Rumble—
Thunder roared across the stormy night, as if the gods themselves were bellowing in rage, casting a pall of oppression over the Taikun Mountain Range.
Within the forest, Yang Jueding and Li Qingqiu pressed onward through the pouring rain. When they reached a relatively flat stretch, Yang Jueding turned to look at Li Qingqiu.
"Braving such a heavy downpour is bound to affect our physical condition. And the Seven Peaks Alliance is far from here—it'll take days to reach. Why don't we rest tonight and rent a couple of horses in town tomorrow?"
Yang Jueding felt Li Qingqiu had lost all reason. He'd agreed to accompany him, hoping a good soaking might bring the young Sect Master to his senses.
Li Qingqiu replied, "It's fine. We don't need to rush. We just need to catch up to that retreating Seven Peaks group. They're dragging along many wounded—they can't have gotten far."
"Ah, I see. I really thought you were planning to charge straight into the Seven Peaks Alliance."
Yang Jueding breathed a sigh of relief. He'd almost said, "I thought you'd gone mad."
The two of them attacking the Seven Peaks Alliance? Certain death.
But hunting down a group of wounded martial artists? That was well within their grasp.
"In that case, let's pick up the pace!"
Yang Jueding's spirits lifted. He quickened his steps. Li Qingqiu made no objection—this suited him fine.
Through the dim forest, Yang Jueding employed his lightness skill while Li Qingqiu used Gale Skill. They flitted through the trees like specters, appearing almost never to touch the ground.
The night deepened. The relentless rain began to ease, as if the heavens themselves had exhausted their fury.
On the mountain path winding between peaks, several hundred sturdy horses moved at a slow pace. Many carried wounded martial artists. Another hundred or so led their mounts, trudging forward.
Yue Zhenchuan walked at the front. Rainwater streamed down his face. His gaze was icy, but within, he was haunted by fear.
A wound marked his neck—a near miss that had almost slit his throat.
The image of Jiang Zhaoxia, fighting like a demon, wouldn't leave his mind. Nor would the young girl who had nearly killed him with a single sword stroke.
The Azure Firmament Sect harbored two such terrifying youths. And then there was Li Sifeng. Yue Zhenchuan couldn't fathom it.
Not even the hegemonic sects he'd visited possessed monstrous prodigies like these.
This blood feud was already set. The Seven Peaks Alliance couldn't undo it. He had to bring word back, muster the Alliance's full strength, and annihilate the Azure Firmament Sect. Otherwise, in ten years—no, five—the Seven Peaks Alliance would face utter destruction.
The more Yue Zhenchuan thought, the more terrified he became. He even began to wonder if the Azure Firmament Sect harbored demons. News of Lin Xunfeng's quest for immortality had spread far and wide; many martial heroes mocked him as delusional, Yue Zhenchuan included. But now... had Lin Xunfeng encountered something that sparked this obsession?
The rain had stopped, but Yue Zhenchuan's heart remained clouded.
"Heroes ahead, please hold!"
A deep, resonant voice rang out from behind. The Seven Peaks disciples spun around in alarm, fearing the Azure Firmament Sect had come for them.
Yue Zhenchuan jolted in fright and turned. Two figures in straw rain capes were rapidly approaching. In the dim night, they could barely discern human shapes.
Though only two, after the day's brutal battle, the Seven Peaks disciples couldn't afford to be careless. They drew their weapons and braced for conflict.
With wounded to drag along and their own injuries, they couldn't outrun anyone. Fleeing would leave them easy pickings.
"I am Yang Jueding! Heroes, have you heard my name?"
Yang Jueding's voice rang out again. At his self-introduction, the Seven Peaks disciples exchanged glances and visibly relaxed.
The Dragon Subduing Hero, Yang Jueding—in Gu Prefecture's martial world, everyone knew the name.
Yue Zhenchuan also breathed easier. He knew Yang Jueding. When Yang Jueding had visited the Seven Peaks Alliance, Yue Zhenchuan had witnessed his skills firsthand. Though perhaps not quite his equal, Yang Jueding's palm strikes truly merited his top-ten ranking on the Heavenly List.
"Brother Yang! Come, join us!"
Yue Zhenchuan called out, even gesturing invitingly.
With Yang Jueding accompanying them, they'd surely be safer.
Yang Jueding seemed to recognize him and quickened his pace. The Seven Peaks disciples parted to make way.
"What's with the ragged look? Been fighting the Azure Cult?"
Yang Jueding removed his rain hat as he drew near, his tone teasing.
Yue Zhenchuan paid little attention to the figure behind him, replying with a wry smile, "Went out on business. Took a beating."
Yang Jueding stepped before Yue Zhenchuan, eyeing his injuries. "Impressive. From those sword wounds, the attacks were fast—aiming for your life with every strike."
Yue Zhenchuan's expression soured. He snorted, "A formidable opponent indeed. I was careless today..."
"Are you from the Seven Peaks Alliance?"
Li Qingqiu stepped around Yang Jueding, fixing his gaze on Yue Zhenchuan.
Yue Zhenchuan couldn't make out his face in the darkness and assumed he was Yang Jueding's junior. He replied casually, "Yes. Our Seven Peaks Alliance and this Dragon Subduing Hero beside you are old acquaintances..."
Before he could finish, a blade flashed. Yang Jueding had no time to dodge; blood splattered across his face. His eyes went wide with shock.
Yue Zhenchuan's eyes also flew open. Both hands flew to his throat, but blood gushed uncontrollably between his fingers.
"You..."
Yue Zhenchuan stared at Li Qingqiu in disbelief, his body swaying before toppling backward.
The nearby Seven Peaks disciples' expressions shifted drastically. Before they could speak, Li Qingqiu spun and swung his sword, another throat slashed open.
Not far off, Yue Zhenchuan's young disciple had seized the moment to rest. Sitting on a rock, about to pull down his trousers to check a thigh wound, he suddenly saw his master stagger and collapse. He froze.
Just as he opened his mouth to speak, he saw the rain-caped figure beside Yang Jueding turn and hurl his sword directly at him.
Thunk!
The blade pierced the young man's forehead, dragging him backward several yards before stopping. By then, his life was already extinguished—dead with eyes wide open.
Li Qingqiu dashed over, yanked the sword from his head, and lunged like a phantom at the remaining Seven Peaks disciples.
They finally reacted, turning to face him.
Having broken through to the third layer of the Nourishing Origin stage, Li Qingqiu was a transformed being. His senses were sharper, his body more agile, his reactions lightning-fast.
With each person he passed, he killed. No wasted motion. The sound of blade slicing flesh and sinew rang out continuously.
After a brief moment of shock, Yang Jueding spun around. Seeing the bodies strewn across the ground, he was terrified by Li Qingqiu.
So fast!
So ruthless!
He'd suspected Li Qingqiu was strong, but never imagined this strong—not even Jiang Zhaoxia could compare.
"Kill him!"
An older Seven Peaks disciple, face twisted with rage, raised his blade and charged.
The others followed. This spooked the horses; panicked neighing erupted. Some bolted, flinging wounded riders to the ground, where hooves trampled them to death.
In an instant, the mountain slope plunged into chaos.
Every one of these Seven Peaks disciples was wounded. Even at full strength, they'd be no match for Li Qingqiu. Now, dragging their injuries, they stood even less chance.
The battle became a one-sided slaughter. Watching Li Qingqiu run rampant, Yang Jueding felt a chill crawl up his spine.
Such killing intent!
Yang Jueding had roamed the martial world, but he valued martial prowess and reputation over slaughter—that's what made him a "hero." What he witnessed now deeply unsettled him.
He tried to rationalize it: the Seven Peaks Alliance had started this. They weren't a righteous sect; they'd committed plenty of evil in the martial world.
When he'd visited them years ago, ostensibly to exchange pointers, he'd actually hoped to humble them. He'd failed and had to pretend friendship.
But no matter how he justified it, watching Li Qingqiu move like a tiger among sheep, he couldn't help wondering: if he faced Li Qingqiu's wrath, how many moves could he survive?
When half the Seven Peaks disciples lay dead, the survivors finally broke. They fled. Li Qingqiu showed no mercy, hunting them down one by one.
These disciples, wounded and exhausted from travel, didn't get far before Li Qingqiu caught and killed them.
An incense stick's time later.
Li Qingqiu walked back to Yang Jueding, sword in hand. He raised his head; beneath his rain hat, his face was smeared with blood.
"Just one left. He won't get far. I'll kill him, then head to the Seven Peaks Alliance. You stay here. With no one to carry word back, they won't come again. Tomorrow, have the disciples clean up the bodies up on the mountain. Don't let disease spread."
With that, he turned and walked in the direction the last disciple had fled.
After two steps, he seemed to remember something and looked back at Yang Jueding. "One more thing. Search all these bodies. See if there's anything valuable. Bring it all back to the mountain. And tonight's events—don't breathe a word to any disciple. Not even my junior siblings. Tell them I'm patrolling the mountain."
He turned and walked away, sword in hand.
Under the vast night sky, Yang Jueding watched Li Qingqiu's retreating figure. His mouth opened, but no words came.
Having witnessed Li Qingqiu's terrifying strength, he felt that even if the young Sect Master failed at the Seven Peaks Alliance, he could at the very least escape unscathed.
He stood rooted, watching until Li Qingqiu vanished over the ridge. Only then did he snap back to reality. Turning, he surveyed the field of corpses and couldn't help but wince.
He suddenly felt this task Li Qingqiu had assigned might be no easier than the slaughter itself.
Three li away.
The last Seven Peaks disciple fled down a slope. In his panic, his foot caught on a rock. He tumbled head over heels, bouncing and crashing all the way down.
When he finally came to a stop, his whole body screamed with pain. He felt his bones were nearly shattered.
Gasping, he struggled to rise. He looked up—and his eyes went wide. Despair flooded his face.
Following his gaze: on the ridge above, Li Qingqiu stood in his straw rain cape, sword in hand, looking down at him. The clouds had just parted, and the bright moon hung directly overhead, framing him in silver light.