Chapter 541: Let the World Come to Die

Warhorses thundered like rolling thunder; atop the towering Zhenbei City, Li Guanyi stood clad in heavy armor, his battle robe whipping violently in the gale, beside him were Yue Pengwu, Yan Xuanji, and Wang Shunchen, all fixedly staring ahead.

The Divine General Jiang Su has arrived.

The two armies faced off.

In this turbulent era, the Divine General Jiang Su fought Tai Ping Gong and Yu Langwang, and finally defeated the Supreme Martial King—who had sacrificed all to forge a legend of martial prowess—yet only lost one eye in that mortal struggle.

Undisputedly, the strongest general.

Yue Pengwu gripped the Li Quan Divine Spear, the golden-winged roc's spiritual form unfolding behind him; he lifted his gaze far away, his phoenix eyes narrowing, seeing storm clouds churn, the grim aura of war, and the vast expanse of Jiangshan.

The two armies stood opposed; though it was the sweltering sixth month of summer, the collision of these two terrifying military forces sent waves of chilling cold through the air, as the martial qi surged toward the heavens.

The clouds above churned, carrying the sharp edge of martial energy.

Li Guanyi looked at Jiang Su; their many grievances needed no words.

Yet the Divine General's imposing, disciplined presence carried an indescribable pressure—even the elite of the Fire Qilin Army, knowing they were to face the general who had been invincible for three centuries, felt overwhelming dread.

Jiang Su…

Li Guanyi clenched the Nine Li Divine Weapon, Jin Tie.

Of the entire Fire Qilin Army, of the entire Tiance Prefecture, none but he could stand directly before Jiang Su—none could.

Life and death are grave matters, but he could not turn back.

He could not let another stand here; along this path, they had drawn ever closer to the ideals of their youth, yet lost too much—countless teachers, friends, comrades had died on this road.

Nine years ago, it was right here.

Outside Zhenbei Pass, how many of those three thousand wandering soldiers still lived?

Thinking of this, Li Guanyi's heart burned like a fire.

It was this fire that scorched men, driving them forward through relentless struggle.

His palm pressed against the gate of Zhenbei City—built of coarse, hard blue stone, cold to the touch—and he gazed far beyond, as if still seeing that band of wandering soldiers who once used the Queyue Formation to resist the Yuwen cavalry.

"Do you still know who I am?"

Qin Wang whispered the first words he had spoken to those men all those years ago.

Thus, that sorrowful courage still burned in the heart of this young man.

Against the Divine General, there is no chance of victory.

This is merely cold, numerical data.

Yet the courage to grip weapons and charge forward roaring, despite such overwhelming odds, is true will—those who crumble at the sight of superior strength, who surrender before fighting, are merely cowards who call themselves rational.

There comes a time when one must advance.

Jiang Su leaned forward, gently patting his steed, gazing far at Li Guanyi and Yue Pengwu atop Zhenbei City's gate; seeing the banners fluttering in the wind, the twenty-two-year-old Qin Wang gripped his divine weapon, his aura fierce and mighty.

The Divine General sighed with admiration: "The Fire Qilin are valiant, unmatched in combat."

"If only he had five more years, when Your Majesty grows old and dies, should he break through the passes, the world would need no more strife—then we could simply yield it to him."

"But we, of our kind, fight for that single breath upon the battlefield."

Jiang Su recalled his youth, Jiang Wanxiang, and their final meeting—when he was marching to the steppes to ally with the warlords against the Great Khan; Jiang Wanxiang had smiled and said to him:

"My life, up to now, has been a grand play—plays must end, and every play has its final climax, but before that, there must be a warm-up."

"Chen Dingye may fall; I, too, must now make this final battle."

As a ruler who held half the world, he staked his own life as a pawn, for but a sliver of victory.

Yu Langwang did so; Chen Dingye did so; even the defeated Great Khan did so.

When the balance of power held, factions entangled one another—but once opportunity arose, the end of chaos often came within years; Jiang Su raised his hand, plucking a strand of white hair.

No general escapes death on the battlefield.

Qin Wang, who had swallowed Chen and seized half the Turkic territories.

It would take years to fully assimilate these vast new lands; and while the land was taken but not yet absorbed, that was when they were most vulnerable.

It was the moment when Ying's opportunity was greatest.

The world's future may belong to you.

But not now.

"Wanxiang, let our great vow end this chaotic age," Jiang Su murmured, gripping the divine spear, Jìmie.

Everyone has their own will, everyone has an absolute reason to step onto this battlefield; in this chaotic age, on this field, both sides have lost too many comrades, too many friends—they have paid too bloody a price.

There is no good or evil, no right or wrong—only victory or defeat.

Today, we resolve; today, we fight.

Our lives.

Upon the annals.

Merely a few words.

Yet for those few words, we stake everything.

The great array of Zhenbei City activated; Jiang Su intended to charge straight through the city—normally, bypassing such a city instead of storming it would cut off the rear supply lines, leaving the advancing army stranded.

Then Zhenbei City's forces would close in from behind.

The army crossing the city would be trapped between two enemies—certain death.

But now, no troops or generals stand before Jiang Su to block him; thus, even with the city at their backs, Li Guanyi's forces must fight—they must nail Jiang Su here.

May Xue Shen and the others exhaust Jiang Wanxiang's final, desperate flame, drain the last of his lifetime's martial fury and valor; and for Jiang Su, his task is to drag Qin Wang down here with him.

Exchange.

Two of the world's greatest exchange lives.

Li Guanyi clenched his fist and said: "Marshal Yue."

Yue Pengwu looked at him; Li Guanyi drew a deep breath and said: "Go!"

The young Qin Wang turned and walked down from here, his will firm and calm, just as in those years, his voice quiet: "Even if there is no more support from behind, the two of us must make this the finest military feat in three hundred years… no, eight hundred years."

"Block them here!"

"Even if it costs my flesh and blood."

Yue Pengwu said: "Then I shall be the vanguard."

Li Guanyi said: "Here, only I can block him, because only I possess a physique comparable to the overlord of those years and an undying immortal body. For the peace of the realm, this battle will be the most crucial."

Yue Pengwu looked at the young man, who was only twenty-two this year.

And his opponent was that ancient dynasty, the Great Emperor of Ying who had already governed the realm for a full sexagenary cycle, the strongest War God in three hundred years. Yue Pengwu said quietly: "But if so, your own lifespan…"

Qin Wang smiled lightly: "I've taken the elixir of immortality."

Yet Yue Pengwu knew that Qin Wang charged at the front of every battle, fought for long stretches, and in that campaign in the Western Regions, the Daoist Sect had already made it clear that the medicinal power of the elixir of immortality had long been scattered and exhausted; what came next would be a fight to the death.

When Li Guanyi walked past him, the black hair at his temples lifted and fell.

His eyes were still resolute, gazing ahead.

Time seemed to freeze, then seemed to rewind, just like that youth who had once, at his moment of absolute despair, charged to stand before him—the two pairs of young, tender eyes back then, and the eyes now seasoned by a hundred battles.

When that temple hair fell, the youth of ten years ago and the sovereign of today seemed to appear beside him at the same moment, overlapping.

'Marshal Yue's life…'

"The peace of the realm."

"Li Guanyi, carry it."

On Yue Pengwu's face there was a trace of complexity.

Watching the young man's appearance dissolve like a daze, what walked out was the twenty-two-year-old Qin Wang—the one who had campaigned in the Western Regions, taken the Southwest, destroyed Chen, contended with the Tujue. Qin Wang strode forward, just as had been his habit through all these years.

He told the Qilin Army: I shall be the arrow's tip.

Continuing to walk at the very front.

You say that one who gathers firewood for the multitude must not be frozen to death in the wind and snow.

But you are the very one who gathers firewood for the multitude.

The world says saving the sovereign is the greatest merit, but when the sovereign fights to the death himself, what then?

You already hold half the realm under your command, you have already established peerless merit in the annals, you could already be proud, could indulge in pleasures, could drive your great generals from behind to fight to the death and promise them honors.

Why must you walk at the very front every time?

Chen Dingye, Jiang Wanxiang—merely leading an expedition in person, is that any great matter? But you fight to the death at the front every single time. When all the generals are lost, they raise their heads and can see that crimson Qilin battle-robe billowing without cease.

The Qilin's roar shook the battlefield.

Otherwise, how could these unruly heroes of the realm be willing to march to their deaths, spilling blood and brains?

The young sovereign clenched his fist, told the generals and fierce soldiers of the Qilin Army to charge together, then personally led the army in formation, instead ordering those soldiers who had parents and elders, no brothers, and had just started families to remain in the city to form the array.

Yue Pengwu finally lowered his eyes, finally said quietly: "Pengwu is willing to serve as the wing."

Qin Wang glanced sideways, a puzzled smile on his face.

Then strode far away.

This young era, this Qilin Army—all these people of varied temperaments yet representing the flame of the younger generation—did not gather together for any other reason, weaving a dream that intoxicates the heart, then step by step making that dream into reality.

In all the annals of history, there is nothing more that could make one willing to march to death.

Qin Wang personally left the formation to fight.

The Qilin Guard immediately left the formation; they had to rely on the rear support of Zhenbei City, striving to pin and kill Jiang Su here, not allowing him to drive straight in. The Qilin's army soul coiled around the golden-armored divine figure of the golden divine dragon.

The great armies faced each other: ten years of brilliance, decades of solitary toil, three hundred years of chaos, eight hundred years of great age, three sovereigns of the Three Kingdoms, two sand-strewn battlefields.

Jiuli Bingzhu, the divine spear Silence, lifted and pointed far ahead.

This would be a hard fight.

The war drums beat in waves. This time Qin Wang rode the Qilin into battle. The Fire Qilin's fur bristled slightly; as an auspicious beast different from the Crimson Dragon, it sensed that today's Jiang Su was different, and said: "Guanyi, what if we can't win?"

Li Guanyi said: "If we can't win, then run."

The Fire Qilin was stunned: "???"

Li Guanyi said: "I never told you, but inside my body there is actually a cauldron, and it represents my essence, qi, and spirit. If I die in battle, you take the cauldron and run…"

"Just like your kind of auspicious beasts."

"You watch over that cauldron, don't be afraid. One day, you see, I'll come back, just like an auspicious beast's reincarnation."

The Fire Qilin was half in doubt. Li Guanyi smiled, then gripped the divine weapon Bingzhu. The great battle erupted in an instant; the formations atop Zhenbei City activated, granting the Qilin Army an immensely powerful array's blessing.

Then suppressing the War God Jiang Su.

One mechanism-art strike after another thundered out: massive revolving crossbows fired giant bolts capable of piercing warhorses; boulders the size of a house, wrapped in raging fire and studded with jagged steel spikes, smashed down into Jiang Su's formation.

They exploded, countless bolts bursting outward from the internal mechanisms.

Wang Shunchen gripped his war-bow.

Beard and hair bristling, he ceaselessly loosed arrows. Because of the extreme exertion, his fingers split open, fresh blood flowing down to his elbows. Yue Pengwu flanked, leading heavy cavalry to carve into Jiang Su's army from the side.

But Jiang Su paid no heed, heard and noticed nothing.

He merely led his great army in the charge.

Regardless of cost, sparing nothing, in the most open and honorable manner, and in the most tragic posture, he would still seize victory. In Jiang Su's intact eye he saw that young sovereign, and in the latter's eyes he saw his own reflection.

Blood was boiling.

The towering golden-armored divine figure struck violently, the great golden dragon coiled around him roaring and shaking the four directions. The clouds above the heavens tore apart; the Qilin roared in shock, charging the golden-armored divine figure. Two army-soul dharma-images clashed above the nine heavens, the cloud-qi swept flat.

The cloud-qi, struck by thunder-fire, burst into flowing light, forming a vortex. The great storm and the vortex of the cloud sea, like an inverted chisel, hammered fiercely into the earth; rumbling thunder struck the cloud sea, blasting open swath after swath of spreading rain.

The Qilin army-soul's flames burned within the cloud sea.

A golden auspicious-grade divine eagle tore through the cloud sea.

Dodging the arrows of light from those famed generals in Ying's army, while stirring up storms to disrupt the accuracy of their shafts, the eagle hawk cried out clear and high, sweeping across the battlefield.

Ink-black heavy armor, its style blending the former hegemon's army, Tie Futu, and Central Plains characteristics—not overly luxurious or intricate, but with outstanding defensive power—the Fire Qilin army's heavy armor, and the Ying Kingdom's battle armor from a great Central Plains nation, refined through three hundred years of change, combining exquisite elegance with flexible defense, clashed on the battlefield like two floods colliding.

"Kill!!!"

Blade met blade, long spears thrust in clusters.

Li Guanyi fought Jiang Su, the Fire Qilin roaring flames.

This time, there was no great momentum, no one to rely on.

As strategy, only Li Guanyi could use his own vitality and physique to forcibly stall for time, to hold back the God of War Jiang Su; the Tiger Howling Heaven Halberd and the Cloud-Shattering Heaven-Splitting Bow had already been handed to Yue Qianfeng to take back and deliver to General Xue Shenjiang.

Li Guanyi gripped the Jiuli divine weapon and clashed it against the Divine Weapon Extinction.

The clash between the two shook the four directions; even on the battlefield, there was a combat void of nearly a li in radius around them. As they fought bitterly, the rainstorm conjured from the churning sea of clouds above was shaken apart into mist when it came within a li of their clash.

Blood at the corner of his mouth, his chest and abdomen shaken with injuries, but Li Guanyi's weapon did not hesitate for a moment. The Fire Qilin's battle robes still fought to the death ahead, so the comrades behind knew he was still there.

The Fire Qilin's roar echoed across the battlefield.

The Fire Qilin's morale held.

The Extinction Divine Spear pierced the armor, pierced Li Guanyi's shoulder, but the Jiuli divine weapon's metal trembled without hesitation, tearing, thrusting, breaking through Jiang Su's protective qi, and struck Jiang Su viciously, forcing the latter to retreat.

Looking at Li Guanyi, he said: "Less than two years, and you've grown to this."

"Impressive."

Blood dripping, Li Guanyi raised the weapon in his hand and said: "You're not bad either."

Still unyielding, Jiang Su said nothing more, only attacking with full force, without the slightest hesitation or mercy. Li Guanyi blocked with everything he had, the long spear slashing and thrusting.

This place had already left the range of the Nine Cauldrons' influence.

No need for the Nine Cauldrons.

Li Guanyi poured his whole being into the battlefield. He knew the Nine Cauldrons could not help him break through the barrier to achieve the Martial Dao Legend. The path he walked was 【Unification of the Nine Provinces】, so only when all Nine Cauldrons were completely forged would the qualitative change occur.

The quantity was not enough.

If it were only this, then the Master Jiankuang attaining the Dao and forgetting the Dao, sitting in meditation for over ten years, abandoning the sword, holding the sword, not caring about the sword—it would all be a joke.

Extinction spun and thrust; Li Guanyi's shoulder armor burst apart.

The Fire Qilin and Li Guanyi were pushed back; even with its claws dug into the earth, it was useless. Li Guanyi's palm turned, the Jiuli Bingzhu's halberd tail pressed against the ground, he spun his body up, kicked out, a crimson dragon coiling around his leg.

The dragon's roar was fierce, the strike absolute.

It kicked viciously at Jiang Su. Jiang Su grunted, blocked the strike with his long spear, yet was still driven back, a trace of blood appearing at the corner of his mouth, shock in his eyes.

What a physique!

If Chen Kingdom's present fortune entering the body could break through the barrier, then the Regent Chen Fubi—his arrogant defiance, his final resolve to die—only then breaking through that Martial Dao Legend battle would be a joke.

Qin Wang roared, gripping the halberd, sweeping it horizontally.

At the halberd's edge, a tiger roared.

It sliced diagonally against the Extinction Divine Spear Jiang Su raised upright.

Jiang Su raised his hand, grabbed the halberd's edge, beard and hair bristling, exerting force with a bellow.

Li Guanyi and the Fire Qilin, along with their weapons, were lifted by him.

He slammed them viciously into the ground. The Fire Qilin spat blood, gasping heavily, struggling to rise, but the Eight Heavens Fire Qilin was now briefly drained of strength. Li Guanyi's halberd pressed against the ground, but Jiang Su's dragon-tiger-like mount also let out a cry of agony, collapsing onto the battlefield, and the Chixiao Sword whistled past.

Jiang Su looked at Li Guanyi.

Li Guanyi propped himself up with his weapon, wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, his eyes like flames.

He stepped forward, charging. Jiang Su looked at his mount still coughing blood, raised his head to look at the Qin Wang charging wildly toward him. The God of War gripped his weapon and raised it; the golden-armored army soul likewise raised that blade, chopping downward.

If he did not cling, Zhang Ziyong would not have been obsessed like a demon.

If not for clinging too much, how could the Dao Sect wander free, bound by the Dao?

Li Guanyi's fierce eyes widened, watching Jiang Su strike with equal force. Two surges of fighting spirit tore at each other, as if tearing the battlefield apart. Behind the Qin Wang, the tiger, crimson dragon, Fire Qilin, Black Tortoise, and Blue Luan circulated. Jiang Su gripped his weapon—three hundred years of magnificent battlefields.

The God of War clung to victory, yet only by retreating a moment could he see what he sought; the Master Jiankuang, invincible in the martial world for two hundred years, only by not caring about the sword could he be considered enlightened; Chen Fubi sought a vast desire, and in the end, without desire, only battle remained; Jiang Wanxiang, the emperor of ten thousand years, could use his life as a flame to step forward.

What I cling to is only myself.

What I block is only myself.

Slay myself.

The Nine Cauldrons howled, their last power gathered. And so the Yu Langwang's entrustment, and his own grand vow, and the legendary spirit tempered again and again on the Turkic battlefield surged forth; and so the fissure brought by the grief of Emperor Ji Zichang's passing was burst open.

【See Me】!

Is it the slave of the Nine Cauldrons, or the emperor who masters them?

When there is no treasure, you are still you; only with that fierce, valiant courage can you break through this step. Otherwise, even with all Nine Cauldrons gathered, you would be nothing but a shadow bound by 【Legend】.

My name—

Li Guanyi.

Rending flames shot skyward. Ten years of slaughter, the valor of battling across the realm and the resolve to swallow the heavens burned completely, converging into the name of Qin. The Martial Dao Legend's blazing flames surged up.

Twenty-two years old, and with this single step—

One step beyond.

This realm already stood above the Dao Sect, the Longevity, and the Array Champion.

Could stand shoulder to shoulder with the God of War.

The God of War Jiang Su's resolve also erupted to its peak in an instant. Li Guanyi understood: it was precisely every decision he had made that determined who he was. At his ears, it was as if he heard one familiar voice after another.

There was Qian Zheng's unwillingness, the wailing of the Ghost Market, Ye Buyi, Zhou Liu's camp, Emperor Ji Zichang's smiling farewell, the Ancestor, the Elder. He charged ahead alone, and those people's hands seemed to press on his shoulders, pushing him forward.

Li Guanyi's One's Heart Realm grew ever clearer; the Martial Dao Legend sensed as if divine.

Until that light laugh, seeming real yet illusory.

"Guanyi."

An aged voice.

Li Guanyi stepped into the air as if it were solid ground.

Great-grandfather?!

In an instant, Jiuli Bingzhu and the Divine Spear Silence both descended; Qin Wang's hair at the temples fell loose, the Divine Spear Silence pierced through his shoulder, the War God's pupils contracted, Jiuli Bingzhu punched through his abdomen — laughable, when one says it aloud.

The battlefield churned yet was silent; the War God's and Qin Wang's minds met in a single instant.

What conquerors of the realm, what three-hundred-year emotionless War God — in that heartbeat, two hearts stirred with waves and ripples impossible to suppress.

In Jiangnan, there was a swordsman.

An old man.

He said he was a swordsman, though it was hard to say for certain, but many in Jiangnan had seen him — seen him go fishing, heard him play the qin beautifully, watched him read; sometimes he would go to the village schools in many places, taking the children there through sword-dance drills.

Just sword-dancing, nothing remarkable.

The sword art he danced was the very basic one being passed down everywhere in the Fire Qilin army.

But he had a good temper, and many children liked watching the old gentleman dance his sword. On this day he took up a tree branch to dance the sword, unmoved by the great wars of the realm; after dancing, he simply set down the newly compiled basic sword manual on the table.

Then he set the recipe he had written beside it, and laid down a small seal.

Dressed in a simple blue robe.

Pulled on a pair of sturdy, well-fitting cloth shoes, took up his sword, and went out the door.

Shut the door behind him.

The latch fell with a clink.

In a blue robe before an army of a hundred thousand, this old man who danced his sword, fished, played the qin, and wrote recipes gripped a green bamboo — yet his spirit blazed high. Yuwen Lie and He Ruo Qinhu faced him as if facing a dire foe.

He gripped his sword and charged straight into the midst of the army!

The Dajiang churned, rushing down from the snow mountains; when it crossed the long Shanhe and emptied into the sea, the difference between fresh water and salt water was vast — look at the river mouth, and the water just entering the sea and the open sea beyond were two different colors, one clear, one turbid.

The so-called "clear as the Jing and Wei rivers"—where the Jing and Wei run apart, clear and muddy each to its own.

Now, looking down from above, one saw the jianghu cutting across court and battlefield, looking just like a long river entering the sea.

Sword-light like silver frost and shining snow.

Five hundred thousand troops — before his sword a path was torn open. Yuwen Lie, He Ruo Qinhu, and Qin Yulong were all forced back by a single blade. Only that long spear and banner, beneath the fierce dark-blue dragon crest, pointed at the heavens — the Emperor of Ying, clad in heavy armor and a great cloak, stood leaning on his sword.

The swordsman of the jianghu tore through the army and came.

Sword-qi stretched thirty thousand li; one sword's chill lit up nineteen provinces.

Caring nothing for what was behind him, free and easy — the Great Emperor of Ying, leaning on his sword, was still that magnificent, heroic figure, his voice booming like a great bell:

"Murong Longtu, have you come here seeking death?"

That blue-robed swordsman laughed freely:

"The realm's court, battlefield, and jianghu."

"The world looks down on the jianghu, but I say — the jianghu's freedom, how could it compare with the petty scheming of those so-called court officials?"

To stir the turbid and raise the clear.

Heaven and earth churned. There were those who would seize the chaos and the past of eight hundred years to crush the young flames. Yes, one solution was for the young to fight and bleed, to shoulder the realm into peace with their own flesh and blood — but there was yet another solution.

The world's past was not only court and battlefield.

The old fellows aren't dead yet!

This swordsman, who seemed to have drained in one gulp the eight hundred years of the jianghu's romance, raised the green bamboo in his hand; his brows lifted, still bearing that old, world-toppling boldness of gratitude and grievance, and he declared in a clear voice:

"The realm in chaos — I, the jianghu man Murong Longtu, have this one sword."

Sword-qi brimmed full.

A thousand li of Jiangnan's fine, bold wind.

"I invite this eight-hundred-year realm — to its death!!!"

?? Please support the God-ranking activity, friends~

? Just click the top-left corner of Qidian

? Help me recommend a book — "The Immortal Is Actually Right Beside Me"

? Overpowered protagonist, modern urban cultivation

? Synopsis:

? In the long river of five thousand years of history, cultivators have left behind legends like a sky full of stars, and he is the brightest among them.

? He is the celestial immortal worshipped by kings and nobles, the Lord of the Clouds depicted in poetry and song, the deity sung of in folk rhymes.

? Now he has re-entered the mortal world, walking among ordinary people as an everyday man.

? Until one day, the hidden history turned a page once more, and one legend after another, tucked in the cracks, was verified.

? Only then did people realize — the immortal was right beside them!