Chapter 37: The Buddha is Merciful

“Reinforcements—”

“Archers, take the high ground!”

“Armor up!”

The armored sentries had already charged out of the main camp the moment the distress flares ascended into the sky.

Over a dozen archers, with quivers strapped to their backs, sprinted toward the hills beside the river bend.

Soldiers rushing from other military tents quickly paired up, assisting one another in donning their armor.

Zhang Yuan looked toward Yu Changlong, who was charging toward him in full plate.

“Old Yu, I’ll leave this to you. I’m going to check it out.”

As the words left his mouth, he had already sprinted out of the camp.

By the river bend, three wooden boats had run aground. Because they were loaded with iron ore, the Yong'an County magistrate had stationed bailiffs there, and several guards in black robes from the Martial Guard Office were also on duty.

“Chaos Auxiliary Combat.”

Standing on the riverbank, Zhang Yuan whispered to himself, his body never ceasing its rapid pace.

A flash of gold and red light flickered in his eyes, and lines of virtual trajectories crisscrossed before him.

Upon the three wooden boats, several faint red silhouettes emerged.

With his current cultivation level, unless they were in the Grandmaster Realm, it would be impossible for them to manifest red and black shadows.

In truth, he could use his Innate Realm essence and soul perception to quickly determine the enemies' cultivation and positions, but doing so would expose his own level of cultivation.

With a single stride covering thirty feet, he leaped onto the deck of a wooden boat. A lingering scent of blood permeated the vessel, which had already been washed.

At the bow, two bailiffs lay prone, their bodies soaked in blood.

As Zhang Yuan approached the cabin, an armored soldier sat slumped against the door, the plates of his chest armor shattered.

Zhang Yuan pressed his hand down, his expression instantly darkening.

A single strike had crushed the ribs and internal organs—this was a heavy blow exceeding a thousand jin.

*Swish—*

*Swish—*

Arrows whistled through the air, passing over Zhang Yuan’s head toward another wooden boat.

Over there, several pillars of faint red light were clashing.

Zhang Yuan turned and stepped onto the gunwale, his body soaring two feet into the air as he barked, “Get out of the way!”

Hearing his command, the soldiers on board retreated, revealing several figures of martial artists dressed in black.

Mid-air, Zhang Yuan reached down.

The lead black-clad martial artist held a heavy saber and swung it upward to meet Zhang Yuan’s head.

This strike was not only fast but possessed immense weight, clearly demonstrating a high level of saber mastery.

Facing the descending blade, Zhang Yuan did not dodge. He transformed his outstretched palm into a fist and, with a whip-like motion of his arm, struck the face of the heavy saber.

*Bang—*

The martial artist could not hold onto his weapon; the heavy saber was knocked away with a loud clang, piercing deep into the deck.

The martial artist’s face was filled with horror as he scrambled backward.

Zhang Yuan descended, his feet shattering the deck. The black-clad martial artists in front of him fell into the cabin along with the splintering wood.

The cabin was filled with dark, cold iron ore. Before the men could even steady themselves, Zhang Yuan flew in, landing a punch squarely in the lead martial artist's chest.

A thousand jin of force.

The martial artist shuddered, blood spraying from his mouth as his body went limp.

Zhang Yuan’s control over his strength had reached the realm of "lifting the heavy as if it were light." The thousand jin of force from his punch hit the opponent's chest perfectly—the ribs remained intact, but the internal organs were all ruptured.

In the martial world, there is a saying: "Striking the cow from behind the mountain."

In reality, this method of force circulation should be called "Penetrating Force."

It was a form of strength control and application that could only be executed with fluid precision if one's martial cultivation was sufficiently high.

Having killed the enemy with one punch, Zhang Yuan stepped forward, turning to deliver an elbow strike to the chest of a martial artist swinging a blade at his side.

Iron Armor Punch, Turning Elbow.

*Bang—*

The martial artist, who possessed early Post-Natal cultivation, was sent flying, crashing into the cabin wall and shattering it, his body wedged in the wreckage.

For this strike, Zhang Yuan had utilized the "Mountain-Shaking Force," which treated the heavy as if it were light.

It looked like a casual blow, but the explosive power was magnificent, as if a mountain were trembling.

“These guys are tough!”

“Retreat!”

The ferocity of Zhang Yuan’s two strikes instantly stripped the remaining martial artists of their courage to fight; they turned to flee.

Zhang Yuan’s gaze swept across them, and in a few strides, he caught up to a martial artist wielding a saber.

Seeing Zhang Yuan pursuing him, the martial artist knew escape was impossible. With a ferocious expression, he spun around and slashed his long saber toward Zhang Yuan’s head.

Martial arts techniques from the wandering world differ somewhat from military combat techniques.

The military emphasizes the killing blow with clean, efficient movements.

Wandering martial arts involve many more skirmishing moves, utilizing feints and shifts to make them difficult to defend against.

If their cultivation and combat power were equal, this ferocious turning strike would force an opponent to dodge.

But Zhang Yuan’s cultivation was supreme, and his martial path was perfectly integrated. As the long saber descended, he didn't even look at it.

He stepped forward and pressed his arm out.

The martial artist's arm, which was swinging the saber, was blocked by Zhang Yuan's forearm.

Taking advantage of the momentum, Zhang Yuan grabbed the man's arm and twisted it violently.

*Crack—*

The martial artist's arm snapped and twisted directly at the elbow.

“Agh—!”

With a scream of agony, the man shuddered, staring at Zhang Yuan in terror.

Zhang Yuan reached out, gripped the man by the throat, and hoisted him up, leaving his feet dangling in the air.

“Speak. Who are you?”

His voice was cold and sharp, devoid of any emotion.

These bandits daring to raid a government garrison and commit murder was already a provocation against the Martial Guard Office.

“I... I—”

The martial artist, his face turning purple from the grip on his throat, struggled to speak.

“We... we are from Guangyuan Village...”

Before he could finish, a whistling sound came from behind Zhang Yuan.

Without changing his expression, Zhang Yuan swung his arm and hurled the gripped martial artist away.

*Thud—*

With a heavy impact, the thrown man's spine snapped, his body twisting as he fell onto the pile of iron ore.

A single strike, a thousand-jin punch.

Zhang Yuan turned to face the figure slowly pulling back a fist.

In the darkness, the face was not entirely clear, but the bald head gleamed brightly.

“Buddhist Fist techniques.”

“A Buddhist follower from Liangyuan Territory.”

Zhang Yuan’s eyes narrowed, killing intent surging within them.

“Since when do the vermin of Liangyuan dare to run wild in my Great Qin!”

With a low shout, Zhang Yuan lunged forward, his movement trailing a gust of wind as he threw a punch.

The bald figure's expression shifted. Gritting his teeth, he met Zhang Yuan's punch with his own, shouting, “Mingwang Suppresses the World—”

Buddhism was widespread in Liangyuan Territory, emphasizing the use of external force to temper the self through the path of asceticism.

The cold, harsh lands of Liangyuan were perfectly suited for Buddhist cultivation.

Buddhist techniques focused on the exterior to temper the interior; they were fierce and heavy. At the same level of cultivation, their blood-qi was significantly more robust than that of standard martial artists.

This was why many martial artists of the same level dared not face Buddhist practitioners.

At this moment, the Buddhist practitioner facing Zhang Yuan was at the mid-Post-Natal stage, with a punch exceeding a thousand jin.

It was precisely because of this that he dared to trade blows with Zhang Yuan even after seeing his overwhelming strength.

*Bang—*

The two fists collided with a thunderous roar.

Zhang Yuan remained unmoved, his stance steady. The Buddhist practitioner stumbled, and a faint *crack* echoed from his arm—his bones and tendons had clearly been shattered.

“You... you aren't mid-Post-Natal—”

The Buddhist practitioner looked up at Zhang Yuan, his eyes filled with sheer shock and terror.

Zhang Yuan took a step forward and clamped his hand onto the top of the man's head.

“Speak. What are you looking for?”

While tens of thousands of jin of iron ore were valuable, it was impossible to transport it all.

The only reason was that these people were searching for something.

Something very important.

Something they were willing to kill for.

“Buddha is merciful... you cannot ask—”

Before the man could finish, Zhang Yuan applied pressure with his palm.

*Crack—*

The neck bones snapped, and the spine shattered.

The Buddhist practitioner's eyes bulged, blood streaming from his facial orifices. His body collapsed to the ground, his breath extinguished.

“If you won't speak, someone else will.”

Zhang Yuan turned toward the figures fleeing the cabin, his gaze landing on the one emitting the brightest pillar of light.

Late Post-Natal.

A true expert.