Chapter 62: The Legacy of the Battle Spear, a Peerless Genius

Two divine weapons, one real, one illusory.

But even the illusory weapon conveyed the sensation of holding something, an arcane aura passing between the two divine weapons; Li Guanyi’s bronze tripod hummed in his chest, for divine weapons, unlike top-tier cultivators, contained only a minimal residue of aura that the bronze tripod could absorb.

The second time he touched the divine bow, Cloud-Piercing Thunderbow, the accumulation of jade fluid had slowed, but when he gripped the battle spear, an invisible aura flowed between the two weapons, and the jade fluid within the bronze tripod rapidly completed its accumulation.

The White Tiger manifestation glowed, signifying the jade fluid corresponding to the White Tiger manifestation.

Yet the Crimson Dragon’s jade fluid still remained only at ninety-eight percent.

He still needed to meet Yue Qianfeng.

The howls of the two divine weapons merged, forming the figure of Xue Shen, just as the Battle Bow had previously contained scenes of his pacification of the borderlands; now, with both divine weapons united, the same effect occurred.

This Xue Shen differed from the one seen earlier with the Cloud-Piercing Thunderbow—he wore solemn, magnificent armor, with crimson decorations threaded with gold silk hanging from the tiger-mouth hilt, his right hand gripping the battle spear, his left hand clasping the battle bow.

His gaze was calm, unshielded by a helmet, his long hair bound only by a jade hairpin.

Before him stood a refined-looking man clad in heavier armor, black, heavy steel enveloping him, radiating a divine glow; he wore a helmet, and as his gauntleted hand brushed across it, a solemn dark-gold faceplate descended.

Li Guanyi suddenly recognized that dark-gold faceplate.

The assassin ranked tenth in the realm, who had killed Xue Daoyong, had worn such a faceplate; Yue Qianfeng had once scolded him, saying it was an artifact once used by the late Duke Taiping.

Xue Shen said: “Duke Chen, this is merely a sparring match—why take it so seriously?”

Duke Chen, clad in armor, gripped a heavy long spear, its shaft forged as one piece, its blade over a foot long, like frost from half a longsword; he said: “I too must pass down martial arts to my family and future generations. As a warrior, I wish to test myself against the greatest in the world.”

He charged forward, and Xue Shen loosed an arrow from his bow.

The arrow tore through the wind, shredded the primordial energy, nearly forming a pillar of force that slammed into Duke Chen; the earth around them cracked, and a hazy glow emanated from his armor, yet Duke Chen’s speed did not waver—he surged even closer.

It was a divine armor specifically designed to counter arrows.

Duke Chen closed to within thirty-three paces.

Then Xue Shen raised his battle spear—a black spear emitting faint golden light, like myriad stars in the dark night; as he swung it, a thunderous, violent roar erupted, and the rivers flowing through Jiangnan were swept up in its wake.

Like a tidal wave, it crashed down upon Duke Chen.

Duke Chen swept his spear horizontally, splitting the tidal wave apart.

His weapon was seized by a spiraling force and flung away; as Duke Chen prepared to strike again, the battle spear, calm as a crouching tiger, was already before him, its razor-sharp tip pressed against his brow.

Duke Chen lifted his head—he wore divine armor, yet he froze in place.

Xue Shen stood before him, his ceremonial armor radiant as a celestial deity, crimson and gold threads fluttering faintly; Duke Chen sat on the ground, removed his helmet, and placed it aside, his refined face filled with regret: “...I have lost.”

“Even though my armor can block all slashing force, your battle spear could turn my body into a pile of flesh and blood. Your battlefield techniques are ferocious beyond compare, yet this move’s skill rivals the greatest martial arts of the Jianghu—what is it called?”

Xue Shen said: “Juan Tao.”

Duke Chen murmured: “Juan Tao.”

He sighed, smiling: “A fine technique. A fine name.”

“I truly hope my descendants never become enemies of yours. My spear techniques never surpassed yours. Will any of my descendants ever surpass me, their ancestor, and forge power worthy of matching your divine weapon techniques?”

Duke Chen departed. Xue Shen suddenly turned, his gaze piercing through time, spanning five hundred years, fixed on Li Guanyi; he said softly: “My battle spear art is rooted in brute strength. After entering the realm, every technique transforms—each demands unique insight and adaptation.”

“This Juan Tao is the ultimate killing technique.”

“It shatters all armor, all adamantine bodies—unless one has entered the Buddha’s Vajra realm, all flesh becomes rotting mud.”

Xue Shen planted his divine weapon upright in the earth, stood with hands clasped behind his back, crimson-gold threads on his armor fluttering faintly.

His gaze was sharp, piercing, vast and majestic.

He looked at Li Guanyi.

He whispered:

“Duke Chen’s descendants will surely cultivate his ancestral divine spear.”

“Protected by divine armor.”

“You—you must learn well.”

Li Guanyi nearly believed Xue Shen had seen him.

Then he saw Xue Shen’s lips curl slightly, his expression softening into a smile:

“Well, Yaoguang, did you record it?”

A cold voice replied: “Recorded.”

Xue Shen sighed contentedly: “Good, good. Whether three hundred, five hundred, or eight hundred years from now, when my descendants see me speaking to them like this, they’ll be stunned—wondering if their ancestor never died, even waking from sleep to ponder it.”

“Ah, by the way—you must erase this segment using Yin-Yang methods. Do not pass it on to future generations.”

The Yaoguang of that era lifted her head, as if glancing at Xue Shen.

She considered the mental effort required to erase it, and wished to refuse.

Then she recalled the trouble Xue Shen would cause if she refused.

So she nodded coldly:

“Fine.”

Xue Shen was satisfied.

He laughed triumphantly: “My descendants won’t be able to sleep!”

Li Guanyi understood: Xue Shen’s vision had been a deliberate performance, meant to communicate with future generations, and he had asked Yaoguang to erase it—but the vision had still reached Li Guanyi’s eyes, meaning Yaoguang had not expended the effort.

The vision dissolved; the divine aura of the weapons was transmitted. Xue Shen’s voice returned to its earlier cold, plain tone: “To master Juan Tao, the ultimate killing technique, you must first master the battle spear’s fundamental forms. Juan Tao is like a branch—the spear’s core techniques are the roots. My forms were learned on the battlefield, where killing is the sole purpose.”

“Different realms, different internal energies—each demands unique application. Watch closely.”

“To outsiders, I say my spear art is called Tai Ping Ling.”

“But in my youth, I was arrogant—I imitated ancient heroes. How could a name like ‘Tai Ping Ling’—a name meant to comfort the peaceful lords of a golden age—suit it? Back then, I named this spear art Ba Wang Ji.”

“Later, as I matured, I refined it, discarding the excess, and renamed it [Ji Wu Zhi Ji].”

“Only after entering the realm may you learn the techniques.”

Before Li Guanyi’s eyes, Xue Shen wielded the battle spear, executing a complete set of its supreme techniques—horizontal sweeps, heavy chops, wide, open strikes, decisive slaughter; then the forms shifted, becoming steady and methodical, rigidly disciplined; finally, they turned light and fluid, continuous and unbroken, endless variations unfolding.

The battle spear is not as heavy as a mace, nor as nimble as a sword or dagger.

It is a balanced weapon.

If the weight and pressure of heavy weapons is ten, it is eight.

If the skill of a sword or dagger is ten, it is eight.

But the point is: in length, technique, slashing, cutting, thrusting, parrying, weight—it is always eight. It demands the strength and audacity to wield heavy weapons, yet also requires exceptional insight to master five or more weapons’ techniques and unify them.

At that time, the battle spear could thrust like a sword, outmaneuver maces with finesse.

It could defeat spears with subtlety, suppress and slash and cut against halberds.

It occupies the central Earth element, Wu.

It can break many weapons—and is the hardest to master.

Li Guanyi knew Po Jun Ba Dao, but he placed himself opposite Xue Shen.

Po Jun Ba Dao would barely hold.

His blade would be easily trapped; the edge rendered useless, but the spear’s absurdly long tip and blade would follow, slicing off the wielder’s arm, sweeping horizontally—the edge alone could sever the neck.

Even his battlefield great spear techniques could not match Xue Shen’s battle spear.

“When you fully master this spear art, come find me.”

“The battle spear differs from the spear—it is the hardest weapon to master on the battlefield. It can thrust, smash, hook, and slash, unifying the techniques of many weapons. Yet its weight makes many techniques difficult to apply—misuse harms the user.”

“Thus, only those who master supreme arts can wield it. A spear can be learned in a month, truly mastered in at least five years.”

“To master the battle spear—ten years.”

Xue Shen’s transmitted aura was cold: “You have already gained fortune by learning my battle spear.”

“My divine aura waits for you three years—to warn you to train diligently. Within these three years, the aura’s power will diminish daily.”

“But rest assured.”

“Within three years, if you master the realm-entry spear techniques, I will teach you Juan Tao.”

“Within two years, I will assist you in refining Juan Tao’s variations; within one year, even...”

Three years.

Li Guanyi knew this time was already extremely short.

But he had no time to wait.

The words “Regent Prince” still danced before his eyes, and he did not know if this strange phenomenon—holding both divine weapons together—would ever occur again.

Li Guanyi closed his eyes, made his decision.

He activated his spirit.

In his chest, the bronze tripod overturned.

Jade fluid crashed down, the final accumulation from the two divine weapons flowing into his body; just as when he first mastered Po Jun Ba Dao, layers of clouds and mist appeared before him, and in the vision, countless soldiers in armor, wielding battle spears, charged and slaughtered.

The battle spear was sharp, its techniques fierce—light or heavy, hard or soft.

Li Guanyi’s spirit merged with the figure in the vision.

He was immersed in boundless slaughter.

Jade fluid flowed through his body, strengthening his arms, waist, and legs’ muscles and meridians according to the demands of battle spear use; his spirit sank into the battlefield, and his body changed accordingly—seeing the spear techniques, initially complex and alien, they grew familiar, then simplified.

The departing Xue Shen transmission suddenly halted.

This transmission had locked onto the boy before it.

It sensed the rapid transformation in the aura of this young heir.

Ji Wu Zhi Ji—Entry.

Ji Wu Zhi Ji—Minor Mastery.

Ji Wu Zhi Ji—Proficient.

Finally, a faint, chilling aura of slaughter emanated from the boy; the Break-Cloud Thunderbow shrieked in joy, just as it had five hundred years ago. The old man across from him suddenly lifted his gaze, as if sensing a trace of blood, glanced around, then stared at the standing boy, frozen.

And that thread of inherited spirit ceased its dissipation.

A flicker of shock, of disbelief, entered his eyes.

He looked at Li Guanyi.

Li Guanyi opened his eyes, gazed at the inherited spirit, paused, then said:

“I have succeeded.”

The inherited spirit stood silent as a puppet.

The Ultimate Spear, forged from Xue Shen’s lifetime of learning, meant to exhaust the limits of martial Dao.

In an instant.

Perfect Completion!