Slain to the Last

High above, the Kongxi Demon-Subduing Bowl faded, and the eye-like hues along the horizon dispersed as well. The vibrant radiance filling the heavens dimmed, gradually returning to the natural color of the sky. The assembled cultivators looked up almost simultaneously, their pupils dilating in collective breathlessness. The dark purples and polychrome gleams summoned by the Kongxi Demon-Subduing Bowl had not entirely dispersed. The entire sky was painted in a backdrop of pale violet with drifting, iridescent light, holding a strange, soul-stirring grandeur. Yet scattered across that pale violet expanse were shattered fragments of glazed, crystalline bodies, large and small. The dharma bodies of these Masters had been colossal to begin with, and now they looked like countless toppled sacred statues, reduced to shards scattered everywhere. The gazes of the crowd traced these mangled remains upward until they came to rest upon a mountain of corpses fashioned from golden dharma bodies. Atop it, a man in white armor sat quietly cross-legged, a white bow propped beside him. "He has slain the Shakya to the last..." This sight lingered for only a heartbeat. Without the suppression of the Kongxi Demon-Subduing Bowl, the fragments of those dharma bodies instantly evaporated into a sky full of dazzling, resplendent light. The waterfall of flower rain from above swelled even greater, crashing down like clattering hail mixed with colored glaze of every size. The onlookers continued to crane their necks. Though the vision had been fleeting, it had seared itself terrifically into the pupils of every cultivator below. For a moment, most were too stunned to even scramble to catch the falling glaze. *Rumble!* The sound of muffled thunder rolled across the sky. Released from the oppressive force of the Kongxi Demon-Subduing Bowl, Li Qinghong was the first to take flight. Transforming into a streak of purple lightning, she pierced through the rain of sweet dew and pink blossoms to find Li Xuanfeng in his white armor. He was already descending upon the wind. The ghastly gashes across his flesh and the hollow void behind his wounds had all been concealed once more beneath a suit of grim, domineering true-metal armor. The white bow rested casually in his hand. Amidst the ebb and flow of golden qi, Li Xuanfeng's eyes had taken on a faint grayish hue. He raised a hand to forestall Li Qinghong's words. She immediately swallowed her anxious concern, took up her silver spear, and fell in behind him. Together, uncle and niece descended toward the southern bank beneath the portentous celestial phenomena. Below, the crowds gazed blankly at the heavens, allowing the pink petals to pile past their knees. As Li Xuanfeng stepped onto the Ming Pass summoned by the Huaijiang Map, even figures as noble as Si Yuanli trembled, not daring to meet his gaze. From west to east, figures bowed to the ground in waves. The fierce, majestic man gleamed in white armor as great houses on both flanks bowed their heads and immortal scions averted their eyes. Rogue cultivators and clan cultivators alike prostrated like beaten grass. Amidst the downpour of dew and blossoms, the southern bank shook with a unified cry: "We pay our respects to the Lord!" Li Xuanfeng nodded faintly and raised his left hand flat. Slowly, a scroll materialized in the air, unfurling long as it drifted. The white-armored man flicked his wrist lightly. *Whoosh!* The long Ming Pass beneath his feet dissolved at once, turning into streaks of golden light that flowed back into the scroll. Without a word, Li Xuanfeng let the scroll spin once through the air before dropping in front of Si Yuanli. *Rustle...* Si Yuanli stared vacantly at the sky. A spinning pink blossom brushed against his cheek before being swept aside by his protective radiance. His ocular technique was peerless. The instant the Kongxi Demon-Subduing Bowl vanished from the firmament, he had seen every glazed dharma body scattered across the heavens with crystal clarity. Combining that with the chillingly terrifying omens, only a single thought occupied Si Yuanli's mind: *Eighteen Masters, all slain.* Soft petals had already piled past his knees. Si Yuanli turned his gaze toward the north, greeted by a boundless vista of pink and gold. Sweet dew, blossoms, and colored glaze blanketed the earth like an ocean, so bright it stung his eyes. *Such divine might—who in the past five hundred years could compare to this?* Figures like Duanmu Kui and Shangyuan surfaced in Si Yuanli's thoughts. Perhaps only Shangyuan, nearly seventy years ago, riding alone into the Shakya host right here, slaying two Shakya and three fiends before departing unhindered to bring peace to the State of Xu, could ever bear comparison... He dragged his gaze back from the celestial portents and cast it over the multitude of cultivators along the riverbank. In their eyes lay fear, relief, or pleasant shock, yet the emotion most prevalent among the clan and rogue cultivators was one and the same: Awe. Si Yuanli kept his head lowered in a daze, his thoughts a tangled mess. Li Xuanfeng turned slightly and looked toward him. Si Yuanli jolted upright, instantly straining his ears to listen. Li Xuanfeng's slightly raspy voice echoed through the air. Though not loud, it compelled all the cultivators to bow low and listen in silence: "The Northern Shakya have been slaughtered to the last; my duty of defense is fulfilled. My lifespan and immortal foundation are utterly exhausted. I ask only to be permitted to return to the lake and pass away." His words caused the cultivators to lift their heads in shock. Even the members of the Yuan family, who had harbored no shortage of bitter grievances, now looked upon Li Xuanfeng with genuine respect. The assembled cultivators fell into heavy silence. Though everyone had been coerced into defending the line, they had at least fought with everything they had, even if they had not laid down their lives. After all, behind this riverbank lay their kin, their clans, and their caves; who among them did not have family to protect? Now, practically everyone could see that the riverbank had been held solely through Li Xuanfeng's might. With this fearsome warrior about to pass away, the dread and wariness the noble houses felt turned into relief, tinged with a measure of awe and gratitude. *A blessing... what a blessing...* In contrast, rogue and clan cultivators looked at one another with expressions of sorrow and deep gratitude, gazing up at him at a loss for words. Yet a violent tremor ran through Si Yuanli's mind as his ominous premonition came true. In silent dread, he thought: *He...! He is about to pass away!* Whether Li Xuanfeng died defending the river or was merely grievously wounded meant two completely different outcomes for Si Yuanli! Just moments ago, seeing Li Xuanfeng standing in full majesty, he had felt a glimmer of relief. Now, only an icy chill gripped his heart. *This changes everything! This changes everything! Li Yuanqin is the Chi family's trusted confidant. Once Li Xuanfeng perishes in the line of defense, the Chi family can make a massive issue out of it!* *When that happens, to say nothing of whether the Li family will support us... the entire character of this war might be turned on its head!* No matter how cold his heart grew, he could only muster a bitter reply: "How could this... Very well... Xuanfeng..." Li Xuanfeng gave him a slow nod, his voice dipping lower: "It is difficult to extract Please Wield the Metal at this moment. Once I have passed away, my family will certainly deliver it to you." His gaze softened slightly as it rested on Si Yuanli. Though this man hailed from Qingchi and had done many questionable things, the preservation of the millions of common folk behind the river had still depended on his contributions. At his core, he was a swordsman, and he still possessed a shred of principle. Meeting his gaze, Si Yuanli even felt a twinge of shame. In the end, Li Xuanfeng's impending demise had come about from following his orders. Before he could even realize that he harbored a quiet admiration for Li Xuanfeng, a pang of heartache seized him: *What a pity...* Li Xuanfeng let out a soft laugh and vanished into a gust of grim white wind. The members of the Li family naturally had no need to linger and took to the wind one after another. The gathered cultivators stepped aside in rows and bowed respectfully: "Farewell, Lord!" The cry rippled from east to west, gradually converging into a roar. Even in the eyes of Lingu Lanying, a trace of reverence surfaced. She turned slightly and bowed toward the direction of his departure. "Farewell, Senior..." Si Yuanli felt as though his chest were stuffed with frigid snow. Yet he soon noticed more and more gazes turning toward him. From the side stepped a woman in emerald robes, dressed splendidly with a sword at her waist, who offered him a salute. *Not good!* Si Yuanli's scalp tingled, but Lingu Lanying's voice rang through his mind like a great bell, jolting him to the core: "Senior Yuanli! The northern cultivators have retreated. Shall we proceed to reinforce Bianyan?" Si Yuanli turned his head to find the entire southern bank looking on with cold eyes, so quiet that a falling needle would have been heard. Every gaze pierced toward him like a sword, pinning him in place like a volley of arrows that chilled him to the bone. Those looks carried an unmistakable edge of scrutiny, pressing inch by inch against his chest.