques.

During his journey to Jianmen Pass, Dou Changsheng’s comprehension of the Wu Liang Sword Art had advanced by leaps and bounds, progressing from the fourth form to the seventh.

He had mastered the killing technique of the Wu Liang Sword Art.

Moreover, he had surpassed his teacher—he no longer needed a sword, merely using Xiantian internal qi to propel it.

This was the true essence of the Wu Liang Sword Art: controlling the sword with qi.

He unleashed five consecutive strikes: Sword Sixty-Four.

Three hundred and twenty sword qi filled the heavens and earth densely.

There was no need to concern himself with the subtle changes of Zi Wu Sword Form—he crushed skill with raw power.

Dou Changsheng had no shortage of Xiantian internal qi—he overwhelmed with sheer force.

The sky’s sword shadows swept clean; endless sword qi roared and devoured Zi Wu.

Zi Wu moved lightly like a peacock, wielding her broken sword as if spreading a peacock’s tail, breathtakingly beautiful.

She stunned the world, captivating all, each sword qi shattering before her.

Suddenly, one sword qi pierced through the barrier, slicing across Zi Wu’s veil—the thin cloth fell, leaving a bloodied cut on her cheek, a drop of blood falling onto her red robe.

Zhao Manren muttered to himself: “To kill you, why need a sword?”

“Or rather, why need a sword at all?”

“Or perhaps, one sword is enough.”

Wait.

That’s not what I said.

Why are you all staring at me?