Chapter 577: Breakout

Boom! Boom! Boom!

In the darkness, gunfire never ceased.

Snow and wind howled, accompanied by spurts of blood.

In the blink of an eye, several men were blown to pieces.

A man wielding a knife leapt up, hiding behind the wall, his eyes bloodshot, staring at the half-body in the distance, roaring:

"Big Brother Lu!"

He was Cui Sandao, a famed knife-wielder among the Black Road of Shu, who had joined the Wuxiang Young Master's camp due to a grudge against the Salt Guild.

The man with only half his body left was even more renowned.

His name was Lu Zhen Shan, skilled in Iron Shirt, known as the Iron Buddha, immensely strong—he had once torn apart the iron chain across Kuimen's Hengjiang River with his bare hands, and was bold and generous, closest to Cui Sandao.

But Iron Shirt at the peak of Dark Force could not withstand the Divine Fire Gun—it was no different from an ordinary man.

Cui Sandao knew new firearms could be legally acquired, yet he stubbornly believed his knife was the true foundation.

At this moment, something inside him shattered completely.

But the gunfire in the distance gave him no time to dwell.

Bricks and stones rained down; the stone wall wouldn't hold much longer.

"Brother Tang, what do we do?"

Thinking of this, Cui Sandao turned to ask Tang Ling.

His gaze was complex, his voice lowered considerably.

To be honest, the Wuxiang Young Master had once treated Tang Ling with extreme importance, even flattered him, which made him deeply uncomfortable—he'd never given the man a good face.

But now, his attitude had changed.

"Guard me!"

Tang Ling didn't waste words—he immediately bit his fingertip, formed a hand seal, chanted a spell, and inscribed talismans onto his custom firearm, muttering:

"I humbly beseech the Ancestral Masters, this gun is no ordinary gun—transform into a sea of blood, transform into five hundred barbarian thunderbolts, pierce the liver, rupture the lungs—I invoke the Supreme Elder Lord, haste, haste, as the decree commands!"

Whoosh~

Instantly, fierce winds erupted around them.

Tang Ling didn't even aim—he raised his gun and fired.

His technique was not mysterious—it merely borrowed the power of his ancestors to push instinct to its limit, firing according to feeling.

It was the most basic method of gun magic.

Boom!

Flames erupted; distant darkness echoed with several screams and the sound of bodies falling amid broken tiles.

The gunfire from that side fell silent.

The Black Feather Guard's tactic relied on experts for defense, sorcerers for reconnaissance, and overwhelming firepower against ordinary martial artists—it was crushing.

But when their positions were too concentrated, facing similar firearms, they were doomed.

This strike killed at least three men.

Hearing Cui Sandao cheer, Tang Ling showed no pride—he said grimly: "I can only suppress them; they'll scatter momentarily—this is the only chance."

"If we don't charge forward, we still die!"

Saying this, he prepared to cast again.

Boom!

At that moment, gunfire erupted again from the distant darkness, followed by continuous screams and the sound of collapsing rooftops.

A clear voice rang out in the dark night sky.

"Li Yan of Guanzhong is here—break out, all of you!"

It was Li Yan who had moved.

He had chosen the perfect moment.

A squad ahead, startled by Tang Ling's sudden shot, was fully focused—creating a gap.

Li Yan fired directly, killing the sorcerer from the Dispersed Teaching Sect responsible for reconnaissance, then charged into the enemy ranks.

In flashes of blade light, he slaughtered the squad into chaos.

A few survivors still breathed, but he paid them no mind—he shouted his name into the night, seized two Divine Fire Guns, and leapt like a white crane spreading its wings, jumping from high ground to low eaves.

Scrape! Scrape! Scrape!

Amid cracking tiles, Li Yan crouched low, moving swiftly; as he neared another squad, he raised both guns.

This squad had lost several men to Tang Ling and had just reformed their formation, the sorcerers fully activating their spiritual senses.

Li Yan had broken his concealment technique—he was detected.

"Over there!"

A monk with a lecherous face pointed at him, shrieking.

Boom! Boom!

Before the man finished speaking, Li Yan fired.

Two men instantly exploded into blood mist; the roof collapsed, and the rest tumbled down amid shattered tiles.

"Form ranks!"

The Black Feather Guard captain roared a warning.

But immediately, he felt a chill in his chest—he looked up to see Cui Sandao had seized the chance, face twisted, driving his knife straight through him.

The others fared no better.

The group gathered by the Wuxiang Young Master, though not top-tier, were all notorious killers of the martial world—they wouldn't miss an opening.

Blade flashes, fists and palms alternating.

In the blink of an eye, they slaughtered every last Black Feather Guard.

"There are more—over there!"

Li Yan didn't waste words—he pointed straight to the distant street.

"Split up and encircle!"

Tang Ling barked a low order and charged into the snowstorm, gun in hand.

The others, experienced veterans, slipped through dark alleys, heading toward the direction Li Yan indicated.

As for Li Yan, he flicked the blood from his blade, gazed toward the direction of the carriage inn, and walked into the darkness, eyes full of killing intent…

…………

Outside the carriage inn, the battle raged fiercely.

Sha Li Fei and the carriage company leader Xie Huaiqing fought in tandem, barely holding their ground, repeatedly forcing back the demon girl Bai Qi Hong.

But killing her was impossible.

Sha Li Fei fired several shots—only one of her water sleeves was shattered.

Below, the Wuxiang Young Master and Situ Qian were evenly matched.

Situ Qian stepped on the Five Ghosts, his iron umbrella swirling, black mist churning as he moved—almost like a true ghost god.

Moreover, he wielded an excellent sword art.

Legend said Zhong Kui's procession had four features.

First, he rode the "Kui Star Sedan," a divine artifact bestowed by Emperor Xuanzong of Tang when he appointed Zhong Kui as "Saint Lord Who Bestows Blessings and Guards the Home," capable of crossing yin and yang, racing across the earth.

Second, he was accompanied by five ghosts.

Third, he held the Green Blade Seven-Star Sword, which slew demons and evils.

Fourth, he carried the Bat Blessing Fan, symbolizing the bestowal of fortune.

Situ Qian's technique was a unique spirit-invoking method—though dark and sinister—it mimicked these traits closely.

But his sword art was more vicious, his moves cunning and treacherous, the blade coated with a sticky, yin energy.

This was a weapon forged from cursed malice—once it wounded, it would infect the soul, more terrifying than poison.

The Wuxiang Young Master was no less formidable—he recognized the weapon's danger and avoided direct contact, leaping and twisting like a ghost, dodging while flicking out steel needles.

In short, neither could overcome the other.

Situ Qian wasn't in a hurry—he only needed to trap the opponent here, waiting for the Black Feather Guard to kill the rest, forming a complete cage to crush this famed Chengdu underworld leader.

But Li Yan's appearance made him tremble.

He had never met Li Yan, nor knew he had been entrusted by his master to cleanse the household.

But Nie Sang's downfall, Tian Qi's death, and the earlier deaths of the Ghost Opera troupe had already put him on guard.

Even the Shu Prince had ordered opportunities to ambush Li Yan.

"Fool!"

Situ Qian couldn't help but grit his teeth in fury.

He was cursing the one who provided the intelligence.

Present-day Chengdu was a mix of dragons and snakes, with martial artists from all corners converging—the Shu Prince's mansion avoided direct conflict but had planted many covert agents.

This time, too, someone had provided intelligence.

But the intelligence was clearly flawed.

If they had known Li Yan was coming, they wouldn't have sent only these people.

Moreover, listening to the gunfire and screams from the distant darkness, Situ Qian already considered retreating—they were hired hands, wary of the Shu Prince, preparing to turn on him—why risk their lives here?

Once hesitation set in, his movements changed.

The Prince of Formlessness was an old hand; how could he not notice something amiss? His eyes flashed with sharp light, and his speed surged instantly.

He moved like a streak of blue shadow, darting left and right through the scene.

At that moment, Li Yan finally arrived.

As he ran, he swiftly swapped magazines, then raised his weapon and aimed directly at the ghostly Zhong Kui within the black mist.

Seeing the situation turn dire, Situ Qian spun his iron umbrella to shield himself, as dark winds and black mist churned—he prepared to activate a escape technique.

"Hahaha, where do you think you're going?!"

But at that instant, the Prince of Formlessness let out a sudden loud laugh.

He pressed his palms together, then spread his fingers wide, as if gripping something, and yanked downward with brutal force.

One by one, each needle, each shot, each detail—now revealed!

Whoosh!

On the ground, lights and shadows flickered wildly.

The iron cones he had thrown earlier, deflected by Situ Qian, had spun into the earth, sticking crookedly everywhere.

But now, they all rose into the air.

The Gangsha energy dissipated, revealing a dense network of interwoven metal threads.

Li Yan, upon seeing this, was also taken aback.

The Prince of Formlessness was truly the undisputed king of Chengdu's underworld.

These metal threads were clearly a magical artifact, concealed by dark energy—even his own divine perception had failed to detect them.

Probably one of his hidden trump cards.

Li Yan didn't hesitate—he pulled the trigger.

Boom!

A deafening explosion scattered the black mist.

Situ Qian's iron umbrella was shattered into fragments; its tough leather casing tore apart and rained down across the ground.

This blow had broken his escape technique.

The Prince of Formlessness pulled sharply, and the dense mesh of metal threads—like a spider's iron web—dragged the sharp steel cones, wrapping Situ Qian completely.

Sssch!

With the sound of metal slicing through flesh, the five ghosts beneath Situ Qian were cut apart, their blood and flesh spraying everywhere, staining the snow red.

"Waaahhh!"

Situ Qian roared in fury, pressed his hand seals, and leapt upward, instantly engulfed in black mist—he soared into the air, dodging the metal threads, and reappeared atop the carriage inn's roof.

Then, he spat out a large gout of blood.

Li Yan glanced at the scattered corpses and instantly understood.

These five little ghosts were all cultivated by Situ Qian through dark arts—possessed by yin spirits and demons, obedient to his command, aiding him in forming a formation.

Though his physical body was destroyed, his yin spirits remained.

Situ Qian had directly used a secret technique to destroy the five little ghosts, forcibly activating an escape technique to flee.

He had dodged death—but suffered severe backlash.

Boom!

He had barely steadied himself when the ground beneath his feet exploded violently.

It was Sha Lifei, watching his chance from inside the pavilion—he had pinpointed the location by sound, raised his Divine Fire Gun, and fired.

"Aaaah—!"

Situ Qian screamed in agony, half his leg blown clean off.

Before he could react, a white shadow whistled through the air—flowing water sleeves wrapped around his waist and dragged him into the darkness.

It was Bai Qi Hong—who had come to rescue him.

Li Yan hadn't expected such swift reactions from the two—he hadn't even had time to use his own hidden techniques.

He frowned and moved to draw his blade forward.

"Quick, surround them! Don't let a single one escape!"

At that moment, distant hoofbeats and clamor rose, the ground trembled, and visible flames illuminated the night sky.

It was the garrison soldiers beginning to assemble.

"Young Master Li, this place is no longer safe!"

The Prince of Formlessness called out a warning, then shook his sleeve—the metal threads swiftly retracted, leaving trails across the snow.

"Old Sha, let's go!"

Li Yan didn't waste words—he shouted toward the inn.

"Got it!"

Sha Lifei laughed loudly and leapt down from the pavilion.

Along with the carriage guild's leader, Xie Huaiqing, the four of them fled swiftly under the Prince of Formlessness's lead toward the secret tunnel's entrance.

Diiii~ Diiii~

The Prince of Formlessness held an iron whistle in his mouth, blowing it as he ran.

Along the road ahead, figures emerged from the darkness—drenched in blood, radiating killing intent—it was Tang Ling and the others.

In this window, they had already slaughtered the last batch of Black Feather Guards.

After running a short distance, a long-abandoned well appeared ahead, its mouth covered in thick snow.

"Hurry!"

The Prince of Formlessness shouted a warning and leapt down.

Li Yan gave Sha Lifei a glance, then followed closely behind.

He saw the Prince of Formlessness kick off the smooth well wall, left and right, then slip into a hollow midway up.

Li Yan used the same technique—his footfalls on the stones identical, slipping into the same hollow.

The Prince of Formlessness was far too treacherous; Li Yan dared not trust him.

"Young Master Li, rest easy."

The Prince of Formlessness clearly noticed, speaking calmly as he waited at the tunnel entrance, gazing upward.

Soon, everyone had crawled in.

The Prince of Formlessness pulled out a fire starter, lit it, then pried out a bamboo tube filled with gunpowder from between the bricks and ignited it.

"Go!"

With the order given, the group plunged into the dark tunnel.

Boom!

Behind them, a thunderous roar echoed as stones rained down.

By the time the garrison soldiers surrounded the site, the entire stone well had collapsed, layers of rubble piled high, mixed with mud, sealing the entrance shut.

In the darkness, the ghostly Zhong Kui, Situ Qian, leaned on Bai Qi Hong, hopping painfully on one leg, his severed thigh dripping blood steadily.

"Find that mole!"

His face twisted like a demon's. "I want that boy dead!"

…………

In the darkness, footsteps and ragged breathing continued.

"Alright, we're safe now."

After running for a long while, the Prince of Formlessness suddenly stopped, reached out from the well wall, and pulled out a torch, lighting it.

The light scattered the darkness and dispelled fear.

Some martial artists and inn servants collapsed onto the ground, panting, glancing around, faces still pale with lingering terror.

Tonight had truly been a brush with death.

Li Yan remained silent, scanning his surroundings.

This tunnel had not been dug recently—the walls were lined with blue bricks, plastered with white mortar, and coated in thick moss, clearly ancient.

Who had built this secret passage…?

As if sensing his question, the Prince of Formlessness spoke directly: "During the Daxing era of the previous dynasty, a Mi Le cultist stirred chaos, claiming he had slain a dragon outside the city and built this well to suppress it—but in truth, he constructed this tunnel to infiltrate the Shu Prince's treasure vault and steal from it."

Li Yan blinked. "You mean this tunnel leads straight to the Shu Prince's palace?"

"Naturally."

The Prince of Formlessness glanced at Sha Lifei behind Li Yan, then sneered. "Young Master Li, thank you for your help tonight."

"This tunnel was meant for you to see."

"To oppose the Shu Prince, you cannot do without me!"

(End of Chapter)