Chapter 329: Break Their City!

Yet the warhorses roared in unison, arrows falling like rain, converging the power of the battle formation's phantom, surging onto the city wall—its sturdy stones, already stripped of protective arrays, could not withstand this brutal assault from the military formation.

The tiger's roar shook the four corners of the land and echoed through the heavens.

Riding her small pony, tightly following Batuer, Sa Atandi widened her eyes and saw the seemingly real divine tiger burst forth—the golden curved sword cavalry's blade flashes forming the tiger's claws and fangs, tearing forward.

In her memory, Dacheng—tall, unyielding, an impassable abyss dividing city from outside—was now ripped apart like butter under the tiger's claws.

Shattered stones rose and fell; the barrier that had once blocked them from the city no longer existed. The tiger's form did not vanish. Sa Atandi heard a neigh like a dragon's roar—the little girl lifted her head and saw a scene she would never forget.

Massive blue stones rained down; a dragon-like war steed stepped midair upon the rubble, then surged forward, stretching its body—its rider, right hand gripping a mixed-iron heavy spear, battle robe swirling, brows raised in triumph.

Like the hero from every epic sung across the Western Regions.

As one corner of the city wall collapsed, he leapt over Dacheng—the storm in the heavens, the thunder crashing down, the crumbling city, the hundred-thousand-strong army—all became the silhouette of this airborne rider.

Deeply etched into everyone's memory.

Li Guanyi's warhorse landed steadily, reared its head and neighed—as if stirred by the battlefield's aura and phantom, its special bloodline surged; its Heavy Breathing, as it galloped, seemed to summon thunder beneath its hooves.

The momentum of the great battle formation had just struck, consuming over half its energy.

After all, it was not an elite army, merely scattered forces; though bolstered by prior buildup and an extraordinarily high morale, they had achieved that single strike—but could not sustain it.

Li Guanyi used this overwhelming momentum to spur his mount into the final charge, his soul locking onto Ji Zongcheng—his internal qi and blood seemed to boil, the heavy mixed-iron spear in his palm trembling slightly.

The second application of the famed general's battle momentum.

Earlier, the tiger's roar had shattered the city with formation power.

Now, through the profound essence of military momentum, with the Wang Yin of the Western Regions as the core, the hundred-thousand-strong formation—the victorious, city-breaking momentum—converged upon one man. Li Guanyi clearly felt his strength surging rapidly.

Surge!

Surge!!!

The tiger's roar never ceased.

In an instant, Li Guanyi felt as if he had shattered the Sixth Heaven's boundary, reaching a far vaster realm—his soul vibrant and boundless, able to draw upon surrounding heavenly qi, able to harness the power of the military formation.

A famed general of the world.

Capable of controlling military momentum through one's own soul—an inconceivable marvel.

Capable of gathering the army's momentum to empower oneself!

Within arm's reach, one man opposes a nation.

With me, there is no enemy.

Ji Zongcheng, locked in standoff with the Whale Fisher, turned his gaze and heard the tiger's roar—his eyes saw the battle formation's tiger suddenly transform into a vast, pale-gold Western Bai Hu.

Bai Hu galloped; the famed general rode.

Ji Zongcheng's pupils shrank violently; he instinctively defended.

His golden glazed body, radiant with boundless light, slammed his palms together—suddenly, he felt a terrifying pressure, the fear etched deep into his soul, the dread of death exploding in intensity, forcing him instinctively to avoid the formation's commander.

Instead, he focused all his strength against this aura.

Before the instantly fully drawn killing intent, he instinctively pressed his palms together:

"Amitabha!"

His golden glazed body fused with the phantom of the monstrous Xianliu.

In an instant, he manifested a wrathful Mingwang figure—feet treading blazing fire, fangs bared, face blue-purple with fury, countless Buddhist auras behind him—unleashing the top-tier martial art, the secret technique of the Western Buddhist Kingdom from three hundred years ago.

"Buddha's Palm Kingdom!"

"The Buddha is compassionate!"

His golden glazed body radiated boundless Buddhist light—then, in an instant, shattered layer by layer before the tiger's aura.

Buddha's Palm Kingdom—pierced through in an instant!

The Bai Hu reared its head and bit down fiercely, majestic and terrifying—crushing the golden body. Ji Zongcheng's vision blurred—he saw a man clad in heavy armor, sleeves swirling, spear in hand, arriving in an instant—Li Guanyi poured the entire momentum of the hundred-thousand-strong city-breaking force into his spear.

Shatter mountains!

In an instant, the mixed-iron heavy spear, now imbued with the spirit of the tiger's roar, pierced Ji Zongcheng's heart—his warhorse, stirred by bloodlust and battlefield miasma, reared and neighed, thunder erupting beneath its hooves.

Ji Zongcheng pressed his palms together, arms clamping the spear.

Held back by this torrent of charging force.

His feet sank into the ground, dragging two hundred-zhang-long furrows—terrible military miasma tore through his lungs and organs, twisted his meridians—he stared fixedly at Li Guanyi: truly, a top-tier martial hero.

He had forcibly halted this charge.

But the blood from his mouth would not stop.

The military miasma Li Guanyi wielded came from a hundred thousand men—among today's generals, even with countless arrays, few could command so many; united, they became one—now scattered, they were like a hundred thousand distinct energies surging chaotically within Ji Zongcheng.

Had his golden glazed body remained intact, he could have suppressed them.

But now, his golden body was already shattered, his qi reversed—he was instantly gravely wounded. The young general, holding the heavy spear, looked down upon him—and in that instant, the haughty, commanding aura in his brows made Ji Zongcheng see another man:

"The Buddha."

"How many troops does he have?"

Ji Zongcheng spat blood: "Who—WHO ARE YOU?!"

Li Guanyi withdrew his spear, pulled the reins with his left hand—his warhorse, the dragon-steed whose bloodline had been awakened in battle, reared up on its hind legs—an eight-foot-tall beast, muscular yet with protruding ribs that rang like steel when struck; standing upright, the general towered with supreme arrogance, raising his spear as if it were a staff.

The warhorse neighed, its hooves crashing down.

The spear swung down with all its might.

The spear shaft bent into a horrifying arc under the overwhelming force, then, wrapped in thunder, slammed onto Ji Zongcheng's shoulder—the sheer power sent the two-hundred-year-old Mo Sect's Heavenly King crashing to his knees.

"I said—kneel."

A cold voice replied: "So."

"I've come."

Ji Zongcheng's pupils shrank violently—the scene from last night merged with this general before him: the swirling sandstorm, like the black robes he'd seen last night—but finally, the illusion resembling the Tuyuhun vanished.

Before him was a famed general of this era appearing in the Western Regions.

Ji Zong opened his mouth and spat blood, collapsing completely.

Li Guanyi exhaled deeply; the golden Wang Yin at his waist released its brilliant, majestic radiance, and the overwhelming momentum of one hundred thousand troops, which had been bolstering Li Guanyi, began to plummet in a straight line.

Soon, the powerful sensation of concentrating the momentum of one hundred thousand men upon himself—as if he could swing a long spear and shatter city walls, pierce through Masters—vanished, and Li Guanyi reverted to an ordinary Sixth Heaven Foundation Establishment.

At best, his foundation was just slightly more solid than before.

The old Master Siming grinned crookedly, his head buzzing.

Why say there are few famed generals…

Leaving aside the command ability to control an army of one hundred thousand, even if one truly possessed such command, most would still be 【Strategist Generals】; the physical demands to bear the momentum of one hundred thousand men are far stricter than command itself.

"How has this boy's physique grown stronger and stronger?"

"Who gave him this?"

The old Master Siming paused, then scratched his head, muttering apologetically:

"Ah, it was probably me."

Li Guanyi's original warrior body had been refined by the old Master Siming using the Qi of the Tuyuhun within the golden Wang Yin; later, he encountered many wonders, first cultivating the Bai Hu Da Zong's "Tiger Roar Bone Forging Scripture," then the Western Regions' Living Buddha's "Buddha Speaks of the Strength of the Mountain-Moving Giant."

His sinews, bones, and physique grew ever stronger.

Yet even this formidable physique could not bear the momentum of one hundred thousand troops.

His complete transformation only began last year, in the martial world, when the Imperial Academy's many Masters and the Whale Fisher ambushed the first-living Green Robe Immortal, and he gained a thread of the Immortal Undying Body, achieving perfect balance of hardness and softness, thus acquiring this physique.

The old Master Siming grinned: "One hundred thousand command…"

"Goodness."

"Fight a few major battlefields, and you'll be remembered in history."

"After all…"

At its peak, the Tuyuhun was no more than this.

This era is far more turbulent than three hundred years ago.

The old Master Siming gazed into the distance, lips pressed tight: Jiang Su, the Emperor Chen, the old lion of the steppe, the Regent who would eradicate the Tangut Kingdom from nothing within two years, and Yuwen Lie, He Ruo Qinhu, Yue Pengwu, Li Guanyi…

In this era, the famed generals capable of launching large-scale campaigns are nearly more numerous than all famed generals combined from the past three hundred, even five hundred years.

"Flowers adorned with brocade, fire boiling in oil."

"The Dao of fortune and fate: when it reaches its peak, decline follows; even a final gleam of glory appears."

"If one cannot unify this era, what follows will surely be centuries of dark chaos…"

A flicker of worry crossed the eyes of the laughing, scowling old man, but he sighed.

Li Guanyi exhaled, slipping from that state of seeming invincibility back to normalcy—unfamiliar, yet he quickly shook off the disorientation, sensing something, and turned his head.

Behind him, the army had surged into the city; some remained outside, standing solemnly, awaiting Li Guanyi's words to conclude this daring campaign. Li Guanyi looked into their eyes and exhaled deeply.

He tugged the reins; his warhorse turned, stepping in delicate strides.

He raised his mixed-iron heavy spear, pointing it at the sky.

The silver-haired Array Master, having watched Li Guanyi breach the city, charge the ranks, and defeat his enemies in one seamless, ferocious burst of momentum, finally began to think the boy wasn't so bad.

No—not just "not so bad."

The Whale Fisher immediately reversed his own thoughts.

He sneered.

Just… slightly… a little bit… acceptable.

As for "not so bad"?

Hah?! This boy still has a long way to go!

The Whale Fisher's gaze dropped, naturally seeking his daughter, and spotted the silver-haired girl in a hood, dressed like an Astrologer, positioned safely at the center of the army—Yao Guang.

She had been forcibly ordered by Li Guanyi to wear soft armor.

The girl was unused to it; Li Guanyi had insisted she don the armor, then cover it with the loose robe of an Astrologer. The Whale Fisher noticed Yao Guang was unharmed, and exhaled slightly.

Then he noticed the Fire Qilin in her arms, transformed into a long-haired cat.

The Whale Fisher's expression finally softened completely.

In that case…

It's… acceptable.

Since so…

The Whale Fisher's heart stirred; the array shifted naturally. And as Li Guanyi faced everyone, raising his weapon, the colossal tornado of sand—like divine wrath enveloping Sa Atandi City—suddenly calmed.

Everyone saw the gray, dragon-roaring, ochre sandstorm, divided at the line of Li Guanyi's raised spear, slowly settling on either side, the yellow dust glowing gold in the sunlight, like the celestial golden sand descending in ancient legends.

Upon the thunder-wreathed dragon-horse beneath him, the hero blessed by heaven raised his spear of certain victory, the blue sky unfurling behind him.

Sa Atandi held her breath, watching this scene.

A sense of sacredness and solemn majesty spread out.

Li Guanyi saw the silver-haired man had vanished; he inhaled deeply, turned his gaze away, and shouted: "We have won!"

He paused, his spear pointing forward, a smile on his face, whispering:

"Welcome to the victory I promised."

"Welcome to the victory we hunted together."

The young warlord sheathed his weapon, struck his chest, and bowed slightly:

"Thank you all for fighting alongside me."

"Comrades—magnificent!"

A moment of silence, then cheers erupted without end.

"Xu Tiange!"

"Xu Tiange!!!"

The old Master Siming, carrying the Black Tortoise, precisely located the Whale Fisher's position—or rather, it was easy to find: just search outward from the little girl Yao Guang.

The Grand Master of Yin-Yang wandered for a while, then saw the Whale Fisher seated atop a wine pavilion in a western city-state, holding a flask of wine, calmly watching the girl over there. The old Master Siming chuckled, and as always, struck straight to the point:

"Why did you help Li Guanyi establish his authority?"

The Whale Fisher lost all interest in conversation and replied: "I didn't."

The old Master Siming picked up a flask of wine, pursed his lips: "Don't lie."

"That moment when he raised his spear and the storm calmed—it would have been a divine omen capable of lifting soldiers' morale even in the Central Plains, worthy of being grandly recorded in history."

"Here in the Western Regions, it would make the entire city's populace turn their hearts toward him, even earn him the title of miracle in folk tales."

The Whale Fisher said: "Miracle? If the ancient Red Dragon were divine beings, and the Nine-Colored Divine Deer one of the origins of the Buddha, then labeling what humans cannot explain as divine and passing it down through generations—"

"That's wild enough."

The old Master Siming said: "If folk tales weren't wild, how could they be called folk tales?"

"Why did you help him?"

The Whale Fisher sneered: "Help him?"

"Hmph."

"I merely found this array too exhausting to maintain, so I simply disbanded it."

"I never helped him."

The old Master Siming grinned, unconcerned, standing there and gazing at Li Guanyi's hundred thousand troops. Stationing a hundred thousand men was a problem—but Li Guanyi had Fan Qing, Changsun Wuchou, and crucially, the returning Chief Strategist Po Jun.

Everything proceeded in orderly fashion.

Send men to pacify the people, encourage restoration of normal production and commerce; settle the hundred thousand troops, restrain the hot-headed ones to prevent conflict; seal off the governor's tower and the weapons depot to avoid chaos...

Nangong Wumeng was leading her own detachment.

The image of Li Guanyi raising his spear and calming the storm struck deep into the hearts of the city's people—especially since this city was one of the Mo Sect's three core strongholds, where even ordinary civilians deeply believed in gods and Buddhas.

The impact of Li Guanyi's appearance was unimaginable.

After regaining their composure and realizing this army did not plunder or massacre like the western warlords, they gathered courage, bringing food, vegetables, fruits, and clean water to welcome them.

Fan Qing enforced order—of course, by paying for everything.

Where did the money come from?

Naturally, from the city's treasure vault.

Nangong Wumeng rode a beast-grade warhorse, gripping her spear. Even she had grown accustomed to long weapons over these past two years of military life, learning to coordinate movements beyond individual agility in large-scale formations.

Sword qi, blade flashes, and powerful Wu Gong were strong indeed.

But they disrupted the army's collective aura, stirring chaos instead—true strength in Wu Gong lay in strike timing, reaction speed, and endurance; solo combat prowess came last.

She planted her spear in the ground and leisurely listened to the western winds.

Feeling peace within her heart.

Suddenly, someone called her name. The woman with her face masked lazily lifted her head and saw Li Guanyi striding through the ranks, soldiers parting before him. Nangong Wumeng froze.

Li Guanyi rushed over.

"Nangong, I've been looking for you!"

Nangong Wumeng stared blankly.

Then her face flushed crimson.

She leapt back as if her fur had bristled, shouting loudly:

"Y-you!"

"You want me to hurry back and fetch our luggage, the livestock, and the loot left by the nobles!"

"Go quickly and send people to retrieve our abandoned baggage, the cattle and sheep, and all the gold and jade left by the Mo Sect elites!"

Nangong Wumeng and Li Guanyi spoke at the same moment.

Then Nangong Wumeng paused, tilting her head, looking at the boy with earnest eyes.

She fell silent for a long while.

Suddenly, Nangong Wumeng burst out laughing—a clear, triumphant laugh that made her stomach ache. Of course—this guy was no hero or general others saw him as; he was just a greedy pauper.

Only she knew this side of him clearly.

Nangong Wumeng fist-smacked Li Guanyi's chest with practiced ease, wiping away tears of laughter, her mood unexpectedly light:

"Oh oh oh, isn't this General Xu Tiange? The heaven-sent hero, finally realizing he's broke?"

"Didn't you act so generous when you tossed all that gear away?"

"Now you're ordering people around?"

Nangong Wumeng tapped her chin, smiling cheerfully: "Hmm. Call me 'good sister,' and I might just agree."

"Good sister!"

Li Guanyi's voice rang like a dragon's roar, majestic and grand.

Swift, decisive, not the slightest hesitation.

Hesitation? How much is that worth? How many bowls of mutton soup could it buy?

Nangong Wumeng froze, sprang back with a *whoosh*, hiding behind a stone pillar, shouting: "Y-you—you have no shame?! Y-you—"

"Wait for me!"

She turned and stormed off, her helmet on, but her ears blazing red.

Aqi Nicheng began rapid repairs—Pan Wanxiu, Gongsun Huai Zhi, and Xu Tiange set about repairing the city walls—they held this city now, and counterattacks were inevitable; only by withstanding the enemy's furious retaliation could they truly hold their ground.

The Whale Fisher merely blasted open the massive gate; repairing it wouldn't be difficult, but the problem was the strike Li Guanyi had unleashed with his hundred-thousand-strong army forming a grand formation.

That was the battle array most favored by the former King of Tuyuhun three hundred years ago.

Its destructive power was astonishing—it had literally blasted a huge hollow through the wall forged of hard blue rock; that was the real trouble.

Yet everyone knew that although this was troublesome, the momentum had built up to that level at the time; not unleashing it would have felt unsatisfying, incomplete.

Ji Zongcheng's cultivation base was shattered by Li Guanyi, then a spear pierced his heart.

But he didn't die immediately; Li Guanyi spared his life, intending to extract information about that formation, since it involved Yao Guang's Seven Emotions and Six Desires. Yet neither Yao Guang's mystic arts, Po Jun's rhetoric, nor even Shi Dalin's various Hou Zhongyu powders proved effective.

Even after being dosed with laxatives and aphrodisiacs, the bald old man with tattoos on his scalp merely laughed and cursed, refusing to yield an inch—his willpower was the strongest they had ever seen.

Seeing this, Li Guanyi decided to kill him—when suddenly, the old Master Siming entered with another man: a man with hardened sinews, rugged brows, a shaved head, a black monk's robe, and a water-and-fire staff—it was the monk Li Guanyi had met after leaving the Academy: Monk Thirteen.

The monk clasped his hands in greeting and said:

"It's been a long time, Brother Li Guanyi."

Li Guanyi said: "Master Thirteen, why are you in the Western Regions?"

The monk scratched his head, unwilling to admit he had defied the Living Buddha of the Central Plains, burned his letter of recommendation, and come directly to the chaotic, suffering Western Territories; he simply said: "I got lost."

Everyone fell silent. The monk added: "I see this Ji Zongcheng is also a disciple of the Buddhist path. Might I be allowed to try?"

Li Guanyi said: "Go ahead."

Ji Zongcheng laughed: "Hah! A monk from the Central Plains—what good are you? Come join my Holy Sect, and restore the Western Pure Land."

Monk Thirteen said: "The Buddha teaches all beings are equal."

Ji Zongcheng laughed wildly—his cultivation base shattered, blood streaming from his chest—yet he remained arrogant and domineering: "All beings equal? Then why, in the sutras, are the Buddhas seated high above, watching sentient beings cycle through rebirth?"

"His compassion is merely the words of the powerful toward the weak."

"It's no different than unchaining a slave!"

"The strong must be strong; the weak are meat. All precepts do not bind me!"

Monk Thirteen fell into thought, then said: "You're right."

Ji Zongcheng froze: "???"

Monk Thirteen rose and said to Li Guanyi: "Brother, this man is beyond saving."

"Kill him."

Li Guanyi said: "Alright."

Ji Zongcheng suddenly grew furious: "Why say such things if you won't debate Dharma with me?!" The monk scratched his head: "Have you let go?"

Ji Zongcheng fell silent for a long while, recalling his past—the Western Buddha Land, all its sorrows—then sighed: "I've let go."

Monk Thirteen said: "Wicked one, what have you let go of?"

Ji Zongcheng stared blankly and replied: "Attachment."

Monk Thirteen said: "Since you've let go of attachment."

"Then rest easy on your journey."

Ji Zongcheng froze—then saw the monk seize his heavy iron staff, unleash his power, and bring it crashing down. Ji Zongcheng's cultivation base already shattered by Li Guanyi, he was shattered at the crown of his skull in a single blow, blood splattering.

This left everyone stunned. Monk Thirteen picked up a cloth and wiped his staff: "The good must be guided; the evil may be slain. The Buddha is compassionate, yet also has the wrathful gaze of the Jin Gang."

"I do not accept your Dharma, but I respect your right to debate it."

"I cannot out-debate you."

"So I'll send you to debate with Bodhisattva Ksitigarbha."

"After all, your sins disqualify you from reaching the Western Pure Land."

Shi Dalin stared wide-eyed: "Young master, doesn't killing harm your merit?"

Monk Thirteen thought a moment, then replied: "It does."

"But when I kill evil, I gain merit."

"So it balances out."

"As for the question—"

The monk, whose sinews were hardened to the thirteenth level, pointed at the fallen Ji Zongcheng and smiled:

"I was taught by my ancestral master a little of 【Ta Xin Tong】."

"A Wudao Sect master's spiritual intent remains untransformed."

"It's worth a try."

Barely managing my schedule, goodnight everyone.

Please vote for monthly tickets~