Master

Wang Chong's spirit, in the space of a single breath, rose to a higher level of the Innate Realm—beyond life and death, mysterious to the utmost. This move, Sword Roar to the Empyrean, had taken on a refined, masterful variation that all the previous times he had unleashed it had never reached. In Wang Chong's eyes, Yaglakar Yehu's long spear was like countless threads; every strike of the spear technique followed a fixed trajectory, without the slightest deviation. He clearly knew that with just a slight shift he could win the exchange, yet he could never quite catch up to that single thread of cold qi. To Yaglakar Yehu, the scene looked entirely different. Wang Chong's swordsmanship kept rising, level upon level; every change was a metamorphosis, and every thrust conjured marvelous new shifts out of thin air. Even after bringing out every martial skill he had honed in a lifetime, he still felt a laboring strain, as though his long spear had a whole mountain heaped upon it. The two crossed past each other. Wang Chong landed on the ground, while Yaglakar Yehu still sat upright on his horseback. For a long while, neither of them moved. Wang Chong let out a deep breath. Just now, as he had fought Yaglakar Yehu, his true qi had again given that "stuck for a beat" sensation. The first time his true qi had jammed like that, Wang Chong had actually been badly frightened—he had even let his imagination run wild, wondering whether Wen Zhengchun's ghost was refusing to disperse, or whether his system was about to glitch out on him. But the second time it jammed, Wang Chong realized it was because his true qi's circulation had sped up and his meridians could not bear it. In truth, his strikes had been a hair faster than usual—it was not a real jam. After he landed, the Innate Pure Yang Art within his body was like a dam that had burst: surging and roaring, it coursed through his entire body, utterly unlike before. This surging true qi, once it had run a full circuit through all his meridians, grew a measure finer; another circuit, and finer still. By the end, the Pure Yang true qi that had reached to the heavens and coiled about the earth had become fine threads and strands, no longer in broad sheets. Wang Chong understood at once: just now it had not been a true qi jam—it had been a breakthrough in realm. His life-and-death clash with Yaglakar Yehu, in that desperate corner where defeat meant death, had broken through the first gate of the Innate Realm and carried him into the Master Realm. Now he was a bona fide Master Realm expert. Casting his eyes over all the martial artists under heaven today, he could rank among the top hundred. Yaglakar Yehu drew a deep breath. In that exchange just now, he had expended himself enormously, yet Wang Chong had surprisingly not pressed the attack, letting him catch his breath. Not only had his true qi recovered to its peak and his fighting spirit reached fullness, but even his Ice Soul Divine Art faintly showed signs of being on the verge of a breakthrough. Yaglakar Yehu was overjoyed. He knew that after this battle, he needed only to return to the great steppe and enter closed seclusion for a time, and he would surely break through to the Master Realm. As a veteran Innate expert, he had been stuck at this gate for many years. Now that the bottleneck of his realm had loosened, he could not help but feel a fresh surge of joy, and he shouted, "Brat Prince of Yan, today your luck runs out for good!" Wang Chong leapt high into the air, still with the one move, Sword Roar to the Empyrean, not switching to any new technique. Only this time, the firelight on the Panlong Sword was no longer faint, scattered sparks, but blazed in full radiance. The Innate Pure Yang Art was divided into three realms. Within all three, one could cultivate the higher levels of the Pure Yang Sword Forging Scroll. What was cultivated in the Dispelling Yin to Generate Yang realm was called Yang Fire Sword Qi; what was cultivated in the Harmonizing Yin and Yang realm was called the Pure Yang Divine Sword; and what was cultivated in the Reaching Heaven and Coiling Earth realm was named the Innate True Fire Sword Threads! Wang Chong had only just broken through, so he still could not wield the mystical power of the Innate True Fire Sword Threads, yet his Pure Yang true qi already held a keen, cutting edge. Yaglakar Yehu's long spear was like a mountain, its cold aura biting and fierce; it seemed to press down on and smother Wang Chong's sword light. Spear howled and sword sang out, resounding through the night sky. In this round between the two, no one could say how many times spear and sword had clashed. This time, after Wang Chong landed, he slid the Panlong Sword back into its sheath and said coolly, "Since I came down from the mountain, you are the first to make me bring out the second move of Holding-Candle Swordplay. That alone is worth boasting of!" The sword, still in its sheath, hummed and shrilled. Wang Chong turned and strode back to his ranks. There, before everyone's eyes, Yaglakar Yehu—that invincible commander of the great steppe—toppled like a mountain of gold pushed over, a jade pillar brought crashing down, tumbling from his horse and dying on the spot! The last time Wang Chong had spoken these words, Yaglakar Yehu had been boundlessly enraged, deeply feeling his reputation had been sullied. But this time, Wang Chong said the very same words—and had even dropped his earlier battle record, not using the killings of Nalihai, Pishaluo, and the like as a lead-in. Yet his aura and force were utterly different from the last time. Because he truly had cut down Yaglakar Yehu with his second sword! One step into the Master Realm—and his sword cut down an Innate! As far as Wang Chong was concerned, this veteran Innate, Yaglakar Yehu, was now fit only to serve as a stepping stone. The hundred-odd martial artists of the eighteen grassland tribes who witnessed this scene all felt a stirring of fear. Wang Chong stood among the host of Central Plains martial artists, his presence overpowering. In truth, no one knew that at this moment Wang Chong had burned through eighty or ninety percent of his true qi and could no longer fight on. But who would dare go pluck the tiger's whiskers of this young master who had just slaughtered Yaglakar Yehu? Wang Chong hurriedly urged the Army-Breaking Bodhisattva Aspect, eager to restore his true qi as quickly as possible. Just then, Lichiluo of the Afugan clan of the Nine-Bend Alliance came thundering in with over a thousand cavalry, and the martial artists of the eighteen grassland tribes were instantly overjoyed, feeling as though they had found deliverance from certain death. Most of the martial artists on Wang Chong's side turned ashen. If it were only those thousand-odd cavalry, they might still have been able to put up a fight, but the eighteen grassland tribes still had over a hundred experts. If those experts combined with the cavalry, they would be invincible. Wang Chong's men all carried short weapons; at most they could withstand a single charge before being scattered apart by brute force. Just then, Wang Chong suddenly raised a hand and shouted, "Today we will annihilate the Hu invaders outside Tongzhou Prefecture!" From the direction from which they had come, there also came the faint sound of hoofbeats, along with clouds of dust that swept the ground and blotted out the sky. Only then did the Central Plains martial artists remember that Wang Chong had split his men into two groups—this was the second group arriving. In these past days, Lichiluo of the Afugan clan had gone through untold hardship gathering up the routed troops, and had mustered only a thousand-odd cavalry. From afar he had already spotted Yaglakar Yehu's corpse lying on the ground; now, gazing into the distance at the dust rising on every side, he gave a shout and led this force away. With Yaglakar Yehu dead, their Afugan clan was now the greatest power in the Nine-Bend Alliance. If they could also swallow up these thousand-odd cavalry, then from then on the Nine-Bend Alliance would have to watch the Afugan clan's every mood. Lichiluo was a top-rate talent as well, and in an instant he had thought the matter through. Of course he would not keep risking his life against Wang Chong—grabbing an easy advantage was one thing, but the enemy plainly had reinforcements too, so retreat was clearly the wiser course. When the martial artists of the eighteen grassland tribes saw this, what choice did they have left? With a great shout, they scattered like birds and beasts! Wang Chong stretched out a hand and pointed, shouting, "Brother Qin Han drew the enemy off to the north gate for us, braving enormous risk. I cannot treat my own brothers unfairly. Yaglakar Yehu's head shall go to Qin Han. Do any of you brothers object?" Almost everyone roared out in unison, "Your Highness the Prince of Yan! Brother Wang Chong! We have no objection!" There were still some among them who could not switch their form of address in time and kept calling him "Brother Wang Chong." Some, seeing that Wang Chong did not mind at all, at once called out all the more energetically. Almost everyone present was struck by the same thought: having followed His Highness the Prince of Yan, all kinds of merit and reward would come rolling in, wealth and glory would be within reach any day now, and a meteoric rise lay not far off……