Wang Qi had broken through to Rank 7 ten years ago. Having weathered countless bloody battles in the army, his martial arts had been honed to exquisite purity.
Although he could not yet condense true qi, he possessed absolute control over his sinews, flesh, and internal organs, inside and out.
When he spoke, the sound resonated from deep within his chest, heavy, powerful, and rumbling like thunder, even setting off reverberations throughout the Daoist temple.
Inside the hall, Wuzheng, presiding over the ritual altar, felt his heart clench. *What ferocious physical might this martial artist possesses! He has truly attained the realm where his breath rumbles like thunder—scarcely far from Rank 6, where true qi is condensed.*
Furthermore, the enemy possessed superior numbers. One could tell from the disciplined, uniform march of these rogue soldiers that every one of them was a seasoned elite.
Tonight was far more perilous than that encounter at Laocang Village; one misstep, and every last one of them would perish.
Wuzheng looked toward Zhou Wuji standing at the hall entrance. Zhou Wuji explained in a hushed whisper, "I only drew them over. I never intended to fight him single-handedly."
Observing the man's facial features, Zhou Wuji noted a distinct resemblance to the Rank 7 rogue soldier he had slain.
Yet this man's vitality surged like boiling water, and his baleful aura blazed like fire—vastly stronger than that slain Rank 7 rogue soldier!
Wuzheng said, "As long as we hold the main hall, they won't find materials to set a fire in time, nor will they dare linger here for long.
"The enemy are elites. They will certainly carry heavy crossbows and stiff bows, and they excel at fighting in formation. They will never duel you one-on-one. It is enough that you understand this, Junior Brother."
With the statue of the Heavenly Emperor serving as the nexus of their altar, there was no need to take risks by rushing outside to fight.
If the altar was truly breached, it would not be too late to draw their swords then.
A group of Daoists hurried into the hall through the back door. They were all Wuzheng's disciples and attendants, well accustomed to working together.
Even though they still did not fully grasp what was happening, at Wuzheng's command, they straightened their robes and headwear, took up their respective positions, and assisted Wuzheng in opening the altar.
The Arctic Sect revered the Northern Emperor, and their foremost formation was the Big Dipper Seven Stars Formation.
Seven Daoists formed a squad, taking their positions according to the seven stars.
As the presiding master, Wuzheng planted himself firmly at the North Pole position. Each of the seven Daoists gripped a ritual sword, chanting incantations and circulating true qi to gather dharmic power.
A few servants and handymen hurried into the hall upon hearing the bell as well. Naturally, others feigned deafness, hiding inside their rooms and refusing to step out.
Wuzheng paid them no heed. Seeing that time was running short, he ordered the back door bolted shut.
All of this had been rehearsed well in advance. Though the sudden midnight crisis rattled the Daoists, with Wuzheng taking charge, they managed to steady themselves and perform their duties.
Hearing the thud of the back door shutting, Wuzheng let out a breath of relief. It would have been troublesome indeed if someone had slipped in from behind to wreak havoc.
Outside, Wang Qi had already led his men into the courtyard, barely ten paces from the hall's main entrance.
Wang Qi caught sight of Zhou Wuji standing before the entrance. The hall interior was dimly lit, and with his back to the lamplight, Zhou Wuji's face remained cast in shadow; yet with Wang Qi's sharp vision, he could still see Zhou Wuji with complete clarity.
He had heard Zhang Xinhu mention Zhou Wuji several times, and Zhang Xinhu had always stressed how young and handsome the youth was.
Seeing him now, Zhang Xinhu's assessment had been quite accurate. He was indeed young and handsome, exuding an airy, graceful bearing.
Judging by appearances alone, one would never guess this lad was a cold-blooded swordsman who slaughtered people without batting an eye.
Wang Qi spared him only a single glance before ordering in a low voice, "Loose!"
He wished to avenge his brother with his own hands, but the enemy was prepared. Faced with a shrine defended by numerous Daoists, he dared not act rashly.
As mutinous deserters, their supply of arrows was limited; fleeing all the way here had depleted nearly everything.
Had it not been to avenge his brother and plunder money and grain along the way, he would never have parted with precious arrows.
Four crossbowmen crouched in front while four archers drew their bows behind them, all eight firing simultaneously.
At this distance, stiff bows were more than enough to pierce armor, and the four archers were all skilled marksmen; their four shafts converged straight toward Zhou Wuji.
Zhou Wuji drew his sword and slashed in rapid succession, conjuring a dazzling sheet of sword light before him.
He was executing Boundless Evening Snow from the Evening Snow Sword.
Temporarily elevating both Flowing Cloud Sword and Descending Goose Sword to the consummate realm had increased his sword speed by roughly twenty percent.
Though it seemed like a modest increase, his sword had already reached an exceptionally swift level; this boost allowed him to handle the incoming arrows with poise.
What appeared to be repeated slashes shifted to the sword's spine at the moment of contact, instantly deflecting all four heavy arrows away.
Just then, the four crossbowmen loosed their bolts together. They held not repeating crossbows, but heavy crossbows.
Within a hundred paces, they could punch through three layers of heavy plate—a devastatingly domineering force.
Even demonic beasts standing ten to twenty feet tall could not withstand the impact of these heavy bolts.
With the Six Yang Dharma Eyes active, Zhou Wuji could clearly see the coarse, dark hairs on the crossbowmen's fingers.
From pulling the trigger to releasing the bolt, there was a fleeting interval.
By the time the bolts shot forth, Zhou Wuji had already dodged behind a wooden pillar beside him.
The four bolts whizzed past him, piercing diagonally upward into the main hall.
Standing before the deity's statue, Wuzheng pointed a finger and unleashed the Big Dipper Heavenly Astral.
This technique could be invoked with talismans or cast directly.
Through the empowerment of the Northern Emperor's statue and the collective dharmic power circulated by the seven Daoists, Wuzheng could manifest the Big Dipper Divine Astral directly.
Seven points of azure starlight flared, forming a translucent azure screen of light before Wuzheng.
The bolts capable of penetrating three layers of heavy armor struck the light screen, sending ripples of radiant light scattering across its surface, but ultimately failed to pierce the astral barrier.
In the courtyard, Wang Qi watched clearly and could not help but frown slightly. *These mixed-hair Daoists actually have some skill.*
Wang Qi had always looked down upon monks and Daoists; in large-scale military warfare, baleful qi soared to the heavens, rendering all spells and supernatural arts utterly useless.
During his thousand-li flight, he had killed a few blind Daoists and monks along the way, none of whom could take a single blow.
For this reason, Wang Qi had never truly taken Canglong Temple seriously.
Only now did Wang Qi realize that a temple shrine truly possessed special properties; using Daoist magic to block heavy crossbow bolts was something he was seeing for the very first time.
The hall doors stood wide open, so storming in would not be difficult. But with the Daoists wielding potent arts, he did not want to rush in blindly.
Given ample time, he could have gathered torches and dry wood to set fire to the hall; no matter how sturdy a building was, it could not withstand fire.
Since tricks were out of the question now, an all-out assault was the only way!
Wang Qi did not ponder for long. The Daoists lacked even bows and arrows; how long could they hold out with magic alone?
He had brought fifty men with him this time; if he couldn't take a tiny Daoist temple, it would be a laughingstock.
Time was precious; if someone escaped to the county seat to report, it would spell trouble.
Wang Qi waved his hand at once. "Spearmen, form ranks and advance!"
Two squads of spearmen in full lamellar armor leveled their spears and marched forward in formation.
Clustered tightly together, the spearmen in the rear thrust their spearpoints through the gaps between those in front, forming a dense spear hedge.
A dense, fully armored spear formation feared only bows and crossbows; even cavalry would not dare charge it head-on.
Furthermore, having survived numerous massacres, these rogue soldiers were all exceptionally ferocious and battle-hardened.
Seeing such a dense spear hedge, Zhou Wuji also found it troublesome.
In open terrain, he could keep his distance and pick them off one by one. But within an enclosed hall, a dense spear formation was surprisingly difficult to break.
Of course, he could activate a Northern Culmen Heavenly Dipper Divine Talisman and charge head-on into the spear hedge, but with a Rank 7 expert still lurking in the enemy ranks, he was not about to take such a reckless gamble.
Several squads of fully armored soldiers advanced behind the spear hedge, exuding a momentum that seemed capable of crushing anything in their path.
Seeing this, the Daoists maintaining the formation in the hall turned pale, their limbs trembling.
At this critical juncture, Wuzheng remained remarkably calm and resolute. He shouted, "Hold steady! We are protected by the Northern Emperor—what is there to fear!"
Though the Daoists barely composed themselves, their movements remained stiff.
Ignoring them, Wuzheng raised his Tianpeng ruler, pointed forward, and chanted an incantation: "Tianpeng, Tianpeng, command the thunderbolts! Swiftly, by order of the Northern Emperor!"
The talismans on the Tianpeng ruler gleamed with spiritual light. Channeled through the ruler, the dharmic power gathered by the formation with the Northern Emperor's statue at its core transformed into Yin Thunder and surged forward.
The water-like radiance of the Yin Thunder shot like a serpent straight toward the dense spear hedge. Seeing this, the soldiers shouted in unison. Though they lacked true qi, they carried the blood-fiend aura forged through a hundred battles.
To Zhou Wuji's eyes, the blood-fiend aura generated by their battle formation draped over all the soldiers like a thick cloak of crimson light.
When the water-like radiance of the Yin Thunder met that dense crimson glow, it shattered into thousands of twisting arcs of light, erupting with a resounding boom.
Instantly, the hair and beards of several advancing soldiers burned into black smoke, and they collapsed shuddering to the ground.
Most of the remaining soldiers were terrified; they had never witnessed such formidable magic.
From behind, Wang Qi roared, "Charge! Killing him is our only way out! Forward, no retreat!"
Wang Qi had led this band all the way into the Siming Mountains, slaughtering countless people along the way, and the entire troupe held immense awe and reverence for him.
The rogue soldiers also understood full well that their hands were drenched in blood; if captured, they would surely face execution.
Moreover, with the Blood Fiend Art roused, their blood boiled within them, leaving a single thought in their minds: *Kill! Kill! Kill!*
Driven into a murderous frenzy, the soldiers paid no heed to their fallen comrades, bellowing as they quickened their pace and rushed toward Wuzheng.
Wuzheng raised his Tianpeng ruler once more, pointing it forward to unleash Tianshu Yin Thunder.
The watery lightning surged and splashed in all directions, blasting another seven or eight soldiers to the ground, yet more than a dozen still managed to charge right up to Wuzheng.
Right then, Zhou Wuji burst in from the side. With a flick of his hand, six White Brow Needles shot forth.
Though the soldiers could not see the fine needles, they heard the piercing shrill of flying projectiles tearing through the air.
A few soldiers instinctively ducked and tucked their heads, dodging the needles.
Three others reacted a beat too late, and the White Brow Needles drove straight into their skulls.
The true qi imbued in the needles detonated upon entering their brains, reducing their contents to mush and killing the three men on the spot.
Realizing things had gone awry, the remaining soldiers spun around and thrust their spears at Zhou Wuji in unison.
Relying on the copious true qi of his Rank 7 breakthrough, Zhou Wuji struck out with a palm against the thrusting spear tips.
The Void-cleaving palm force unleashed by the Tianshu Hand surged tempestuously; the six lunging spears were blasted apart in all directions with a thunderous crack. The chests of the two leading soldiers caved in, blood spewing from their mouths as they slumped limp to the ground, clearly beyond saving.
The surviving soldiers recoiled in horror. What kind of martial art was so domineering?
Chapter 52