Chapter 4: The Long Spear Sweeps Away the Snow, A Smile Defies Kings and Nobles

Zhang Yuan’s face was taut as he nodded heavily.

In the past three months, Xu Huanshan had saved Zhang Yuan at least twice.

Reaching out, Zhang Yuan pressed his hands over the thin, dark-skinned man’s eyes. With his left hand, he gripped the crossbow bolt that had pierced through the man’s body and gave it a forceful twist.

He let go; the thin, dark-skinned man had already breathed his last.

Zhang Yuan stood up, his body stiff.

This was not the first comrade he had sent off, nor would it be the last.

"Boom—"

Ahead, the black-armored soldiers rushing from the alley entrance were finally pushed back, but several siege crossbows whistled as they fired, their bolts piercing through the bodies of the city guards blocking the alley.

These bolts, fired from bed crossbows with the strength of three oxen, meant certain death if one was struck.

"Duan Hong, you hold this position! I’m going to dismantle those bed crossbows!"

The red-armored giant leading the troops gave a low shout. Clutching his long spear, he vaulted onto the eaves of a house a zhang high. Dragging his spear, he crouched low and sprinted toward the bed crossbows pushed into the breach in the city wall.

With the red-armored giant—a late-stage Houtian realm expert—no longer leading the charge, the black-armored soldiers at the alley entrance brandished their blades and spears and surged forward again.

"Form up! Shields up! Shields up—"

Duan Hong roared. He tossed his blade aside, grabbed a heavy door panel, and held it horizontally across the alley entrance, bracing his feet to push forward.

The spearmen in the formation rested their long spears on the door panel, thrusting them forward heavily to block the charging black-armored soldiers.

Archers leaned against the alley walls, trading fire with the enemy archers opposite them.

A martial artist at the early Houtian realm possessed five hundred jin of strength. With three-shi hard bows, at a distance of ten zhang, their arrows could pierce right through a body.

Zhang Yuan gripped his blade, rushed a few steps to Duan Hong’s side, lowered his body, and braced his shoulder against the door panel.

Young Master Tao, holding a wooden spear by the wall behind them, looked dazed.

In the past, Zhang Yuan had never been one to charge forward.

"You brat—"

Duan Hong gave a low shout, but before he could finish, a loud boom echoed from the door panel he was bracing.

"Bang—"

A wooden pillar, half a zhang long and two chi in circumference, was carried by four or five black-armored soldiers and slammed into the door panel.

The heavy impact of the pillar caused Duan Hong’s face to flush red, the veins on his forehead bulging.

Zhang Yuan, shoulder pressed against the door, also felt his face flush.

He lowered his head, gripping his blade tightly.

In his mind, a blood-red bead rolled out from the chaos, followed by a grey-blue bead that shattered.

Surging qi and blood rushed into his meridians. The sensation of fullness, so intense it felt like he was being torn apart, brought a sense of calm to Zhang Yuan’s heart.

This was the power Xu Huanshan had gifted him.

One blood bead, fifty jin of strength.

With another fifty jin of strength added, Zhang Yuan felt he now possessed six hundred jin of force, bringing his cultivation one step closer to the mid-Houtian realm.

Without heaven-defying fortune, someone like him would never have touched the threshold of the mid-Houtian realm in his entire life.

As the grey-blue bead in his mind shattered, an image of a blade slashing horizontally emerged.

The Cloak Blade Technique.

From the beginning, when Xu Huanshan practiced the blade stroke by stroke, to the chaotic, messy moves he used to kill on the battlefield—this kind of messy technique was far more lethal than any by-the-book style.

Life-and-death combat was the greatest whetstone for martial arts techniques.

The image dissipated, and Zhang Yuan felt his comprehension of the blade technique reach an indescribable realm.

In the previous battle, Zhang Yuan’s understanding of the Cloak Blade Technique had reached the Great Completion level.

Now, the martial insights gained from those two "finishing blows" had elevated his understanding of the blade to an even higher level.

"Blade Technique Perfection!"

Zhang Yuan whispered to himself, head bowed.

In his mind, the information reflected on the chaotic interface confirmed it: Cloak Blade Technique, Perfection.

It wasn't just the blade technique.

There was also the fist technique.

After the light-shadow insight elevated his blade technique, it transformed into a grey-blue aura that dispersed into Zhang Yuan’s body.

Zhang Yuan could feel his muscles and bones tighten, then relax.

The army commonly practiced the Iron Armor Fist.

This set of six-form Iron Armor Fist, originally meant only for tempering muscles and bones, underwent a different change in Zhang Yuan’s perception.

It was also at the level of Perfection!

"Bang—"

The heavy impact force from the door panel interrupted his thoughts.

He, Duan Hong, and the other two soldiers were all forced to take steps back.

An arm-thick crossbow bolt pierced through the door panel, entering a chi away from Zhang Yuan’s shoulder and protruding more than two chi through the other side. The thick arrowhead shimmered with a cold, lethal light, vibrating with a "humming" sound.

Had the bolt been off by a chi, it would have pierced Zhang Yuan’s skull.

"Bang—"

Before they could catch their breath, the heavy wooden pillar slammed into the door panel again.

Zhang Yuan and Duan Hong were jolted, collapsing to the ground.

The other two soldiers spat out blood and slumped over, incapacitated.

"I, the Commandant, have slain Zhou Quan, Commandant of the Red Scale Army, at the west city of Fengtian County—"

Ahead, a shout that echoed for miles turned everyone’s faces deathly pale.

Commandant Zhou Quan of the Red Scale Army was the very red-armored giant who had just rushed out to destroy the bed crossbows.

A late-stage Houtian realm expert, a martial powerhouse with fifteen hundred jin of strength, had died before the formation.

"Hum—"

On the city wall ahead, a pillar of blood-red smoke rose, shooting up three zhang before collapsing with a roar.

A Xiantian realm martial artist had fallen; their qi, blood, and true essence returned to the heavens and earth, manifesting as a pillar of blood-red smoke!

A Xiantian realm expert had fallen!

"I am Cao Yun, and I have slain Feng Jiliang, Deputy General of the Great Qin’s Red Scale Army."

The voice was like a thunderclap, shaking the entire city.

Deputy General Feng Jiliang was the commander of the Red Scale Army stationed in the west city.

Fengtian County had a total of six Xiantian realm experts; three had fallen in the past three months.

With Deputy General Feng Jiliang slain today, only two Xiantian realm experts remained in the city: Commander Yu Lin and Vice-Commander Zhao Changming of the Red Scale Army.

How could this Fengtian County still be defended?

"Clang—"

"Clang—"

"Clang—"

The urgent sound of the gong rang out.

"All Qin army soldiers, retreat and defend the south city at all costs!"

The command was hoarse, yet resolute.

"Retreat, retreat..." Duan Hong, still bracing the door panel, looked at the surging black-armored figures in the alley, gritted his teeth, grabbed Zhang Yuan’s shoulder, and turned to run.

After only a few steps, Zhang Yuan stopped and shook off his hand.

Gripping his blade, Zhang Yuan turned to face the black-armored soldiers charging through the alley.

If no one stayed behind to cover the retreat, none of their squad would make it to the south city alive.

"Duan-tou, the rules of the camp: finish the job, cover the retreat."

"You’ve always been the ones charging in front. Now it’s time for me, Zhang Yuan, to cover for you."

Duan Hong trembled, his lips quivering.

"Haha, covering the retreat? Leave that to me." Young Master Tao, standing by the alley, laughed. He spun his wooden spear, held it in one hand, and covered two zhang in three steps, blocking the middle of the alley.

"Go, go!"

"A long spear dances like flying snow; a smile treats princes and nobles as nothing. With a spear in hand, I, Tao Yulin, am not incapable of killing."

The tip of his wooden spear was merely a dagger, but its cold, dark glint brushed past the necks of two black-armored soldiers, drawing out a brilliant, crimson red.

One spear, two armors broken.

At least mid-Houtian realm strength!

Young Master Tao, who had always been afraid to kill, actually possessed such combat power.

Having succeeded with one strike, Young Master Tao laughed, his spear flying as he thrust seven or eight times, forcing the charging black-armored soldiers back.

"Go—"

Young Master Tao gave a low shout.

Duan Hong and the other soldiers looked at each other, gritted their teeth, and turned to run.

In the face of battle, everyone had their duty; those meant to cover the retreat had to stake their lives on it.

"Zhang Yuan, don't die." The old soldier in half-plate armor whispered as he ran past Zhang Yuan.