Chapter 205

The Grand Elder of the Yin-Yang Cycle Sect could not calm his aura.

His dharma form subtly trembled, the yin-yang cycling energy no longer flowing with its former composure; he finally dashed into the mountains and rivers, activated the Technique of Divided Bodies and Shadow Forms, his internal qi swirling and transforming into another version of himself.

This was the Yin-Yang Cycle Sect's most secret art.

It was the profound mystery of yin-yang generation.

This shadow separated from the Grand Elder of the Yin-Yang Cycle Sect and fled in a flash of light; the Grand Elder held his breath, watching his doppelgänger vanish—suddenly, a wave of qi surged from afar, and that hill trembled violently.

Then, a series of piercing sounds echoed from the desolate hill.

Someone laughed wildly: "Hahahaha! Don't run!!!"

"We haven't settled who's won—why are you running?!"

"Hahahaha!"

The Grand Elder of the Yin-Yang Cycle Sect held his breath completely.

It was either a punch's force or the edge of a blade or sword—suddenly sweeping across—the sharp aura slashed straight over the hill; though this was wild, uninhabited land, there were beasts, yet all now panicked.

A series of booming explosions rang out.

The hill was torn apart from its mid-slope; a white-haired old man lifted the entire hill with one hand and roared with laughter: "Why run?! Come on, fight again, keep going!"

Chen Chengbi, though drenched in blood, radiated wild confidence as he strode forward.

The old man was addicted to battle; the Grand Elder of the Yin-Yang Cycle Sect had deliberately concealed his aura, hiding himself with supreme techniques, so Chen Chengbi failed to notice him and merely swept past the Grand Elder's side.

He strained his arms.

He swung the entire hill down with all his might!

The earth shook, mountains trembled; a wave of qi erupted and swept across a dozen li, filling the air with dust.

"Come fight!"

Chen Chengbi roared as he charged away.

The Grand Elder of the Yin-Yang Cycle Sect's face darkened.

This elder of the martial world, though his Wu Gong and internal strength were inferior to his own, possessed the Yin-Yang Cycle Sect's supreme technique—the dharma-level art of Yin-Yang Cycle—which, though not among the Ten Divine Arts, was nearly as potent, and in the sheer volume of internal qi, unmatched in the world.

Yet his internal qi, though weaker, was still roughly at the same level.

Chen Chengbi's battle intent was pure; his body was entirely yang, and though the Grand Elder cycled yin and yang, he could not restrain the old man's internal qi—he was seized, locked in close combat, and Chen Chengbi grew stronger with every strike, his battle intent surging, while the Grand Elder of the Yin-Yang Cycle Sect grew more and more unsettled with each clash.

Especially when he realized the old man's battle intent was pure, bordering on madness.

When striking, faint roars of Qiongqi echoed.

Recalling the legend of the Mad King, his battle intent suddenly vanished—he no longer wished to fight this old man, especially after seeing how the old man smashed through a mountain ridge with a single punch, lifted the entire section with one hand, and swung it like a warhammer at his foes—his scalp prickled.

Sixty years ago, the top genius of the younger generation of the Great Chen Kingdom.

The Mad King, Chen Chengbi.

Indeed, no mistake.

The Grand Elder of the Yin-Yang Cycle Sect's face darkened as he watched Chen Chengbi thunder away, pushing mountains, splitting rivers, his murderous aura soaring into the sky—anything blocking his path, no matter what, was utterly destroyed by his extreme violence, leveled without pause!

The Grand Elder of the Yin-Yang Cycle Sect said nothing, his aura retracting.

For some reason, the Grand Elder of the Yin-Yang Cycle Sect held an instinctive judgment he refused to admit to himself.

Whether in internal cultivation, techniques, or the myriad methods granted by pills, he was stronger than Chen Chengbi, who trained only in hard, brute methods—but in actual combat, he would be the one to die.

Chen Chengbi would be gravely wounded, but it would be him who died.

The Grand Elder of the Yin-Yang Cycle Sect did not wish to stay.

Afraid that if he looked up, he might see a white-haired old man smiling and saying, "Oh, so you're here," he immediately activated his supreme technique, his body flashing like light, fleeing at transcendent speed—through forests, through thickets, he sprinted desperately.

Soon he reached the sect's main grounds, and only then did he exhale.

The Yin-Yang Cycle Sect's great array activated automatically.

Many disciples rushed forward to offer pills.

The sect's leader was a woman of peerless beauty, ranked eighth on the Master List, her aura extraordinary; the other senior elders, male or female, were all strikingly beautiful. Seeing the Grand Elder so disheveled, they were startled and asked: "Grand Elder, why so shaken? Did you gain anything from the Hunting Qilin Assembly?"

The Grand Elder of the Yin-Yang Cycle Sect said: "Hmph, I had already found that little girl."

"She roams the martial world calling herself 'No Dream,' hmph."

"I played along with her act, planning to seize her when the moment came—but an old madman and a young madman interrupted me. The old madman's Wu Gong is weaker than mine, but he fights ferociously—I barely escaped him."

"The young madman? That's the Spear Madman."

Someone laughed: "Grand Elder, surely you didn't lose to a junior?"

The Grand Elder replied coldly: "I didn't lose. If you doubt it, go test it yourself."

The woman fell silent.

The Grand Elder of the Yin-Yang Cycle Sect bowed and said: "Today I am mentally exhausted—I shall rest first." He swept his sleeve and departed. His martial skill was formidable, his authority deep; none dared provoke him. Yet for some reason, this Grand Elder felt restless, unable to sit or stand still.

Was it because of Chen Chengbi, the old madman?

The Grand Elder of the Yin-Yang Cycle Sect strode out and demanded: "Has the array been activated?!"

A disciple answered: "Activated, Grand Elder."

The woman who had previously clashed with him smiled: "What's wrong, Grand Elder? You've held open assemblies before without such fear. Chen Chengbi, even at his peak, is merely a Master—why are you so afraid?"

"If he comes, we'll face him together—his pure yang force won't hold."

"Why are you so terrified?"

"It's a disgrace to your status! You're a Master whose spirit is refined, whose martial will reaches the divine—can't you transcend life and death?! No, let's go out together. I heard the Spear Madman is a handsome young man—let's see what he's like…"

Her voice had not yet faded.

Suddenly, a sword's chime rang out.

The sword's chime was clear and piercing, as if heaven and earth trembled together; disciples of the Yin-Yang Cycle Sect who cultivated sword arts felt their weapons leap from their sheaths—the ten senior elders all froze, looked up, and saw the sky darken.

Almost instinctively.

The other nine elders not locked by the aura all flashed away simultaneously, along with the sect leader of Yin-Yang Reversal Sect.

Each unleashed their ultimate techniques, like struggling out of a quagmire, pulling distance in the span of a single thought.

The Yin-Yang Reversal Sect's great formation was utterly useless.

It was pierced straight through!

A blade qi shot past in an instant—the grand hall, the performance stage, layer upon layer, shattered.

Like ten thousand cavalry charging forth!

The Yin-Yang Reversal Sect's Grand Elder had not yet spoken.

Zing!!!!!!

A clear, ringing sound.

That beautiful head was smashed apart as if struck by a furious storm and towering waves.

The head shattered into powder; a torrent of foul blood sprayed onto the sect's grand hall plaque, severing the ancestral tablets in the main hall right down the middle!

Dust and smoke dispersed slowly. The ten elders—or rather, the nine remaining elders and the sect leader—looked up to see the Yin-Yang Reversal Sect's great formation shattered, pieces drifting apart and falling slowly. There stood the Grand Elder of the Yin-Yang Reversal Sect, headless.

Blood scattered everywhere.

A master-level cultivator's dharma form vanished completely.

All disciples of the Yin-Yang Reversal Sect turned deathly pale. In absolute silence, the towering grand hall of the Yin-Yang Reversal Sect slowly toppled sideways, crashing to the ground with a thunderous boom.

Amid near-silence, an old man who had been in deep seclusion suddenly burst from his cultivation chamber, roaring:

"What is this?!"

"Who dares invade our sect?!"

As the old man emerged from the mountains, he radiated vigor and might; heaven and earth seemed to darken. The essence of Yin-Yang Reversal was overwhelmingly fierce, as if already twisting the fabric of reality. Many cultivators raised their heads and saw above, a colossal Yin-Yang fish swirling and transforming.

It covered an area of dozens of li.

An old man laughed aloud, hands behind his back, descending from the sky.

This was the depth of a great sect's reserves—a former top-ten Jianghu Master, who had long ceased to fight, whose cultivation had grown ever deeper, a hidden trump card. Such a force, with over two centuries of lineage and a fully developed system, was one others dared not provoke.

If you strike the young, the old come for revenge—this was no empty saying.

But when this old man, the sect's ultimate reserve, saw that sword, his face drained of all color.

The vigor and arrogance he had shown upon emerging vanished. He simply stood there. The sect leader asked: "Grand Elder, you…"

She saw the expression of this legendary elder who had lived two hundred years, paused, then said:

"Is it… the Jianghu legend?"

The old man suddenly burst into loud laughter.

"Jianghu legend? Jianghu legend?"

He spun and fled wildly, furiously tearing the Grand Elder into shreds, then slumped and replied: "If it were the Four Legends, it might be bearable. The Dao Sect's Grand Elder Who Forgets Emotion, the Green Robe Immortal Who Seeks Only the Dao, the South Sea Whale Fisher Who Lives Freely, and the other one who always stays hidden."

"If they came here, we might still have a chance."

The sect leader was stunned. He immediately decided: "Should we flee at once?"

The Grand Elder said: "No. Stay here."

The sect leader did not understand.

The Grand Elder closed his eyes and answered:

"One flute, one sword—my life's purpose. I've carried a mad reputation for two hundred years."

"This is the Sword Madman's invitation."

Then no one spoke another word.

Only the wind flowed, the sword's hum never ceased, gradually calming.

The Grand Elder of the Yin-Yang Reversal Sect's head was merely the invitation. The sword's hum hung above their heads—the Sword Madman's invitation had only one outcome: death.

And the Sword Madman's invitation had only one meaning.

I am coming.

You are not allowed to leave!

……………………

Li Guanyi left the Flowing Wind and Snow Tower. The affairs in Beicheng were quickly settled. Xue Zhaoji remained behind to keep the Flowing Wind and Snow Tower running normally, and had already advanced Li Guanyi a substantial sum as travel expenses.

Just before the three generals of Beicheng finally resolved their struggle for dominance, Li Guanyi's ox cart was replaced by a merchant caravan, departing with many goods. Li Guanyi sat inside the carriage, finding it unfamiliar.

Only Yao Guang quietly extended her fingers, peeling grapes one by one and placing them in her mouth.

Eating slowly.

The Fire Qilin lay on its side. Before the grand sacrifice, it had already been summer; now, a month before autumn, it was the hottest time. Though the Fire Qilin did not mind the heat, it disliked the stuffiness and dampness. The Changfeng Lady had provided it with many ice blocks.

The Fire Qilin lay there, beside it a box filled with ice.

The Fire Qilin extended its claw.

It pawed inside, grabbed a handful of ice, and tossed it upward.

The ice landed in its mouth.

The Fire Qilin crunched the ice with satisfaction—utterly blissful. Thinking back on the past eleven years spent in the Chen imperial palace, the Fire Qilin nearly wept. It had hatched less than five hundred years ago and was still not an adult.

A young Fire Qilin, tormented so long—how tragic.

So it grabbed another handful of ice, shoved it into its mouth, then happily sipped on a plum drink—how refreshing!

Li Guanyi glanced at the Fire Qilin. Pang Shuiyun gently informed Li Guanyi of all arrangements.

Of course, he did not say it outright like Jiankuang Murong Longtu. He merely said they had found a safe place. Li Guanyi lifted the carriage curtain, gazing at the scenery beyond Beicheng, and asked: "What of the Yuwen family?"

He raised an eyebrow, calmly stating: "Yuwen Hua and Yuwen Tianxian both escaped successfully."

"Ying and Chen have not yet broken ties. Within Chen, Dingye seeks to balance Xue Lao; externally, he aims to first eliminate the Regent's influence. Under these circumstances, he still wishes to reconcile with Ying."

Although Beicheng expelled and suppressed Chen Dingye's men, it had no intention of violating this strategy.

The youth paused, then said: "It's ridiculous."

In Dan Tai Xianming's scheme, splitting the weak Chen state has become meat; instead of uniting other forces to resist the ever-watchful Ying state, he hopes the predatory tiger—Ying—will ally with him to sweep away other powers.

His choice is no different from walking straight into death.

Pang Shuiyun nodded, his expression gentle.

Li Guanyi stared outside, frowning slightly, and said: "We must leave quickly. Yuwen Hua has three hundred iron cavalry, but Yuwen Lie is a master of military strategy—his words cannot be trusted. He says three hundred, but I suspect there are at least five hundred."

"Or perhaps three hundred heavy cavalry, with the remaining two hundred being light cavalry."

"With this much time, there must also be corresponding infantry legions. I've fought Yuwen Tianxian before—he excels at tactics combining giant crossbows and mechanical devices."

Pang Shuiyun was slightly startled.

This young master had weak judgment in matters of grand strategy.

Many places clearly showed he lacked fundamental knowledge.

Yet in certain aspects—especially in strategic vision at the highest level—

he was extremely sharp.

As if trained by a great general, directly skipping the basics, taught from the core of grand strategic perspective—Pang Shuiyun smiled: "The young master is right. But don't worry—I've already set a few small tricks."

"Yuwen Hua and Yuwen Tianxian won't catch up for a while."

As Pang Shuiyun said, his tricks weren't one but a chain: false intelligence, feints to the east while striking west—until even if Yuwen Tianxian uncovered them, by the time he pursued, he was already far behind.

This time gap allowed Pang Shuiyun to bring Li Guanyi to his prepared battlefield stronghold.

It was a mountain.

Behind it lay a sheer cliff; ahead stretched a broad plain. The mountain already had a camp and basic defenses—even mechanical crossbows and arrow towers. When Li Guanyi's carriage convoy entered, the youth merely glanced around, saw over three thousand fully armed men, and sensed something was wrong.

He pulled Pang Shuiyun aside and asked:

"Old Pang, what's really going on?"

Pang Shuiyun feigned ignorance, smiling: "I foresaw this possibility, so I prepared some troops here as a precaution."

Li Guanyi suddenly laughed: "Old Pang, you think I'm a child?"

Pang Shuiyun froze.

The youth's eyes grew still and deep: "You want to use Yuwen Tianxian to make me famous."

"Isn't that right?"

Pang Shuiyun opened his smiling eyes, staring at the youth—for the first time, he felt he wasn't looking at Li Wanli's son, but a young general with courage, strategy, and piercing insight.

Li Guanyi sighed deeply: "Tell me, Old Pang—where did these people come from?"

Pang Shuiyun fell silent, then laid everything bare.

He bowed and said: "Young master, to achieve heroic dominion, one must first gain renown—that's the foundation! These men aren't private troops—they're bandits, outlaws, deserters. Their deaths are insignificant; perfect for training!"

The youth looked at this strategist and said:

"... Old Pang, I've read a family letter, witnessed many things, traveled the Jianghu, heard many stories—why do people become bandits? Because if they become outlaws, they might still live; sometimes, paying taxes under imperial law means certain starvation."

Pang Shuiyun froze.

Li Guanyi said: "I intend to accomplish something."

"But!"

His tone hardened. He looked at the old man and suddenly grinned:

"But heroic dominion doesn't require such methods!"

Pang Shuiyun said: "Are you going to play the womanly merciful role?!" Li Guanyi laughed: "I'm not some sentimental fool. But to lead a mob dragged up by force, armed with swords, and throw them against elite troops—what is that?"

"Evil must be killed; the innocent—if we cannot save them from fire and water—"

"Then even if I seize the empire—"

"I am no different from those who oppressed them!"

Flame-like light burned in the youth's eyes; the strategist of the Vertical and Horizontal school was left speechless.

Pang Shuiyun felt the very quality unique to great warlords—the kind that leaves strategists helpless. He bowed deeply to the youth, rose, and Li Guanyi personally sounded the gong, summoning all three thousand men to gather.

A dense sea of men—five hundred were the city lord's private troops, some were condemned prisoners, bandits, outlaws, and hidden among them were thirty-three veteran soldiers of the Taiping Army—all stared at Li Guanyi.

Li Guanyi looked at them, then laughed aloud: "Do you know who I am?"

The crowd was chaotic; no one answered. Only a few muttered they didn't know.

Li Guanyi said: "I'm just a boy much younger than you. Today, I want to ask you—who are you?" He strode to the first man—a giant, his brow fierce, face tattooed, a convict branded for exile.

Li Guanyi asked: "Why did you break the law?"

The giant glanced at the boy, grinned, and said carelessly: "Killed an official."

"Why kill an official?"

"That dog official seized my land, broke my father's legs. So I took a knife at night and chopped off that old bastard's head. That's why I'm to be executed—there you go."

Li Guanyi nodded: "Good!"

"Bold!"

The giant grinned: "If you're calling me bold, why not break my leg irons?"

This giant was from the death-row camp—also called the cannon-fodder camp—his feet chained, forbidden to retreat, forced to charge into heavy cavalry with weapons, destined to die. His words were mockery.

Suddenly, a sharp whistle rang out.

Li Guanyi drew his sword and slashed—chopping open the giant's leg irons.

The giant froze, disbelieving.

The atmosphere shifted instantly. Li Guanyi said: "Bring wine!"

A young man from Changfeng Tower carried a wine jar forward. The giant's expression changed. He took the wine, drank it down in one long gulp.

He had already reached the second man and asked, "What did you do?!"

The thin man beamed and said, "This fellow killed an official. I'm different—I was an orphan. A monk took me in, made me a kitchen helper. One day we had an argument, I flew into a rage, and killed all those monks, seized their land, and was later turned in. I killed people, but…"

A sharp clang rang out—the man's head flew off.

A stench of blood spread; everyone's hearts tightened. The teenager said:

"Repaying kindness with betrayal? You deserve to die!"

For some reason, a solemn aura spread. The boy continued forward, and whenever someone tried to hide, the woman beside him, hooded, with a cold voice, would speak three or four words—each one forcing out the truth. Everyone's spirits sharpened; unconsciously, they felt three-tenths more respect for the boy.

Could this man possibly read minds?!

Li Guanyi had gone to question each one, one by one—over three thousand people, the sky turning dusky.

Yet only two thousand eight hundred remained. But every time he killed one, he asked those nearby: "Was this man worthy of death?"—and all agreed the slain were deserving. Until finally, when a man who had raped and murdered a woman, then killed his benefactor, was exposed, the cries of outrage rose to the heavens.

Li Guanyi stood at the front and ordered a pile of weapons and a pile of silver and gold brought forth.

They were arranged to left and right.

The boy spoke gravely: "My name is Li Guanyi. Today, I will not hide from you: you know who your enemy is—Yuwen Hua and Yuwen Tianxian of the Yuwen Clan. They are generals on the Divine General List."

The crowd buzzed. Some who knew Li Guanyi and the Yuwen Clan explained the names' meanings; everyone's expressions changed. The boy pointed to the pile of silver and gold: "To fight such a powerful army, if any of you wish to leave, take a share of silver."

"If you wish to stay, take a sword."

A middle-aged man hesitated, stepped forward, took a bag of silver, turned, and walked away. No one stopped him. Suddenly, a flood of people rushed to take silver.

The funds provided by Changfeng Lady vanished in an instant. The boy didn't so much as blink.

Finally, the first bandit who had killed an official burst into laughter, walked over, grabbed a bag of silver, tossed it down, then picked up a sword and said: "I'm Fan Qing. You've got guts. My life was already a gift—I want to see what you're going to do!"

Li Guanyi suddenly moved his hand—a silver ingot flew through the air.

Fan Qing looked up: "What?"

Li Guanyi didn't turn around: "This month's pay."

Fan Qing froze: "Pay? Aren't we just a band of outlaws?"

The boy said: "Of course not!"

"Your swords fight for yourselves!"

Fan Qing clutched the heavy silver ingot and the sword, standing stunned for a long while—then burst into loud laughter. In the end, of those three thousand, hundreds were killed, over a thousand left—and only one thousand eight hundred remained.

Pang Shuiyun stared fixedly at the one thousand eight hundred, his old heart pounding wildly.

A faint, yet real and chilling military aura was beginning to form.

How could this be? How could this be…

The boy stood atop the height, bowing.

The one thousand eight hundred instinctively returned the bow—in perfect unison.

And now, they were an army.

Pang Shuiyun suddenly felt like crying out loud.