Chapter 6: Chapter Six: One Sword

The north wind howled like knives.

It whipped against Dou Changsheng’s cheeks, causing him to instinctively squint.

His sharp eyes fixed on the iron-clad Kuangshi Wang Xiong before him—this man had changed utterly since just a few days ago.

His already towering, muscular frame now looked even more terrifying, surely exceeding two meters, standing around two point two.

His thick arms were thicker than an ordinary man’s thighs; merely standing there, he radiated overwhelming pressure.

Seeing Dou Changsheng’s figure, Wang Xiong’s eyes turned icy as he growled coldly: “Dou Changsheng!”

“Thanks to you.”

“I’ve broken through—I’m now a Xiantian martial artist.”

Wang Xiong’s voice held no joy, only unbearable pain; this complex emotion, revealed in just two sentences, proved the depth of his torment.

Wang Xiong’s expression was filled with resentment, his gaze toward Dou Changsheng brimming with hatred.

The failed raid on military funds, followed by his breakthrough to Xiantian—this was no reward, but a punishment.

He was only thirty-six now, at the peak of his prime.

He had forged steel bones and iron sinews, cultivating thick Hou Tian internal qi, unblocking the Eight Extraordinary Meridians and the Twelve Regular Meridians; with four or five more years, even the Heaven and Earth Acupoints could be pierced.

A Xiantian martial artist at forty? To the heavenly prodigies, it meant nothing.

But for a lone cultivator with no cultivation scripture and scarce resources, this pace was not slow.

Forty was still a golden age—he could still strive for higher realms. This was why Wang Xiong had willingly stepped into the vortex: if he obtained a Xiantian martial art, he could push beyond.

But now, all of it was gone.

He had broken through.

But not by his own strength—he had been forcibly pierced through the Heaven and Earth Acupoints by another’s powerful Xiantian true qi, his Hou Tian internal qi instantly upgraded into Xiantian internal qi.

Even though the other had used Xiantian true qi to widen his meridians and stabilize his foundation, making his strength equal to that of a naturally broken Xiantian martial artist,

it had also severed his future: at thirty-six, his power was this; at fifty-six, it would still be this.

Lifelong stagnation—how utterly hopeless. Even now, at the beginning, Wang Xiong could feel the daily agony, as if countless ants were gnawing at his soul.

Worse still, the one who helped him break through had poured so much true qi into him that he had left behind a controlling thread of true qi.

Disobey their orders, and death would be preferable.

His life was pitch black.

Wang Xiong knew this was the consequence of making a pact with tigers.

He was no lucky one—he was merely one of countless victims devoured by the tigers.

But Wang Xiong did not kill himself, for he still held one breath in his heart: he would seek revenge.

Not only against Dou Changsheng, but against the one who had struck him down.

And he still clung to hope: this suffering was not yet irreversible. The Jianghu was vast, the four nations boundless, countless strange beings and miracles existed—some had suffered worse than him, yet had obtained heavenly treasures and reversed their fate.

Watching Dou Changsheng slow his horse, Wang Xiong spoke coldly: “You won’t escape.”

“This is only the first wave of interception.”

“It’s a test for you.”

“In my view, they’re too cautious.”

“I’ve told them repeatedly—you only possess Xiantian internal qi, with no actual combat ability—but they refuse to believe me.”

“Back then, on the battlefield, I was frightened, nervous, my mind clouded—I forgot many things.”

“But when I returned, I remembered: when I raided you, I feared encountering experts, so I observed you for a long time—your posture, your gait, the calluses on your palms—I weighed every detail.”

“Even after approaching you, I personally checked—you had no internal qi at all.”

“That was my mistake—I was only a Hou Tian martial artist then, unaware of the subtleties of Xiantian internal qi. But no martial artist could have zero traces of cultivation in their physique.”

“You specialize in swordplay—you’ve trained for years. That’s entirely different from farming. I grew up poor, I’ve seen too many poor people—I’d never mistake this.”

“You’ve always been, according to intelligence reports, a village boy.”

“Not some nobleman in disguise.”

“That Xiantian internal qi was merely stored inside you by some powerful martial artist using a secret technique.”

“So you didn’t save that swordsman—you had no Xiantian martial artist’s strength. You were just a showman.”

“You were used as a pawn by the Magistrate’s Office and the Black Eagle Elder—your sole purpose was to draw our attention, forcing us to dispatch forces to intercept you.”

“I can say—you succeeded.”

“Those people ignored my desperate warnings and stubbornly chose to split their forces.”

“They didn’t even wait to overwhelm you together—they sent me first to probe you, so they could learn your true strength before launching a coordinated ambush.”

“That was a mistake upon a mistake—it wasted precious time. If they had followed my orders, we would have seized one-tenth of the military funds by now.”

Wang Xiong strode forward, his towering frame accelerating into a run—like a heavy truck hurtling forward, his aura was fierce, unstoppable.

“Let me show them.”

“What I said was true.”

Wang Xiong’s aura was terrifying—thick veins bulged on his muscular arms, writhing like snakes; his cheeks swelled with protruding blood vessels, grotesque and horrifying. His fist, as large as a sandbag, rose high—and as it slammed forward, qi exploded outward.

Finally—he moved.

Dou Changsheng’s heart, which had been clenched in his throat, finally dropped.

As long as Wang Xiong didn’t move, he had no opening.

If I struck first with my sword, I’d reveal my intent—Wang Xiong would grow wary and dodge Shénquē.

But now that Wang Xiong had launched his punch—

Dou Changsheng had his chance. He slapped the horse’s rump. The horse cried out in pain and surged forward.

The rusted longsword unsheathed, flashing like a streak of frost. Xiantian internal qi erupted—faster than thunder. Riding the horse’s momentum, the sword’s speed increased by another third.

Wang Xiong’s furious punch—Dou Changsheng ignored it entirely.

Xiantian internal qi pierced Shénquē.

Wang Xiong’s vital point shattered—his Xiantian internal qi went wild, violently surging, his internal organs instantly rupturing. His mighty, brutal punch collapsed into limp weakness.

Dou Changsheng sheathed his sword. The horse galloped past.

A light voice drifted behind:

“I’m in a hurry!”