Chapter 54: The Ultimate Way to Enter the Realm

The Si Ming and the Seventh Grand Master of the Mohists waited by the side gate of Guanyi City.

The fluctuations of primordial qi in heaven and earth crashed against the old man’s face like tidal waves; he stared wide-eyed at the distant sky, where golden winds and crimson flames continuously clashed—Xue Daoyong’s martial art restrained Yue Qianfeng, yet Yue Qianfeng’s Crimson Dragon Manifestation subtly countered Xue Daoyong’s Geng Metal White Tiger.

Both were among the supreme warriors of this world.

Each had irreplaceable reasons to fight, making their battle evenly matched and indecisive.

The Mohist muttered: “Si Ming, can you tell who will win?”

The old man first glanced at the Black Tortoise.

The Black Tortoise shook his head, indicating he could not tell.

Then the old man rolled his eyes and declared with perfect confidence: “These warriors’ qi rise like wolf smoke, stirring heaven and earth—so much so that even the starlight above is suppressed. My realm hasn’t yet reached the point where I can repel such interference.”

The Mohist Grand Master fell silent for a moment, then said: “When dragon and tiger contend, death is inevitable.”

Si Ming also fell quiet.

Both watched the city gate, waiting for the world’s foremost master of the Calculus Scripture to arrive; meanwhile, the court’s hidden moves were all focused on the opposite gate, fixed on Yue Qianfeng, completely ignoring the Calculus Scripture master, Zu Wenyuan.

To the most self-preserving officials of the realm, a rampaging Yue Qianfeng was far more dangerous than the Calculus Scripture master!

The Calculus Scripture master entering court might only free Marshal Yue, at the cost of their own interests.

When they accused Marshal Yue of allying with the nation’s enemies and endangering the state, they spoke with righteous indignation, willing to die in their remonstrance to prove it—truly fearless of death.

But now, the rampaging Yue Qianfeng?

He might truly ride into court and sever their heads.

Yue Qianfeng cannot single-handedly sweep through Jiangzhou; with Jiangzhou’s defenses, this famed general—without troops, divine weapons, or armored gear—will surely die here. But how many of the court’s officials will die before he does?

No one wished to gamble on whether they’d be one of the unlucky few.

Si Ming sighed: “Feint east, strike west—and strike straight at the vital point. Yue Qianfeng, Yue Qianfeng… truly no one would guess he came from the wild paths.”

The Mohist Grand Master said: “Most famed generals of the realm are so-called wild-path warriors.”

At that moment, sudden commotion arose; outside the city, few civilians remained—Yue Qianfeng had shouted warnings early, and people had fled in advance. Since Yue Qianfeng was at the West Gate, this gate had been opened to let civilians enter.

Yet despite Yue Qianfeng’s threat, some wanted fugitives refused to charge the main gates directly; they circled the city, aiming to slip through this lone open gate among the civilians—even resorting to taking hostages.

The Garrison Commander gritted his teeth: “Close the gate!”

The other soldiers stared in shock: “But then the other civilians—”

The commander snapped: “I said, close the gate!”

“If these fugitives get inside, who will bear the blame?!”

That was the point.

Civilian casualties mattered less than fugitives breaching the city—latter threatened his official cap far more.

The Seventh Mohist Grand Master said coolly: “It is time for us to act.”

“Chen Guo’s frontier has no true warriors left.”

The great gate slowly closed; Zu Wenyuan’s figure remained outside. The Mohist Grand Master and Si Ming had spotted their friend—they were about to intervene, stop the fugitives, and bring Zu Wenyuan inside—when suddenly, the whistle of arrows pierced the air: two arrows spun through the sky, piercing two fugitives who were seizing civilians.

Blood sprayed; civilians panicked and surged toward the gate.

Si Ming’s qi parted the civilians from the knife-wielding thugs; the Mohist Grand Master calmly drew his sword, clearing a path for the people. The city’s soldiers below watched the chaos, gripping spears and fury, eager to clear a way—but the commander refused to take responsibility.

Hooves pounded the cobblestones in urgent rhythm.

The fluttering robes seemed to carry wind.

The Mohist Grand Master sheathed his sword, turned—and saw a young rider on a galloping steed, sword at his waist, one hand gripping a bow, the other holding an official token, shouting:

“Chen Guo’s Ninth-Rank Martial Official—Li Guanyi!”

“Open the gate!”

The soldier turning the gate mechanism exhaled in relief.

Someone bore responsibility—he no longer feared; he released the lever with a swift motion, the mechanism spun violently, the gate swung open, and the anxious civilians rushed inside. Li Guanyi saw the fugitives behind them—he had no idea how these criminals, each bearing crimes of murder, rape, and plunder, had appeared.

A soldier mistook Li Guanyi’s intent and shouted:

“My lord, are you riding out to intercept?”

“Heavy cavalry sabers are unsuitable.”

“Take this spear!”

Seeing the young officer charge, the city soldiers stirred with excitement, flung their spear upward—Li Guanyi caught it mid-air, and with the horse’s momentum, hurled it forward; the spear, riding the wind, pierced through a fugitive with a scarred cheek.

The fugitive was lunging at a refined old man.

Eighteen years ago, this brute had passed through a village, saw dried meat hanging on a wall, and asked to stay overnight.

The household offered their daily meals; the giant raged that they hadn’t given him the dried meat, so at night he slaughtered eighteen people, ate the meat, and left contentedly.

The spear struck with brutal force, pinning him to the ground.

The refined old man’s gaze remained utterly still; the young rider galloped past, brushing shoulders with the elder, murmuring softly: “Old sir, hurry into the city!”

As he passed the fugitive pinned to the ground, he reached out and seized the spear.

With the horse’s momentum, he yanked it free.

The blade naturally tore a horrific wound inside the man’s body.

Previously, Li Guanyi had struggled to understand the techniques of ancient warriors he faced; now, mounted on horseback, those movements that had felt awkward on foot suddenly flowed like water—natural, effortless, as if they had always been meant to be.

Throw spear, pin and kill, gallop past, pull spear, tear wound.

Then the steed surged forward, his arm raised.

The fugitive who had been cruel to civilians was flung violently through the air by the sheer force.

He crashed to the ground, clearly dead.

The Mohist Grand Master sheathed his sword: “The cavalry spear techniques of battlefield generals…”

“Every time I see them, they feel so brutal.”

“Even when riding ordinary warhorses—not mythical beasts—their power surpasses martial artists of the same realm.”

And Si Ming stood dumbfounded.

Huh???

How did this kid just ride out?!

No—this isn’t the time to wonder.

His body lunged forward, seizing the arm of the refined elder Li Guanyi had saved: “Young Master Zu! You’ve finally arrived!”

“We’ve been waiting here for you!”

The Mohist Grand Master nodded slightly, his qi shifting, retracting the sword technique he’d been about to unleash; he watched the boy charge out, slay fugitives, ride past Zu Wenyuan, and gallop toward the distance. The Mohist Grand Master said:

“A single rider charges out—Chen Guo still has warriors.”

Si Ming gripped Zu Wenyuan’s arm, looked up at the direction the boy vanished, and muttered helplessly: “I say—”

“I truly can’t fathom his destiny.”

The Black Tortoise said nothing.

Si Ming said: “But one thing I’m certain of—this boy’s fortune is surging; both literary and martial qi converge upon him. He won’t die. Young Master Zu, come quickly—the great tide of the world, literary and martial, has already taken the table. We’re waiting for you!”

At the literary gathering, the young rider had charged out—long silence followed.

Xue Shuangtao clenched her fists, staring fixedly into the distance, her worry heavier than before.

Wang Tong, who was sustaining the literary qi, spoke; the others instinctively turned to him. The Confucian master said:

“Confucian self-cultivation speaks of benevolence, righteousness, courage—but these are acquired, cultivated virtues. When true crisis strikes, what one actually does is true benevolence, true righteousness, true courage. Today’s debate on benevolence and righteousness is no longer needed.”

Thus, the Confucians saw benevolence, the Mohists saw righteousness, the courageous saw courage.

Thus, the literary qi reached its zenith.

Li Guanyi gripped his spear and galloped hard; Yue Qianfeng’s battle site was not far from Guanyi City—only ten miles away. This road led to the mountains and rivers beyond, a route Li Guanyi knew well. The warhorse, fierce and swift, had been selected from the Xue family’s stables—its speed was exceptional.

He galloped hard, shadows of trees flickering past; beyond the trees and distant hills,

the roars of the White Tiger and Crimson Dragon brought thunder and flame, illuminating the sky, twisting the tree reflections. The closer he came, the more violently the bronze tripod in his body responded—the literary qi had reached its peak, and now martial qi surged upward too, both forces driving the manifest forms.

Li Guanyi had plugged the horse’s ears, removed his headband, and closed the horse’s eyes to prevent panic. Just as he was about to speak, he suddenly froze—he saw, behind the dragon and tiger manifest forms, another form!

A colossal owl.

Its black wings hidden within swirling clouds, coldly overlooking the dragon-tiger struggle.

A third force!

Li Guanyi spurred his horse, heart startled. He had assumed the master of this form intended to ally with Xue Daoyong and kill Yue Qianfeng—but seeing the owl’s position, his blood chilled.

The owl’s form was behind the White Tiger, its cold gaze locked firmly on the White Tiger itself.

Li Guanyi had been trained by General Xue Shen.

He instinctively made his judgment—

The master of the owl form was not allied with Xue Daoyong; rather, his target was the old man himself.

Once his goal was achieved, to outside observers, it would appear Xue Daoyong had died at Yue Qianfeng’s hands.

With the Xue family’s prestige, if the Empress Dowager’s father died at the hands of Marshal Yue’s subordinate, Marshal Yue would be further implicated—certainly doomed. And with Xue Daoyong dead, the Xue family’s vast commercial empire would be leaderless—a fat target for devouring.

In terms of interest:

Even as allies of Chen Guo,

allying with Xue Daoyong to crush Yue Qianfeng was inferior to secretly eliminating Xue Daoyong.

This was a two-birds-one-stone, kill-with-a-knife scheme.

Li Guanyi’s mind instantly assessed—he suddenly understood the court’s officials’ ruthlessness. He wanted to warn the two, instinctively raised his Su Ni bow; the White Tiger qi swirled, golden winds howled—but this arrow’s chill could not reach so far.

Not enough.

Li Guanyi half-closed his eyes, gritted his teeth—and behind him, both the Crimson Dragon and White Tiger manifest forms appeared simultaneously. Then, he channeled both forms; the bronze tripod vibrated violently, literary and martial qi surged together—everything within Li Guanyi seemed poured into this single arrow.

Essence, Qi, Spirit!

Converge!

Finally, the White Tiger’s power gathered upon the bow’s body.

The Crimson Dragon, like a coiling colossal pillar, slowly wound itself around the arrow.

Li Guanyi raised the bow, and the Su Ni Bow unleashed its loudest roar yet.

Crimson Dragon, White Tiger.

As Dragon and Tiger converged, a thread of pure power sprouted—unnoticed by the boy himself—and he released the string. The bowstring trembled like a dragon’s cry; the arrow spun, tearing through air, surging toward the heavens, aimed straight at the Owl Spirit Form!

This arrow could never injure the master of the Owl.

He did not even move a hand, effortlessly neutralizing the arrow’s force—yet he never imagined a mere boy could wield Dragon and Tiger power, and distracted by the celestial struggle between Dragon and Tiger, he overlooked the arrow’s uniqueness.

The Crimson Dragon’s power on the arrow compressed, then exploded into a burst of flame, the dragon’s roar and tiger’s howl erupting together.

Yue Qianfeng and Xue Daoyong’s pupils contracted; both retracted their techniques and turned, seeing the riding boy and the spot where the arrow had exploded—

Both men’s thoughts froze for a moment.

The old man felt a flicker of disbelief.

Then complex emotions surged—he sighed, filled with profound comfort:

“He’s trying to help me?! Good boy…”

Yue Qianfeng recognized the riding boy and the overwhelming aura of his Break-the-Formation Melody. Suddenly, he burst into loud, unrestrained laughter—when he had abandoned all hope, fighting alone against overwhelming odds, someone he had once taught now came to his aid—how exhilarating! How utterly satisfying!

Hahaha! Good!

Excellent, fellow outlaw!

Both instinctively believed the boy had risked his life to save them.

Li Guanyi raised his battle bow, pointing at the Owl, and said:

“Watch out!!!”

The master of the Owl Spirit Form had revealed his aura; yet the killing intent and hostility between the two fighters paused instantly as this third party intervened. Both were seasoned veterans—they instantly understood what it meant when a hidden master suddenly appeared here.

Xue Daoyong spoke as usual: “Die, villain!”

The White Tiger roared; Yue Qianfeng also roared as he unleashed his technique—the Crimson Dragon surged skyward, charging toward his opponent.

But at the very moment they were about to strike each other, they abruptly reversed course—Dragon and Tiger merged, spun back, and struck together toward the Owl.

The deadly deadlock was broken.

Their killing intent now fell entirely upon the third party who had sought to trap them both.

Li Guanyi realized this.

His full-power shot had drained him completely—like his first battle in the secret realm, he had overextended, his hands trembling, gasping heavily atop his horse, yet he laughed aloud.

Exhilarating! Exhilarating!

Entering this fray, his spirit soared.

His heart was clear and free, like the bright moon in an endless sky—no speck of dust remained.

Thus, Dragon and Tiger converged, Civil and Martial merged.

Finally, they gathered within him, transforming into new power—his cultivation foundation broke through, naturally, effortlessly, requiring no technique to assist.

This heart is bright—no more words needed!

Entered the realm.

The highest grade!