Chapter 39: Slashing Back into Border-Breaking!

Qian Zheng looked at that broad black blade, and the heart that had been hanging in suspense finally gave up the ghost.

At range, the opponent fired arrows in rapid volleys, his footwork not weak; in close combat he did not use a sword, but a heavy blade with a thick spine, a sharp edge, and a straight tang, and along with it came a baleful aura that must have been tempered through life and death, reminding him of the great battles he had seen, where those archers, after their arrows were spent, picked up long-handled blades.

They cast aside their war-bows, then formed up with blades in hand and stepped back onto the battlefield, like a blade drawn from its sheath, to grind their foes to death.

If this were not within the borders of a nation, the hilt of this heavy blade might well have been fitted with an iron shaft.

Qian Zheng's inner Qi circulated, stimulating several major acupoints to briefly seal the bleeding from his severed arm; the intensely focused state of mind in battle made the pain of the severed limb briefly recede. He turned his body sideways, the blade in his right hand pointing at the enemy ahead, and with arcing steps beneath his feet, slowly closed the distance.

Under the starlight, his opponent's brow was youthful, yet his Qi was steady and his spirit at ease.

Like a blade-master who had weathered over a hundred bitter fights, in no hurry to strike.

The blade was held, yet not gripped tight.

Loose and slack, like a string that has not been drawn taut—one could imagine the terrifying force of its sudden release.

It's over…

Qian Zheng cursed inwardly.

If not for that big-bearded fellow who had shown up out of nowhere recently, ceaselessly hunting down wanted criminals, he would never have risked coming to this area; he would have been lording it over the villages where news did not flow freely. He deeply regretted it.

He should have been more careful today.

Then he would not have been spotted.

At this moment, the young man's Qi seemed to falter for an instant.

A flash of vicious fury in Qian Zheng's eyes—he seized the chance and suddenly stepped forward.

The war-blade in his right hand rode the momentum of that lunge, tracing an arc as it slashed down viciously at an angle.

At the same time, his body shifted to align with the blade's edge, sheltering his frame behind the blade's keen side—this was battlefield bladework. But in that very instant, the young man over there suddenly drew his blade as well; as he spun his body, the blade-edge was like a black ribbon of silk.

The two blades slammed into each other with vicious force.

One gripped his blade with both hands, the other with one.

One charged forward with the blade's side-edge, borrowing the momentum of a diving pounce; the other spun in place to slash, harnessing the inertia of his waist's rotation.

Two hundred-times-forged blades collided, sparks bursting in the night.

Both blades deflected off to either side.

But in the end, their realms were different.

Li Guanyi's palm went numb.

Gripping his heavy blade with both hands, he barely managed to match this one-armed Border-Breaking martial artist on even terms.

Qian Zheng roared in fury and surged forward again, chaining into a second slash—but Li Guanyi over there had already thrown out his second slash as well; his speed and judgment were in no way inferior to this veteran border soldier's, and the two blades kept clashing as each recognized the other's blade art.

Army-Breaking Eight Slashes!

Only one was a version of the Army-Breaking Eight Slashes that had spread through the border passes—more treacherous, more vicious.

The other was personally taught by General Yue Qianfeng—its forms strict and disciplined, no less than those of the Jianghuda Sect.

The more Qian Zheng fought, the more his heart was shaken.

The practiced blade art, the keen battlefield judgment, and that killing intent.

If he closed his eyes, he would almost think he was fighting his old sergeant.

Clearly just a boy of some ten years—how could he wield such bladework, how could he carry such baleful aura, as if he were a veteran soldier who had skirted the line between life and death a dozen times over?

A ringing shriek of metal.

Another clash—and the young man's blade suddenly changed. Though it was a heavy blade, it danced upon Qian Zheng's edge like a butterfly. Li Guanyi's footwork shifted, sliding sideways with the momentum, and the leaping blade grazed the stump of Qian Zheng's severed arm—a slicing cut that shaved off a strip of flesh still clinging to bone.

Qian Zheng let out a furious roar, veins instantly bulging on his forehead, cold sweat streaming.

His blade flailed wildly as he guarded his openings, staggering backward.

He had severed his own severed arm in the hope that the limb he could no longer control would not become too glaring a weakness—otherwise it would hamper his footwork; when he charged sideways, that arm swaying out there would become a prime target for the enemy's attacks. The arm was useless now, but the pain remained.

He suddenly found himself missing the border passes.

When his arm was wounded, the comrades on either flank would come protect him.

Vine shields would intercept every arrow.

But now, he was no longer one of them…

Qian Zheng suddenly snapped awake.

He recalled his old sergeant's words: once you start missing something, the Day of Death is coming—so you have to keep looking forward.

Now the young man's blade moved with airy lightness, still chopping down upon his wound.

Though he had reached Border-Breaking and could project his inner Qi outward enough to knock down a tree, he was still flesh and blood, not yet at the realm of those true powerhouses.

The body's searing pain was enough to cripple his fighting ability.

Li Guanyi exhaled a breath.

He seemed to understand.

In his mind he recalled his fight with the Third Prince of Tiele; he hopped lightly, his wrist relaxed, the blade in his hand seeming not to be gripped tight. His body bounced lightly, the blade's edge faintly locking onto the vital points of Qian Zheng before him. Qian Zheng's eyes reddened as he lunged at Li Guanyi.

A veteran of the border passes knew what he had to do.

A faint, hazy wisp of inner Qi seeped from the blade's edge.

As he lunged in for the kill, Li Guanyi was already leaping lightly, stepping off to one side with the momentum—faster by a single breath than if he had simply stood there and launched, as if his movement had accelerated—dodging Qian Zheng's final, frenzied slash. At the same moment, the blade in his hand rose.

His loosened wrist whipped the blade out like a lash.

Like an inch-punch channeling force from slack to tight, this slash erupted with tremendous explosive power.

From Qian Zheng's flank, a horizontal slash met his forward charge; the three-hundred-times-forged, hundred-catty black blade, under the tremendous force of Li Guanyi and Qian Zheng's opposing momentum, split Qian Zheng's side open. A Border-Breaking martial artist's body was tough—even such a swift blade could not cut clean through, but it might as well have.

His innards spilled out; Qian Zheng collapsed there, writhing in agony.

He screamed in agony, cast aside his blade, and with his hands tried to shove his organs back inside. Pink, frothy blood bubbled from his mouth; his eyes were wide open yet streaming tears.

At last his movements stilled, and he cried out one word: "Mother…"

His hand fell heavily to the ground, and he stopped breathing.

Li Guanyi's taut nerves eased. He circled around Qian Zheng in an arc, took the Rainbow Radiance Bow, picked up the arrows still usable, drew the bow, and shot several arrows into Qian Zheng's body. Only after confirming the man was thoroughly dead did he let out a breath, dropped to the ground on the spot, and as his spirit relaxed, his pores opened and his whole body broke out in a sweat.

The strength from just now seemed to vanish in an instant; even his wrists were trembling.

"First time fighting alone on the battlefield—did I unconsciously overexert myself?"

Li Guanyi knew what this was.

After resting a while, he went back to pick up the arrows. Arrows were actually single-use, because the arrow's center of gravity, and its spine, would suffer a tremendous impact when striking flesh and blood—especially sinew and bone. They basically wouldn't fly straight anymore; the center of gravity would be disrupted, and the spine of the weapon would no longer be even.

In that state, they couldn't hit anything accurately at all.

Useless for real combat.

The reason arrows were so expensive was precisely because this was very hard to achieve, requiring specialized craftsmen.

An arrow that had struck an enemy was scrap iron; it needed to be recalibrated.

But scrap iron could still be sold for a bit of money.

The boy looked at the arrows Qian Zheng had hacked apart and felt a pang of heartache—one tael of silver was what he'd earned from a whole month of odd jobs in the past. He wondered if the Xue family could reimburse him. Li Guanyi looked at Qian Zheng, searched the corpse the way Yue Qianfeng had taught him, and pulled out over a dozen taels of silver and a waist token.

A few yellowed letters, and a booklet—he swept them all up together.

Sitting beneath a tree, surrounded by the stench of blood, the young man lifted his head and gazed at the moonlight through the gaps in the branches, silent and still.

He felt the world around him quiet, the heavens and earth vast.

The moonlight poured like a spring.

A short while passed.

He heard a rustling sound, turned his head, and saw the old man who had run off earlier had come back.

He was picking up vegetables.

When he noticed the young man's gaze, his face went pale and he was about to drop to his knees and kowtow. Li Guanyi had a hard time stopping him.

The old man hesitated, then still said: "This old man's whole family thanks you, Master, for saving our lives."

"These things aren't worth much—please, take them as a gift."

Li Guanyi looked at the vegetables in the muddy ground.

Not worth much, perhaps; but they were certainly important. If they weren't important, why would the old man come out in the middle of the night, and after facing life-and-death danger, still come back to try to pick them up? Tomorrow's rations, or the court's tariff—Li Guanyi advised: "Don't come out at this hour in the future. It's too dangerous."

The old man nodded obediently: "Yes, yes."

"It's just that in a while there's the spring tax, so we have to work a bit harder. Once the spring tax is paid, it'll be fine."

"Spring tax..."

The old man said carefully: "Yes, actually it's only been hard these past two years. Wasn't there a war five years ago? They collected the next ten years' taxes in advance. But three years ago they collected the next five years' annual tax again. This year they're not collecting the annual tax—they've changed it to a four-season tax, and it's even more than before."

"We used to be able to sell to the village's vegetable stalls just fine, but three years ago the Xue family stopped charging stall fees, stopped taking a cut, and even provided awnings. At noon flatbread is one wen each and they give you a bowl of soup too, so everyone goes over there now."

Li Guanyi fell silent.

He suddenly said: "Leave the vegetables."

"Ah? Mm, alright, these are all grown by myself, they're good vegetables, really, quite good."

The old man set down the vegetables in his hands awkwardly, rubbed his thick, wrinkled hands. The young man, however, reached over and fished out a handful of coins from Qian Zheng's money pouch, flicked his wrist, and let them drop into the old man's lap. The blade in his hand tapped the fallen corpse beside him as he said: "The goods, I'll buy."

"The money, he pays!"

The old man stared, dumbfounded.

A youth with a blade, slaying men beneath the moon.

So free and unrestrained—there was a grandeur to it.

The old man clutched the money, thanked him, then still couldn't believe it. He tucked it into his robe and slowly backed away. Suddenly he dropped to his knees in the muddy earth and kowtowed heavily toward Li Guanyi several times. Then he turned around, staggered forward, and started running. He tripped, got up, and kept running.

A sobbing voice carried on the wind: "Old woman, we've got money."

"We don't have to sell our little girl anymore, we don't have to."

"..."

Li Guanyi tilted his head back, bumping against the tree trunk. He had killed a villain, yet his heart felt no relief.

He cursed.

"Fuck this world."

"Fuck this age of chaos."

(End of chapter)