Not until the Black Armor Battalion's volley of arrows ripped through the county yamen and violently battered down the main gates did Xu Bingzheng finally realize what was happening.
His very first reaction was sheer bewilderment.
How dared these filthy soldiers?
Where had they gotten the courage?
An army subordinate to the imperial court was openly attacking a county yamen that was equally under the court's rule. Xu Bingzheng briefly wondered if the Black Armor Battalion had genuinely rebelled.
In contrast, Li Yiran reacted with blazing speed. The instant the arrows rained down, he stomped heavily against the flagstones and sank his qi into his dantian. Opening his jaws, an immense, ravenous inhalation sounded from his throat, churning the surrounding air into a collapsing vortex.
Once the breath was fully drawn,
Li Yiran sealed his lips tight. His chest expanded visibly, and a surge of blood qi rushed up his neck, as though coated in crimson ink.
"Zha!"
A muffled roar like a great bell erupted from his nostrils. His lips parted like a bursting dam, releasing the compressed air in a torrential cascade.
With him at the center, thunder seemed to detonate across a three-foot radius. Rolling waves of air blasted outward in concentric rings, turning invisible currents into tangible, turbulent surges. The soundwaves shook with the force of a diamond pestle, setting the entire yamen buzzing and reverberating—along with every arrow falling into the courtyard.
*Clatter!*
The orderly volley was torn apart by the bizarre acoustic resonance, completely scattered and swept aside by the churning gale.
It was an almost miraculous sight.
With nothing more than a chilling grunt, a three-foot perimeter around Li Yiran had become an invisible mantle of armor—impenetrable to splashing water, untouched by the skyful of falling arrows!
Even more remarkable, he seemed to funnel the howling thunder into a single direction through some secret technique. Like an invisible acoustic cannonball, it crashed straight into a corner of the Black Armor Battalion's formation outside the yamen. The soldiers in its path suffered searing ear pain, their vision swimming with golden spots as they staggered on the verge of collapse.
The disciplined battle array instantly cracked, revealing a breach.
"...Go!"
Seizing the opening, Li Yiran grabbed Xu Bingzheng and dashed out of the yamen, sprinting straight toward the gap in the formation.
Li Yiran saw the situation with absolute clarity.
Storming the county yamen was an unequivocal, total break in relations. At a time like this, the court's laws were meaningless; raw strength was the sole arbiter of survival.
Xu Bingzheng was panicked because he lacked martial prowess. Li Yiran was different. As a martial master of the Mortal Ranking, he possessed the strength to contend with the Black Armor Battalion single-handedly. That had been the root of his calm assurance all along. Even now that all pretense had been stripped away, he remained confident that he could control the outcome.
*A mere Black Armor Battalion cannot take me.*
*As long as I skirmish within the town and stall until the Tabai Battalion arrives, the tide will turn at once... I might as well seize this chance to butcher these filthy soldiers!*
At the thought, a venomous, vicious glint flashed in Li Yiran's eyes.
Calm as he was, the battalion's brazen assault on the yamen had infuriated him with the sting of insubordination.
How many years had it been?
Ever since the founding of Dashun, when the empire began ruling hand in hand with the scholar-bureaucrats, how many years had passed since a civil official hailing from the Imperial Academy had been pushed to such dire straits by crude military brutes?
It was an outrage against Heaven!
If this evil wind were not stamped out at the root to make an example, these rabble soldiers who dared assault a town today would dare execute imperial officials tomorrow!
In a flash, Li Yiran resolved that this battalion could not be spared. Not only would he use this opportunity to bury every last soldier in Longxing County, but he would also report the incident to his esteemed master afterward, demanding that Changle Commandery strip the battalion of its official designation and banish the soldiers' families to the northern plains...
"Kill!"
A furious shout shattered Li Yiran's thoughts. Before him surged a sea of black-armored soldiers, closing in tightly on their position.
A formation throttling!
The soldiers moved with practiced precision, having clearly drilled this maneuver tens of thousands of times. As they charged, they formed a massive, grinding vice that locked the two men dead in the center.
Furthermore, as the soldiers roared in unison, an armored giant of majestic, martial grandeur seemed to rise from the battalion's ranks in the unseen realm. The lethal aura of a hundred campaigns pierced straight into the clouds, briefly parting the dark rainclouds above to reveal a sky washed clean and blue.
Almost simultaneously, Li Yiran felt his body grow heavy.
Under the constriction of the military formation, even the air seemed to take on physical form, hardening into impenetrable steel that weighed upon him like heavy shackles.
*This is a true army!*
The Dashun Dynasty did not govern its vast realms through a handful of martial arts grandmasters; it relied on thousands upon thousands of garrisons and formations like the Black Armor Battalion!
Then, one man made his move.
Battalion Commander Wu Xintai. At this moment, he embodied the entire formation, carrying the full weight of the imperial title bestowed upon the Black Armor Battalion.
Empowered by the formation, Wu Xintai—who had only been an internal strength martial master—boldly crossed the spiritual threshold. His intent merged with the phantom armored giant, manifesting divine intent on par with Li Yiran's own. He stepped forward in a single, fluid motion—
And drew his blade!
*Clang!*
The edge condensed into a hair-thin line, its sonic presence suppressed to the absolute minimum. There was no gale, no roar—only a soft chime and a blindingly fast flash of cold light.
Li Yiran's pupils constricted violently!
Wu Xintai's strike matched his personal demeanor: still as a mountain until unleashed, striking with lethal finality. Dripping with murderous intent, this blade drew blood the moment it cleared the scabbard!
The timing was impeccable, striking right when Li Yiran was beleaguered by the formation and his divine intent was suppressed to its lowest ebb. Moreover, the strike aimed not at a vital organ, but at his legs—plainly intended to cripple his mobility before whittling him down with a dull knife.
"Filthy dog!" Li Yiran ground out through clenched teeth.
Not only had the commander ambushed him from within the formation, but he had aimed low.
This was no battlefield duel; it was a tactic designed to hunt down high-tier martial masters. Confronted with it now, Li Yiran felt a profound sense of crisis.
In the span of a spark, Li Yiran's wide sleeves billowed.
A writing brush with a golden stem and silver hairs had appeared in his hand. Its tip was as sharp as a dagger, spinning rapidly as he channeled his inner force into it.
With a flick of his wrist, the brush jabbed outward. What looked like a straight thrust vibrated continuously, tearing through the air with the sharp hiss of a serpent baring its fangs. Infused with internal strength, the brush tip grew searing hot, trailing a scorching wave of heat like a true dragon spewing flame.
It was the living embodiment of dragon-and-serpent calligraphy!
*Clang!*
Brush tip and blade edge collided. The divine intent woven into both clashed in the unseen realm, as if freezing time itself.
To Wu Xintai, it felt as though the armored giant he embodied had stumbled into a boundless landscape painting. No matter how desperately he ran, chasing the sun and draining the seas, he could never escape its edges. It was the unmistakable sign of his divine intent being suppressed; he had lost half a step in this battle of wills.
"What a brush... what a Mountains and Rivers Brush..."
A second later, time resumed its flow. Wu Xintai let out a sigh as brush and ink parted before him. His all-out slash was casually brushed aside by Li Yiran.
Simultaneously, the ground around them collapsed with a roar, sending dirt and sand flying.
The surrounding soldiers were thrown backward, their formation shattered into disarray. A circle over ten paces wide around Li Yiran was cleared of all living souls.
Such was the combat of titled martial masters.
At this realm, competing in mere forms, raw power, and physical physique was considered inferior; victory belonged to whoever could seize the mental upper hand.
In the end, he was simply not strong enough.
Had Wu Xintai been a titled martial master himself, or had the Black Armor Battalion numbered in the thousands, that clash of iron cavalry would have torn through the painted mountains and rivers with ease.
Even so, Wu Xintai reacted swiftly. The moment his blow failed, he retreated. As long as his target remained trapped within the formation, another opening would present itself.
A person's mental peak could not last indefinitely. With the depletion of stamina, the passage of time, and external pressures, their mental state would inevitably deteriorate, eroding their divine intent. A prolonged battle favored the battalion; Li Yiran was the one who had to hurry.
Yet Wu Xintai had miscalculated.
The immense pressure exerted by Li Yiran, a Mortal Ranking master, had caused him to overlook the other titled martial master present—Xu Bingzheng, who had fled alongside him.
Just as Li Yiran's brush shattered the enclosing formation,
*Whoosh!*
Through the swirling dust, a golden light shot straight into the air. Like a grappling hook latching onto empty sky, it yanked both figures upward.
The Immortal's Rope!
Xu Bingzheng's claim to fame, a renowned treasure and an aerial escape tool par excellence, had carved out a path to survival beneath the Black Armor Battalion's encirclement.
In an instant, Li Yiran and Xu Bingzheng soared straight up, vanishing quietly into the depths of the rainclouds.
"How... how..."
Wu Xintai watched in stunned disbelief before hurriedly barking an order to loose arrows. It was already too late. The pair had broken past the formation's perimeter, landing deeper within the town's residential streets.
"...Pursue them!"
Wu Xintai shouted the command, though a chill settled in his heart. The soldiers of the Black Armor Battalion wore heavy plate armor, which severely limited their mobility.
Though he gave the order, he had already reached a grim conclusion:
*We won't catch them.*
*What do we do now?*
Subconsciously, he turned around to consult the young armed cavalry officer who had ordered the assault on the town, only to discover with a start that the man was gone.
Where had he gone? When had he slipped away?
Infused with the army's momentum, Wu Xintai's senses were currently no weaker than those of a Mortal Ranking master. Yet someone had walked right out of his battle formation without him noticing in the slightest.
How had he managed that?
***
The rain continued to pour.
Though the fierce aura of the Black Armor Battalion had briefly torn the dark clouds, it had not altered the broader weather. Longxing County remained veiled beneath a curtain of rain.
Wang Ping strolled through it at a leisurely pace.
The rainwater rolled smoothly off his body. Every drop of moisture was shaken away by an imperceptible vibrational force, leaving his garments completely dry.
His presence was suppressed to the absolute limit. His heartbeat, breath, and footsteps were fainter than a whisper. Rather than a living human, he resembled a piece of rotted wood, causing everyone to overlook him entirely. Wu Xintai had sensed nothing, allowing Wang Ping to stroll out of the formation with effortless ease.
*Who knew the Life-Stealing Thief had such an extraordinary use?*
There was a reason this immortal technique bore the word "thief." What Wang Ping was currently deploying was a secret art for concealing his vital essence.
In this state, he could only be detected with the naked eye.
Spiritual sense could not perceive him, nor could divine intent register his existence. Like a ghost wandering through the rain, he quietly observed his prey.
*Trying to run?*
Locking his gaze onto Xu Bingzheng and Li Yiran in the distance, he maintained his pace, closing the distance with ghostly speed.
***
"Outrageous... absolutely outrageous!"
Dropping back to earth, Xu Bingzheng let out a breath of relief as the county gate came into view, the Black Armor Battalion left far behind.
The moment he relaxed, his thoughts turned to the wealth he had been forced to abandon in his haste—the ice gifts, charcoal gifts, farewell gifts, festival gifts, and refined bribes accumulated over his years as magistrate... an entire study's worth! Now every copper of it would fall into the hands of those ill-mannered brutes.
Where was the justice in the world?
Xu Bingzheng's heart bled at the thought. Looking back, it seemed that ever since Chen Haoyan died, nothing had gone right for him.
Yet he was still running for his life.
No matter how reluctant he felt, he had to sever his attachments for now. Swallowing his humiliation, Xu Bingzheng silently swore that he would return to settle the score once and for all...
Soon, the two men reached the city gates.
*Thump! Thump! Thump!*
Rhythmic vibrations echoed from the distance. Li Yiran was the first to react, his face lighting up with delight. "Cavalry! The Tabai Battalion has arrived!"
Xu Bingzheng was overjoyed.
His martial prowess was far inferior to Li Yiran's. While the Black Armor Battalion could not easily kill Li Yiran, cutting him down would have been child's play, leaving him plagued by constant terror.
Under the protection of the Tabai Battalion, however, he had nothing left to fear.
With that, the weight hanging over his heart finally lifted...
In that exact instant, a deafening boom rang in his ears. It was his own heartbeat, its steady rhythm suddenly thrown into frantic disarray.
*What is this?*
*Something's wrong!*
In a flash of lightning, Xu Bingzheng understood—a warning from his divine intent! His instincts as a titled martial master were screaming that lethal danger was upon him!
Xu Bingzheng pushed his divine intent to its utmost limit. The world around him slowed countless times over as his mind raced through counterstrategies. Yet in the very next instant, his vision went dark. In a world that should have been frozen still, a fist materialized, descending slowly toward his skull.
"Courting death..."
After a fleeting moment of shock, Xu Bingzheng regained his composure, sneering inwardly. *Doesn't he know that titled martial masters possess protective divine intent and cannot be ambushed?*
Judging by this fist, it didn't even carry internal strength.
An external martial artist?
Xu Bingzheng's expression grew increasingly contemptuous. Still, remembering the terrifying instinctual warning from moments before, caution prompted him to probe deeper.
*Hmph, he's certainly practiced quite a few martial arts.*
*Yet they're all low-grade rubbish. What good is taking them to perfection? He doesn't even hold a weapon. How much power could a bare fist carry...*
Xu Bingzheng deployed his Immortal's Rope with supreme confidence.
Then, his expression twisted.
The fist plunged straight into the invisible net cast by the Immortal's Rope, without stalling for even an instant, its velocity entirely undiminished.
There were no forms, no divine intent.
It was a simple, unadorned punch, yet backed by the courage of certain death and an unyielding will to conquer. Supported by such conviction, the fist was invincible, crushing everything in its path.
"What?!"
Xu Bingzheng's eyes bulged as he watched his Immortal's Rope—a weapon of renowned treasure grade—punctured effortlessly by that solitary fist.
Then it slammed into his chest.
For a moment, he could not even register the impact. His heart, his lungs, his bones... all sensation vanished from his body.
His physical form remained rooted to the spot without flying backward, because every shred of force packed into that punch was transferred directly into his flesh. Like a punctured sandbag, blood erupted frantically from his seven facial orifices, and his soul seemed to tear free from his frame, drifting into the air.
*What just happened?*
*Where is my Soft Gold Hedgehog Armor? My Ten-Thousand-Thread Dust-Clearing Robe? My Heavenly Peng Dragon-Capturing strength? My thoroughly tempered physique?*
*Why didn't they stop it?!*
His thoughts came to an abrupt halt.
Having torn through the Immortal's Rope and shattered every defensive treasure on his person, that fist finally drifted lightly down upon his head.
In his daze, Xu Bingzheng caught sight of his killer.
He recognized the face of the young warrior who had stood beside Wu Xintai, and he finally understood why the youth had looked so familiar.
"It's you?!"
The young constable who had dared storm the county yamen all by himself, whose corpse had mysteriously vanished after his death... He wasn't dead? He had returned for vengeance?
No, that was impossible.
He had only been an internal strength martial master. How could he possess such terrifying power? It made no sense... A fake! It had to be an illusion woven by divine intent!
Xu Bingzheng strained his divine intent with all his might, desperate to pierce through the "hallucination" before him.
Yet no matter how hard he tried, the fist remained indisputably real. The only thing he could see was the radiant glow of military arts coiled around it.
Bronze Head and Iron Forehead, Arms Pulling a Thousand Jun, Grounding Vajra, Hundred-Step Divine Fist, Monument Cleaving and Stone Splitting, Land Treading and Steel Piercing, Mountain-Sinking Elbow, Copper-Wall Kneeling, Armor-Hard Abdomen, Gold-Piercing Finger, Saber-Locking Throat, Golden Spear Never Falls, Sinews of Steel and Bones of Iron, Indestructible Vajra Body... The brilliant light instantly filled his vision.
*Thwack!*
A soft crunch sounded, like a red-hot blade slicing through bean curd. A moment later, nothing remained on the spot but a battered, headless corpse.
*Not even in the same league,* Wang Ping thought, casually shaking his hand.
*Thirteen Taipo Horizontal Training Hard Qi Art at perfection, bolstered by fourteen military arts and paired with two cultivation traits—killing him was almost too simple.*
Back in the immortal gate world, someone like him was merely at the threshold of cultivation, unqualified even to join the outer sect. Yet back in the Dashun Dynasty, he could effortlessly slaughter a titled martial master, an elite among the mere three hundred and sixty ranked on the Weapon Register. What an absurd gulf in power!
At the thought, Wang Ping could not help but sigh:
"As expected... stomping noobs is still the most fun!"
Just then, Wang Ping's vision suddenly went dark. His spiritual sense flared instinctively, and a sensation of being watched washed over his mind.
"What is this...?"
In that instant, his perspective seemed stretched infinitely across the distance, cast toward the edge of the horizon. He beheld an immensely majestic, towering city carved into a mountain.
Passing through layers of streets, pavilions, and terraces,
His vision finally came to rest upon a towering platform reaching for the heavens. There hung a grand register inscribed with several hundred names.
One of those names belonged to Xu Bingzheng, but it was currently fading away. As the register flashed with successive pulses of light, Xu Bingzheng's name was wiped clean from the parchment, vanishing into nothingness. In its place, a brand-new name sprang onto the register with startling prominence.
Rank Thirty-Seven: Wang Ping.
Chapter 49