Chapter 38

Fate-bound pact.

Li Guanyi stared at the starlight emerging from his palm; on the bronze tripod, the White Tiger manifestation had been fully unleashed, now completely detached—replaced by the Crimson Dragon manifestation, forcibly pressed against the tripod, unable to extend even a single claw.

The tiny White Tiger manifestation lifted its head on the boy’s shoulder, stepping forward with pride.

This power was not false.

Li Guanyi’s first thought was to return immediately.

Let that Tielei prince, burdened with the Gray Wolf, feel the power of a manifestation martial art too.

But he was exhausted now.

He decided to rest and return tomorrow.

Yet for the beautiful Yaoguang before him, Li Guanyi still held intense wariness.

There is no hatred without cause, no kindness without reason; to receive something demands payment, and as for talk of heavenly fate, Li Guanyi had heard similar before—he instinctively rejected such fate laid before him, and replied:

“Fate-bound pact? Too bad—I already have a pact.”

The boy’s voice was calm and sincere.

“Someone named [Siming] got here first.”

“Perhaps you should speak with [Siming] yourself.”

“See where I ought to go.”

Better yet, let the two of you fight.

The silver-haired Yaoguang’s voice remained as still as still water: “I am merely an assistant, not a guide. Your path is chosen by you, not granted by any other. In accordance with the ancient pact, if you become the hero who calms this chaotic age, I shall aid you.”

“If you become the sovereign who ignites the fires of chaos, then Pojun will seek you.”

“Whether Yaoguang or Pojun, both are merely different facets of the same star.”

“The king who calms chaos, and the tyrant who kindles it—both could be you.”

Yaoguang rose again, returning to sit beside the campfire, kneeling quietly, eyes lowered: “This is a secret realm completed five hundred years ago by my predecessor and the White Tiger Grand Master of that generation. It holds many stellar teachings and aphorisms. I shall continue my cultivation here. You do not trust me—I will not insist on accompanying you. But if you still need starlight’s guidance, come find me.”

“I know our connection will never be severed.”

Li Guanyi looked up at the stars and said without hesitation: “It is late tonight. I shall take my leave.”

He donned his clothes, lifted the heavy ink blade, slung the Su Ni bow with twelve arrows, and walked swiftly away. Yaoguang, hooded, sat before the campfire, eyes calm. The boy who had fled for ten years did not look back; the silver-haired Yaoguang merely watched the fire in silence.

The two passed each other without notice.

Long after, the streamside fell silent once more.

Yaoguang reached out, took the roasted bun, flipped through her scroll, and slowly bit into it.

The sound of pages turning.

Crunch.

Yaoguang paused.

“…………”

“So hard.”

Switched sides.

Kept chewing.

……………………

“This world is truly off. First [Siming], now Yaoguang—the Eastern Land’s Star Observing School…” Li Guanyi walked steadily outside the city under the night, and whether their intentions were good or ill, they clearly meant one thing.

Trouble.

The one word a wanted man, a fugitive, hated most.

Li Guanyi looked up at the night sky—the stars shone bright and brilliant.

He was done with running everywhere.

Five days ago, he had already submitted his travel pass to the authorities.

Once he entered the country, once he mastered the Xue family’s legacy, he would leave Chen Guo; when he left, he would write a farewell letter, revealing everything about the Xue family’s secret realm to Xue Laoyezi to repay his debt. Not now—still too unsafe.

No fate, no [Siming]—none of it concerns me.

Gazing at the clear, beautiful night of this era, the boy’s mood finally lifted. He quickened his pace toward Guan Yi City. There was no curfew, but the gates still closed—opening only when the horizon faintly whitened. Li Guanyi planned to wait early.

The night was too quiet, so sounds carried far.

As Li Guanyi hurried toward Guan Yi City, a cry suddenly reached him through the wind—then a sound that made his hair stand on end.

A sharp, metallic ring—the sound of steel tearing through air.

Sword cry! Li Guanyi’s pupils contracted. He hid behind a large tree, pressed his right hand against the trunk, qi surged, and his body shot up over a meter. In two or three leaps, he climbed the tree and vanished among the leaves. His eyes glowed with the bronze tripod’s aura, enhancing his vision.

The White Tiger manifestation crouched on his shoulder, gazing toward the source, curious. Manifestations each possess unique traits—even without high martial cultivation, they can still function.

White Tiger, Guardian of the West, repels enemies.

The wind carried cries: “No! Help!”

“Help!!”

Li Guanyi looked down from above and saw an old man with thick limbs kicked aside, his head smashed by a sword hilt, blood gushing. A cart lay overturned, vegetables scattered. Another was twisted by the wrist. The leader, vaguely shaped like a sack draped over a bamboo pole, had a round face covered in pockmarks.

Li Guanyi had an excellent memory—he recognized him at once—

Qian Zheng.

A wanted criminal, wanted alongside Yue Qianfeng.

Li Guanyi recalled the Tiqi ’s words: Qian Zheng, a border army squad leader, turned rogue, led a band of over ten men, roamed and plundered, ruthless and bloodthirsty, killed over ten, raped many women. Lately, civilians must not travel alone in or out of towns or villages.

Now, just outside the city, an hour before dawn—the time villagers brought vegetables to market.

Border army squad leader—an elite intruding martialist.

Li Guanyi fell silent. He slid down the tree, turned, and retreated quietly. An intruding martialist, with over ten men—he, an uninitiated boy, shattered by the Tielei prince, was no match. Thirty-six stratagems, flight is best. He took a few steps—the cries began to fade.

“We’re just poor folks selling vegetables to Guan Yi City, sir, please spare us!” “Ni’er! Ni’er, run!”

“Hahaha, big brother, there’s a pretty little girl here too!”

“Good, good!”

“Old man, old woman, open your eyes and look at your daughter’s face—hahaha!”

The boy’s steps slowed. He stopped. The White Tiger manifestation on his shoulder drooped its head, looking dejected. He gazed at the constellations, lips pressed tight.

Flip a coin—heads, turn back; tails, run.

He pulled out a copper coin, flicked it with his finger.

The coin spun.

Not yet landed.

The boy gripped the Su Ni bow, turned, and strode forward.

The temperament inherited from his past-life bloodline still churned within his soul—not easily extinguished. A lineage that only wished to till the soil, never to be buried in it—now, he had many reasons to leave: they outnumbered him, he hadn’t yet entered the country. But only one reason was enough to act.

His heart was uneasy.

Fight first, give it everything—if you can’t win, flee!

Li Guanyi climbed the tree with his bow, raised his arm, drew and nocked an arrow. The Su Ni bow drew silently in the night. The arrow aimed at one man. His heartbeat slowed. His fingers released. The bowstring’s hum cut through the dark, clear as an eagle’s wings.

The man reached for the girl—his throat was pierced.

A steel wolf-tooth arrow—one tael of silver each.

Given by the young mistress.

One quiver: twenty arrows.

Cost: fifteen taels.

First tael!

Lost a month’s salary from Huichun Hall.

In the night, arterial blood sprayed—sudden silence. Qian Zheng, a border army veteran, his eyes instantly sharpened. He rolled, pulled a large wicker shield from his back. The others, like common bandits. Li Guanyi drew and shot steadily—arrows tore through air with piercing whistles.

Two!

Three!

A master archer on the battlefield is an absolute nightmare. With each kill, the White Tiger manifestation shifted—its body bristled, fur swelled, eyes blazed with ferocity, breath grew heavy. Li Guanyi’s mind cleared of all distraction—arrows flew like rain.

Qian Zheng swung his blade hard, splitting a spinning arrow in half.

But the severed tip kept flying forward.

He burst his internal qi, twisted his body, grabbed the arrow with his left hand—yet still felt searing pain in his palm. His face darkened: “Strong bow, powerful crossbow—only a bow worth over three hundred taels can fire such stable arrows.”

One of his men tried to grab a hostage.

Before he reached, an arrow pierced his throat—he collapsed, clutching his neck.

Speed, high frequency, superb bow resilience, arrow center of gravity stable.

Accuracy, extremely high.

A noble scion! Guan Yi City—Xue family?! Qian Zheng realized, roared: “He’s in the trees to the southwest! All of you, charge! Crouch low, hold shields! Don’t take hostages! This is a Xue family scion—ten years of training! Arrow speed is lethal! A sideways motion will kill you!!”

“Hurry, hurry!!”

The remaining men rushed toward the trees, shields raised.

Li Guanyi nocked an arrow, qi surged—the arrow shot out, spinning. This was the Xue family’s archery technique taught by Xue Shuangtao. Though it couldn’t pierce the wicker shield, the spin disrupted balance—next arrow would slit their throats.

Nineteen arrows. Fifteen bandits. All dead.

The air reeked of blood. Only Qian Zheng, when shooting, would shift his shield slightly, deflecting the arrow’s force. He slammed his shield hard against the tree—internal qi exploded. The tree snapped clean through!

Li Guanyi lost balance, leapt downward.

Qian Zheng, hidden behind his shield, charged like a rhinoceros, head down, wild and furious.

Qian Zheng’s eyes turned red.

At this moment, he only hoped the Xue family youth across from him wasn’t like those borderland snipers—skilled not just in archery.

Li Guanyi nocked his final arrow onto the Suni Bow.

Every change mirrored his battle today against the Tielei Third Prince.

But this time was different.

The White Tiger Manifestation roared with raised head; the youth’s black temple hairs lifted as he leapt backward, drawing the bow—golden wind spiraled around the arrow, staining his eyes with a faint White Tiger luminescence.

The next instant, the bow itself vibrated violently.

The arrow pierced the air.

Like a golden thread.

In an instant, it pierced through the rattan shield.

Qian Zheng barely dodged, but the arrow moved too fast—even a Cultivation Realm warrior’s inner qi defense shattered instantly; it tore through his left arm, the ripping golden wind shredding half his shoulder into bloody flesh and bone, its momentum unbroken, shooting skyward.

Qian Zheng roared.

He slashed off his own left arm with his blade, gasping heavily.

The rattan shield, once inseparable from his life, lay shattered; he felt a daze, as if his own life too would splinter like the shield—he gritted his teeth, drew his blade, and stared at the Xue family youth across from him.

In the sky, the Seven Stars of the White Tiger had risen to the zenith.

Then he saw the youth on the other side toss his golden-threaded battle bow onto the ground.

Slowly, he drew a heavy black battle blade.

From his body rose a killing intent, akin to that of a hundred-battle veteran.

(End of Chapter)