Chapter 50: The Greatest Under Heaven!

Li Guanyi sat cross-legged, hearing Xue Shen’s praise, yet his eyes showed no flicker of emotion—he’d only been with this man for a month, at most.

That might sound short, but if you’d been relentlessly crushed for a month by the world’s greatest general—in strategy, tactics, warfare, even cunning—it was an entirely different matter.

The stimulation had been too much.

Li Guanyi felt numb.

From the old man, he learned that Guan Yi City would soon undergo great change—and he felt no fear.

From Xue Shen, he understood he had reached the threshold of entry—and he felt no elation.

He was like stagnant water, not a ripple stirred.

Li Guanyi sighed.

Old fool, you’ve misled me!

The youth raised an eyebrow. “So? What else do you need?”

Xue Shen’s lips slowly curled upward. “A little catalyst, a little refinement—that’s all it takes to break through. As for these battles? Unnecessary. The rest—like that Daoist, that living Buddha—weren’t skilled in warfare before entry.”

“With your methods, facing Daoist or Buddhist disciples before entry—”

“Within thirty paces, you can kill them in seven strikes.”

Xue Shen spoke these terrifying words with utter calm.

Li Guanyi thought a moment. “Why seven strikes?”

Xue Shen smiled. “Because Daoists before entry are excellent at fleeing, and monks are excellent at taking punishment.”

“Hard to kill.”

“If you were armed with a spear, clad in armor, wielding a crossbow—even a dozen monks before entry wouldn’t survive your incense-burning span. But their real trouble comes after entry: each has profound subtleties, utterly different from the brute-force path of martial warriors.”

“After entry, distance favors them. Your archery must never slacken. Also, I have a gift for you—something truly valuable…”

“The Daoists cultivate the Dao-heart. The Buddhists possess Buddha-nature. The Confucians understand Heaven’s Mandate.”

“Our military school has one too.”

“Want it?”

Xue Shen’s smile was radiant.

Li Guanyi studied Xue Shen carefully. “You’ll force it on me even if I refuse, won’t you?”

Xue Shen’s lips curled slightly, his smile growing warmer, gentler. “Yes.”

BOOM!!! A blur flashed before his eyes—then a colossal force slammed down.

Li Guanyi instinctively raised his weapon.

His palms exploded with pain!

The blade of his heavy saber shattered, shards like collapsing frost and snow slicing across his cheeks. The youth’s pupils contracted violently, his heart lurched—then his battle instincts curled his body backward, relaxed his stance, and avoided the ground cracking beneath him.

As he retreated, he snatched up the spear planted in the earth. The shaft flexed, bending into a shocking arc, draining his momentum. He landed, drew the spear, and assumed the Ancient Spear Technique’s Crouching Tiger posture—when suddenly, a sound tore through the void.

Li Guanyi’s spear was instantly shattered by a single arrow.

The next instant, his throat burned with pain.

The terror of death gripped his heart.

He knelt, gasping, yet stared fixedly through the dust ahead.

It was the roar of a tiger—but also the hum of a weapon—

A battle halberd pierced the dust, entirely black, its tip sharp as a spear or dagger.

Then the halberd turned slightly, sweeping sideways. The dust scattered. Xue Shen stood there, one hand gripping a bow, the other holding a halberd with a tiger-headed grip. As it cut through the air, the tiger’s mouth emitted a roar—as if alive.

The halberd’s blade rested on the ground. Xue Shen spoke calmly: “What our military school requires is the will to draw the blade—the resolve to fight any foe, no matter how mighty.”

“There is no enemy our school cannot fight!”

“There is no task our school cannot accomplish!”

“Before your entry, I will forge for you this will—the courage to draw the blade against all kings under heaven!”

Li Guanyi panted, steadied his stance, and felt waves surge within him.

To this world’s greatest general, the youth responded by raising his middle finger.

Xue Shen’s lips curled. “So you already had this will.”

“Then your opponent is…”

He pressed his halberd into the ground and stepped forward slowly. The halberd carved a crack in the earth. Behind him, the dust did not disperse—it rose unnaturally, coalescing into the shape of a white tiger, its face snarling, fangs bared.

It raised its head and roared!

Though he could have defeated the greatest heroes of five hundred years ago at their peak, Li Guanyi now felt suffocating pressure. He still had the courage to draw his bow, arrows spinning as he fired—only for the general to casually slash them aside as if strolling through a garden.

Even his steps were identical—no variation, no deviation.

Finally, he lifted his halberd and swept it casually. Li Guanyi felt his body nearly disintegrate.

A blur swept past his vision.

The battle bow descended like a cleaving sword—as if the entire sky had collapsed upon him. Xue Shen’s figure loomed immense, his face and form shrouded in shadow, the white tiger behind him roaring. Li Guanyi could not see Xue Shen’s face.

Only those eyes remained—cold, disdainful, gazing down from a mountain peak over all heroes.

“The greatest under heaven!”

……………………

When Li Guanyi left the secret realm, his forehead throbbed. Xue Shen had restrained his own power below entry level—but the pressure he’d imposed was monstrous. That overwhelming aura was inhuman.

The greatest under heaven…

Two hours of combat.

In the end, Li Guanyi had barely managed to land one slash on Xue Shen.

The moment that slash struck, all his fear, all his pressure, shattered completely.

A single breath—free, exhilarating! The illusion of “the greatest under heaven” dissolved in Li Guanyi’s heart.

What followed was pure, savage tiger-on-tiger combat.

Then it ended. Li Guanyi had absorbed the martial experience of the world’s invincible, the combat wisdom of the greatest under heaven—proof that even with his realm suppressed, Xue Shen was still a monster.

The sky was just beginning to lighten.

Li Guanyi rode slowly toward Guan Yi City on a horse from the Xue family—he’d never ridden before. The horse was wild, yet seemed to sense the dragon-tiger aura on Li Guanyi’s body, and now obeyed him utterly—wherever he pointed, it went.

Meek. Obedient.

His aunt had already been settled in a private courtyard at the front of the Xue residence. Li Guanyi returned to the Xue home.

He returned the horse to the stable and brushed its coat.

Then a loud laugh rang out: “Hahaha, Guanyi, you’ve returned just in time!” Li Guanyi turned to see Xue Daoyong striding out—wearing a blue long robe, hair tied with a jade pin. He looked more refined than usual, three parts scholarly. Beside him stood Xue Shuangtao, dressed as he’d first seen her.

He’d grown so used to seeing the girl with bow and horse—now, in a skirt, jade pin, floral forehead ornament, soft-eyed Xue Shuangtao felt strangely unfamiliar. Her gaze was bright and clear, lightly made-up, more beautiful than ever.

Xue Shuangtao noticed Li Guanyi’s stare. She lifted her skirt slightly and bowed with a smile.

She rose.

Her foot lightly kicked his shin—not painful, just a whisper: “What are you staring at?”

Li Guanyi laughed. “This is the Miss I know.”

Xue Changqing nodded vigorously. “Right? Right? She’s a tigress!”

“Ah!”

“Grandpa, Sister hit me!”

The youth stood smiling. Xue Daoyong said: “A great Confucian scholar came to Guan Yi City recently. Now there’s a grand literary gathering—most of Jiangzhou’s literati and scholars will attend. It’s the largest such event in Chen Guo in thirty years. Our Xue family received an invitation. Changqing here couldn’t contain himself.”

“Guanyi, come with me.”

The old man clapped his shoulder and laughed. “Let them see our Xue family has a dragon-child too.”

“This is your chance to earn literary fame in Chen Guo—and even under heaven.”

Changsun Wuchou smiled. “Young Guanyi is both literary and martial—he’ll do fine.”

“I shall accompany you as well.”

He’d received the second missive from the young lady. The note’s script danced wildly—only one line: “If Guan Yi City changes, protect him.”

The largest literary gathering in thirty years?

Li Guanyi suddenly recalled the Old Master of Destiny’s words about literary and martial qi—and about Heaven’s timing and Earth’s advantage.

He suppressed all thoughts. “Fine.”

He changed into a Confucian robe, tied his waist with a leather belt. He hesitated, then took his sword and bow—and two flasks of three-pronged steel arrows—fastening them to hooks on either side of his horse. He mounted, young and martial, eyes bright with spirit. Changsun Wuchou gave a quiet compliment.

Xue Laoyezi and Changsun Wuchou rode ahead.

Li Guanyi moved to catch up—when a soft knock came from the carriage beside him.

He pulled his reins, riding alongside the young lady’s carriage. She lifted the curtain.

“At the literary gathering, remember to stay by my side.”

Li Guanyi raised an eyebrow.

Xue Shuangtao said: “Otherwise, all those noble scions and Jiangzhou official heirs will swarm me.”

Li Guanyi smiled. “So you want me as a shield?”

“That’ll cost extra.”

Xue Shuangtao rested both hands on the carriage window, chin propped on her pale palms, tilting her head slightly. Jade ornaments chimed.

The girl was beautiful.

Beneath the morning light, she smiled faintly: “Shall we calculate the value of your bow, arrows, horse, sword, and pills?”

“My esteemed senior guest?”

Li Guanyi coughed once, turned his head, and stared straight ahead. “Leave it to me.”

The girl couldn’t help laughing.

Dawn’s light was faint; the shops on either side had just opened, and rain traces still glistened on the cobblestones. The carriage moved forward amid throngs of people. The girl, dressed in full finery, smiled faintly, her emerald hairpins swaying gently. The boy rode horseback, eyes forward, time peaceful.

The hooves tapped, tap-tap-tap.

The literary gathering was held at the imperial villa of Guan Yicheng. When the Xue family arrived, carriages had already lined the main road, gifts piled high on both sides of the gate like two walls, each wrapped in red silk—silk that itself held monetary value.

Li Guanyi said: “So famous scholars are this rich?”

Changsun Wuchou replied: “Not just any scholar. A great one.”

As the old man dismounted, many high officials and nobles rushed forward, bowing with respectful deference. The old man laughed heartily; Changsun Wuchou handled the scene with equal poise and composure.

Li Guanyi, bored, lifted his head. The bronze cauldron’s pupil technique made him sense something was off.

But without practicing the Yin-Yang School’s Qi-gazing art, he could not see clearly.

He saw young nobles already gathered around Xue’s eldest daughter’s carriage.

Yes, her family ranked among the wealthiest in the land; her aunt was the Emperor’s most favored Imperial Consort; her grandfather was a top-tier powerhouse. In wealth, they counted tens of millions of strings of cash; in lineage, they descended from Xue Duke, the greatest general of five hundred years ago.

Her beauty was peerless; she excelled in playing the qin, archery, and numerology.

A prized catch among aristocratic youths.

Li Guanyi heard a soft thump-thump-thump against the carriage wall.

A pause—then, as if irritated, the knocking grew louder, accompanied by the girl’s cough.

Li Guanyi spurred his horse.

The noble youths continued boasting of their lineages; even the girl’s gentle voice from within the carriage could not shoo them away.

Just as they pressed forward, a horse neighed sharply. A gust of foul wind swept through. A horse with crimson fur reared up, its hooves slamming down and separating the noble youths, leaving them pale with shock.

They cursed loudly, glaring angrily at the scene.

They saw the boy with the sword at his waist pulling his reins, brows raised, his dark-cloud-patterned scholar’s robe unable to conceal his commanding aura. A wooden tablet hung from his belt—a ninth-rank military official. The rank was low, but for his age, it was startling.

Li Guanyi sat atop his horse and smiled. “Gentlemen, please return.”

The noble youths demanded: “Who are you?!”

Li Guanyi did not answer. He dismounted cleanly and swiftly.

One hand held the reins, the other reached out. The carriage curtain drew back. The girl in her dress extended her hand. Noblewomen usually had maids assist them down; Xue Shuangtao, however, lightly rested her fingers on her friend’s wrist and stepped down.

Around them, silence fell.

Xue Lao had grabbed a scholarly man in his early thirties and laughed heartily, pointing at the radiant youth. “My prodigy,” he said, “what do you think, Master Wang Tong?”

“My son, the dragon’s heir—how is he?”

…………

At the city gate, the Yin-Yang School’s Si Ming lifted his head, the old man gazing at the sky.

The grandest literary gathering in Chen Guo in thirty years had gathered literary qi so potent it surged into the heavens.

The old man murmured: “It begins.”

At this moment, Yue Qianfeng, representing martial qi, stood ten li beyond the city gate.

Literary and martial qi, like yin and yang, surged skyward, swirling like the yin-yang fish, about to merge—

Li Guanyi’s movement paused slightly.

His chest burned fiercely.

The bronze cauldron stirred, suddenly roaring with vibration.

(End of Chapter)