Chapter 137

In an instant, Li Guanyi felt that savage, frenzied aura.

He immediately realized this was the residual aura left from the Overlord's final battle—dozens of cavalry piercing through ten thousand troops, even slaughtering hundreds of elite Captains and Generals in hand-to-hand combat; this divine weapon had been forged by the Overlord himself, and he was its original master.

This aura of the Overlord's final battle erupted completely upon encountering Li Guanyi's pure Crimson Dragon Qi; legend says that in his last fight, the Overlord charged toward the banner of the Red Emperor, still believing in his own boldness, in the courage to break through enemy lines and slay commanders.

But on that day, the Crimson Dragon, whom the Overlord saw as weak, did not retreat a single step.

He was stunned.

The one he faced was not the wandering swordsman who once needed his power to seek revenge.

That man had become a hero of the world.

He laughed, utterly free and unrestrained, no longer harboring any other wish—only hoping to clash once with the Crimson Dragon, for that battle had gathered all the heroes of the land.

The Overlord fought until his final moment, seeing only the sky that day as black as ink.

A great banner stood there, a crimson dragon roaring, and beneath it heroes and champions gathered like fish crossing a river—why, why had so many heroes gathered around that wandering swordsman in his simple linen robes?

Why had even his own old companions joined his ranks?

These world-class heroes came one after another; only by uniting every heroic force in the Central Plains could they slay the Overlord, yet he fought until his strength was spent and died without ever seeing the familiar Crimson Dragon, without ever seeing the expression in those eyes.

This aura of rage and unwillingness remained embedded in the divine weapon.

And now, the Crimson Dragon has appeared.

The Crimson Dragon has appeared!

The war spear's howl nearly turned into a roar.

The calm, balanced spiritual legacy left by Xue Shen was utterly overwhelmed by the Overlord's aura.

Li Guanyi wanted to let go.

But the Tiger Roar War Spear clung to his hands as if glued.

The surrounding environment had begun to warp; Li Guanyi's third eye felt intense discomfort, like a needle slowly approaching his brow— he had experienced this before, knew that he was about to be drawn into a spiritual realm.

With this kind of commotion, the Tiger Roar War Spear's disturbance would not be small.

Li Guanyi stopped trying to put down the war spear.

He gripped the Tiger Roar War Spear and swung it sharply; black aura surged along its blade, though it struck nothing, yet all surrounding plants and trees withered instantly.

He walked forward step by step.

The war spear slanted in his grip, its sharp tip dragging along the ground.

In his daze, Po Jun seemed to see a divine general clad in heavy armor.

Li Guanyi sat in the carriage, gritting his teeth, speaking slowly and deliberately: "Head to the eastern city temple. Find Master Zu." In Li Guanyi's judgment, only the world's undisputed foremost master of computational arts could possibly conceal the Overlord's lingering disturbance.

Po Jun reacted instantly, pulling down the carriage curtain and urging the horses forward.

These horses had claws, not hooves; their sharp talons crushed the ground, and when enraged, flames erupted beneath them; once they unleashed their full speed, no thousand-li steed could match them.

Yet he did not hurry—even slowed down, stopping to buy some pastries.

He seemed remarkably leisurely, even chatting with the woman selling ornaments.

But none of these things took much time.

He arrived at the temple at a pace that was not slow at all; as he dismounted and prepared to shout, the temple gate—closed all day—opened silently, and an old Daoist Priest stood there, smiling: "You've come."

Po Jun's movements froze.

He asked: "Master Zu?"

The old man nodded gently: "I've been waiting for you both a long time."

Instinctively, a flicker of wariness surfaced in Po Jun's eyes, but he quickly explained the situation: "Elder, what should we do?"

Zu Wenyuan said: "Leave the city."

"Leave the city?"

Zu Wenyuan whispered: "We can only calculate. If we stay within the city, it is a great omen of doom; leaving the city still carries danger, but offers a chance to turn peril into fortune—that is great fortune."

He said: "Within the city, his possession of the Tiger Roar War Spear cannot be hidden."

"That's not a good thing."

Po Jun nodded without hesitation, then hoisted the old man onto his shoulder and leapt into the carriage:

"Alright, forgive me, old sir!"

As the young Daoist Priest Yueyue ran out calling after them, the young man had already whipped the reins—the beast, the Fire-Treading Divine Steed, unleashed its stride; to those without cultivated eyesight, it left behind vast trails of afterimages as it raced forward.

Zu Wenyuan smiled gently: "You are truly just like him."

"He forcibly became my disciple; you forcibly drag me away."

Po Jun laughed: "You are the foremost master of computational arts."

"If you are the foremost master of computational arts, then my actions must have been within your calculations."

"Then I am justified in dragging you out."

"If you did not foresee my actions,"

"then your computational arts are still not pure enough—and still have room to advance."

"I hereby congratulate you: a hundred feet up the pole, take one more step—unrivaled on earth, unrivaled even in heaven."

Zu Wenyuan smiled gently: "Smooth-tongued."

Po Jun was laughing, but his eyes were sharply alert—not for any other reason.

Before he arrived, the old man had just opened the door; when he took the old man away, the elder showed not the slightest surprise or shock—clearly, everything had been foreseen.

To Li Guanyi, Zu Wenyuan was a kind, approachable elder, like a neighborly teacher.

But to Po Jun, who understood strategic calculations, the old man felt like a vast cloud obscuring the moon, like a mountain blocking the celestial gates—profound, unfathomable, crushing in pressure; even as he laughed as usual beside him, his grip on the reins tightened slightly.

This old man was also the foremost master of strategic calculations.

Zu Wenyuan gently pressed his fingers against Li Guanyi's third eye and said: "But by bringing me along, you've increased the danger even further."

"Hm?"

The old man smiled: "Countless people in the city wish me dead. If you snatch me away like this, they won't let this opportunity slip—killing me here could also stir up conflict between Chen and the Tujue, a two birds with one stone scheme."

Po Jun laughed: "But we can't afford to care!"

"Your Lordship, you've gone to too much trouble."

Zu Wenyuan nodded in approval, lowering his gaze to quietly watch Li Guanyi.

Li Guanyi's eyes were closed; he sat cross-legged, his war spear resting on his knees.

Upon the war spear, ink-black demonic energy nearly solidified, twisting the void.

His five senses had already transformed.

Before him appeared not the old man's face, but a battlefield—a bloody, horrific battlefield—where corpses piled into mountains, and atop the peak stood a man, clad only in the lower half of armor, his upper body bare and muscular, shrouded in ink-black cloud-qi, gripping the war spear.

Behind him loomed a colossal Bai Hu, its eyes crimson-gold.

He noticed Li Guanyi.

Then he noticed the Crimson Dragon behind Li Guanyi.

He erupted in fury, his gaze icy as he fixed it on Li Guanyi, his voice like Lei Ting:

"Lord, why have you betrayed me!!!"

Li Guanyi lowered his head, seeing himself also gripping the war spear—but now entwined by the Crimson Dragon. He knew that in the overlord's eyes, he must be another man: one who had come to serve him in obscurity, sworn brother to him in their prime, and ultimately slain on the battlefield.

Li Guanyi sighed. The true Bai Hu manifestation surged forward; fleeting shadows flashed before his eyes, and the Overlord already stood before him. Such overwhelming pressure—even after Xue Shen's guidance, even with the courage to wield any weapon—still crushed Li Guanyi with unbearable weight.

He raised his hand, gripping his weapon.

The war spear slashed down with brutal force.

Li Guanyi felt his blood and qi surging in his chest.

His Bai Hu manifestation was suppressed, utterly immobilized—but the Crimson Dragon seemed granted some enhancement. Its dragon-roar echoed across the battlefield, and Li Guanyi actually blocked this strike. His wrist twisted, the spearhead spinning sharply to thrust at the Overlord.

The next instant, Li Guanyi's vision went black—he was slain.

Had he possessed sufficient realm, he could have withstood the Overlord's first strike and counterattacked.

By the third strike, he would be killed.

Yet even so,

Eight hundred years ago, he would have earned a name.

Becoming a famed general was merely the prerequisite for being slain by the Overlord.

In reality, Li Guanyi's eyes remained closed, blood trickling from his lips.

Zu Wenyuan's expression was solemn, calculating something, then placing several artifacts around Li Guanyi, lighting a bronze lamp. Li Guanyi's spirit calmed; his furrowed brow slowly smoothed.

His consciousness reassembled. Li Guanyi pressed his hand to his forehead; a single lamp appeared around him.

The lamplight allowed Li Guanyi to maintain his composure, shielding him from the Overlord's demonic aura, preventing him from descending into madness or terror. He gripped his weapon, watching the Overlord rise once more from the mountain of corpses and blood. He exhaled, both hands tightening on the war spear.

The Bai Hu manifestation vanished.

A crimson long dragon appeared beside him; the bronze ding trembled.

The power of the five manifestations flowed, all surging into the Crimson Dragon. The dragon swelled violently; its crimson scales became sharply visible, flames swirling upon them. Its dragon-roar was low, grim, and deadly—the air around it twisted.

Li Guanyi's divine weapon swept through the air; crimson flames coiled around the spear's edge.

The Crimson Dragon coiled around him, its dragon-head roaring toward the Bai Hu atop the mountain of corpses and blood.

It was the influence of the weapon's demonic energy—this was a battle of will, not realm.

Moreover, he faced only the Overlord's lingering thought.

One step back in heart, and you retreat ten thousand steps.

The manifestation and the mind would crack—and shatter like dust.

Li Guanyi charged forward with a giant stride, the war spear sweeping horizontally. The Crimson Dragon's roar and the Bai Hu's bellow shook heaven and earth. Outside, Li Guanyi's expression remained calm; the old man watched the youth peacefully, his finger gently pressing down, suppressing the dragon's roar.

Yet the war spear's excited hum was unmistakably clear.

The white-haired elder extended a finger, lightly touching the divine weapon, feeling its demonic energy. The ink-black spear shaft glowed with faint gold light, and the spearhead hummed softly—the mouthpiece shaped like a tiger, emitting a low growl. Zu Wenyuan murmured:

"The Tiger Roars to Heaven War Spear..."

"The divine weapon that nearly won the world eight hundred years ago. Since ancient times, divine weapons are sentient—they have enemies, they have friends. But now, their original allies are gone. In this world, perhaps only it still perceives you."

"The Overlord and the Crimson Emperor..."

The elder sighed, lifting his gaze toward the distant horizon.

Zhongzhou · Taihe Hall.

Within this hall, the divine weapon Chi Xiao Sword had once emitted a low hum, then fallen silent. The Emperor feared the Masters and Hall Masters of the Academy would learn Chi Xiao's master was no longer him, and thus send students into the world to usher in a great age—so he summoned the realm's fangshi to handle the matter.

That fangshi was two hundred years old.

It was said that long ago, he had glimpsed the mystery of immortality, betrayed by his disciple who stole his cultivation method, driving him nearly mad. Within thirty years, he wandered everywhere, feeding on raw flesh and blood, his nails grown long and curled, his hair wild—until one day, he climbed a mountain, watched the sun rise, saw plants grow, and found all things lovely.

Suddenly he awoke, tears streaming down his face, achieving total enlightenment.

He abandoned his blood-drinking, flesh-eating, life-stealing path to immortality. With such calmness, he lived on wind and dew—and his lifespan stretched immeasurably.

The Emperor had this fangshi weave new blood-red talisman cords, and took a Daoist Academy's talisman-sword scabbard, sealing Chi Xiao's blade.

Red threads, dense and countless, wound tightly around the sword's body.

Each loop dropped ancient copper coins.

Chi Xiao Sword sank into slumber.

But now, this Chi Xiao Sword, sealed beneath the talisman-sword scabbard, suddenly stirred—as if awakened.

It sensed a battle that should have occurred—a great dream—and once again felt the familiar aura of its ancient foe. It yearned to join the slaughter, and its low hum vibrated—but the talismans glowed layer by layer, sealing the sword's cry.

It was not heard by the Masters outside Taihe Hall.

Though the Great Emperor had tried to suppress news of Chi Xiao's hum.

But at first, he thought the revival of Chi Xiao Sword was for himself, so he did not immediately seal the news; the scholars of the Imperial Academy knew many methods to detect changes in Chi Xiao, and now they had come to Taihe Hall to inspect the sword's condition, only to be blocked by the Emperor's imperial guards.

The two sides quarreled, their voices and the clashing of metal not insignificant.

Chi Xiao Sword rang within its scabbard, never discovered.

Eventually, it gradually grew quieter.

Li Guanyi clashed again and again with the overlord's malevolent aura; each clash accumulated a trace of jade fluid in the bronze cauldron corresponding to the Bai Hu manifestation—once, twice, he no longer knew how many times it had passed, and he felt the lamp's aid was no longer important.

Only the thought of battle remained, too high-frequency combat, too brutal a battlefield.

Too intense an obsession.

Fight, fight, fight!

Just as Li Guanyi sank into battle, Po Jun encountered trouble.

He had left the city, yet keenly sensed murderous intent.

A great sense of threat rose in his heart.

He couldn't help shouting to the old man: "Grandpa Zu, you said someone tried to kill you? Who could it be?"

Zu Wenyuan replied gently: "I don't know."

After a pause, he naturally added:

"It should be among the top ten in the realm."

Po Jun cursed loudly, flicked his wrist, and the carriage surged forward at top speed; Po Jun's perception had reached its limit—he sensed that the surroundings had changed somehow. Just before the Grand Sacrifice, the main road should have been thronged with people and carriages, bustling beyond compare.

Now, it had suddenly fallen silent.

Silence, soundless, carrying a chill that froze to the bone.

Only the sound of hooves and wheels remained.

Even those sounds grew fainter, as if coming from another world.

Po Jun made the carriage dart in a special zigzag motion; his ink-black pupils glowed with an eerie purple, and he spoke slowly, word by word:

"Number ten in the realm: Si Tu Deqing."

"Grandpa Zu, do you have Wu Gong?"

The old man merely stroked his beard and smiled: "No."

Po Jun asked: "Any backup plan?"

The old man shook his head, smiling warmly: "None."

Po Jun grinned: "Alright, the Lord is asleep, so we needn't hide anything—Old Sir, you're the foremost expert in the Classic of Calculations; surely you've some scheme?"

The old man looked at the young strategist and smiled calmly:

"Depend on luck."

Po Jun: "…………"

He seemed resigned.

Yet his lips curled slightly, and he burst into loud laughter—the young strategist, confident and unrestrained:

"Hahaha, if you say that, I'm at ease!"

Zu Wenyuan was startled by the youth, then sighed and laughed: "The young are formidable indeed."

"Every generation has talents like you—this world."

"How could it not be chaotic?"

Si Qing had already stepped into empty space; he had been ordered to deal with Zu Wenyuan.

The malevolent aura in the air had formed a special array, isolating this place from the outside world—thus, when he killed this man, no one would notice. He was already angered by that boy, and now his murderous intent was at its peak; he had no desire to return for his divine weapon, Cheng Ying Sword.

Zu Wenyuan, utterly defenseless, was no match—he drew a dark weapon longsword, clad in the precious armor of coiled black dragon scales.

Then, he placed an object over his face.

It was the dark-gold mask once worn by Chen Duke in the midst of battle.

The mask Tai Ping Gong rode with across the Western Regions!

The pursuit began!