Chapter 27: The Number One Divine General in the World!

Li Guanyi remembered that name.

When Xue Changqing had just proudly boasted to his grandfather about his shot, he said he intended to study the Divine Bow Thirteen Forms; the old man had also mentioned the [Break-Cloud Thunder-Sky Bow]—was this the divine weapon, sealed away for one hundred and thirty years, as the old man had described? Li Guanyi felt the unfinished White Tiger manifestation on the bronze tripod straining to roar.

It yearned desperately to leap out and touch that bow.

The old man noticed Li Guanyi’s gaze and smiled knowingly: “Master Li has noticed the Break-Cloud Thunder-Sky Bow? Naturally—any guest who comes to Tingfeng Pavilion cannot help but be drawn to this bow.”

“But perhaps you don’t know the legend of this bow?”

Li Guanyi shook his head.

The old man set down his tea utensils, reached out, and touched the bow. “Five hundred years ago, my ancestor used this very bow to drive back three hundred thousand troops with three arrows. Legend says he was the White Tiger Star Lord descended from the heavens, sent to quell chaos and restore order to the mortal realm.”

“In his youth, he lived in poverty, herding livestock for wealthy households, until he encountered a tiger as massive as a mountain. He fought and killed that beautiful yet deadly creature, then forged this bow from a divine tree beneath Kunwu Mountain—the tiger’s spirit became its string.”

“This divine weapon, kept on its rack, often rings on windless nights; the sound of its string resembles a tiger’s roar.”

“Legend says the final arrow of my ancestor’s three flew over a hundred li, piercing through the enemy general’s royal tent and killing him. When that arrow flew, the clouds above split open like chasms, and the entire sky trembled with thunderous roars—hence the name [Break-Cloud Thunder-Sky Bow].”

Over a hundred li?!

Li Guanyi’s eyelid twitched.

What terrifying power was this?

Was the name [Break-Cloud Thunder-Sky Bow] literal—and not mere exaggeration?

Yue Qianfeng smashing a mountain peak with a single punch was terrifying enough, but if someone could fire an arrow a hundred li, Yue Qianfeng’s feats seemed insignificant by comparison.

Xue Shuangtao had never heard her grandfather speak of this before. When she heard “a hundred li,” her expression froze—she simply could not imagine such terrifying power.

The old man chuckled. “You probably don’t believe it. I didn’t believe it either. Warriors smashing mountains with their fists, shooting arrows deep into rock walls—those are commonplace.”

“But tales like my ancestor’s? I always thought they were just my elders fabricating myths to glorify themselves.”

“Who hasn’t been young? I was young and reckless once too.”

“I disbelieved heaven and earth, defied my parents, challenged authority—trusted only myself.”

“At eighteen, I took a bow and three arrows and set out to travel the land.”

“Back then, Ying State was still Wei State; the banks of the Wei River hadn’t yet run red with noble blood. I crossed the Changlian Mountains, riding the long-haired oxen of the Tangut people, under vast skies and distant clouds, while nomad girls sang ballads. My skin was sunburned, itching and aching.”

“After drinking their fishy yogurt, I slept on the ox’s back, my face covered with hide, dreaming of the lotus root and mandarin fish from home, regretting my impulsive journey.”

“Until I heard their cheers.”

“I shielded my eyes with my hand and saw a colossal hole in their sacred mountain—like a great dragon had torn through it, shattering its center. Sunlight poured through the gap, breathtakingly beautiful.”

“They called it [Aruen Wulha Ribosadawa].”

“It means: the Central Plains Bodhisattva arrow that pierced the sacred mountain.”

“That was the mark left by my ancestor.”

“And his arrow’s true target lay far beyond the far side of that sacred mountain.”

“My elders lied to me.”

The old man’s hand caressed the bow, his voice striving for calm, yet trembling with suppressed emotion: “The final arrow of my ancestor’s three did not fly a hundred li—it flew three hundred and eighty li, killing the steppe king in his golden tent. Blood stained the royal pavilion, and the eighteen tribes gathered for the steppe assembly scattered in chaos, lifting the empire’s crisis.”

Three hundred and eighty li?! Li Guanyi’s eyes glinted with astonishment.

The old man said: “Even after that shot, my ancestor suffered grave depletion and took years to recover. Of the five arrows, one was utterly destroyed. Yet even so, it remains a feat that leaves our descendants awestruck.”

“Only then did I believe: five hundred years ago, my Xue ancestor truly ranked first on the Divine General List; our Xue family’s [Break-Cloud Thunder-Sky Bow] truly stood atop the Divine Weapon List.”

“I went mad. Every day, I shot three thousand arrows for three full months. My palms were shredded by the bowstring—wounds scabbed over, then torn open again—until finally, I shot an arrow into the very hole my ancestor had made. Only then did my spirit feel complete.”

“Then I returned home, became head of the family, and have remained so ever since.”

Li Guanyi and Xue Shuangtao imagined that grand scene.

A towering sacred mountain pierced by a colossal hole; Tangut warriors clad in furs knelt on the grass, elbows pressed to earth, palms raised to heaven in devout prayer, while the bow-wielding disciple stood at the horizon’s edge—what emotions must he have felt?

Li Guanyi said: “Number one in the world?”

The old man sighed again: “Yes, but since then, only two people have ever drawn this bow—and the last one died five years before I was born. This bow has gone untouched for one hundred and thirty years. No one has heard its thunderous string-song since.”

“They say whoever lifts and draws this bow inherits my ancestor’s legacy directly.”

“They instantly master his lost arts, and with the bow’s divine power, every shot strikes true. If used with the matching arrows, it can launch projectiles at least fifty li—within its range, jade and stone shatter, rivers and mountains break apart!”

Li Guanyi remained silent for a long while, staring at the ancient war bow. “If such a divine weapon lies here, why isn’t it guarded? Why isn’t it stolen?”

Inside the bronze tripod, the White Tiger manifestation writhed and roared with desperate longing, so loud it grated on Li Guanyi’s ears—the primal urge to seize the bow and fire it was crushed beneath the boy’s will.

The old man burst into laughter. “Pick it up?”

“To lift this bow requires one condition—extremely strict. You must bear the White Tiger manifestation, just like my ancestor.”

“Without it, even the strongest man in the world couldn’t so much as lift it!”

“Let alone draw it.”

Li Guanyi paused.

White Tiger manifestation?

The White Tiger manifestation on the bronze tripod twitched, desperate to leap out—but since the jade liquid within hadn’t yet fully matured, it couldn’t fully take shape. Frustrated, it rolled into a ball and tumbled along the tripod’s inner wall, only to be smacked aside by the red dragon’s tail like a snowball.

“Waaahhh!!”

“Aowww!!”

Thus, on the bronze tripod, dragon and tiger clashed.

Roughly.

Li Guanyi said: “Divine General… manifestation…?”

The old man casually waved his hand—a book flew to him. He handed it to Li Guanyi. “Yes.”

“Manifestations have nothing to do with cultivation realms. They are traits possessed only by the true elite.”

“A thousand years ago, the Three Upper Lists already existed.”

“The Divine General List, the Divine Weapon List, the Manifestation List.”

“These lists were never published by any person—they emerged from the chaos and bloodshed of the world’s great wars. Divine Generals are peerless, bearing manifestations, wielding divine weapons, dominating battlefields, commanding armies, altering the fate of nations alone. No one else compares. Hence, they are called ‘Upper.’”

Xue Shuangtao asked curiously: “The Three Upper Lists? Are there others?”

The old man stroked his beard. “Yes. Where there are many, there is rivalry. The Three Upper Lists are determined by wars between great nations and battlefield prowess. The rest? They are fabricated by schemers to stir up trouble in the martial world. Some have value, but they bring only trouble.”

“If a martial artist appears on the Grand Master List, he loses peace. If a woman appears on the Beauty List, she becomes a target.”

“They are curses, not blessings. Avoid them.”

“Young Master, are you interested in the Three Upper Lists?”

“Yes.”

The old man didn’t hesitate. These lists were not for ordinary eyes—but he still retrieved them for Li Guanyi, tossing them like a scroll. “The tea isn’t ready yet. You may read—but you cannot take it away.”

Li Guanyi nodded, opened the scroll, and asked: “Where does Chen Guo’s strongest general rank?”

The old man replied: “Once, Duke Taiping ranked in the top ten—but he died violently. Now, Marshal Yue is the strongest—ranked eleventh…”

Li Guanyi froze. Marshal Yue, who commanded Yue Qianfeng’s absolute loyalty—ranked eleventh?

The old man hesitated. “The Divine General List measures battlefield achievements, not a general’s potential. If your nation’s ruler… well, the current emperor writes fine poetry and paints beautiful landscapes. I’ve said too much. Young Master, read for yourself.”

Li Guanyi understood.

Chen Guo’s court was weak, lost in flowers, moonlight, luxury, and music, favoring peace over war. Even if a godlike general wished to mend the heavens, he could do nothing but sigh in frustration.

Chen Guo’s generals ranked low.

Li Guanyi opened the Divine General List and scanned quickly.

He sought a familiar name.

Would there be one? He read through once—then his gaze sharpened. Right near the top—he found him—

[Yue Qianfeng], Divine General List, rank thirty-four.

Evaluation—

Number one on the Southern Continent in foot combat.

………………

BOOM!!!!

A single slash—his hundred-refined blade shattered mid-swing, the shockwave hurling and shredding over a dozen elite assassins. The burly man frowned, muttered: “Damn. Should’ve brought a divine weapon.”

Ambushers never ceased.

His vision stretched far—he could now faintly see the city.

He turned to the old man still studying the map. “Grandmaster Xue.”

“We’re nearly at Yicheng.”

(End of Chapter)