Rising Momentum

Across the open wilderness, numerous troops of the former imperial house were stationed. Watching that colossal silver airship tumble from the sky in flames, they fell collectively silent. Their fervent cheering came to an abrupt halt, disbelief etched across countless faces. Chen Chuan sat steadily upon his horse, his gaze fixed on the spot where the airship had crashed. Blazing flames surged into the sky, ash swirling as though a gigantic torch had been ignited on the plain. Just then, the fire flickered, and an extraordinarily tall, dark silhouette stepped slowly out from the blaze. He was clad from head to foot in pitch-black armor, holding an inverted spear adorned with white tassels. A faint shimmer gleamed all across his body, and the flames seemed unable to touch him in the slightest. With every step he took, the ground appeared to tremble beneath him. At that moment, Chen Chuan sensed something and turned his gaze to the side. There, another person had appeared at some point, walking forward. This man wore a faded red headband, propping up his already thick, stiff hair so that it stood almost straight up. In appearance he seemed around twenty-seven or twenty-eight, with a faint scar above his brow. His demeanor was wild and untamed, and he wore a Great Shun military uniform devoid of any rank insignia. His jacket was left unbuttoned, casually hanging open at the chest to reveal pectoral muscles hard as rock. Around his waist was a wide leather belt slotted with long metal spikes, though one of them seemed to be missing. Right now, he was walking toward the black-armored general. As he strode forward, a similar faint radiance emerged around his body, warping the surrounding air. Chen Chuan watched his figure. If he was not mistaken, this had to be the martial artist reassigned back from the Ring of the World; shooting down the airship just now was almost certainly his handiwork. Since he had arrived, then... Just as the thought crossed his mind, he saw another airship approaching from the rear of the sky, comparable in size to the one that had just fallen. At the same time, he faintly heard the spirited, resonant beat of martial drums and music, carrying a majestic, commanding vigor that grew clearer as the vessel drew near. He couldn't help but raise a brow. Earlier, when he had asked about Principal Yao, Teacher Xue had told him that he would understand when the time came. Now he pretty much did. Having emerged from the flames, the black-armored general naturally turned toward the young man. The two stood facing each other, yet neither seemed in a hurry to strike. The airship resonant with drum music finally drew close. Then, a figure leapt down from above, slamming into the earth with a thunderous crash. A circular shockwave rippled outward, and a powerful gust swept across the plain, pressing the nearby low shrubs flat against the dirt. A burly, imposing figure appeared. Draped in a cloak and holding a thick-backed broadblade, he walked forward, a faint radiance shimmering and emanating from around his body. This had to be Principal Yao. In the years since entering Wuyi, this was the first time Chen Chuan had ever laid eyes on his school's principal. Yet he understood. As martial artists, people like him would never be bogged down managing day-to-day affairs. Not because they lacked capability, but because someone possessing combat power of this caliber could not be tied to a desk; they were destined to be deployed in decisive moments. Now, as Yao Zhiyi strode closer, he and the young martial artist formed a pincer position, flanking the black-armored general on either side, each standing roughly a hundred meters apart. The young man seemed to raise a hand. Across from him, the black-armored general raised his spear in kind. An invisible force appeared to clash through the air; brilliance suddenly flashed at the spear tip, intensely blinding, before fading away after a moment. The young man reached out and pulled, bringing out a long chain linked with multiple hook-blades. Shaking it open with a metallic rattle, he said, "Wei Guochan, you're not getting away today." Yao Zhiyi said in a deep voice, "Xiao Wan, don't jump to conclusions before the job is done." The young man replied, "Principal, you know I can't keep quiet. Besides, we've got him surrounded—where can he run?" "Then hold your tongue for now. Once we've handled Wei Guochan, you'll have all the time in the world to talk!" Yao Zhiyi barked a reprimand. His thick brows knitted together as he gripped the broadblade with both hands and leaned forward slightly. The faint glow around him flickered, then erupted outward in an abrupt surge, manifesting as a thick, pulsating red flame-light that completely enveloped him. To the side, the young man tugged at his chain-hooks with both hands. An orange-red glow spilled from his body, and his pitch-black pupils took on the same luster. Opposite them, the black-armored general underwent a similar transformation. A leaping, billowing black smoky radiance surged from his form, ink-dark and thick, seemingly fusing with his armor. The young man struck first. With a sharp shout, he lunged forward in an instant, hurling the hook-blades with all his might as his entire body hurtled in like an orange-red fireball. The black-armored general jerked his spear upward. Before their weapons even met, the fields surrounding them collided first, detonating with a dull, crashing boom of fracture as rings of fissures spiderwebbed across the ground. The two seemed to freeze for a split second before blinding light detonated with a roar. Silhouettes seemed to flash and flicker frantically within the glare as the earth shook incessantly. Finally, an intense shockwave expanded outward, thunderous rumbles rolling endlessly across the plain. After quite a while, as the swirling dust and blast waves gradually settled, both men could be seen sunk deep into the loose soil. The ground where they stood looked as though it had been struck by multiple heavy artillery shells, caved in into a crater over a hundred meters wide, though the radiance around their bodies still flickered. The young man's headband had come loose. Wisps of black smoke rose from his bare chest, and likewise from various spots across his body. Yet the chain in his hands had clamped firmly around the head of the enemy's spear. Across from him, numerous cracks had spread across the black-armored general's heavy plate, glowing with pulsating orange-red light. His hands held fast to the spear without yielding an inch. But his body seemed to have swelled to more than twice its original size, his torso especially massive. Two arms extended from his shoulders and back, while another two sprouted from beneath his ribs—all four additional limbs clad in heavy armor. At the peak of their clash, flames flared up from the side. Yao Zhiyi raised his long-handled broadblade high and slashed down toward the black-armored general, brilliant red light blazing from the blade as it cleaved downward with terrifying momentum. Yet along with a thunderous roar, the blade failed to slice clean through. A thick, muscular arm shimmering with light had blocked it. It belonged to a man with loose, shoulder-length black hair. Bangs concealed his eyes, leaving only his lower cheeks and a resolute jawline visible, though sharp glints faintly pierced through the strands of hair. He wore a loose white martial artist uniform that hung down to his calves, with hand wraps wound tightly around his fists and forearms. Right now, he maintained a stance with one arm bent and fist clenched. The muscles in his arm bulged, and the shimmering silver-white light spilling from him leapt incessantly like living mist. The flaming broadblade and this streaming glow met mid-air, spewing forth sparks and debris where they clashed. Yao Zhiyi looked at him with a solemn expression, saying in a heavy voice, "The Great Firmament Fist Style of the Purist Faction? Then you must be Zhao Zhenye. You should not have intervened today." The bangs obscured the man's eyes, hiding his expression. He merely said, "My apologies. I made a promise." Without looking back, he addressed Wei Guochan behind him: "I have helped you this once as promised. From now on, we are even. I will hold them here. Do whatever it is you came to do." Hearing this, the black-armored general let go of his spear and stepped back. The young man yelled, "Did anyone say you could leave?" Flinging the spear aside with his chain-hooks, he was about to press the attack when Zhao Zhenye swung his free hand. A massive burst of concussive radiant fire flew through the air. The young man's expression hardened. He crossed his arms to block. With a sharp crack, his feet plowed through the dirt, pushed back over a dozen meters by the sheer force. Zhao Zhenye sidestepped Yao Zhiyi's broadblade and retreated a short distance. Spreading his arms and parting his feet, he barred the path before the two men. Behind him, within the silver-white mist, something colossal seemed to stir, mirroring his stance. He spoke slowly: "My apologies, gentlemen. Please remain where you are." At that moment, the black-armored general turned his head and cast a glance toward Chen Chuan. Though they were separated by a considerable distance, Chen Chuan instantly felt an overwhelming sense of extreme danger—a sensation he had never experienced before. He could sense all the mutated tissue within his body snapping to peak alertness in an instant, screaming at him to get away from the source of danger. Without hesitation, he abandoned his horse and leapt backward, instantly clearing tens of meters. In that same moment, the dragon-nosed horse suddenly exploded out of thin air. Landing on the ground, he looked up to see that where he had just stood, the towering six-armed figure shrouded in swirling black smoke now stood. In the blink of an eye, the foe seemed to have traversed an immense distance to appear before him. Yet he could tell that what had arrived first was likely the opponent's spiritual power. It was merely so corporeal that it felt as though the general himself had arrived, whereas his true body was still far off in the distance. The figure ahead glanced at him again and abruptly vanished. When it reappeared, it was already right in front of him, all six arms reaching down to seize him at once. Yet at this very instant, Chen Chuan's gaze remained profoundly calm. The esoteric markings on his overcoat seemed to come alive, shifting in an instant. A figure immediately materialized out of thin air, pressing out with both hands to block the swooping, colossal silhouette in its tracks! ... ...