Fu Qingyang plunged down from the city wall. In that instant, he seemed to merge with the Jade Dragon Sword, fading from the watching soldiers' sight until only that breathtaking streak of sword light remained.
The sword qi concentrated within the Jade Dragon Sword was so immense that it distorted the surrounding air, producing ripples around the diving Fu Qingyang like a meteor grating against the atmosphere.
Waving his eight arms, Tuoba Guanghe faced the sword light that seemed capable of cleaving heaven and earth. His four pairs of palms slammed together in unison, catching Yang Ce's blade.
To his astonishment, Tuoba Guanghe found that Yang Ce's strength was completely unlike before. He felt an uncanny sensation of being overpowered.
Fu Qingyang forced Tuoba Guanghe downward with sheer momentum, slamming into the ground with a thunderous roar.
Maintaining his diagonal flight posture like an incarnate flying sword, Fu Qingyang drove Tuoba Guanghe backward across the earth.
*Rrrrip!*
Tuoba Guanghe's military boots tore apart. His pitch-black feet, gleaming with a metallic sheen like iron plows, gouged two deep trenches into the blood-soaked imperial road.
One surged forward while the other was pushed back, skidding for dozens of zhang.
Tuoba Guanghe's eight palms were scorched and torn by the sword qi, dripping with blood and split down to the flesh. The sword tip ground steadily closer, pressing against his chest. Although it failed to pierce his tough hide, the stinging pain was very real.
Scarlet runes flared in Tuoba Guanghe's eyes as he attempted to sway his opponent's will with Bewitchment. But the moment the runes ignited, a deafening drumbeat crashed against his ears.
The freshly formed runes instantly shattered. Feelings of evasion and cowardice surged into his heart once more, undermining his battle will.
Tuoba Guanghe realized that Yang Ce hadn't grown stronger; he himself had grown weaker.
That soul-shaking drumbeat not only struck terror into the spirit and extinguished fighting spirit, but also disrupted the flow of spiritual energy, causing a tangible drain on combat strength.
After ascending to the realm of Grandmaster, Tuoba Guanghe had discarded most of the spells he had learned in the past. In his view, no spell attack could ever surpass a full-force blow delivered in his three-headed, six-armed dharma body form.
Countless supposedly supreme arts and secret methods in the jianghu ultimately came down to the word "power." In the eyes of an unrivaled expert like him, the concept of using four ounces to deflect a thousand catties simply didn't exist. Throughout history, every cultivator sought raw strength; every one of them believed only in overwhelming all with absolute might.
They merely expressed it through different forms.
Consequently, cultivating the physical body was the glorious path Tuoba Guanghe believed in. *Let him be strong; with absolute strength, I shatter ten thousand techniques!*
His muscles bulged in tight knots and his veins pulsed violently. Tuoba Guanghe abruptly released his four pairs of palms, allowing the sword brimming with potent sword qi to press against his skin and pierce three inches into his flesh.
With a deep, guttural roar, all eight palms slammed simultaneously against the flat of the blade.
*Crack!*
The Jade Dragon Sword, which had accompanied Fu Qingyang for quite some time, shattered inch by inch.
Seizing the moment his enemy lost his weapon, Tuoba Guanghe took a heavy step forward. With a booming thud, the earth trembled.
Clenching his eight hands into fists—some throwing hooks, some thrusting straight, some launching cannon punches or lunging strikes—he enveloped Fu Qingyang.
*Bang! Bang! Bang!*
All eight fists struck empty air, setting off ear-splitting shockwaves in the void.
Fu Qingyang had already foreseen his opponent's move through Insight the moment his blade shattered. What appeared to be a perilous evasion of an eight-fist barrage had in fact been entirely within his calculations—an inevitable outcome.
While a Puppeteer's close-combat prowess couldn't match an Ancient God of War's ability to battle heaven, earth, and gods alike while trampling ants underfoot, as a class with high damage and low defense, how could one engage a thick-skinned tank in melee without some life-saving techniques?
Fu Qingyang swept backward over a dozen meters, slashing both hands across the void.
Half-arm-length flying swords lined up in midair, and he flicked them outward one after another.
*Swoosh, swoosh, swoosh!*
The flying swords crisscrossed, darting toward the enemy from various angles.
Illusory weapons materialized in Tuoba Guanghe's eight arms. He swung them into an impenetrable barrier, the relentless clanging of metal on metal ringing out as he batted away the darting blades.
Fu Qingyang leaped into the air and spun sideways, building momentum with every rotation. Six half-arm-length flying swords flew back on their own, linking head to tail to form a three-meter-long sword whip.
He lashed downward.
Tuoba Guanghe raised his eight arms horizontally toward the sky.
The sword whip disintegrated, and the sword qi within dispersed into a "sword rain," pelting Tuoba Guanghe's head, face, and shoulders like a dense shower, drawing out beads of blood.
Tuoba Guanghe puffed his cheeks and exhaled a massive surge of thick, dense fog.
With his level, the fog could blanket a radius of a hundred li, engulfing the entire capital. Ordinary gale winds couldn't hope to disperse mist spread across a hundred li.
During the siege, Tuoba Guanghe hadn't actively spewed mist because the fog of a Grandmaster-grade fighter carried effects of blinding the five senses, inducing hallucinations, and light toxins—effects that did not distinguish friend from foe. Not only ordinary soldiers, but even Mist Lords would be affected.
Now, he had no such reservations.
The dense mist rolled outward rapidly, surging toward the wilderness, the imperial road, and the city walls.
Suddenly, the rushing roar of torrential water resounded. A vast river materialized outside the city walls, converging into a mighty waterway. Its waters surged violently, kicking up towering waves even taller than the ramparts.
Holding a pitch-black seal in hand, Fu Qingyang stood steadfast amid the churning waves.
The river waters pushed back the dense mist, forcing it to float along the surface.
A Mist Lord's abilities to teleport and vaporize within the mist were instantly rendered useless.
Tuoba Guanghe soared high into the air, treading the void. He looked down gloomily at Fu Qingyang in the water, helpless to strike.
The item in Fu Qingyang's hand was Cai Qinhe's River God Seal, a rule-based item.
While this item could only unleash its true power in the hands of a Water Ghost, in his hands, it was more than enough to counter the dense fog.
"Think you can hide like a turtle in its shell and I won't be able to touch you?"
Tuoba Guanghe plunged straight into the water.
Before long, muffled thunder echoed from beneath the surface. Muddy waves surged dozens of zhang into the air, and the entire river seemed to boil.
A quarter of an hour later, the dense mist blanketing the area inside and outside the city dispersed, and the water level receded rapidly.
Both Dominators dissolved their "domains" at the same time.
While Tuoba Guanghe had felt tied down, Fu Qingyang's flying swords, sword arts, and sword qi had also been impeded underwater, preventing him from unleashing his full might.
The two clashed once more upon the mud-soaked imperial road, abandoning flashy skills and items to risk their lives in raw melee combat.
Tuoba Guanghe's fist force howled across the wilderness. Whenever a stray punch struck the city wall, it left massive, sprawling cracks. Fu Qingyang's sword qi was equally devastating, sending cascades of stone tumbling from the ramparts with every scattered slash.
The top of the city wall was completely deserted. The garrison had already retreated to the base of the wall. Many had died in the dense fog earlier, and another wave had been shaken to death by the shockwaves of the two combatants' clash.
Finally, Tuoba Guanghe had unleashed his Eye of Bewitchment, driving the soldiers into mass frenzy.
A true clash of immortals that brought ruin to the innocent.
Throughout the entire ordeal, Zhang Yuanqing continued to beat the drum without pause. Only by keeping the drumbeats going could this battle continue.
Only then did they stand a fighting chance.
After driving Yang Ce back with a heavy, powerful lunging fist, Tuoba Guanghe wiped the blood from his chest, his voice laced with contempt beneath an oppressive aura:
"Swordsmen rely on quick, decisive victories. Once locked in a battle of attrition, they lose their edge and their sharpness is dulled. Your sword qi has weakened, Yang Ce. Even with the drum's aid, you cannot kill me.
"And this commander can easily wear you down to death."
Fu Qingyang had been fighting an uphill battle from the start, and his opponent was an Ancient God of War with endless stamina. Even suppressed by the drum and fallen from his peak, defeating or killing him remained an excruciatingly difficult task.
Such was a level 9 Dominator.
The higher the level, the harder it became to punch above one's tier—not to mention that level 9 was already near the ceiling for Spirit Realm walkers.
Tuoba Guanghe broke into a dead sprint, charging straight at Fu Qingyang. It was a simple, unadorned attack, yet it gave the impression of a single man charging like an army of thousands.
Any other class would have chosen to dodge and yield ground, daring not face such momentum head-on.
Yet Fu Qingyang insisted on meeting force with force. He would not permit himself to back down; if he retreated, he would no longer be Fu Qingyang.
Fu Qingyang formed sword hand seals with both hands. Flying swords howled into formation, aligning head to tail into a single straight line—a line along which gods and ghosts alike were banished.
Tuoba Guanghe rammed headfirst into the tip of the lead sword.
At that exact moment, the drumbeat suddenly cut out.
Astride the ramparts, Zhang Yuanqing's brow turned dark, and a desolate, murky aura gathered upon his forehead.
His aura plummeted rapidly. His vitality waned, sweat seeped from his armpits, a foul odor emanated from his body, and his spirit grew thoroughly exhausted.
The Five Celestial Decays!
The price for forcing the Imperial Preceptor's death had finally arrived.
*Bang! Bang! Bang!* The flying swords snapped one after another. Weapons sharp enough to slice through iron failed to pierce the brow of the Northern Dynasty's foremost martial artist.
With his aura surging, Tuoba Guanghe pushed forward like a raging current, closing the distance to Fu Qingyang in an instant and throwing a punch that detonated the air.
The sudden turn of events caught Fu Qingyang completely off guard. In haste, he gathered all his sword qi onto his fingertips and thrust a sword-finger toward the incoming fist.
A deafening explosion rang out as a destructive shockwave rippled across the field, shaking the city wall until it cracked and shuddered.
His sword-finger blown to mincemeat, Fu Qingyang was flung backward, both arms dangling limply. That single punch had not only shattered the bones in his arms, but its penetrating force had also jostled his heart meridians.
How could Tuoba Guanghe let such an opening slip? Murderous intent and exhilaration flared in his eyes. Turning into a black shadow, he pursued like an inescapable phantom, determined to finish Yang Ce off on the spot.
*Boom!*
The drum roared once more.
Tuoba Guanghe's spiritual energy stagnated, his chest heaved as his blood churned, and his offensive rhythm was instantly broken.
Fu Qingyang flipped in midair to stabilize himself. Reaching into his inventory, he pulled out three vials of Life Source Fluid, bit down hard to crush them with his teeth, and swallowed the liquid along with the glass shards.
Bones clicked and popped as his arms realigned, flesh and blood regenerating in moments.
*Boom! Boom! Boom!*
The drum on the ramparts thundered violently, echoing across dozens of li.
The emperor beating the drum bled from his seven facial orifices, thick crimson streaming down from the corners of his mouth and staining his chest and abdomen.
"Can you hold out?" Fu Qingyang asked as he pulled back to create distance.
Zhang Yuanqing's head throbbed with splitting agony. Hearing the question, he forced a distorted, ugly smile. "I said the Son of Heaven guards the gate of the nation, and the ruler dies for the state. A sovereign's word is his bond!"
Fu Qingyang replied, "Good! I'll slay him within an hour!"
As he spoke, he raised his hands once more and pressed downward.
Tuoba Guanghe sneered. "No matter how many battle puppets you have, what difference does it make at our level—"
He snapped his mouth shut.
Four silhouettes tore through the air: a woman in a magnificent red gown cradling a jar, a cold and glamorous beauty in a black gauze dress, a burly man with dark reddish hair wearing a green robe, and the yin creature in strange attire.
Four Dominator-grade battle puppets.
Fu Qingyang gently exhaled a breath of sword qi. "Tuoba, facing six Grandmasters combined, you die a worthy death."
The first half had merely been a warm-up to buy time. He had been waiting all along for the three Dominators to neutralize the corpse curse.
While the Imperial Preceptor's curse had been powerful, it was ultimately just a single spell. With the caster dead, its power would steadily decline. Moreover, the cursed were all formidable Dominators; dissolving the curse was only a matter of time.
Chapter 883