He Draws His Blade in the Canyon

In the momentary lull across the battlefield, Han Qingyu swept his gaze outward and suddenly spotted someone in the distance. Wu Xu. He saw him once more, clearer this time. Still clad in those tattered black clothes, Wu Xu held his black spear planted against the ground, his head bowed as he leaned sideways against the rock wall. He hadn't made a move. He hadn't moved against Han Qingyu, and looking at his state, he likely hadn't stepped in to attack Rusty Sister and the others earlier either. Still, it remained unclear whether he was counted among the four experts Yuan Qing had mentioned. Greet him on the spot? That would probably drag him down too much. Han Qingyu gave a bitter smile in his heart. He harbored no naive hopes that Wu Xu would step forward under such circumstances and stand by his side. That simply wasn't realistic. "Pelt him to death!" a voice suddenly bellowed from the crowd. A jolt of delight rippled outward as countless voices translated the cry back and forth. Yes! Pelt him to death! The canyon was narrow, with no retreat behind him. Standing there, he had nowhere to dodge. People throughout the crowd raised their heads one after another, brandishing the weapons in their hands, preparing to throw—where was he? ...Found him. Yet how could they throw now? Throw them at each other?! "I believe I told you earlier—I'm fast. Very fast. Faster than a Great Spike. Can you pelt a Great Spike to death?" The voice rang out right beside them. Han Qingyu was now standing inside their very ranks. In an instant, those in the surrounding ring fell deathly silent, some trembling and backing away, while others swung their blades in panic. "Besides, if you throw away your blades, what will you do in a moment?!" the voice spoke again, but the distance had already widened. When he uttered the first sentence, Han Qingyu was among the front ranks of the enemy crowd. By the time he spoke the second, he had already backed out. He dared not let himself get completely bogged down within the enemy formation, yet his current position remained at a distance from which he could plunge back into their crowd at any second. Helpless, the crowd exchanged glances, communicating through eyes or hushed whispers. "What do we do?" *Thud.* Suddenly, a man's body crashed stiffly onto the ground. ...It was the very person who had just shouted, "Pelt him to death!" Han Qingyu had already killed him. Amidst stunned, terrified gazes, Han Qingyu spoke. "Slaughtering all of you isn't realistic, nor do I have that much stamina... I imagine that's also the source of your confidence and courage, right?" Han Qingyu said evenly. "From this moment on, I will kill whoever talks out of turn or offers reckless ideas." After a brief commotion, the translations were passed around, and the scene fell dead silent. For a time, truly no one dared to speak out of turn or offer reckless ideas anymore. Never threaten an entire crowd. If you must threaten, threaten a single person within the crowd—preferably unspecified yet targeted. Only then would none of them want to become that target, and only then would the threat truly work. The tactic came from the year his mother raised a litter of piglets. When feeding them with a long-handled slop ladle, she would threaten them earnestly as if the piglets could genuinely understand: whoever jumped up would get hit, and whoever stepped into the feeding trough would get hit. The situation was turning sour, and people were shrinking back. Prince Adubu, who had just been screaming for Han Qingyu to pay for his sacred eagle with his life, was now huddled in a corner, acting as if he had never stepped forward at all. *Isn't he just a recruit of a few months? How can he be this strong?!* Yuan Qing harbored suspicions in his heart. *Could he have actually been nurtured in secret all along?* He then exchanged a look with the person beside him. "He's nothing more than a recruit! Everyone attack together! Take advantage of when his source energy surge fails to sustain itself—it will fail eventually... When that time comes, we can just hack him to death with our blades together!" Yuan Qing abruptly shouted once more at the top of his lungs. Then he began to translate into English... The crowd showed signs of surging forward again. "Why don't you do it yourself?!" The voice came from across the way, from Han Qingyu. "Grade A, thirteen years in armor. You're the one who wagered against me—why don't you come yourself?" Han Qingyu glared piercingly at Yuan Qing. In chaotic combat, the most dangerous threat was common fighters throwing their lives away while experts hid among them to lie in wait for an opening. Han Qingyu knew he would have to face these few individuals sooner or later anyway, so he simply singled them out first. Now, the gazes of his own allies converged on him as well. Yuan Qing could no longer remain hidden while waiting for an opportunity. He gave a faint smile, stepped forward, and made no effort to conceal his intentions. "Then I'll pick a few people to join me." As if to boost morale, he called out astonishing details as he selected his companions. Besides himself, there was a Grade B+ who had worn armor for four years—the very man who had just used a long-handled great cleaver to turn back Han Qingyu's vortex slash. Another was a Grade A who had worn armor for three years, a scrawny, monkey-like man. Han Qingyu remembered having seen him before; he had appeared among the crowd Adubu brought to hunt him down. Yet another was a Grade B who had worn armor for nine years, a man with exceptionally long arms. Four people stepped forward from among the hundred-odd fighters. Still feeling uneasy, Yuan Qing glanced back and called out again, "Wu Xu, how are your injuries healing? Come join us." Far off by the rock wall, Wu Xu did not move, nor did he utter a sound. Yu Fengzi looked at him, then walked right up to him. "Go on... you... I'm telling you to go!" The sharp, enraged scream of her latter words drew everyone's attention. Those on their side looked at Yu Fengzi, and looked at Wu Xu as well. Under such gazes, Wu Xu shook his head and answered, "I cannot kill him." The fool made no excuses. He didn't claim his injuries were severe, nor did he offer any other pretext. He merely said he could not kill him. Yu Fengzi froze for a moment. "You cannot kill him?!" "Yes. He practically saved my life, and he gave me medicine." There was no tone in Wu Xu's explanation—no grievance, no helplessness, and no plea for understanding. There was nothing at all. He simply stated those two matters as his reasons. "And what kind of creature do you think you are?!" Yu Fengzi's shrill voice rang out as her dead iron longsword thrust forward, pointing straight at Wu Xu's throat. "I'll ask you one more time: are you going or not?!" "I'm not going," Wu Xu replied in a low, wooden voice. *Whoosh, smack!* The flat of Yu Fengzi's longsword swung down, striking Wu Xu heavily across the cheek. Half of Wu Xu's face instantly swelled up. His mouth filled with blood, which spilled over the corner of his lips. "You were raised by my Yu family!" "I know. That's why I didn't help him." Wu Xu's speech was muffled as blood sprayed from his mouth. His reason for not helping Han Qingyu was that he had been raised by the Yu family—nothing else. "Meaning you actually wanted to help him?! Hahahaha... What right do you have to choose?! You're just a dog!" Yu Fengzi swung the sword to strike him once more. Wu Xu shook his head. "Are you going or not?!" "I cannot go." "Fine. Fine!" *Schlock.* Miss Yu felt utterly humiliated. Consumed by fury, she thrust the longsword directly into Wu Xu's shoulder hollow. Wu Xu's body slid down against the wall. He closed his eyes, not uttering a single sound. ... Han Qingyu looked at Yuan Qing. "Four isn't enough... Want to pick a few more?!" "...That's enough." It was time to fight for their lives. If Han Qingyu didn't die, he would. Yuan Qing showed no excessive weakness either; as he let out that fierce shout, his figure shifted rapidly, his blade already slashing toward Han Qingyu. The three men beside him struck at the same moment. A four-man siege... This lineup was formidable. The first exchange ended in less than ten seconds. Han Qingyu retreated and planted his feet. A short blade was lodged in the right side of his chest. Just moments ago, the long-armed man—the one with the lowest fusion grade among the four opponents—had taken advantage of the chaos to draw a concealed short blade from an unimaginable angle and landed the stab... Fortunately, the blade had not penetrated deeply. Of course, the arm that delivered the blow had not returned with him either. A mutual injury... It proved to the rest of them that this man could indeed be killed. However, it was destined to be a bloody, grueling battle. "Take his life!" Yuan Qing saw an opening and resolved to grant Han Qingyu no breathing room whatsoever. With a loud shout, all four men closed in again, including the long-armed man who was enduring his pain. The burly giant held the center from the front, gripping his long-handled great cleaver with both hands as he chopped down toward Han Qingyu's head. Han Qingyu charged straight back at him. The instant they drew close, his right arm reversed his warblade so it ran almost flush against his forearm, taking the blow head-on. *Clang!* The two blades clashed high and low in a cross. Han Qingyu dropped his stance but maintained his forward drive, his horizontal straight blade continuing to slide forward. The two edges dragged against each other, emitting a sustained, ear-piercing screech as sparks showered in all directions. At the same time, the weapons of the other three men thrust toward Han Qingyu's body from both flanks. Han Qingyu slipped past just in time, ducking beneath the left side of the giant's ribs before straightening up to open distance... He ended up back-to-back, coming to a halt behind the man's flank, and exhaled a slow breath. The giant stood where he was, still holding the posture of chopping down with both hands. Abruptly, *spurt.* A line of blood burst across his body. The bloodline spanned his chest, stretching all the way from his right shoulder to his lower-left abdomen. Once it tore open, blood erupted like a fountain. Behind his flank, Han Qingyu held twin blades in his hands, the blade in his left hand dripping blood... He smiled with noticeable strain, looking somewhat ferocious. "Did you forget? I have two blades." He had held back and refrained from using his left-hand blade during the first clash, only to execute a left-handed draw-and-slash in the fleeting instant their bodies crossed during the second round. Han Qingyu finished speaking. Behind him, the giant's burly frame crashed heavily to the ground.