Chapter 576: Snowy Night Battle

Is it a trap?

No, we've been discovered here!

Li Yan swiftly assessed the situation and vanished into the shadows.

He continued using his evasion technique, like a lynx climbing a tree, leaping onto the rooftop of a nearby shop, sprinting and leaping across eaves and walls, patrolling the area.

In today's Chengdu Prefecture, the Shu Prince has firmly gained the upper hand.

This isn't a street brawl—sending only two experts to handle it? Only a fool would do that.

Indeed, he soon spotted more people.

There were garrison soldiers, wielding spears or ordinary firearms, divided into small squads, several men working together to carry iron nets with hooks.

This was the yamen's usual tactic against martial artists.

But this time, neither the Chengdu yamen nor the Commandant's Office showed themselves—clearly, the Shu Prince didn't trust them, and was even wary of them.

More troubling were the Black Feather Guards.

They too were divided into small squads, wielding Divine Fire Guns, coordinating with the Cult of Evil, stealthily occupying high ground.

The good part was, their numbers weren't large.

Li Yan had a suspicion: the Shu Prince's mansion had received intelligence, but didn't know exactly who was inside.

If they'd known he was coming, the setup would've been far larger.

But to break the siege, brute force wouldn't work…

The Ghost Opera Troupe's experts were formidable, but the greatest threat was still firearms.

Thinking of this, Li Yan silently leapt onto a rooftop—just ahead, a squad of Black Feather Guards was aiming their guns.

Meanwhile, below, changes were unfolding.

In the snowstorm's darkness, the two Ghost Opera Troupe members drew nearer.

The Huaiqing Carriage & Horse Inn was also a force on Chengdu's martial underworld—engaged in black, white, gray businesses alike, and naturally operated with extreme caution.

Not only were there men guarding the night by the fire outside the inn, but hidden spies had also been placed in two nearby residences.

They spotted the two Ghost Opera Troupe experts at once.

"Who are you?!"

Seeing the two emerge from the darkness, the gatekeeper was stunned.

One drew a broken blade from his waist and shouted sharply.

The other quickly tugged the hemp rope tied to the gate.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

From within the seemingly dark house, bells immediately rang out.

Then came a flurry of hurried footsteps.

With a creak, the back door opened.

Boom!

The moment the gatekeeper stuck his head out, he was blown apart—flesh and blood shredded, his body flung backward, and the two men behind him also wounded.

Inside the room were Wuxiang Young Master and the others.

Lu, the owner of Mingxiang Pavilion, had sent a message through an intermediary to reach Wuxiang Young Master, who was hiding underground in Chengdu.

Because the Shu Prince was their common enemy, Wuxiang Young Master gladly agreed to the meeting—but for safety, he brought only Sha Lifi.

The Huaiqing Carriage & Horse Inn became the meeting spot.

"Brother!"

A bearded man, cradling the mangled corpse on the ground, roared in fury: "There's a traitor! Who betrayed us?!"

This whole affair was obviously suspicious—any fool could see it.

Lu Qingshan of Mingxiang Pavilion had only sent word that morning; Wuxiang Young Master had set the location in the afternoon—extremely rushed.

Such a quick exposure could only be explained by a traitor.

Instantly, the atmosphere inside the inn grew heavy.

Everyone gripped their weapons, eyeing each other warily, yet clearly splitting into two factions: Chengdu's underworld and the Huaiqing Carriage & Horse Inn.

The leader of the Huaiqing Carriage & Horse Inn was an elderly man in brocade robes, tall and broad, with dark skin, white beard and whiskers, and one blind eye.

This old man was Xie Huaiqing, also the leader of Chengdu's Five Elements.

Unlike Chang'an, where waterways were sparse, Chengdu's carriage businesses primarily operated along several Shu Roads and the Tea-Horse Ancient Trail.

Xie Huaiqing had Tibetan blood and was also an outer disciple of the Iron Buddha Temple, which allowed him to build this enterprise.

Seeing this, he spoke with a grim expression: "The Shu Prince is our greatest enemy. I've staked my life and fortune on this. If I betrayed you all, how could I ever face the martial world again?!"

"We'll deal with this later."

Wuxiang Young Master, true to his status as Chengdu's underworld leader, remained calm, forming the Yang Seal, peering through the crack at the window, his pupils gleaming with sharp light: "It's the Ghost Opera Troupe—powerful, hard to deal with. There are firearms hidden all around."

"They're elite of the Shu Prince's mansion. Our only option now is to break out. Beneath the Locking Dragon Well two streets away is a secret tunnel—get there, and we live!"

He turned to the others, face grave: "With experts holding us back and firearms harassing us, even I won't escape death. Now, only united will we break out."

"Good!"

"Damn it, let's fight!"

"Give your orders!"

The others all voiced their agreement.

"Good!"

Wuxiang Young Master quickly whispered his plans.

Only Sha Lifi glanced uneasily out the window.

He hadn't forgotten: Li Yan was also coming…

…………

"Stop! Don't move!"

Outside the carriage inn, two men sweated profusely.

The two figures walking down the street pressed down on them with overwhelming dread—the Ghost Zhong Kui and the White Widow, like folk legends made real—even without moving, they made the men tremble.

"Enough of your ghostly tricks!"

One man finally cracked under pressure and struck first.

But he wasn't a fool—he didn't rush in to slash; instead, he stepped forward two paces, swept his right hand behind his waist, and pulled out several willow-leaf daggers.

He pinched the blade near the tip, one-third from the end, with his middle and index fingers, while his ring finger gripped the hilt's end, perfectly aligning with Heaven, Earth, and Man.

This technique was called the "Three Talents Cut-Meridian Style," ideal for mid-range spinning throws.

This man had spent years working the Shu Roads, often having porters hang copper coins from both ends of a pole, then plucking leaves to make the coins spin, training his hand strength and eyesight—his pride and skill.

Shhh! Shhh! Shhh!

A flurry of willow-leaf daggers sliced through the snowstorm, aimed at the necks of Ghost Zhong Kui and White Widow, each pair fired one after the other.

As he released the daggers, the man felt confident.

Each pair was staggered—front slow, back fast—appearing to target the necks, but all were feints.

As they neared, the rear dagger would strike the front one, altering its trajectory to pierce the heart.

He had practiced this exquisite technique for years.

He never expected to succeed so flawlessly under such pressure.

But his eyes widened instantly.

Four daggers flew toward the enemy—when nearly there, a sudden dark wind surged, and the daggers froze midair.

"Hehehe…"

A sinister laugh echoed from the darkness.

On the snow, dense footprints had appeared out of nowhere.

Black mist churned, and five small demons with blue skin and red hair emerged, juggling the willow-leaf daggers like toys.

"Ghosts… ghosts!"

The two men felt icy dread surge into their hearts, their will to fight gone. They turned and rushed to the door, pounding wildly:

"Quick! Let me in!"

But before they finished speaking, their bodies stiffened.

Cold streams, like silken ribbons, wrapped around them, numbing their limbs and erasing their consciousness.

Far away, Bai Qihong, the Widow in Mourning, held her flowing water-sleeve, which trembled as if alive.

Boom!

At that moment, the door shattered.

Neigh!

The sound of warhorses screamed.

Seven tall horses burst out, nostrils spewing white vapor, eyes blood-red, each carrying several bamboo baskets on their backs.

These were the inn's livestock, driven mad by poison. Inside the baskets, acrid wolf-smoke burned fiercely.

Thud! Thud!

The two gatekeepers, already cursed, had no time to dodge—they were slammed eight meters away by the mad horses.

Hooves pounded as the mad horses charged down the street.

Thick wolf-smoke rolled, mingling with snow and wind, blinding all sight.

"Hehe, you're rather sharp."

The mourning-dress opera singer Bai Qihong covered her mouth with a light laugh, her right hand flicking gently; the flowing water-sleeve shot out like a silken ribbon, wrapping around the neck of a mad horse.

Puff!

The ribbon twisted and rolled, severing the horse's head, which flew upward.

Blood sprayed everywhere, staining the white water-sleeve.

In the dim light, one could see the sleeve was woven from metal threads—given sufficient force, it rivaled a blade.

Not a single mistake in content, in every detail!

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Meanwhile, gunshots echoed from afar.

Flames and smoke spread as the mad horses were each shot in the head and collapsed.

The Black Feather Guards, who had already fired, no longer concealed themselves.

Yet though the mad horses were dead, the smoke signals still rose.

Thick plumes of smoke quickly shrouded the street in haze.

Then, a flood of footsteps sounded.

From inside the carriage inn, thirty-odd men burst out, wielding blades and crossbows, swiftly scattering toward the ambush points where the looters hid.

"Dream on!"

Si Tuqian, the Ghost Zhongkui, saw at once what they intended; he sneered and pulled an umbrella from behind his back.

The umbrella had an iron frame and oxhide skin, painted with yin-yang diagrams and blood-red talismans, radiating chilling yin energy—it was clearly a magical artifact.

But the moment he drew it, his face changed drastically.

"Move!"

Si Tuqian roared, leaping sideways.

Beside him, Bai Qihong spun her body as if wrapped in the flowing water-sleeve, swiftly dodging aside.

Boom!

Flames erupted from the second floor of the carriage inn.

Where the two had stood, a large patch of snow exploded, leaving the ground pockmarked with countless holes of varying sizes.

At the second-floor window, Sha Lifei calmly replaced his magazine.

"Die!"

A sharp female voice rang out; a white ribbon spun through the air like a swallow skimming water, leaving half a footprint on the ground before streaking toward the second-floor inn window.

Sha Lifei saw it but remained calm, swiftly reloading while his right hand reached for the flintlock pistol at his waist.

He had a natural talent for firearms.

Though he'd rushed out this time and couldn't bring heavy weapons like fire caltrops, he still had means to counter.

The short pistol was loaded with scattered pellets.

Even if the opponent was highly skilled, he'd still have to retreat.

Create distance, then use the Divine Fire Gun.

He had awakened his Body Spirit, granting him swift, agile movements; theoretically, with enough ammunition, he could keep forcing opponents back indefinitely.

As for close combat, he had long abandoned it.

Though awakening his Body Spirit had allowed him to break through Dark Force and gain a chance at Transformation Force, his talent was limited—he was nowhere near enough to face the Ghost Opera Troupe's masters.

Moreover, their magical arts were the real problem.

Indeed, sensing his intent to use the pistol, Bai Qihong instantly retreated; yet a white ribbon now danced wildly through the night snowstorm, shifting left and right like a phantom.

This was a teleportation technique—impossible to target with the naked eye.

Moreover, mournful singing echoed through the night.

"Ah~ In the first watch, the moon rises; Nezha, at seven, stirs the sea..."

The voice was plaintive, steeped in ghostly aura.

This was the Tang Dynasty mourning song "Five Watches of the Ancients," structured by watch periods, each embedding historical allusions.

It was popular among common folk during funerals; if one hired mourners, this song was often included.

But Bai Qihong's mourning song was no ordinary thing.

The martial heroes charging from afar suddenly felt dizzy, nauseous, and chest-tightened, stumbling and nearly falling.

Night Platform Eighteen Beats—Soul-Calling Technique!

Bai Qihong appeared mad, yet her methods were truly extraordinary—attacking Sha Lifei while simultaneously disrupting the battlefield.

But what puzzled her was that Sha Lifei at the window still had clear eyes, showing no sign of being affected.

Even his lips curled in faint mockery.

Bai Qihong did not know that Li Yan had obtained a Buddhist relic—a string of prayer beads—from Guangde Temple, inscribed with the "White-robed Bodhisattva Mantra," blessed by centuries of incense offerings, capable of shielding one from mental demons.

Because it aided cultivation, Sha Lifei had carried it always.

Resisting the soul-calling technique was more than enough.

Meanwhile, another figure emerged from the window.

Tall and imposing, with white hair and one eye—it was Xie Huaiqing, leader of the Huaiqing Carriage Inn.

He held a massive monk's saber, adorned with strings of bronze bells; he formed a hand seal, gently shaking it while chanting: "Gate, gate, go beyond the gate..."

This too was a Buddhist secret technique.

It was the final segment of the Heart Sutra: the Prajna Mantra.

Xie Huaiqing's cultivation was far weaker than Bai Qihong's, but once the incantation began, it disrupted the soul-calling technique.

He had been hiding in the shadows, guarding Sha Lifei.

But now, with the situation, he had no choice but to act.

Below, on the street, battle had also erupted.

Si Tuqian, the Ghost Zhongkui, had intended to coordinate with Bai Qihong's attack, but he frowned, turning toward the carriage inn.

From the shattered gate of the inn, a tall, slender figure in green robes slowly stepped out; his facial features were slowly shifting.

Sometimes becoming an old man, sometimes a young man.

It was the leader of Chengdu's underworld, the Formless Prince.

"The Xi Cai Men's face-changing art?"

Si Tuqian, seeing it, sneered, "I heard you're the 'An-Zuo Zi' of Chengdu's Bee, Hemp, Swallow, Sparrow Four Schools—apparently more than that, but still mere martial arts tricks, good only for fooling mortals."

"Even a trick is still a trick—if it kills, it's enough."

The Formless Prince's features shifted constantly; upon close inspection, tiny needles at his facial acupoints lengthened and shortened.

At the same time, he flicked his wrist, revealing two steel daggers, and said coldly: "Last time, your Ghost Opera Troupe used numbers to inflict heavy losses on me—now let's see your true skill!"

"Hahaha... As you wish!"

Si Tuqian laughed loudly, unfurling his leather umbrella and spinning it rapidly; five small demons tumbled forward, crawling on the ground with limbs splayed.

Si Tuqian then leapt up, landing atop them.

Black mist surged, and his figure vanished instantly.

"Five Demon Escape Technique!"

The Formless Prince was startled, leaping upward with the "Green Dragon Emerges from Water" maneuver, then twisting and shaking his body.

Shhh! Shhh!

Two steel daggers shot out, striking leftward.

There, black mist churned—Si Tuqian reappeared.

Finding his position surprised even Si Tuqian; he blocked with his umbrella, deflecting the daggers, and sneered: "You've got some skill—but tonight, none of you will escape!"

Bang! Bang!

From afar, gunshots continued.

The Black Feather Guards had pulled their triggers.

The Formless Prince saw this, his face darkening instantly.

His ambush plan relied entirely on speed—but Bai Qihong's soul-calling technique had delayed his fellow martial artists.

That single delay was the difference between life and death!

(End of Chapter)