Chapter 53: The Spirit of Youth

The martial aura surged skyward, churning the crimson flames above, staining the thick clouds with red. Yue Qianfeng stood atop the mountain peak, yet did not charge into the city as the court's nobles had guessed.

With his status as the South Chen's undisputed master of foot combat, if he stormed into Yicheng City,

few could stop him in close-quarters battle.

He could pierce Chen's heart like a sharp spear, striking directly at Jiangzhou City, only two hundred li away—then the tiger would enter the mortal world, and even the courtiers of Jingcheng would tremble.

But he could not do this.

Yue Qianfeng held a wine jug, gazing at the townsfolk within the city, the smoke and dust of life now in chaos after his roar. He lowered his gaze, tilted his head, and drank—the cheap wine, one wen a cup, three strings a jug.

These were his comrades, the very people they had fought to the death to protect.

How could he turn his blade against them?

A master like him, even without divine weapons, could unleash enough carnage to kill tens of thousands with a single burst. Who would die beneath his fists? Whose father? Whose child? Whose daughter? Whose beloved?

He lifted the wine jug, drank deeply, the fiery liquor burning down his throat.

The wanted criminals he had captured trembled, then, under his gaze, rushed toward three city gates, leaving only one gate open. These criminals carried Crimson Dragon Qi—if they harmed civilians, they knew the fate awaiting them and did not wish to feel it again.

Those who refused to cooperate were crushed by the giant's fist—one punch, a skull turned to mush. As he killed these fugitives, Yue Qianfeng's eyes held cold, killing intent, colder than any dead man, more terrifying than the most vicious criminals.

As the wanted criminals surged toward the three gates, disrupting the view,

the Ancestors' Council slipped quietly into the city from among the last group of civilians.

The Mo Juzi of the Mohists and the Master Siming of the Yin-Yang School waited there.

But the key was not the fugitives—it was Yue Qianfeng himself, the rebel whose presence drew every powerful figure, noble, and clan's gaze in the city, allowing the Ancestors' Council safe entry and completing the final step of the rescue: this was the plan.

How could a great general of the world be a fool who knew no strategy?

From the moment he defected from the Yue Family Army, his purpose was this.

Even if the end meant his own death here.

Yue Qianfeng grinned faintly, murmuring silently in his heart:

The Yue Family Army does not harm civilians.

Frontier generals do not disturb the people.

I am your general.

Upholding final loyalty and righteousness.

My brothers, who fought and died alongside me—if I die here, I'll bear the traitor's name.

My frontier comrades will be safe.

Then he drained the wine, placed the Yue Family Army's waist token beside the empty jug, and whispered: "General, watch me charge once more. You pulled me from a mountain bandit to the righteous path, gave me this great name—today, I return it all to you."

"This life. This martial prowess. This title."

BOOM!!!!!

He hurled his two hand halberds, unleashing his full battle might. The halberds spun, churning his internal qi, tearing the primordial energy into flames. At that moment, his manifestation seemed to manifest through the fire—two fire dragons crossed ten li of distance.

Then they slammed into the city gate.

The Mohist siege crossbows mounted on the walls shattered instantly. The five-inch-thick city gate shattered into dust. The massive bronze gate nails melted as if burned by flame—the gate could not close. The burly giant roared with laughter:

"Hahahaha! Yue Qianfeng is here!"

"Who dares fight me to the death!"

………………

Martial aura surged skyward.

Li Guanyi grunted, feeling the clash of dragon and tiger qi strike him. His brush tip pressed hard against the white paper, leaving a black ink spot. The other literati maintained calm, but the young scholars panicked.

This was the great change!

A man in black armor, his brow resolute, stood atop the gate, slashing through lingering qi with his blade. He planted his sword tip into the ground—his first priority: defend Yicheng City.

He was Chen's famed city defender, fearing Yue Qianfeng was luring him away.

He slashed down the charging fugitives with his blade and roared: "Xue Daoyong!!!"

In the imperial villa, an old man in Confucian robes sighed. Xue Shuangtao froze as she saw her grandfather lift his hand, pull down his robe, revealing training attire beneath, and beneath that, soft armor. The elder grasped a heavy bow and said: "Those who play the game often cannot leave it."

"Guanyi, remember this."

"I will protect you."

The Bai Hu manifestation roared. The old man strode forward; Bai Hu rode the gale. He drew his bow and leapt into the air. The bowstring stretched taut. He was five li from the gate, fifteen li from Yue Qianfeng. One arrow released golden wind, violently tearing through the clouds.

It spun, shredding toward Yue Qianfeng.

Yue Qianfeng gripped his halberds, sweeping them hard.

Like thunder cracking open, rolling across the heavens.

Dragon soars! Tiger roars!

Xue Daoyong did not hesitate—he swiftly retreated from the city, lest their clash engulf the civilians. His arrows flew, and as primordial energy surged, his manifestation briefly manifested, visible to the naked eye: a colossal crimson dragon roared in the sky, while Bai Hu bellowed.

Golden wind tore all things. Fiery flames burned against the crimson clouds.

Like ancient myth reborn, descending once more into the world.

The earth trembled. Yicheng City shifted.

The scholars turned pale, awestruck by the terrifying battle. Long silence followed. Their voices trembled: "Th-this… this is a traitor… Elder Xue's archery is peerless, unmatched under heaven—he must prevail…"

Li Guanyi felt the bronze ding change.

Dragon and tiger converged. Literature and martial arts flowed. This was precisely what Master Siming called the great change—the moment when literary fortune reached its peak and martial qi surged to its zenith—the very opportunity Xue Shen spoke of. Li Guanyi could now feel the fusion of manifestation and internal qi.

This was the threshold!

The ultimate threshold to be proven.

But Li Guanyi's heart was not on this. He held his brush, gazing afar, recalling all he had seen these past days—and finally understood: Yicheng's defenses were built to wait for Yue Qianfeng. And Yue Qianfeng was the warrior escorting the Ancestor.

This was the clash between the imperial clan, the Chen dynasty, and the frontier generals.

Xue Daoyong, the strongest in Yicheng, was also drawn into it.

They were about to kill each other.

Li Guanyi had heard the old man's evaluation of General Yue Qianfeng, filled with great praise and regret; he also learned Yue Qianfeng's purpose for coming here, and immediately realized that Xue Daoyong and Yue Qianfeng were not bound to fight to the death.

But neither of them knew.

Xue Daoyong, as imperial kin, believed Yue Qianfeng intended to storm Jiangzhou's imperial city.

And Yue Qianfeng believed Xue Daoyong belonged to the faction that blocked Master Jiang from entering the city.

They would fiercely kill each other for their goals and stances—such powerful figures, such a grand matter, death was not impossible. Li Guanyi watched the dragon and tiger converge qi, tearing wildly in the sky; he saw the Taigu Chilong's eyes blazing crimson, the Bai Hu's fangs bared in fury.

He saw their mutual intent to kill, their resolve to fight to the death.

And now, within his bronze ding, the qi boiled—long-awaited opportunity for entry lay before him; if he sat in meditation here, where literary qi was strongest, he would naturally break through, and could use the qi of the dragon-tiger clash between Yue Qianfeng and Xue Daoyong to push his manifestation into a purer realm.

But…

The boy lowered his gaze.

The hand pressing against his chest loosened.

He suddenly laughed and cursed: "Fuck it."

The Taigu Chilong roared, flames burning upward against the heavens—Yue Qianfeng had unleashed some martial technique, slashing down with terrible force. Xue Daoyong never expected such a death-defying will and monstrous strength from Yue Qianfeng; he took a heavy blow, the Bai Hu formed from swirling clouds howled in agony.

The bow shattered; Xue Daoyong was clearly losing.

Xue Shuangtao's cheeks turned pale; she seemed to hear her grandfather's pained groan, her heart aching as if torn, tears at her corners, while all the scholars around her—including the powerful literati—remained motionless. Then, suddenly, a clear, piercing whistle rang out.

Immediately, the neighing of warhorses exploded; several men were thrown aside.

A horse with a crimson mane reared its head, flinging off the attendant holding the reins, galloping toward them. Changsun Wuchou recognized the horse, eyes wide: "This is…"

"Li Guanyi?!"

A figure surged forward, brushing past Xue Shuangtao.

Under silent stares, the boy in blue robes leapt onto the horse, right hand gripping the Su Ni bow, left hand seizing the reins. The once wild, unruly steed reared up, neighing like a dragon. Changsun Wuchou rushed forward, shouting: "Li Guanyi, what are you doing?!"

Li Guanyi's eyes blazed with sharpness: "Repay kindness with kindness."

"This is where my righteousness lies."

Only he, who could absorb the divine essence of manifestations, had the right to enter there; only he, who knew both sides and saw the greater tide, could speak up now—even if he might be caught in the backlash, even if he might fail, even if it harmed his own entry—but—

I want to do it.

He nudged the horse; it neighed. He abandoned the superior opportunity for entry. Perhaps his body was still that of a youth; perhaps it was true—youth has its own wildness. To watch two men who had both shown him great kindness kill each other, while he sat quietly here to break through—

He couldn't do it!

The boy's brows lifted, and he laughed.

His heart blazed like the sun, radiating ten thousand rays.

The dragon and tiger manifestations paused. Though Li Guanyi had abandoned the cultivation method given by Xue Shen, abandoning the hundred-battle posture for entry, these two manifestations grew even more fierce—no longer restless as before during entry, yet carrying an indescribable divine intent.

Full of spirit and vigor.

As if ready to merge completely with this boy!

The warhorse neighed, carrying Li Guanyi forward, charging against the crowd of literati. Not a sound stirred; even the most arrogant scions of noble families wore complex expressions. Xue Shuangtao's eyes widened, reflecting the boy's fiery spirit.

In this thirty-year peak of literary qi, among those raised since childhood in benevolence, righteousness, and courage, he was the only one bold enough to declare, "This is where my righteousness lies," and charge against the tide.

He became instantly renowned.

"Jiangzhou, Li Guanyi."