Wang Yu did not answer, but his silence spoke for itself.
Overcome with fury, Zhao Guizhou lunged forward in an instant, unleashing the grappling arts of the Star-Plucking Hand. Snaring, pressing, locking, and turning, every move remained within two feet of Wang Yu's wrists, intent on disarming him of his longsword.
With a flick of his wrist, Wang Yu turned his blade, and the Seven Forms of the Setting Sun unfolded in seamless succession: Lone Shadow in the Golden Haze, Twilight Clouds and Light Mist, Nine Bends of the Long River, Half Moon in the Evening Sky. The swordplay carried an artistic conception of graceful, lingering elegance, quiet and solitary, yet harboring lethal intent with every strike aimed to kill.
In the blink of an eye, the two traded over a dozen blows, shifting and weaving within square inches of ground. Zhao Guizhou pressed the offensive with relentless aggression, but though Wang Yu's wrists seemed right before his eyes, he could never lay a finger on them. Instead, the sword's tip flickered ceaselessly before his gaze—a single lapse would mean his death and the end of his path.
Yet Wang Yu was by no means having an easy time. Zhao Guizhou's Star-Plucking Hand carried both the wondrous subtlety of scattered stars and the crushing weight of falling meteors. The momentum of his strikes dragged the surrounding air, nearly seizing Wang Yu's wrists several times.
Even without direct contact, Wang Yu could sense the exquisite precision of the Star-Plucking Hand from inches away. Should the man once grab hold of his wrist and drive internal force into his body, he would lose all power to resist.
Zhao Guizhou's hands shifted seamlessly as the pulling force of his art probed repeatedly. Yet he soon discovered that Wang Yu's inner force was fathomless, completely unaffected by his pull. Worse, the sword technique was so profoundly subtle that faint hints of martial intent showed through each stroke, as if Wang Yu had already brushed the threshold of the Xiantian realm.
Stealing a glance over his shoulder in a split second, Zhao Guizhou saw Qianqian waving her long sleeves alone. Yao Changgeng, the foremost disciple of Shi Mo, could not break free even with the help of Mu Yachi, finding himself in an increasingly disgraceful plight.
On the other side, Ma Bojun was fighting at full strength. His silver spear surged like a divine dragon in the sea, rising and plunging to churn up monstrous waves as he carved a bloody path through the chaotic melee of a thousand horsemen, on the verge of breaking out.
Zhao Guizhou turned his eyes back toward Wang Yu, his gaze brimming with murderous intent!
They had planned with utmost care, yet they had never imagined Wang Yu would have so many formidable experts at his side!
Earlier, when he and Meng Zixiao had completed their training and set out for Longshan Prefecture to recover the secret manual, they had not dared trespass into the Prince of Zhenxi's Manor because of Zhao Rong, a Xiantian master residing within. Instead, they had decided to scheme their way close to Wang Yu.
As a man, Zhao Guizhou naturally faced difficulties in doing so, but Meng Zixiao was fair and delicate as a blossom. Factoring in Wang Yu's reputation in the capital as a dissolute libertine, she held an unparalleled advantage.
Thus, when Wang Yu returned from the Zhenxi Horse Ranch, they staged a scene. To ensure total authenticity, Meng Zixiao had even poisoned herself, successfully gaining Wang Yu's trust and slipping into the Prince of Zhenxi's Manor.
Over the next few days, Meng Zixiao drew ever closer to Wang Yu, cultivating a flirtatious intimacy until things fell into place. On the final day, she specifically found a chance to meet Zhao Guizhou in the street to finalize their plan and escape route.
That night, Zhao Guizhou had waited outside the manor, ready to stir up chaos at any moment and escort Meng Zixiao away.
Yet he waited the entire night, and Meng Zixiao never appeared. From that day forth, it was as if she had never existed in the Prince of Zhenxi's Manor at all.
Zhao Guizhou and Meng Zixiao were fellow disciples in name, but lovers in truth. With her sudden disappearance, Zhao Guizhou had made several discreet inquiries to no avail. He knew she had likely met a grim fate, yet he clung to the faint hope that Wang Yu had merely placed her under house arrest rather than slain her.
Alone, he had no power to storm the Prince of Zhenxi's Manor. While searching for opportunities, he accidentally learned of the Loulan treasure. Decisively traveling north, he passed the intelligence to the Black Qiang in exchange for a thousand cavalrymen and the aid of Yao Changgeng.
In the eyes of both Zhao Guizhou and Yao Changgeng, Zhao Rong held the manor and would never venture out, and neither the Mount Qi bandits nor the Shuntian Army had any Xiantian masters operating west of Yumen Pass.
The only forces Wang Yu could muster were a contingent of princely guards and a few hundred cavalry.
With a thousand Black Qiang cavalry and Yao Changgeng, Shi Mo's foremost disciple, victory should have been entirely assured. Their opponents would never even suspect they could take a circuitous route westward and appear in the Kingdom of Loulan southwest of Yumen Pass.
Yet they never foresaw that Wang Yu would bring Ma Bojun of White Horse Manor.
Fortunately, their foes had been unaware of their presence, and Ma Bojun had charged into the fray, inadvertently entangling himself among both sides' cavalry.
Yao Changgeng made a swift decision to bypass Ma Bojun and strike straight for Wang Yu, capturing the king to rout the pawns. If he captured or killed Wang Yu, the Iron Eagle Cavalry would instantly collapse, leaving Ma Bojun unsupported, and the battle would be won.
Yet they never dreamed Wang Yu had yet another Xiantian expert beside him!
Since when had Xiantian masters become as common as cabbages?
What was more, she was such a young and gorgeous woman, someone against whom even Yao Changgeng struggled in bitter combat.
Consumed by venomous hatred, Zhao Guizhou had chosen not to assist Yao Changgeng, charging Wang Yu instead—only to run headlong into a third impossibility.
Hadn't you spent your days in the capital frequenting brothels, carousing in wine and women, living in a drunken stupor?
Where on earth did you train such martial prowess and swordsmanship?
The Xingxiu Sea bordered the Anxi Circuit to the north, Hexi Circuit to the east, and the Shu region of the Chuanxi Circuit to the southeast. Four of the Seven Great Sword Sects were based in Shu. Zhao Guizhou and Meng Zixiao had traveled through Shu and even learned the sword techniques of the Qingyang Sect.
In his judgment, Wang Yu's swordsmanship was in no way inferior to the most outstanding disciples of those four sects.
Yet fine swordplay alone would not save him!
A cold glint flashed in Zhao Guizhou's eyes, and his figure blurred, vanishing from right before Wang Yu.
Beyond the Star-Plucking Hand, the Twin Stars of the Xingxiu Sea were equally renowned for the Star-Chasing Steps!
Zhao Guizhou had once fought masked against the finest disciples of the four Shu sects. Whenever a quick victory eluded him, pairing his strikes with the Star-Chasing Steps left them utterly unable to keep pace with his rhythm.
Though named "steps," the Star-Chasing Steps encompassed footwork, body maneuvers, and leg techniques, integrating offense, defense, and evasion into a single art.
Treading upon the star positions, Zhao Guizhou ducked and twisted, reappearing at Wang Yu's rear flank just as the young man's old momentum crested. Sweeping his leg low, he stirred up a storm of dust, forcing Wang Yu to leap into the air to evade.
Eyes burning with killing intent, Zhao Guizhou thrust one hand upward with the Star-Plucking Hand, stabbing toward Wang Yu's ribs to shatter his kidneys in a single blow.
The next instant, Zhao Guizhou's pupils contracted. With no leverage to brace upon in midair, Wang Yu shifted a foot horizontally, evading the claw as a gleam of sword light filled Zhao Guizhou's vision.
Yet Zhao Guizhou proved worthy of his Xingxiu heritage. Pivoting his Star-Chasing Steps once more, his hand lunged again.
Still airborne, Wang Yu shifted and spun a second time. Evading the strike, his blade flashed anew, its tip never straying from the center of Zhao Guizhou's brow.
Zhao Guizhou's expression warped in horror. Forcing down a breath of inner qi and ignoring the tearing agony in his meridians, he bent backward into an Iron Bridge to slip past the blade. At the same moment, he snapped a foot upward toward Wang Yu's vitals, determined to trade injury for life!
Yet as if riding upon the wind itself, Wang Yu shifted midair for a third time without leverage, evading the kick while his descending blade lost none of its momentum.
Zhao Guizhou's pupils shrank to pinpricks, his breath catching in his throat. He could not fathom how a person could alter their course three times in midair without any footing—a man was no bird!
There was no time left to think. Overconfident in his Star-Chasing Steps, he had exhausted his follow-up moves, leaving his internal breath in turmoil. With the sword falling toward his skull, he had no choice but to fling his hands up, flicking all ten fingers desperately against the flat of the blade.
Snick!
"Aargh!" Zhao Guizhou wailed in agony as two fingers from his left hand were severed and his shoulder was slashed open. He tumbled away, splashing blood across the grass.
Not daring to look back, Zhao Guizhou scrambled to his feet and sprinted for his life.
The Star-Chasing Steps truly lived up to its name as a supreme lightness skill. With a single leap, he was already thirty feet away. Peering back over his shoulder, he saw Wang Yu only just drifting to the ground.
Yet before he could exhale in relief, a sharp numbness struck the Weizhong point behind his right knee, sending him crashing headlong to the turf. In his panic, his senses had dulled, blinding him to the gold needle Li Yunxiu had shot to exploit the opening.
Zhao Guizhou whipped his head around, knowing full well he was doomed. His eyes spilled over with terror, malice, fury, and bitter regret. Then a flash of sword light filled his gaze, as though a second sun had risen in the heavens.
Seven Forms of the Setting Sun: Setting Sun Reflection!
Wang Yu's sword swept like the slant of the dying sun, ending Zhao Guizhou's life in a single stroke.
Nearby, Qianqian giggled softly, her movements resembling a graceful dance while Yao Changgeng and Mu Yachi felt their internal power thrown into chaotic disarray.
Yao Changgeng channeled his White Bone secret art, his pair of iron claws hooking, tearing, smashing, and clawing. Yet no matter how much force he exerted, Qianqian's long sleeves yielded without offering resistance, rendering his strikes futile.
At the same time, the chanting of celestial maidens seemed to echo in his ears, agitating his mind and preventing him from fighting at his peak.
The next moment, Yao Changgeng noticed Mu Yachi slowing down. His stance and strikes gradually began following the sway of Qianqian's sleeves, a faint, dazed infatuation spreading across his face.
A flash of insight struck Yao Changgeng, and he cried out in horror, "The Charming Maiden Soul-Hooking Secret Method! You're a witch from the Demonic Cult!"
Qianqian's face turned icy. A jade-like hand slipped from her long sleeve, gently brushing across the crown of Mu Yachi's head before her radiant smile returned. "Didn't you know I was a witch all along?"
Mu Yachi's body shuddered. He collapsed to the ground, his breath extinguished.
Yao Changgeng's eyes nearly tore at the corners with fury. His iron claws whirled like a whirlwind toward Qianqian, but her sleeves fluttered like twin supple whips, parrying every strike. Meanwhile, her Mystic Maiden inner strength tightened around him like gossamer iron chains.
With a roaring bellow, Yao Changgeng channeled the White Bone Heaven Burial Method and hurled both iron claws from his hands. Like the twin skeletal hands of a white bone fiend, they tore through the web of Mystic Maiden love-threads Qianqian had spun, one darting for her throat and the other for her lower abdomen.
Qianqian snorted coldly. Spinning on her feet, she swept her long sleeves, swatting the two iron claws high into the sky and sending them flying hundreds of feet away.
Yet Yao Changgeng used that split second to disengage. Leaping through the air, he vaulted onto a nearby warhorse and galloped back the way he had come.
Ahead of him, Ma Bojun had also broken through the cavalry melee. His silver spear was dyed crimson, his gaze fixing upon Yao Changgeng as sharp as an eagle's.
Yao Changgeng spurred his mount, pulling a saber from the saddle scabbard and charging straight toward Ma Bojun.
Compared to that eerie and unpredictable Demonic Cult witch, he felt this master of White Horse Manor, born of a military lineage, would be far easier to deal with.
Yet after riding barely a hundred feet, Yao Changgeng noticed Ma Bojun's expression turning bizarre.
His pupils shrank violently. Whipping his head around, he saw Qianqian standing lightly on the horse behind him, smiling at him.
"Begone!" His heart skipped a beat as he slashed his saber horizontally.
Qianqian drifted backward into the air, giving him a playful wink.
Yao Changgeng's eyes bulged wide. When he turned back, Ma Bojun was practically chest to chest with him, a spearhead already pressed against his breast.
Ma Bojun was also a Xiantian master. His spear struck like a soaring dragon, the spiraling force around the point locking down the space—leaving Yao Changgeng nowhere to escape!
Chapter 65