Chapter 51: One Slash Kill

“The world calls me the ‘Skull-Cracking Bamboo Staff Elder.’ My greatest passion in life is to crush human skulls and feast upon the brain matter, for it is truly exquisite.”

The elder in the straw raincoat spoke next, his gaze fixed upon the heads of Sun Changyu and the coachman, as he lightly tapped his bamboo staff against the waterlogged street.

It was as if he were contemplating the exact force and sensation he would feel when striking their heads.

A moment of silence followed within the curtain of rain.

The elder’s eyes shifted toward the rooftops of the adjacent shops, looking at the two figures in black, and said

“Do you two not intend to reveal your identities?”

Upon hearing this, one of the masked men in black slowly shook his head and replied

“There is no need. Once the killing is done, you will naturally know who struck.”

The elder did not seem to mind. He turned his gaze toward the carriage ahead and said

“No rush to kill the prince. Once we deal with these two eunuch curs, we shall each rely on our own skill to claim the heads.”

At this, the two swordsmen in green replied

“That sounds excellent.”

In the next instant, the true qi surrounding the two erupted. The longswords at their waists vibrated with a piercing whistle and unsheathed in a flash.

Transforming into two streaks of clear light, they tore through the air like lightning, shooting straight toward the coachman and the Grand Eunuch, Sun Changyu.

The elder in the straw raincoat did not delay. His withered palm struck the bamboo staff in his hand heavily.

The staff began to spin rapidly, churning the surrounding wind and rain, and flew toward Sun Changyu and the coachman with equal ferocity.

Simultaneously, the elder’s seemingly hunched body surged with rolling true qi, emitting a scorching red light. Like a leaping hare, he followed closely behind the bamboo staff without missing a step.

Where the staff went, the man followed, his murderous intent clinging to him like a shadow.

The Grand Eunuch, Sun Changyu, said nothing. He simply reached out a hand toward the air.

The surrounding rainwater fell toward him and, under the shroud of his Kuiyin True Qi, transformed into rows of ghostly, freezing ice shards. In the next moment, they shot toward the charging elder like a volley of arrows.

The coachman spun around to stand behind the carriage. Gripping his saber with both hands, he swung a sudden, horizontal slash at the two streaks of clear light.

A fierce blade light, several feet long, erupted from the edge of his weapon. The curtain of rain before him turned to mist under the intense radiance, manifesting a soaring blade shadow that spanned the length of the street.

A clanging sound, louder than the rolling thunder in the sky, echoed through the rain. In mid-air, the sword light and blade light intertwined before exploding and dissipating into nothingness.

“Not bad!”

“What a domineering saber technique.”

The voices of the two green-clad swordsmen drew closer. The two intercepted streaks of light had, at some unknown point, fallen into their hands, transforming into two winding, azure steel spirit-serpents that lunged straight for the coachman’s ribs.

“The nameless experts of the Tianjin Guard are indeed numerous. But the two of us, working together, can contend with a Celestial. Killing you will be effortless.”

The two swordsmen laughed in unison.

As their words reached the coachman’s ears, his expression changed drastically.

The two were too fast, and the swords in their hands were even faster. By the time he reacted, he only had enough time to cross his saber in defense before the powerful sword qi blasted him backward.

*Bang! Bang! Bang!*

The coachman’s feet plowed deep furrows several feet into the street, and the surrounding several yards of brick pavement shattered and flew outward.

A brief cloud of lime and dust rose in the rain, only to be quickly extinguished by the downpour.

*Crack!*

The coachman looked down; the long saber in his hands had suddenly fractured, breaking into several pieces that fell to the ground.

Two sword gashes had been carved across his waist. Bright red blood flowed along with the rainwater, staining the puddle beneath him.

Meanwhile, after the Grand Eunuch Sun Changyu’s freezing ice shards were broken by the elder’s spinning bamboo staff, the elder’s figure flickered forward. Condensing Kuiyin True Qi in his palm, he unleashed another strike: the “Kuiyin Profound Palm.”

In an instant, the air was frozen by chilling energy, and the standing water on the ground solidified into a layer of pitch-black mystic ice.

The elder showed no fear. His bamboo staff, now like a glowing red iron rod, was wreathed in crimson light and steaming with heat. The tip of the staff collided directly with the Kuiyin Profound Palm.

In the next moment, the terrifying shockwaves of true qi rippled outward, causing the two high walls and the shops surrounding them to collapse into a field of ruins.

However, Grand Eunuch Sun Changyu was clearly a step behind. He was blasted back by the elder’s staff, only managing to stop himself once he reached the front of the carriage.

“How is it?”

Only after the bricks beneath his feet had crumbled into powder did Sun Changyu release the force in his body. He asked the coachman behind him with a grim expression.

The coachman kept his head down in silence. He abruptly tore away his torn robes to crudely wrap his waist wound and said calmly

“We can’t win. I expect we’ll die here. I’ll try my best to hold them off; Eunuch Sun, take your men and find a chance to escape.”

Hearing this, Sun Changyu’s eyes darkened, and he instinctively glanced back at the carriage.

At that moment, Li Musheng happened to lift the carriage curtain and look out, shaking his head.

“You guys aren't cutting it either.”

As he spoke, he pointed toward the elder in the straw raincoat, who was walking slowly toward them.

“That old man’s martial cultivation is stronger than yours, and his energy counters your true qi. How are you supposed to fight him?”

Then, he glanced at the coachman and raised an eyebrow.

“And you are even worse. Two against one—bullying the weak. You have absolutely no chance.”

Sun Changyu took a deep breath and said in a feminine, soft voice

“Young Master Li surely possesses formidable martial arts. Perhaps you should think about how to escape from these people instead?”

The coachman said nothing. He merely gripped the small remaining fragment of his saber's hilt and spoke

“I have worked with Eunuch Sun for many years. After I die, I ask that Eunuch Sun deliver my pension to my daughter. I do not trust the others in the Tianjin Guard.”

“Also, while there is still time—run!”

With that, the coachman, gripping the hilt, suddenly charged toward the two green-clad swordsmen who were watching with smiles.

His body vanished into a residual shadow, leaving nothing behind in the pouring rain but a vacuum-like human silhouette.

“Que Dao Zhan! (Severing Blade Slash!)”

The coachman let out a low roar. Holding the half-fragment of the hilt with both hands, he performed a vertical downward slash toward the two swordsmen in the air.

*Hum!*

In an instant, the entire world trembled. The falling raindrops suddenly froze, dancing erratically in mid-air.

Whether it was the sound of the rain, the rushing of the gutters, or the distant rumble of thunder, all sound vanished in that heartbeat.

On the empty, dilapidated street where the carriage stood, a golden blade shadow over a dozen yards long silently rose.

That golden shadow was domineering, sharp, and dazzlingly bright, as if it had absorbed all the light in the heavens and the earth.

The blade light distorted and collapsed the very void, and in the next moment, it crashed down toward the street ahead.

This strike was so fast that from the moment the golden shadow appeared to the moment it fell like a pillar of heaven and vanished, no one could discern a single trace of its trajectory.

But in the next instant, the stretch of street ahead collapsed instantly under this single blow, turning into a long, narrow pit filled with stone debris and mud.

...

The coachman stared blankly at everything before him, his eyes wide, muttering to himself

“Was... was that really my strike?”

(End of Chapter)