Chapter 120: Enjoyment

The Eleventh had finally arrived. Whether by careful design or unintentional happenstance, this most tragic figure among the Top Ten experts found himself at the precise moment and most opportune location, almost instantly grasping Xu Fengnian’s vital weakness. Li Chungang was about to fight Wu Liuding, who carried the Su Wang Sword; each represented a patriarch of the old sword dao in the martial arts world, and neither would be able to disengage in just a few moves. Wei Shuyang, Lü Qiantang, and the other four had all gone into the reed marsh, where an unpredictable, bloody battle awaited, possibly even a fight to the death. At this moment, only the death warrior Qingniao remained by Xu Fengnian’s side, along with Ning Emei and his hundred light cavalry. Xu Fengnian turned to look at the eager Ning Emei, wielding his great halberd. Without needing to ask, the formidable Beiliang general, holding his Bu-character iron halberd, nodded. He raised one hand, and thirty light cavalry spread out in a fan formation, thirty powerful crossbows pointed directly at the renowned martial artist. This was undoubtedly another contest rooted in the long-standing animosity between disciplined soldiers and martial arts practitioners. With the great halberd-wielding Ning Emei providing cover, Xu Fengnian temporarily ignored The Eleventh, instead staring intently at the rapidly departing Old Sword God. It wasn’t that he underestimated Wang Mingyin; rather, a peak life-or-death battle between grandmasters was bound to involve the most ingenious and subtle moves. Whether Li Chungang or Wu Liuding, both were titans of the sword dao. Perhaps any one of their moves would be more exquisite than those he had learned from secret manuals. Even just catching a glimpse and remembering a general outline would be beneficial, granting him immense insights. Xu Fengnian couldn’t help but murmur, "Things are truly at daggers drawn."

Li Chungang departed with his sword. Wu Liuding, facing this sword dao elder renowned for sixty years, showed no fear. Instead, he let out a hearty, carefree laugh. With a single-handed twist, the bamboo pole spun off his shoulder and flew forward. Dressed in a green robe, he charged, grabbing one end of the bamboo pole. Just like on the river previously, he once again used bamboo as a sword. The other end of the pole suddenly plunged into the road, and he lightly shouted, "Rise!"

That time, he had used a pole to overturn a river and boats like the Dragon King. This time, he forcefully pried up a large, heavy section of muddy road, sending it flying towards Li Chungang. After the bent bamboo stirred up a sky-obscuring cloud of dust, the pole spun back to his shoulder. He then stomped down with one foot, creating a large pit, instantly kicking up countless clouds of dust. The bamboo pole, which should have shattered on impact, was bent by his hands into a breathtaking arc. Then, with another twisting motion of his hands, the large pole became like a full moon bow, springing into the air. It struck the dust cloud, imbuing it with a sharp sword energy.

Li Chungang, whose figure was still mid-air, sneered. As before, he slashed out with a sword, splitting the obstructing dust and simultaneously, with a single powerful stroke, shattering the sword energy contained within.

Dust filled the air, scattering in all directions. The mud, infused with potent sword energy, created countless craters upon landing. On the official road, in the two-hundred-step gap between them, sword energy flew chaotically, creating dozens of crisscrossing gouges. This left the Princess of Jing'an utterly dumbfounded. If she had remained there, wouldn't she truly have been torn limb from limb as Xu Fengnian had said? Ending up without a complete corpse? The power of a single, seemingly light sword strike could tear through air and earth—was it truly so terrifying and invincible? Princess Pei had no prior impression of martial arts, but seeing it with her own eyes today, she finally understood its terror. She secretly glanced sideways at Xu Fengnian, unable to discern any hint from his eyes, unable to tell if he was confident or utterly distraught.

Li Chungang's sword was like a piercing rainbow, its white light blinding, rapidly descending through the dust towards Wu Liuding. Although this sword strike was obstructed by the bamboo pole's sword energy and dust, it seemed not to weaken in the slightest. Wu Liuding, with the bamboo pole back in his hand, tapped his toes and retreated swiftly. By the narrowest of margins, the Old Sword God's fierce sword descended, imbued with unparalleled sword intent, plunging a deep, full ten-foot pit where the Wu family's Sword Crown had stood. Wu Liuding, in his green robe, chuckled softly, "What a 'Sword Immortal Kneels'!" As he spoke with an air of leisure, his bamboo pole showed no hesitation, sweeping out in a grand circle towards the Old Sword God's head, whistling and rustling in the wind. The Old Sword God sneered, "How dare this young upstart discuss sword dao before this old man with a bamboo pole?" The aura of his longsword surged; even ordinary eyes could see the azure glow coiling around its tip. The so-called sword energy, at its higher echelons, was about allowing the sword to generate a grand righteousness connected to heaven and earth. The world only said that a true man should wield a three-foot blade to kill enemies and break ranks. Did they truly believe it was just a three-foot body of copper and iron?

After the one-armed Li Chungang landed on the road, he still delivered an understated sword strike.

This time, Wu Liuding no longer avoided its sharp edge. The bamboo pole did not change its trajectory, still sweeping across with the force of a thousand armies.

Their sword moves were simply one horizontal and one vertical.

Li Chungang's green blade and Wu Liuding's bamboo pole clashed head-on, producing an unnaturally sharp, metallic clang that pierced the eardrums. The pitiable Princess Pei covered her ears and cried out, but it was futile; she nearly vomited blood. Xu Fengnian frowned slightly, stepping in front of her, invisibly blocking the ripple of force generated by the clash for her.

After Li Chungang's sword contacted the bamboo pole, it wasn't repelled. Instead, much like when he taught Xu Fengnian sword moves and sword qi on the boat, it instantly bounced the bamboo pole sixteen times, each time horrifyingly. The azure glow at the tip of the sharp sword, originally only an inch long, burst forth to three inches. Others only saw the Old Sword God's verdant sword energy dancing wildly, and Wu Liuding's bamboo pole bending further and further, finally unable to withstand the Old Sword God's seemingly endless assault of sword energy. With a loud crack, the bamboo pole, after all, was just an ordinary bamboo pole, and it snapped in half. Li Chungang, having gained the advantage, showed no change in expression. He used the momentum to chop towards Wu Liuding's chest. With the bamboo pole broken in two, Wu Liuding held half in each hand, retreating again and again, drifting back twenty paces. Li Chungang pressed forward twenty paces, his sword edge never leaving Wu Liuding's chest. The sword tip was half a *zhang* away, and the sword energy, like a spitting green snake, was only a foot away.

Wu Liuding finally stopped being overconfident. His single-handed bamboo pole transformed into a two-handed sword. The Wu Family Sword Mound was renowned for its unparalleled sword techniques, and his ability to travel the world as the Sword Crown undoubtedly showcased his astonishing, peak-level mastery of swordsmanship. The bamboo pole generated no sword energy; it excelled only in its uncanny and unpredictable techniques. Even against a sword dao grandmaster like Li Chungang, who had one foot in the door of Sword Immortals, Wu Liuding's sword moves still followed a dominant, relentless path. Li Chungang's frown relaxed into a slight smile. For some unknown reason, he retracted the azure glow from his sword; the sword qi was gone. He merely used sword techniques against sword techniques, moving with ease, parrying every move. The two fought in close quarters, a dazzling display, exchanging what felt like hundreds or thousands of sword strikes in the blink of an eye.

While the fierce battle here raged, The Eleventh was equally eye-opening. The Liyang Dynasty possessed eight types of crossbows. Excluding the four foot-drawn crossbows, among the remaining four, the pivot crossbow used by the Beiliang Iron Cavalry was the most lethal, comparable to the Huangdeng foot-drawn crossbow. Thus, this standard Beiliang crossbow was aptly named "Mountain Splitter," renowned alongside the Beiliang Saber. Since it dared to be called "Mountain Splitter," its power was astonishing. Thirty crossbows fired in unison, buzzing through the air. Yet, The Eleventh, Wang Mingyin, walked forward calmly and fearlessly. He extended a hand, pointing and gesturing in the air before him, causing the first volley of arrows to fall to the ground. After one volley rained down, another followed in rapid succession. The second wave of arrows arrived swiftly. The stern-faced Wang Mingyin no longer used a single finger to gesture. He clenched both fists, his clothes billowing, actually adopting a barbaric posture as if to directly withstand the crossbows. Several volleys of arrows were violently deflected by the vital energy swirling around his body, embedding themselves diagonally into the ground. In an instant, the area behind Wang Mingyin was covered in arrows, yet he remained completely unscathed as he strode directly towards the thirty mounted light cavalry.

A crossbow is truly a crossbow when its force is furious.

Yet, this farmer-like man silently blocked the continuous, ink-like deluge of crossbow bolts.

He said he wanted to borrow the Prince's head.

And he would do exactly as he said.

Yuan Meng, the Fengzi Camp Captain, his pupils contracted, stared intently at the nameless martial artist. He reined in his horse and charged forward, drawing his saber. The Beiliang light cavalry cooperated skillfully. The twenty men on either side of Yuan Meng, fanned out, reloaded their crossbows to create pressure, while the remaining ten behind him followed the captain, drawing their sabers and charging. The Beiliang army prioritized cavalry first. Not to mention the formidable heavy armored cavalry, even the horses provided for the light cavalry were far superior to those of cavalry outside Beiliang. Moreover, the Fengzi Camp was the Beiliang Army's direct personal guard; their mounts were all heavy breeds, over seven feet tall and weighing more than two thousand *jin*. Under a charge, the cavalry, whether wielding sabers or spears, were like a surging mountain torrent, their mounted combat power astonishing. Pei Nanwei didn't know much about the Spring and Autumn Wars, having only heard rumors of the Beiliang cavalry's invincibility. Seeing the charge of ten riders today, she couldn't help but feel dizzy and shaken. If ten men and ten horses were already like this, what a formidable presence must the Beiliang King's three hundred thousand iron cavalry have been when they trampled the Six Kingdoms back then?

But the next scene made Princess Pei's eyes widen. The burly, farmer-like man faced the charging ten cavalry. With both hands, he deflected the arrow rain coming from the fanned-out sides, then began to run with large strides. He brutally collided head-on with Captain Yuan Meng's tall horse, who was leading the charge. The cruel scene of a rural farmer bleeding three feet, which the Princess of Jing'an had expected, did not occur. Instead, the stolid man's "mountain-crashing" impact broke the warhorse's neck, sending Yuan Meng, rider and horse alike, flying. Yuan Meng didn't even have time to swing his saber. The man then quickened his pace, his feet thundering on the ground, no less loud than hoofbeats. Spreading his hands, he braced them against two horses, and with a sudden burst of power, he sent the two riders behind Yuan Meng, all four hooves suspended, crashing sideways.

Pei Nanwei, born into a family of literary scholars and then raised by the Prince of Jing'an in a gilded cage, slightly opened her mouth, her face filled with disbelief. Was there actually a martial artist in the world with such god-like strength?

After this farmer-like man had tossed aside three warhorses in quick succession, two Beiliang sabers from his sides finally seized the opportunity to strike. The man, with strength capable of uprooting mountains, his face as calm as still water, grasped the sharpest standard Beiliang sabers in the world. With just a twist, he bent them.

"Get down,"

He calmly stated two words, and two fierce light cavalrymen were pulled off their horses and thrown away.

The warhorse leading the charge stopped abruptly, its hooves raised high, then stomped down heavily.

His large, cushion-like hands retracted like lightning, rising above his head. He gripped the immensely heavy hoof and, with a cold snort, ripped the warhorse apart.

How much strength would it take to literally tear a warhorse, still under the momentum of a charge, into two pieces?

The Fengzi Camp light cavalryman, without his mount, fell. He was precisely struck in the chest by the farmer-like man's fist; his armor and chest exploded simultaneously, killing him instantly and leaving him a bloody mess.

The next few cavalrymen were all easily thrown by this courageous man, none escaping.

Pei Nanwei couldn't bear to watch any longer. She instinctively glanced at the Beiliang Prince standing in front of her. His back remained straight. She shifted slightly, finally catching a glimpse of his profile, but she didn't see the expected panic. This greatly disappointed Pei Nanwei. The man was unstoppable and had declared he would take Xu Fengnian's head. Was Xu Fengnian truly not afraid in the slightest? Pei Nanwei looked back at the battlefield. In just one exchange, several of the Prince's personal cavalry guards had fallen. But what truly shocked Princess Pei was that, despite such a brutal situation, the remaining Fengzi Camp light cavalry still stood tall and straight like the Prince himself, seemingly unfazed by the bloody scene. Especially the burly general wielding the great halberd, encased in heavy black armor. Including himself, his armor, and the iron halberd, he must have weighed over four hundred *jin*. Facing defeat, he simply remained on his horse, unmoving and steadfast. What a terrifyingly unyielding heart! Princess Pei felt a pang of sympathy and fear. Were all Beiliang soldiers this ruthless?

The great halberd-wielding Ning Emei raised his arm, gripping the halberd, its tip pointing at The Eleventh, Wang Mingyin. Among the twenty cavalry, ten silently raised their crossbows, while the other ten continued their charge.

Behind this man, among the initial ten cavalry, those who hadn't died, if lightly wounded, remounted and reformed their ranks; if severely wounded, they sat on the ground and picked up crossbows.

They subtly formed a pincer attack.

For Beiliang facing an enemy, there was only one path: to fight to the death.

The Princess of Jing'an watched as those ten cavalrymen charged forward, risking their lives. In the past, when Prince Jing'an Zhao Heng spoke, she never quite understood the bone-chilling coldness in his words. Now, she finally began to grasp the meaning of that statement.

She asked in a trembling voice, "Can your light cavalry hold them back?"

Xu Fengnian said nothing, his gaze fixed on the ongoing top-tier sword dao battle between Li Chungang and Wu Liuding. Beads of sweat had already formed on his forehead. All he could do now was to memorize everything he could discern from their sword techniques. This was tens of millions of times more mentally taxing than memorizing Go opening patterns. The Old Sword God had abandoned the use of sword qi, engaging Wu Liuding purely with sword techniques. Both sides' sword moves were perfected, reaching the peak of subtlety. The old man probably intended for him to benefit from observing the fight; he couldn't waste this good intention. The Wu Family Sword Mound had taken an unconventional path, forsaking elusive sword intent and solely pursuing techniques so profound that no one could unravel them. Rumor had it that the swordsmen within the mound were all withered like ghosts, including many master swordsmen who had challenged and been subsequently imprisoned by the Wu family, forced to spend their lives "feeding" and "nurturing" swords for Wu descendants. Over time, the Sword Mound not only buried and stored hundreds of thousands of swords but also meticulously documented myriad sword techniques of the world. Although Wu Liuding's two pieces of bamboo sword grew shorter with each clash, his techniques became increasingly dominant and fierce. As the saying goes, "an inch shorter, an inch more dangerous." Even though Wu Liuding was increasingly at a disadvantage, his ability to withstand a hundred moves from the Old Sword God, whose name implied sword qi, with mere bamboo and without defeat, was cause for pride.

Xu Fengnian slowly exhaled a turbid breath and muttered something that left Princess Pei behind him utterly bewildered: "Skilled work, indeed worthy of reward."

When Princess Pei saw the second wave of light cavalry being decimated by the advancing man, and the halberd-wielding general, who had been unmoving like a mountain, finally prepared to charge into battle, she couldn't help but ask anxiously, "If even this general can't stop him, what will you do?"

Unfortunately, Xu Fengnian still ignored her.

In a fit of anger, the Princess of Jing'an raised her hand to strike the Beiliang Prince's back. This was an instinctive action, but before she could land the blow, she was severely struck in the abdomen by the sheath of Xiudong. Her face immediately turned pale, and she crouched on the ground, her body curled up in intense, agonizing pain, her eyes filled with tears. She almost thought she was going to die.

Xu Fengnian, showing no mercy, squinted as he gazed towards the reed marsh. He still paid no heed to the fact that the great halberd-wielding Ning Emei had personally entered the fray.

Qingniao said softly, "If Ning Emei is defeated, your servant asks for a weapon."

Xu Fengnian asked curiously, "What weapon?"

Qingniao's expression was complex as she lowered her head and said, "The Moment Spear."

Xu Fengnian froze for a moment, then turned his head and said, "Where would I get that famous weapon of Wang Xiu, the Spear Immortal, from back then?"

Qingniao looked towards the carriage and calmly said, "It has always been hidden in the axle."

Xu Fengnian said in surprise, "Qingniao, tell me the truth, what is your relationship with Wang Xiu?"

Qingniao whispered, "He is my father, and he killed my mother."

Xu Fengnian sighed inwardly. After a moment of hesitation, he said, "If Ning Emei is defeated, so be it. I never expected him and the hundred light cavalry to fully exhaust Wang Mingyin. Wait until The Eleventh runs out of strength, then you can make your move."

Princess Pei, clutching her stomach and crouching on the ground, looked up through gritted teeth. "Xu Fengnian, aren't you afraid all hundred of them will die?"

Xu Fengnian turned and glanced at the Princess of Jing'an, who could no longer maintain her dignified composure. He calmly said, "What do you know?"

Pei Nanwei, who had to tilt her head back to speak with Xu Fengnian, laughed nervously. "What do I know? How are you, the Beiliang Prince, any different from Zhao Xun, the Jing'an Prince? Aren't you both the same, retreating from battle and only knowing how to send those whose lives are cheaper than ants in your eyes to die in vain? Today, I will watch how you eventually kneel and beg for mercy from that boorish martial artist."

"Then just wait and see."

Xu Fengnian turned to watch the battle between Wu Liuding in his green robe and the Old Sword God in sheepskin. As expected, Li Chungang's patience was about to run out; the real, exhilarating battle was about to begin.

Qingniao stared at Pei Nanwei.

One was a lowly, unspeakable servant, the other an exceedingly wealthy and dignified princess.

Yet at this moment, it was Qingniao who looked down on Pei Nanwei, while the latter felt a chill run down her spine and became silent as a cicada in winter.

Princess Pei watched as the maid with murderous eyes walked towards the carriage, bent down, and pulled out an axle. It shattered in her hands, revealing a crimson long spear.

The spear's name was "Moment"?