The Sole Lifeline

The warship flying the "Sui" banner lay a mere hundred paces from the riverbank. Shi Jiuzhai sat directly facing the window. With his cultivation, he could naturally see Li Weiyi's features with absolute clarity. A sense of familiarity struck him, and after racking his memory for a moment, he recalled that this was the "little wolf cub" he had crossed paths with in Immortal Burial Town. He had truly misjudged him that day. Who in the world was he? "How delightfully intriguing!" Shi Jiuzhai uttered these words, pondered a moment, and said, "This Shi agrees that Senior An makes a good point. To have two Wuhai Realm cultivators barge into a splendid battle among Top Hundred Martial Artists of the Yongquan Realm would be a dreadful eyesore. Why not set up a wager to see whether he can fight his way out and escape?" A wager? Yang Qingxi sneered inwardly. How could she fail to see that the White-Robed Lay Practitioner and Shi Jiuzhai were looking out for the boy, deliberately carving out a lifeline for him? Perhaps they prized his talent; perhaps their eyes were on those dharma artifacts; or perhaps they had noticed subtle clues she had overlooked. But one thing was beyond doubt: once that boy broke free and escaped, Mount Coffin and the Earth Wolf King's Army would surely seek him out. If she stubbornly insisted on dispatching Xu Changlin and Tang Yan, she would be slighting the White-Robed Lay Practitioner and Shi Jiuzhai. And if those two continued to push, or even took the field themselves... Things would become dreadfully awkward! Even with the extraordinary combat prowess Li Weiyi had displayed, in Yang Qingxi's eyes he was still insignificant, someone any dispatched Wuhai Realm expert could easily cut down. But now, not only did the Cangling Tribe value him, but even the White-Robed Lay Practitioner and Shi Jiuzhai harbored covert designs. Yang Qingxi naturally had to take him with utmost seriousness. "Since you two wish to enjoy the show, Qingxi certainly wouldn't want to spoil the mood. He is merely in the Yongquan Realm. In Lizhou, there is no need for the Sui Sect to dispatch the Wuhai Realm to reduce him to ash." Yang Qingxi waved her hand, signaling Xu Changlin and Tang Yan to step down, and then called out, "Xue Zheng!" Standing guard at the entrance of the main hall, his muscular skin gleaming with the metallic sheen of silver, Xue Zheng rested his hand on his saber, eyeing that Nine-Spring Perfected Person, Li Qing, with an eager glint. Hearing the summons from within, Xue Zheng withdrew his gaze, took two paces forward, and dropped to one knee toward the main hall. "Rest assured, Eldest Miss. This subordinate will take his head at once and ensure Young Master Yun comes to no harm." Rising to his feet, Xue Zheng looked toward the shore and channeled his dharmic power. It billowed outward as dense, misty radiance before he launched himself from the warship's deck like a cannonball, splashing down onto the water over a dozen zhang away. Boom! The radiant cloud of dharmic qi beneath his feet was so dense that despite the heavy impact, he did not sink into the water. Treading across the river's surface, saber in hand, he raced forward faster than the wind chasing the moon. ... Li Weiyi charged toward the river embankment where the silver-horned elk carriage had overturned. Pouring dharmic power into the silver-thread gloves, he sought a swift conclusion, resolved not to give the pursuers behind him any chance to encircle him. Whoosh! Concealed in the shadow behind the carriage, Yang Yun seized the moment and sprang into the air. He thrust his sword forward! Midair a zhang above the ground, Li Weiyi's arms blurred into phantoms as he clashed head-on with Yang Yun. Bang! Bang! Bang! After a rapid exchange of blows, their figures shifted and drifted. An instant later, Li Weiyi landed atop the overturned carriage. He had already used Spirit Treasure Seizure to reclaim the Yellow Dragon Sword into his grasp, a joyous surge welling within him as though he had regained a lost beloved. In contrast, Yang Yun tumbled clumsily into the shallow water along the embankment, his body caving in the canopy of a fishing boat. With a loud clatter, a boat lamp fell, instantly engulfing the vessel in raging flames. Suddenly. Amid the firelight, Li Weiyi sensed something and glanced out toward the giant warship resting motionless in the middle of the river. A streak of silver brilliance shot forth from the deck, streaking straight toward the bank where he stood. Even across the vast distance, he could feel the sharp blade intent and killing intent radiating from the figure, and knew he had been locked onto by the man's gaze. "Ranked fourth in Lizhou's Seven Springs Hall, Silver Semi-Immortal Physique, the Undefeated Blade Master Xue Zheng." Being pinned by Xue Zheng's gaze made Li Weiyi deeply uneasy, yet the true source of his dread was that colossal warship. Countless thoughts flashed through his mind in a heartbeat. Li Weiyi channeled dharmic power into the Yellow Dragon Sword, leaped into the air, and drove the blade straight toward Yang Yun. Perhaps his only glimmer of survival tonight lay in capturing Yang Yun as a hostage before Xue Zheng arrived. Yang Yun naturally noticed Xue Zheng's approach. Moreover, Shi Chuanyu, Murong Xiao, and the others, who were even closer, would arrive in the blink of an eye. He only needed to hold off Li Weiyi for a breath or two, and the tide would completely turn. "Come on then!" Standing in the water with scarlet flames blazing behind him, Yang Yun laughed aloud. "Within the eighth spring, Fengfu, lies a minor qi ocean—which is why those who open eight springs are called Lesser Wuhai! Today, I shall show you the true power of an eight-spring cultivator!" Yang Yun knew his greatest folly earlier had been stubbornly forcing himself to wield that artifact sword when he was incapable of properly activating it. He would never make that mistake again. The dharmic power of all eight springs converged into his arms as he unleashed the Air-Cleaving Fist he had cultivated for years. The dharmic power gathered on his fist shone bright as starlight. Boom! A punch exploded outward. The dharmic qi within the minor qi ocean of his Fengfu spring was instantly drained, surging into his arm to form a tangible shockwave of fist force that caused the air to detonate with a deafening blast. This was the trump card of an eight-spring martial cultivator! Draining all the dharmic qi in Fengfu to unleash a single ultimate strike rivaling that of the Wuhai Realm. Only a single blow, yet enough to reign supreme within the Yongquan Realm. Though Li Weiyi had braced himself, he was still sent flying backward by the fist force. His body felt struck across empty air, his internal organs throbbing with pain. Fortunately, he had channeled dharmic power into the corpse-garment soft armor worn next to his skin, neutralizing most of the concussive force. After opening six springs, his dharmic power was of a higher caliber; activating the corpse-garment soft armor now produced a distinct chill. Wisps of airflow emanated from the soft armor, swirling rapidly around his body. Under the circumstances, however, Li Weiyi had no time to strip off his outer garment to inspect it. The smile on Yang Yun's face quickly froze. To his astonishment, Li Weiyi, who had just been blasted away, did not hit the ground at all. Treading on empty air, he pivoted and came right back. This... What sort of movement technique was this? Li Weiyi swung his sword with the crisp speed of chopping vegetables. In three swift strikes, the first sliced off Yang Yun's topknot, the second pierced his collarbone, and the third slashed across his thigh. Finally. His five fingers locked onto the nape of Yang Yun's neck like a vise, subduing him completely. With the slightest exertion, he could twist the man's head clean off. "You can't kill me! My sister is on the ship! You won't escape..." Held face down toward the water like a cat seized by the scruff of its neck, Yang Yun turned deathly pale and dared not twitch a muscle, stripped entirely of his usual perverse arrogance. "Li Weiyi, release Young Master Yun and I will let you leave!" Shi Chuanyu bellowed as he caught up. Li Weiyi did not spare him a glance. His eyes turned instead toward the swift figure, as if cast in solid silver, treading across the river and entering the fishing boat area. "I need you to let me leave? Who are you to grant me anything?" Li Weiyi crushed the last blood pouch on his scripture belt. Carrying Yang Yun in one hand and wielding his sword in the other, he charged toward the figures of Shi Chuanyu, Murong Xiao, and the rest. A few breaths later. Li Weiyi broke through the encirclement and reached the top of the embankment, sporting several new wounds as blood trickled down his cheek and arm. Behind him on the embankment lay two more corpses of seven-spring martial cultivators. Silver mist of dharmic power erupted beneath his feet as he blurred into an afterimage against the night, rushing downriver along the embankment, Yang Yun held in his hand as though weightless. With Yang Qingxi aboard the warship, leaping into the Sui River again would be walking right into a trap. "To maintain such speed while dragging a person along—he certainly carries quite a few dharma artifacts." Saber in hand, Xue Zheng chased onto the embankment. Li Weiyi was already ten zhang away. One could only imagine that if he were not carrying Yang Yun, his speed would be on par with Nine-Spring Perfected Persons, perhaps even matching some Wuhai Realm cultivators. "So fast. He truly lives up to being in the top five of the Yongquan Realm across all of Lizhou. Anyone capable of reaching such a rank must possess extraordinary marvels." While Li Weiyi was fretting over how to shake off Xue Zheng behind him, he suddenly saw Yao Zhengsheng's four-meter-tall ape-like frame planted in the middle of the road ahead like a wall. Gripping a thousand-jin iron staff, he stood with the imposing aura of one man holding the pass against ten thousand. Covered in wounds and utterly exhausted in mind and body, Li Weiyi felt as though heaven itself were driving him to ruin as he faced Yao Zhengsheng—a man born with Herculean strength who had also cultivated his staff technique to the Dharma Convergence realm. What was worse, even if Yao Zhengsheng could only stall him for a round or two, Xue Zheng trailing behind would arrive in an instant. How could he get away then? Yao Zhengsheng's Mountain-Cleaving Staff Technique embodied Heavenly Dao Dharma Convergence; once unleashed, it was impossible to evade. Right now, it seemed an inescapable dead end. Yet if he could not break through this obstacle, how could there be any hope of survival? Li Weiyi took a deep breath. Without slowing in the least, he charged straight at Yao Zhengsheng in the middle of the road, the brilliance of the Yellow Dragon Sword in his hand flaring to its peak, his gaze hardening with resolute determination. Every hurdle was daunting, yet every hurdle must be cleared. If a mountain stood before him, cleave the mountain. If the heavens barred his way, split the heavens. Eight zhang, seven zhang, six zhang... As the distance closed, the blood within Li Weiyi boiled, his pores opened wide, and his fighting spirit soared to its zenith. Four zhang, three zhang. Across the final two zhang, Li Weiyi let out a long cry that echoed across both banks of the Sui River. Leaping off the ground, his gaze fixed like a blade on every minute movement of Yao Zhengsheng—his breathing, his pores, his muscles... Though Yao Zhengsheng had waited comfortably, he knew full well the prowess of the youth before him and remained utterly focused. Dharmic qi spilled from his body as he swung the thousand-jin iron staff, instantly entering the state of Heavenly Dao Dharma Convergence. The iron staff swept forward like a toppling mountain. Winds blew from all directions, grand and overwhelming. Whoosh! Suspended midair, Li Weiyi no longer saw Yao Zhengsheng before him, only an endless ocean, having stepped into the Dharma Convergence realm of Solo Under Heaven. He brought his sword cleaving straight down; the sword light tore through the ocean, linking directly with the horizon. Splatter! Behind them, a mere four zhang from the fray, Xue Zheng clearly witnessed the desperate clash between two masters of the Dharma Convergence realm. In the end, Li Weiyi was a hair faster—and that single hair decided victory and defeat, life and death. One sword strike cleaved away more than half of Yao Zhengsheng's head. Carrying Yang Yun, Li Weiyi vaulted over the corpse alongside the geyser of blood erupting from the top of Yao Zhengsheng's head. Standing four zhang away, Xue Zheng surged all the dharmic qi from his Fengfu spring into his arms. The muscles and skin across his entire body burst with radiant silver light as ring after ring of force billowed outward, kicking up dust and shattering every stone slab beneath his feet. Raising his saber overhead, he slashed across empty air. An overbearing, peerless beam of saber light ripped through the pitch-black shroud of night. Crack! Rumble! Wherever the saber light passed, a deep trench tore through the stone slabs, tracing straight toward Li Weiyi four zhang ahead. Upon landing, Li Weiyi seemed wholly unaffected as he plunged swiftly into the night. A look of bewilderment crossed Xue Zheng's face. He found it difficult to believe that anyone in the Yongquan Realm could take his strongest saber strike head-on and continue fleeing without losing any speed, even if the strike had lost most of its force after traveling four zhang. ... "You're bleeding constantly! Put me down right now—that way you might still get away," Yang Yun said, feeling his hair soaked sticky by the blood continuously dripping from Li Weiyi's mouth. "You're getting slower and slower. They'll catch up in no time. Not just Xue Zheng, but Wuhai Realm experts as well..." Li Weiyi slapped the noisy Yang Yun unconscious. After sprinting more than a dozen li, the buildings in the outskirts grew sparse, giving way to vast farmland in the dark. On the other side came the sound of rushing waters. The colossal warship on the Sui River had long since vanished from sight. Li Weiyi's vision swam with darkness. Relying on the corpse-garment soft armor to withstand Xue Zheng's saber strike had inflicted severe internal injuries, which, combined with the wounds covering his body and the extreme exhaustion from constant combat, meant it was purely his will to survive and unyielding fighting spirit that kept him on his feet. Hesitating no further, he retrieved the evil camel bell and channeled dharmic power to ring it. Clang! Clang! Whoosh! A gigantic camel three to four meters tall, half-illusory and half-real, materialized in the eerie wind. Li Weiyi mounted it, feeling as though he were sitting upon a mass of cotton. He laid the unconscious Yang Yun horizontally across the camel's back and then galloped off at high speed, concealed beneath the nether mist of the ghost banner. When Xue Zheng caught up, he heard only the faint, fading chime of bells drifting into the darkness.