Chapter 318: Great Victory, Shattering the Chains

Faced with the sudden charge, the warriors in the camp reacted neither swiftly nor sharply—even preparing themselves took over a dozen breaths.

Earlier, sounds had come from every direction, drawing the camp's warriors' attention: some rushed to investigate this side, others to search that side, yet as if no one were anywhere, and in that chaos, the strange cavalry surged onto the battlefield.

The man in luxurious robes stepped out upon hearing the commotion—just as his warriors finally finished preparing to face the charging cavalry—but as they readied for a frontal assault, two thunderous crashes erupted from behind!

Attacked from the rear!

A massive man in leather armor, with a square face and steady, resolute eyes, rode a large horse, swinging a great sword as he led dozens forward, slashing head-on—within mere strikes, he slew several men.

Shadows shifted behind them; no one knew how many there were.

The tactics of Central Plains military strategists were not something this Western Regions small-city noble hunting force could withstand: feint east, strike west, attack from front and rear—first, small cavalry units harassed to throw the enemy into disarray, then the main force charged straight ahead.

At the critical moment, a second elite force surged in from behind.

Li Guanyi gripped his long spear.

True military strategy: appear incapable when capable, strike where unprepared, know yourself and know your enemy—and only then can victory be assured.

As the enemy camp descended into chaos, he led his ragtag cavalry in, using Central Plains generalship tactics to directly shatter the invisible martial aura gathering before them, seizing their momentum and shattering their courage.

Li Guanyi felt an ease, as if his will moved their limbs.

Accustomed to hovering at the limit of fifty thousand command capacity, returning to commanding only hundreds, Li Guanyi's aura fully enveloped them, gradually adjusting the rhythm of the charge until he forged a linked state of shared breath.

Like mercury spilled on the ground, flowing effortlessly.

In that instant, under the leadership of a famed general, these ragtag Western Region warriors achieved, in the moment of the charge, a cohesion reaching the threshold of Central Plains second-tier battalions.

And those Central Plains second-tier battalions, which even lacked the qualification to face the Fire Qilin's main force head-on, were far beyond the capability of these noble hunting armies in the Western Regions city-states.

For centuries, Central Plains had churned out countless heroes and bandits in its chaotic wars.

The Western Regions oppressed its people with Buddhist delusions and bloodline whips—this level of noble alliance had no qualification to stand against the warlords forged in Central Plains' chaos.

Only those heroes hardened by the ferocity of the desert could stand as rivals to Central Plains' famed generals.

Li Guanyi spotted a massive man clad in heavy armor; ignoring all others, he spurred his horse forward, swinging his long spear—any opponent blocking his path was flung aside. The foreign general, enraged, seized a thick-backed great sword and charged to meet him.

"A Central Plains trader?!"

"We are no match for the Yu Langwang's son."

"Do you truly believe any random Central Plains man can defeat us?!"

With one downward slash, the Central Plains man spun his spear into a flourish.

The foreign general felt a jolt in the base of his thumb.

His heavy sword was split cleanly through the center; the spear moved like a coiling dragon—before his eyes flashed only a streak of cold light, and the general's throat was pierced. In dazed recollection, he remembered delivering supplies to the front lines, where that famed general, renowned for bravery across a thousand li, had been killed by the Yu Langwang's son in a white battle robe, using the exact same spear technique.

【Shatter Mountains】?!

The name of this technique surfaced in his mind.

His skull exploded from the spear's force, tumbling down—and in his fading thoughts, one final idea surfaced.

This Central Plains man's Shatter Mountains.

Why?

More tyrannical than that refined, chivalrous Yu Langwang's son?!

Who is he?!

Li Guanyi used the momentum of the two charging horses to effortlessly complete his general-slaying strike, raising his long spear high and shouting in Western Region tongue: "Their general is slain by me!!!"

The Western Region differs from the steppe.

On the steppe, if a hundred-commander dies, his warriors commit death for failing to avenge him—these Western Region desert city-state noble alliances lacked such ferocity.

Fan Qing and Changsun Wuchou surged into the battlefield from two other directions.

Using the Fire Qilin's favored method of cutting through, even with hundreds against two thousand, they suppressed the enemy through aura, formation, and generalship—though sadly, Fan Qing's true expertise lay in the Yuwen Tianxian lineage.

Combined arms warfare based on war chariots, heavy armored infantry, supported by archers and spear units to harvest the enemy.

He was less skilled in cavalry command.

That was the domain of Generals Ling Pingyang and General Yuwen.

This also reflected the generals' personalities: Fan Qing was steady, General Yuwen was fierce; Fan Qing was calm, General Yuwen was Mu Zi Yi—the military maxim of wind, forest, fire, mountain: Fan Qing was like a mountain, General Yuwen like fire.

Li Guanyi suddenly thought of that arrogant Yuwen clan scion—wondering if, in this chaotic age, they might meet again. His hand trembled; blood from his spear dripped to the ground as he thought.

In chaos, the world is endless—if we live, we will meet again.

The battle ended swiftly: after the first charge and second cutting maneuver, the camp lost over a hundred corpses, and with their commander captured, morale collapsed utterly.

The nobleman in luxurious silk robes tried to flee, but Li Guanyi caught up, raised his bow, and with the Xue family's divine archery flowing effortlessly, shot straight through the noble's hand—the man, though possessing Wu Gong, screamed and collapsed, clutching his hand and wailing.

Li Guanyi rode past, leaned down, and seized the man.

"Wasted all this Third Heaven-level cultivation."

He noticed the noble's delicate skin and soft bones, yet he possessed a force akin to Central Plains internal energy—surprised, he flicked his wrist and hurled the man toward the fallen general's corpse; the man screamed, his body trembling.

Li Guanyi's wrist moved; internal Qi flowed, drawing the fallen man's sword to him.

A gold-made sword, light, yet weighing two or three catties.

Thin as cicada wings, its scabbard crafted of precious purple sandalwood, inlaid with seven gems.

Gold is soft; Li Guanyi feared his arrow might pierce the blade itself and diminish its value, so he shot through the man's wrist instead.

The blade bore engraved Buddhist sutras, full of teachings urging people toward virtue; Li Guanyi glimpsed lines like "In the next life, the poor shall enjoy wealth, women shall be reborn as men"—he sheathed the sword.

After enduring the intensity of Central Plains battlefields, the Fire Qilin's fierce generals completed this skirmish effortlessly; Sa Atandi stood dazed, the former warriors ashen-faced, one drawing his blade to seize the girl—only to be pierced through by an arrow.

The broad-shouldered warrior screamed and fell; the young man on horseback still felt his warbow's string humming faintly.

Hooves rang crisp; Sa Atandi watched the Central Plains man in Western Region attire approach under the sun, smiling, saying nothing—only reached into her robe, pulled something out, and tucked it into her bosom.

She snapped out of the shock, instinctively clutching the object—only to find it was a mirror. Li Guanyi dismounted and smiled: "I haven't given you my gift yet—why did you come here?"

He didn't ask if she was well—coming here meant she was not.

He merely mentioned their prior promise, as if nothing before had ever happened.

Sa Atandi held the mirror and smiled with relief.

Others in the camp who tried to escape encountered Pan Wanxiu's mechanical cart.

Gongsun Huai zhi remained with the tribe, while the Mo School master accompanied them.

He had also brought the carriage—

Mo School disciples felt uneasy without their mechanical devices, as if running naked through the streets.

It was cobbled together from wooden crates used by Sa Atandi's tribe to haul luggage, designed to deploy the Gongsun clan's revolving crossbows—yet this humble academy master could pull the carriage, drawn by four warhorses, laden with all manner of gear, single-handedly, racing down the road.

Pan Wanxiu shyly said it was nothing.

He merely said it was basic in the academy.

Even the warriors of the Western Regions marveled at the legendary academy; Fan Qing and his men, experienced as they were, quickly secured the camp.

"Mostly leather armor—over two hundred pieces; heavy armor is scarce, only thirty-three. Two thousand six hundred bows, three hundred horses, five hundred shields, countless arrows, plus grain, oil, iron, salt—this was a supply convoy heading to the front."

"Also five hundred head of cattle and sheep, three chests of gold and silver."

"As for the captives…"

Changsun Wu chou paused. After the warriors of this camp had been shattered by the Fire Qilin generals, they turned cowardly—some surrendered, some begged. According to the Fire Qilin Army's original orders, such enemy surrenders were to be accepted.

But the Western Regions differed from the Central Plains; its history was far more complex.

The eyes of the Western Region warriors, whose own tribes had been hunted like prey, turned red.

The anger and grief accumulated over centuries—loved ones shot like cattle or rabbits, young children seized as farm slaves or concubines, sent to the front to serve cavalry and generals.

The fury built over these years erupted like fire.

Centuries of hatred and resentment surged, determined to burn to ash every man who had whipped them—revenge for kin, revenge for elders; they slashed and hacked until their inferior curved blades were utterly bent and dull, and in mere moments, the ground ran red with blood.

Six or seven hundred men against fewer than two thousand—there was no chance of victory, yet killing those who had lost their will to fight was not difficult; even Fan Qing did not intervene—

When one's kin had been slain and one had been oppressed.

Revenge was justice.

Vengeance aligned with heaven and earth.

The air reeked of blood; bodies lay everywhere, yet even in this rage, the noble youths remained unharmed—those with bloodshot eyes never raised their blades against the upper classes.

Those few nobles were still alive.

After reporting the situation.

Batuer and the Western Region folk stared at the teenager sitting on the rock. Li Guanyi had glued a beard to his face and toyed with the golden knife. Batuer pulled Sa Atandi aside, watching these people expertly round up captives and tally loot, left speechless.

Who exactly are these people…

So brutal.

Are Central Plains traders really this fierce? But he did not dwell on it—his tribe's children had been rescued; every member of the tribe cheered and rejoiced. Yet even now, rescued, they could not leave.

Because they still feared. Still trembled.

Under the rush of bloodlust and the catalyst of hatred, they had followed this young man to do what they had dreamed of but never dared—yet when the killing ended and the people were saved, the hot blood cooled, and the lingering shadow of centuries of noble rule crept back like dark clouds.

Batuer suddenly recalled a legend.

Around a hundred years ago, a Central Plains trader had ridden a horse, dragging three massive carts of arrows, arriving in the long-isolated Western Regions.

One man, one bow, wandering the desert, using the legendary archery technique said to pierce the Sacred Mountain's Bodhisattva, picking off one by one the rampant desert bandits and the arrogant noble lords' cavalry.

In the end, he reopened the long-severed trade route between the Western Regions and the Central Plains.

Heroes of the Central Plains never ceased to appear, yet heroes of the Western Regions killed each other.

Was it only the Western Regions?

Or were all heroes of the world the same?

Batuer was momentarily dazed.

He recalled once asking the Prophet-Sage this question, and receiving the sage's reply—

"All heroes, past and present, are like this."

"The greatest hero is the one who kills the most."

Batuer fell silent. But this Central Plains man had not led them forward to kill—he did not know how to respond, yet the sage's words echoed in his heart, no longer as unchallengeable as before.

Li Guanyi's gaze turned to the noble, who stammered: "You're from the Central Plains, aren't you? I'm the Young Master of this city. I have a Central Plains name—Huyan Yinshe."

Huyan Yinshe said: "Do you need farm slaves? Or gold?"

"I can give you all you want—however much you desire."

"My father is the city lord, ruling the surrounding lands. He commands ten thousand brave warriors. You cannot harm me—otherwise, my father will send men to kill you."

"With a sharp oxhide knife, he'll cut a wound as long as a bull's horn beneath your skull, then hang you upside down for three days and three nights until every last drop of blood drains from your body!"

Li Guanyi was astonished, silent. He looked to Batuer beside him.

"Your nobles… always talk like this…"

He chose his words carefully: "Are they always this brave?"

The fucker—how dare he?

Even Lei Laomeng's eyes flickered with the same thought.

His own forces had been crushed, yet he still spoke with such confidence, demanding Li Guanyi's group release him. Li Guanyi tossed the knife in his hand and could only marvel:

"It seems the customs of the Western Region desert truly differ from those of the Central Plains."

Batuer fell silent, then asked: "What should we do?"

His question echoed the fears of all the tribal people. Li Guanyi stared at the smug noble, who even now, captured, demanded the golden knife be returned to him.

Li Guanyi looked to Batuer and said: "The people are rescued."

"What do you plan to do now?"

Batuer pressed his lips together, unsure how to answer.

He intended to die himself in order to seek revenge.

But now that he had truly sought revenge and saved the person, he was left bewildered.

Fan Qing said calmly: "It is because you never had long-term plans or deep thought; you do not understand the larger situation, only acting on raw courage. When things yield results, you become lost, and are easily extinguished."

Batuer pressed his lips together, and suddenly remembered what the Sage had said:

"May I ask, Tian格尔?"

He stared at the young man: "What kind of person is a hero of this age? Some say it is the one who kills the most..."

Li Guanyi thought for a moment, then answered:

"I am no hero, so I do not know."

Batuer felt a pang of regret.

Li Guanyi gazed at Hu Yan Yingshi and said: "Today, I offer you a second path." The young man's face took on a calm expression: "You came here with the certainty of death—but you survived."

"Now, you may take your share of these spoils, return to your tribes, and enjoy the cheers of your kin."

When the words fell, the hundreds of western warriors did not move—whether from fear of the danger their return might bring to their tribes, or from the violent, nearly uncontrollable fire of revenge still burning within them, they stood there.

Li Guanyi said: "Then the second path—I am a traveling merchant."

"I know of a land where you may follow me, live upon it. On our land, there shall be no serfs, no female slaves, no distinction between high and low; after labor, one shall enjoy the grain."

"But if you go there, you must abandon the old customs of the Western Regions, and all shall follow the same rules."

Li Guanyi extended his hand, gazing at the hundreds before him, and said:

"Killers shall die."

"Those who injure or steal shall be punished."

"If you are willing, step forward and strike this man once with this knife."

"Let this be our covenant!"

Hu Yan Yingshi's face turned ashen; the atmosphere froze instantly. He widened his eyes, glaring at the filthy lowborns before him, shouting and cursing—but for a moment, no one moved. No one dared approach him.

Then Hu Yan Yingshi's face took on an air of pride.

At that moment, Sa Atandi suddenly surged forward. She glanced at Li Guanyi and whispered: "In your land, can I live until the eagle has flown over the earth fifty-six times?"

Li Guanyi answered: "I do not know."

"Because I do not know if I can survive this chaotic age myself."

"But I can promise: no one will ever abandon the old or weak."

Sa Atandi's face broke into a smile. She nodded firmly, bent down, seized the golden blade, and, amid Hu Yan Yingshi's screams and curses, lowered her head, gritted her teeth, and charged forward with all her strength.

The golden blade sliced through Hu Yan Yingshi's body, leaving only a wound—not large, but agonizing. Sa Atandi staggered two steps backward, nearly falling to the ground, gasping for breath.

Though she had struck Hu Yan Yingshi only once, she felt as if the world before her had changed—as if an invisible chain, with a clear, ringing sound, had shattered completely.

Sa Atandi's action was merely a signal.

Soon, Batuer stepped forward, seized the golden curved blade, and brought it down with all his might, carving a deep gash into Hu Yan Yingshi's body. Like a rising tide, others surged forward, driven by rage and defiance, venting their fury against the injustices of the Western Regions.

Finally, Li Guanyi picked up the long sword and severed Hu Yan Yingshi's head with one stroke.

Blood splashed onto the ground.

When they looked at these men again, the earlier chaos was gone. The shackles upon them seemed cracked open in many places; their eyes no longer held the look of cowardice and humility—they appeared reborn in blood.

All raised their weapons and hands, shouting: "Tian Ge'er!"

"Tian Ge'er!!!"

Pan Wanxiu watched this scene. In the Academy, he had often wandered to the Military School, where he had once heard: sometimes heroes rise with the tide of the age—but heroes differ from the powerful in that they accomplish what ordinary people deem impossible.

In such a brief time, he had forged something akin to a military soul.

Though it was merely the suppressed resentment against centuries of oppression upon this vast land.

Though still faint, yet now—

The flame had risen.

And these tribes, oppressed for hundreds of years, had felt the sensation of lifting their heads to breathe. In this generation, they would never again bow their necks, fasten shackles upon themselves, and become another's slaves.

"Lord, the one who makes every man a Tian Ge'er—that is the hero."

Li Guanyi sheathed the golden curved blade and called: "Wu Chou."

Changsun Wu Chou replied: "Here."

Li Guanyi said: "Consolidate everyone, clean up this mess, avoid the original route, and head to our intended destination."

Changsun Wu Chou said: "Yes!"

Li Guanyi added: "Batuer."

Batuer instinctively bowed his head: "I am here."

Li Guanyi said: "I entrust you with this: all these cattle, sheep, horses, and carts—anyone passing by will notice them. We will find a way to erase the traces. You return, gather your tribe, and meet us one hundred li ahead."

Batuer nodded, pulled out a map, and pointed out a safe location.

The Fire Qilin Army took all resources, piled the corpses together, and poured a large barrel of Hou Zhongyu's powder over them. Bubbles rose on the corpses; soon, murky yellow pus oozed out, then dissolved into vast pools of blood that seeped into the earth.

According to Shi Dalin, Hou Zhongyu's formula was unmatched in the world!

Extremely effective.

Hou Zhongyu, invincible!

Soon, only vast pools of blood remained—and the blood would attract countless wolves to lick it clean. This natural world would melt all bloodlines—hero, slave, noble—into nothing within this furnace.

Tap-tap-tap—

The little donkey stepped forward beside Li Guanyi, the silver-haired girl seated atop it.

Though her face showed no expression, she seemed to find it fascinating.

Yao Guang had previously been with Master Pan Wanxiu of the Mohists at the mechanical cart.

It was Yao Guang's mysterious art that concealed it, allowing Li Guanyi's feint-and-flank tactic to be executed so perfectly.

Li Guanyi's force now included seven hundred mounted archers, thousands of horses, cattle, sheep, carts, and hundreds of young children, with several more tribes—some numbering a few hundred, others over a thousand—slowly moving toward the place he had marked as their destination.

Li Guanyi turned back to look at the massive procession, his lips twitching.

"It seems I've grown too fast…"

"Why did this happen?"

Lei Laomeng laughed heartily: "This is what a caravan trader should be like, my lord!"

"Just like Lao Fan said—if you came here and did nothing, just accepted this world of slaves, it wouldn't be like you at all."

Li Guanyi chuckled, dismissive: "Let's go."

Anyway, it wasn't much different from the original plan—just head ahead and settle in the town the Young Lady had prepared. Nangong Wumeng would seek out Khan Qibili, and the Golden Crescent Cavalry would arrive there directly.

When Li Guanyi first arrived in the Western Regions, he had only seven or eight men; by the time he left the area he had just reached, a sizable force now followed behind him.

Wherever there is oppression, there lies the ground for heroes to rise.

But traveling too far too quickly would render the Mo Sect marks left on the two foreign monks less effective; as Li Guanyi pondered this, he suddenly felt the Nine Cauldrons within him tremble slightly.

He turned his inner spirit inward and saw faint streams of light rippling within the Nine Cauldrons.

"What is this…?"

"The vital breath and fortune of the myriad people…?"

Meanwhile, deep within the distant Sacred Mountain, the Nine-Colored Deer, having returned, was about to fall asleep when it suddenly sensed a strange sound at its ear—clear, bright, distant yet carrying a mysterious resonance.

The Nine-Colored Divine Deer opened its eyes.

"Huh?!"

It sensed a faintly familiar aura, its eyes widening:

"Is it you?!"

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