Chapter 139: Chixiao Roars, Enemy Meets

The sword-song of Chixiao was fierce and soaring.

Like a dragon emerging from the abyss, its resonance echoed across all directions; everyone in the Taihe Hall froze in place—the scholars of the Imperial Academy wore expressions of shock, delight, and beneath it all, hidden unease.

The Imperial Guards stood with grim stillness; the chief eunuch stormed forward, voice blazing:

"You—you who are you?"

"Do you need me to teach you the principles of loyalty to the sovereign and love for the nation?! You scholars—why have you breached the Forbidden Palace? Are you rebelling?!"

"Do you mean to betray the eight-hundred-year legacy of this Academy's service to His Majesty's lineage?!"

Boom!!!

A surge of qi exploded outward.

Before the eunuch chief—whose cultivation was no minor feat—the world blurred; an old man with white, disheveled hair appeared before him. In an instant, he felt his body shrink to insignificance, the elder towering infinitely high, his gaze cold and disdainful, his deep-blue robe swirling with overwhelming, terrifying authority.

The elderly eunuch's face turned instantly pale.

He instinctively tried to retreat.

The next moment, Siwei had seized his throat, lifting him up, and said calmly:

"Rebellious."

"So what?"

The entire hall was paralyzed with terror, unable to speak.

The eunuch's face drained of all color; his legs turned to water.

Siwei remained impassive, simply hurling the eunuch hard onto the ground, then stating plainly:

"If you can't do it, don't speak."

"You're just a barking dog."

"Your master can barely save himself—you don't even know how to bide your time for him, yet you go around provoking enemies? What fool are you?"

The eunuch spat blood, his spirit trembling as if about to shatter.

The old man stepped directly over his body, standing in the center of the Taihe Hall. Behind him, the Imperial Guards raised their weapons—but seeing only the white-haired elder in plain robes, they dared not advance.

Only the eunuch lay crushed on the ground.

And Siwei stood before the sealed Chixiao Sword, his eyes filled with sorrow.

He reached out to touch the blade, bound by countless red talismanic cords, remembering how, as a youth, he had heard of the Red Emperor's three great campaigns to pacify the world—how the great emperor was gone, yet his weapon, feared by his descendants, was locked here. Siwei's expression darkened with grief as he whispered:

"Chixiao…"

"The divine weapon held by the Red Emperor, adorned with seven-colored pearls and nine-flower jade, its blade ever gleaming like frost and snow, radiating light that pierced the eyes—this is the blade the Guangya called 'Snake-Cutter,' the weapon that once contended with the tyrant's battle-spear for dominion eight hundred years ago."

"The Red Emperor!"

He reached out and gripped each red cord, its interior brimming with talismans, then raised his head and shouted:

"Your descendants have become unworthy!"

"He used sorcerer's ropes to lock your sword—your weapon that won the world—here!"

His voice brimmed with grief and mockery:

"And now, in this world, such a man is emperor!"

"Such a child!"

"Is emperor!"

The faces of all scholars, imperial guards, and eunuchs turned ashen.

Then they saw this madman reach out, ignoring how the glowing cords bit into his palms, carving deep, clear grooves—he pulled with relentless force, shattering every red cord, heedless of all else, tearing them all apart with his bare hands!

A chariot with feather-adorned armor atop its warhorses appeared at the palace gate; the Emperor stood there, gasping heavily, his expression frozen.

Ancient coins from the era of the Ancient Emperor scattered on the ground, chiming clearly.

The other scholars bowed; the Imperial Guards knelt halfway, palms pressed to their chest armor. The eunuch who had raised the Great Emperor reached out, blood in his mouth: "Your Majesty… Your Majesty…"

"Save…"

He could not finish; a foot stamped down on his back, driving him into the ground.

Siwei turned, his sleeves swirling, right hand gripping the howling Chixiao Sword, standing and gazing at the Emperor, then raising the weapon, pointing its hilt at him, voice calm: "Emperor, Chixiao has sung—not for you."

"Do you understand?!"

The Great Emperor of Zhongzhou—still nominally the sovereign of all under heaven—stared fixedly at the sword, and at the madman who could lift it. He stepped forward half a pace, then curled his fingers around a jade bead tied to his wrist.

The jade bead emitted a faint, nearly imperceptible shimmer; around the Emperor, qi gathered, coalescing into a crimson divine dragon—its scales sharp and clear, its head lifting to fix its gaze upon Siwei.

The Emperor spoke: "But, Master, does this sword not sing because an enemy has appeared?"

"Its voice is fierce, like a dragon's roar, like warhorses thundering in unison, the blade unsheathed."

"Not the noble sound of a true sovereign."

Siwei's eyes narrowed as he regarded the man before him.

At that moment, the Chixiao's song abruptly ceased—as if the force that had stirred it had vanished, like an army charging forth only to find no target. Siwei lowered his gaze slightly, watching the Emperor now manifesting the crimson dragon's form, then flipped his wrist and hurled the weapon back.

The divine blade Chixiao landed once more upon its stand.

"Then this sword did not sing for you either."

He said.

The Emperor's expression froze, yet he clung to his dignity.

The old man strode forward, sleeves flaring; the elite Zhongzhou Yulin Army, clad in armor and composed of the realm's finest warriors, could not hold their ground and retreated backward. The Emperor smiled, his fingers beneath his sleeve digging so hard into his palm they nearly pierced the skin.

It was said that after returning to his palace, the Emperor flew into such a rage he shattered numerous ancient artifacts.

But Siwei did not so much as glance at him; he merely said:

"Tell the six in the Academy—no, tell the Academy and all under heaven."

"I have returned!"

……………………

Po Jun stopped the carriage; the horses, hailing from the northern grasslands and bearing ancient monstrous bloodlines, were exhausted, panting and spitting foamy, blood-tinged saliva. Po Jun lifted his head and saw the luminous glow of the Bai Hu Seven Mansions ignite.

Then, suddenly, a lantern lit up.

The lantern's light seemed to be concealed, and the howling of the Tiger Roars Heaven Battle Spear subsided.

Po Jun froze, turned his head, and saw the kind old man smiling: "At a time like this, the world is too chaotic… More attention would not be good for him."

A faint smile appeared on Po Jun's face, and he said, "Yes."

He looked at the old man before him, his eyes filled with wariness.

From the start, the old man had been waiting at the temple gate, then told Po Jun to put him on the carriage, saying that leaving the city would turn danger into safety—including that bronze lantern.

The old man's every action seemed to have no intention of doing anything at all.

In the end, the tenth assassin of the world, Situ Deqing, sacrificed his own life, allowing Li Guanyi to release the malevolent qi within his body and successfully master one technique of the Overlord's Ultimate Form—truly turning danger into safety.

The tenth assassin, who had harbored murderous intent toward both Li Guanyi and Zu Wenyuan, died beneath the Overlord's Technique.

Everything seemed to have been calculated by the old man.

Po Jun's expression was complex as he praised: "Elder… such strategic foresight is truly remarkable."

Zu Wenyuan looked at the young man and said, "Want to learn?"

Po Jun's face stiffened, and he burst into violent coughing.

"You needn't say it so directly."

"Oh, so you don't want to learn."

Po Jun opened his mouth and said, "Yes!"

Zu Wenyuan whispered: "For the time being, you may come to the temple to seek me. My skills should not be buried here. Guanyi is a good child, but his path is not mine. It's not that his talent is insufficient, nor am I hoarding my techniques."

"But how can a tiger learn to fly like a crane?"

"He must gallop across battlefields and the world."

Po Jun pressed his lips together, watching Li Guanyi. Li Guanyi moved his wrist and lifted the Tiger Roars Heaven Battle Spear. This divine weapon, even after eight hundred years, remained as sharp and unyielding as when newly forged.

With the aid of the Fire Qilin's true energy, even the body of the world's tenth assassin could not withstand it.

The flesh, bones, and trachea of his neck were severed in one clean cut.

In that brief moment, Situ Deqing's blood was already nearly drained; vast stretches of earth were soaked, insects licked his blood, then their bodies swelled visibly before exploding.

The blood of a high-level martial cultivator cannot be contained by an ordinary flesh-and-blood body.

And the divine weapon hummed softly in the wind.

The Tiger Roars Heaven Battle Spear had awakened—though it was unclear whether it was because it had drunk blood, or because of the boy wielding it. Li Guanyi exhaled and calmed his breath, planted the weapon into the ground, and recalled the recent events, feeling a tinge of dread.

If not for the old master pulling him out, he might have drowned in the Overlord's malevolent qi and hatred, rampaging and killing freely within Jiangzhou City. It was only the final clash with Situ Deqing that brought Li Guanyi fully back to his senses.

The five Dharma Phantoms beside him glowed brighter than before, as if undergoing some transformation; the Bai Hu had already completed its transformation, its golden eyes now free of murderous intent, radiating instead a majestic, righteous aura.

After all, it was the Dharma Phantom of the world's tenth assassin—devouring it was a tremendous boon.

Li Guanyi thought about it, and felt he ought to apologize to Situ Deqing.

A killer, wielding a slender sword.

Had dared to stand before the Overlord's Ultimate Form unleashed by the Tiger Roars Heaven Battle Spear, as rage and malevolent qi exploded.

No killer in the past eight hundred years had been so brave.

No wonder he was the world's tenth!

If the Red Emperor had seen it, given his nature, he would have shouted his praise.

Awesome!

Li Guanyi sighed, then bent down, ignoring that Situ Deqing's neck was nearly severed, his body split into three pieces, and reached out with his hands.

Search the corpse!

Begin the pleasant corpse-searching!

Situ Deqing had apparently come straight from the palace to this place to pursue the old master.

Li Guanyi found a sachet containing rouge meant for women, some gold and silver, and two pills. The items were few. Li Guanyi thought for a moment, then set them down, imitating the way Yue Ge had demonstrated the first time.

He checked the inside of the clothing, the collar, the soles of the shoes.

Beneath the soles was hidden a large-denomination silver note.

The boy used two twigs as chopsticks to fish it out and placed it aside to air out.

Then, from a hidden seam in the collar, he pulled out an object shaped like a token. Li Guanyi frowned, holding it in his hand, feeling its weight—it seemed to be gold, yet carried an inexplicable, mysterious aura.

On the front, a character was inscribed in large seal script.

【Ten】

On the back was a strange figure wearing a dark-gold mask, beneath which was written: 【Situ Deqing】.

"This is the waist token of the world's tenth assassin."

Zu Wenyuan's voice came from behind. Po Jun supported the old man, whose expression remained gentle; the sight of Situ Deqing, cut into three pieces, did not alter the kind old man's demeanor. He simply said:

"All assassins and killers in the world carry a mask to conceal their identity."

"Killers are shadows. Moreover, the Ghost Market has the world's number one disguise master, who can erase all traces and let you start anew outside the martial world. Thus, the Ghost Market does not recognize faces—they recognize tokens."

"Situ Deqing may be a false name."

"A false name passed down countless times. Si Qing is merely this generation—or perhaps these past few years'—Situ Deqing. He is dead. You now hold his token. With this dark-gold mask, you can become Situ Deqing."

The identity of the world's tenth assassin.

Li Guanyi's eyes flickered slightly.

The old man said: "Still, I wonder whether someone like Situ Deqing left behind any gold, silver, or treasures in the Ghost Market. If you're interested, Guanyi, one day you may visit the Ghost Market's headquarters and check the Tian Di Tong Bank."

"Alright…"

Li Guanyi keenly sensed the significance of this identity.

All one could say was that, regardless, Situ Deqing was a top-tier figure; without the Overlord's Ultimate Technique, the battle-spear's lethal aura, and the power granted by the Fire Qilin, Li Guanyi could not have killed this man—but this time, he had exhausted the Fire Qilin's life-saving trump card given to him.

It truly was a life-saving measure.

Po Jun immediately collected Situ Deqing's remains and placed them beneath the carriage.

"Please endure, the corpse of the Ninth Killer of the Realm."

"This is such a valuable asset—it could turn the tide of the situation."

Then he erased all traces of the carriage left behind and swiftly drove away.

As for the bloodstains?

Outside the city, battles were common; the common folk and officials no longer found them strange.

Li Guanyi touched the dark-gold mask in his hand.

This object was part of a divine armor worn by Chen Duke, the founding ancestor of the Chen state, five hundred years ago; the Ancestor Elder explained: "Back then, he was a divine general, so Chen Duke wore this dark-gold mask on the battlefield. Later, when the Chen state achieved imperial glory—roughly two or three hundred years ago—"

"At that time, the Chen Wu Di believed the Emperor was a radiant, upright figure."

"He should not conceal his face; thus, the dark-gold mask ceased to be the Emperor's armor and was instead stored in the palace's treasure vault. In the present era… at that time, Princess Chen Qingyan was still young, the young master of the Guardian Shanzhuang, and had been sent to deliver an item to the Scholar Academy."

"Later, for reasons unknown, the news leaked. At that time, Chen Chengbi and I were not yet so aged; he came to me, asking me to investigate what had happened. We went to find her—she had been ambushed, wounded, and after killing her pursuers, collapsed from exhaustion."

"A young man who called himself a wandering knight picked her up."

"That youth was only about ten or so, naturally strong—he had driven off several ruffians in his hometown and declared himself a hero, carrying a piece of iron as a sword at his waist, daily chopping grass until not a blade remained within ten li. Later, we found that boy."

"Chen Chengbi liked him and wanted him to join the Guardian Shanzhuang; the Princess herself wrote him a letter of recommendation. But who knew, halfway there, he heard of war breaking out in the southwest, with civilians displaced and suffering—he gave away all the gold the Princess had given him to the refugees and enlisted in the army."

"Later, that youth endured life and death, gained fame, pacified the southwest and the western regions, fought the greatest divine general of the realm, was first enfeoffed as a Duke, then, upon the current Emperor's ascension, granted the title of Non-Imperial Prince—yet died three years after being enfeoffed."

"When he became Grand General, the Princess proposed granting him the mask."

"The Emperor granted it; thus, the dark-gold mask became the general's defining artifact. He once wore it to sweep clean the southwest—when Turkic cavalry saw their leader clad in black armor and wearing the dark-gold mask, they fled in terror, surrendering without a fight."

Po Jun pondered: "... That man was..."

Li Guanyi stroked the mask with his fingers and said:

"Tai Ping Gong."

He covered his face with the mask, leaving only his eyes exposed.

His black hair stirred slightly.

Po Jun turned back to look, gazing at the boy's appearance, and murmured:

"It's truly identical to the portrait..."

"If you were to appear before the world in this attire, wearing the mask, riding the Fire Qilin, one cannot imagine—the old subordinates of Tai Ping Gong, the generals, may not react much—but those who once fought shoulder to shoulder with him, his true comrades, would surely weep."

"For example..."

"Marshal Yue."

Li Guanyi closed his eyes and did not answer.

He returned to the Xue household, saying nothing of where he had been. This time, the Tiger Roars Heaven Battle Spear lay within his courtyard, its radiance subdued, its blade no longer cold as frost, no longer piercing.

"Leave it here with you—this spear has recognized its master; if I took it away, it would be displeased."

"As for the Seventh Prince, I have already prepared."

"You may rest assured."

Po Jun departed without hesitation; Li Guanyi likewise returned to the palace. Si Qing's disappearance stirred some ripples among certain individuals, but he was an obscure minor official; soon, people ceased to care. The palace held too many people—so many that individuals were no longer regarded as human.

Li Guanyi spent each day reading classics, studying texts, and organizing Juan Sect documents.

On this day, while on duty, he suddenly heard commotion and cheers coming from the palace guards. Ye Bu Yi said: "That person must have returned."

Zhou Liu's camp nodded.

Li Guanyi asked: "That person?"

His body tensed slightly, for at that moment, he suddenly felt an instinctive rage—a fury at discovering someone who had stolen his own possession, a chilling, icy killing intent, his blood boiling. Li Guanyi turned his gaze—and saw a man step forward, as others laughed loudly.

"He's finally back!"

"Chen Yuyun!"