Qiao Riyan appeared at the canyon's entrance as the Xiongnu warriors concealed farther back revealed themselves one after another, sealing off the way out.
Atuke's eyes nearly split with fury. "Aishake!"
Aishake lowered his head and shrank back, not daring to speak.
Atuke glared at him in outrage. "What did Qiao Riyan promise you? Why did you betray us?"
Tasa stared at Aishake in disbelief as well. He disliked Wang Yu too, but he could never bring himself to collude with the Xiongnu and lead the White Qiang prince, princess, and honored guests into an ambush!
Instead, it was Huona who said in a heavy voice, "Now is not the time to blame Aishake. Tasa and I will tie him down. Atuke, take the others and break out!"
Mayila cried out shrilly, "I'm staying with you!"
Atuke shot Aishake a murderous glare, then turned back to look at Qiao Riyan and the Xiongnu warriors flanking him.
If it were merely those hundred-odd Xiongnu warriors, they might not be able to slaughter them all, but breaking out would not have been too difficult. With Qiao Riyan present, however, the situation changed entirely.
Even in the White Qiang lands, Atuke had heard of Qiulin Ji's formidable name.
The Heavenly Wolf of the Steppes possessed all the cunning and savagery of a wolf. If the feeling all Xiongnu held toward Huyan Chi was respect, then toward Qiulin Ji, it was dread.
To the Xiongnu, he was a godlike figure; aside from Huyan Chi, none could match him.
Though Qiao Riyan was not Qiulin Ji himself, Atuke knew he was also a Xiantian expert—a master on the same level as Gulanrena. They were no match for him.
Moreover, his target was not Atuke, but Wang Yu!
Atuke immediately said to Wang Yu, "We will hold him off! Prince Zhao, take Ardai and charge out! Before the last White Qiang warrior falls, we will never allow our guests to bleed!"
"Huona, I'm sorry." Atuke turned back with difficulty. "Paliya, I'm sorry."
Paliya drew her scimitar and shouted crisply, "Atuke, you are a prince of the White Qiang! This is no time to lose heart!"
Huona nodded and likewise drew his saber. "Indeed. Now is the time to fight!"
Ardai looked toward Wang Yu, her heart pounding frantically against her ribs. She knew he had stepped into the Xiantian realm, but he had only just entered it, whereas Qiao Riyan was Qiulin Ji's chief disciple.
Though a glimmer of hope flickered in her heart, she did not dare let him take such a risk.
Furthermore, Wang Yu and Li Yunxiu had already laid out a plan. As long as it succeeded, the White Qiang's crisis would be resolved.
Yet the prerequisite for that plan was that Wang Yu could not die!
With tears brimming in her eyes, Ardai gritted her teeth. "Brother Zhao, I'll take the lead—"
Before her words could finish, she saw Wang Yu draw the ornate Kangwei Sword, flip off his saddle, and charge toward Qiao Riyan in sweeping strides.
"Qiao Riyan! Back then, my father intended to challenge your master to a duel, but unfortunately never had the chance. Today happens to be the perfect day for the two of us to fight! Let me witness your Eighteen Forms of the Heavenly Wolf, and see for yourself my Seven Forms of the Setting Sun!"
"Let the two of us duel in place of our elders!"
Everyone was stunned.
Only Ardai, watching Wang Yu's movements, caught on immediately. A gleam sparked in her eyes and vanished just as quickly before she cried out in panicked concern, "Brother Zhao!"
"Prince Zhao!" Atuke and Huona were both startled and hurriedly spurred their horses forward.
Yet unlike Wang Yu and Ardai, who had lingered at the very rear and were now closest to the entrance, the rest had followed Aishake deeper into the canyon. Starting from a dead stop, their mounts were far slower.
By the time they built up momentum, Wang Yu had nearly reached Qiao Riyan.
Watching Wang Yu stride forward—his light-body technique seemingly active, yet not particularly fast—a flicker of disdain flashed through Qiao Riyan's eyes.
Midway through his charge, Wang Yu brandished his sword repeatedly, displaying what looked like Nine Bends of the Long River. Though clearly no ordinary sword style, Qiao Riyan still did not take him seriously.
Liu Hanyong grinned ferociously and began to draw his blade, but Qiao Riyan brushed his hand aside.
"Envoy Qiao?" Liu Hanyong turned back. "How is this fellow worthy of your personal attention?"
Qiao Riyan snorted. "Didn't you hear what he said? He represents his father, and I represent my master. No matter how weak he is, only I may strike him down!"
"Understood!" Liu Hanyong yielded his position.
Qiao Riyan kept his gaze fixed on the oncoming Wang Yu. Though his saber rested at his waist, he showed no intention of drawing it.
Within two or three paces, Wang Yu closed the distance.
"Qiao Riyan! Die!"
With a great roar, Wang Yu leaped slightly into the air and thrust his sword forward with blistering speed. Lone Shadow in the Golden Haze scattered gleaming points of light, the blade transforming into a lone goose plunging straight for Qiao Riyan's chest.
Qiao Riyan sneered, contempt oozing from his eyes.
*Zhao Zheng died abruptly, leaving behind a profligate dandy. The Prince of Zhenxi's Manor has no worthy heir. Once the two Qiang branches unite, the northwest may turn out to be the easiest front to pierce.*
Even as these thoughts crossed Qiao Riyan's mind, his movements did not slow in the least. He did not even bother unsheathing his weapon, simply spreading his right hand into an eagle's claw.
Qiulin Ji also cultivated martial arts of the steppes, but his techniques did not follow a vast, majestic path. Instead, they mimicked wild beasts—rapid, fierce, and unpredictable.
Thus, aside from his saber technique, the Eighteen Forms of the Heavenly Wolf, he also possessed a light-body and grappling style known as the Nine Transformations of the Goshawk.
As Qiulin Ji's chief disciple, Qiao Riyan had naturally been taught both arts. With Goshawk Pounces on the Hare, he flicked his fingertips lightly against the flat of Wang Yu's blade.
*Clang!*
Though it was merely fingernails striking steel, the impact rang out like colliding metal.
Qiao Riyan's internal energy was profound. Even though he had held back, Wang Yu still could not withstand the force coursing through his fingertips. Unable to hold his grip, the longsword went flying from his right hand.
Sensing the meager strength behind Wang Yu's strike and seeing him floating in midair, his sword knocked away as his body tumbled helplessly forward, a mocking sneer tugged at the corner of Qiao Riyan's mouth. He turned his right hand, preparing to seize Wang Yu by the shoulder.
Yet at the very instant they were about to collide, Wang Yu—suspended in midair with nothing beneath his feet to leverage—abruptly accelerated out of nowhere. In a flash, he burst into Qiao Riyan's guard and slammed both palms against his chest.
The instant Wang Yu erupted, Qiao Riyan realized the trap. His pupils constricted violently. He pulled his right hand back to parry, shoved his left palm forward, and retreated frantically.
Yet he was still a step too late.
Wang Yu had already reached Xiantian; his Three Turns of the Flying Swallow was deft and blindingly fast. By the time Qiao Riyan reacted and tried to pull back, Wang Yu's palms were already pressed against his chest.
Internal energy of ice and fire detonated without warning.
*Pfft—*
Qiao Riyan sprayed a mouthful of fresh blood.
A terrifying burst of internal energy tore into his body. Had he not retreated half a step in the nick of time and channeled his true qi to shield his vitals, that single strike would have shattered his meridians and stopped his heart.
Even so, Qiao Riyan suffered grievous injuries, vomiting blood uncontrollably.
Snow and ice danced through the air amidst a blazing sunset.
The boy was a Xiantian expert!
Terror seized Qiao Riyan. He instinctively tried to throw himself backward, only to discover that after landing the blow, Wang Yu's hands were already weaving back and forth like shuttles, seeking to lock his shoulders and wrists.
Had he not instinctively executed the Nine Transformations of the Goshawk, his joints would have been trapped then and there!
Even so, within the span of a lightning flash, Qiao Riyan fell completely into the disadvantage. Worse still, a pulling force lingered between Wang Yu's palms, dragging at him and arresting his retreat.
*What kind of martial art is this?*
Qiao Riyan never dreamed Wang Yu possessed such profound grappling skills. Now gravely wounded, he had nowhere to retreat, driven entirely into a corner.
Qiao Riyan's gaze sharpened as he saw Atuke and Huona charging toward them.
Both men were White Qiang warriors. Holding off the Xiongnu soldiers for a brief while would be child's play for them, but once that moment passed, Qiao Riyan would surely perish under Wang Yu's palms.
In the next breath, Wang Yu's hands wrapped, pressed, locked, and twisted, on the verge of pinning both of his eagle claws.
Had he been in his prime, Qiao Riyan would not have minded pitting his grappling against Wang Yu's. But right now, the energy inside him churned like a boiling cauldron; surviving another two exchanges was already his absolute limit.
His expression twisted into savage desperation. Seeking life in the jaws of death, he rode the momentum of Wang Yu's force, lunging forward instead of pulling back. With a sudden spring, he slipped past Wang Yu and darted straight into the canyon.
"Hm?"
Qiao Riyan breaking away from the melee caught Wang Yu off guard. After all, if the enemy had blocked them inside the canyon, that meant the gorge itself was a dead end.
Yet Wang Yu did not let up. Shifting his weight mid-stride, he gave chase.
Racing toward the fray, Atuke and Huona had experienced a rollercoaster of panic, shock, and wild delight in the blink of an eye. By the time they regained their bearings, Qiao Riyan was already hurtling toward them, coughing blood.
*Shhh—shhh—*
Two blades slashed out—one high, one low—aimed straight at Qiao Riyan.
Twisting his frame, Qiao Riyan slipped cleanly through the gap between their weapons and continued flying deeper into the canyon.
Yet that brief obstruction was enough for Wang Yu to close in, thrusting his joined fingers like a sword straight toward Qiao Riyan's back.
Qiao Riyan's light-body technique was also exceptional. Vaulting into the air, he dodged Wang Yu's sword-fingers while diving straight for Ardai.
"Courting death!"
Ardai let out a delicate cry as her scimitar whipped up a flurry of myriad snowflakes, slashing down toward Qiao Riyan from head to foot.
Wang Yu leaped into the air as well, his Star-Plucking Hand reaching for Qiao Riyan's back.
At this hairsbreadth moment, Qiao Riyan twisted abruptly in midair, borrowing leverage from the empty wind like a goshawk, and veered toward Paliya, who stood not far from Ardai.
Atuke's wife—she was his true target.
Yet when his hand was still three feet from Paliya, a sudden chill struck his spine.
Qiao Riyan remembered with a jolt that Wang Yu could also change direction in midair.
"Hah!"
Qiao Riyan roared in desperation. Weakened to the extreme, he dared not take another palm strike from Wang Yu. Shifting his internal energy, he applied the Thousand-Jin Drop, plummeting straight to the earth before sprinting deeper into the canyon.
He wanted to stall for time—at least until the Xiongnu warriors could surge in and interfere with Wang Yu.
What he had never expected was that Wang Yu's light-body technique was equally peerless, not in the least inferior to his own Nine Transformations of the Goshawk. Even though Qiao Riyan had pushed his speed to its absolute limit, the youth clung to him like a shadow, refusing to give an inch.
*Whoosh!*
*Whoosh!*
Like two whistling arrows blurred into afterimages, the two men plunged deep into the canyon.
Chapter 115