The horse let out a tragic whinny, stumbled abruptly at a dead sprint, and flew sideways off the cliff!
His prized bo beast, a steed capable of traveling a thousand li a day that no amount of gold could buy, was gone just like that.
He Lingchuan had a sudden flash of insight.
That attack had been aimed right at his lower back. No matter how a rider dodged in the saddle, their waist and hips remained virtually stationary. If he had not experienced that sudden stroke of inspiration and leaped from his mount, he would likely be the one blown into a mist of blood right now.
Then again... at this rate, his fate was probably to be smashed into minced meat, which was hardly any better than being blown into bloody mist.
He Lingchuan could still hear the frightened cries of Maotao and the others from up on the cliff. Wind roared in his ears as he plummeted faster and faster.
This cliff face was completely bare—not even a single tree in sight!
Down below, a section of the rock wall jutted outward slightly. Gritting his teeth, He Lingchuan drew his long saber, picked out a fissure in the rock, and drove the blade fiercely inside.
Whenever he watched movies in his past life, this trick had always worked.
*Clang!*
The long saber snapped cleanly in two, breaking right at the hilt.
*What the hell?! Was it all a lie?!*
Fortunately, he still had another blade.
He had to try at least once more.
He Lingchuan drew his broken saber and thrust it into the next crack in the rock.
It sank right in!
The hard rock wall was sliced open, leaving behind a long gouge.
No sparks flew, but the resistance felt as solid and steady as sawing through a loaf of stale bread.
With this blade slowing his descent, He Lingchuan slid another two zhang and finally ground to a halt.
Directly beneath him were jagged, crisscrossing boulders jutting out from the lake. Had he plunged straight down from the cliff, he probably would have been dashed to pieces against them—just as he had seen happen to his horse a moment ago.
He had not reached the lake's surface yet, but straight ahead on the cliff face was an irregular small hole, or rather an opening, from which a chilly breeze blew against his face.
What now? He Lingchuan was not at all confident he could climb back up the rock face, and Lu Yao would definitely lead men in pursuit. Trying to scramble upward right now was probably a terrible idea.
Just as he hesitated, that familiar chill swept over him once more.
This time, it came from directly overhead.
The very thing that had shattered his shield and killed his mount had locked onto him again.
Cursing under his breath, He Lingchuan yanked out the broken saber and leaped straight into the small cave before him.
The interior was even narrower. He slammed his head against the stone wall, breaking the skin and raising a swelling knot.
Still, he was inside.
The instant he pulled his legs in, that white streak whooshed past the opening outside, grazing the soles of his boots with a scorching gust of heat.
*What the hell is that thing?!*
Faint shouts from Maotao and the others drifted down from above, but He Lingchuan dared not poke his head out to look, let alone linger. Seeing that the fissure ahead went fairly deep, he scrambled forward on all fours.
After only a few paces, a deafening crash echoed outside, like a rockfall.
The stones along the cliff had already been weathered fragile, and after the impact of He Lingchuan's falling mount, a massive slab gave way and collapsed.
As luck would have it, two massive falling boulders landed squarely over the opening, blocking the cleft he had entered.
The rocky fissure twisted and turned, difficult to navigate and pitch-black, and it even split into two forks. He Lingchuan did not hesitate, choosing the path the breeze was coming from.
His mind remained sharp—he knew that wherever the wind originated lay a way out.
After crawling for a while longer, his divine bone necklace suddenly grew warm.
*Is there something ahead?*
It was pitch-black in every direction, and he could see nothing. Still, He Lingchuan kept his guard up and slowed his crawl.
A moment later, the space ahead abruptly opened up, and his left hand pressed into empty air.
Fortunately, he had stayed alert, keeping himself from tumbling down.
Below him... was empty space.
At the very least, it was a massive cavern, and he could even hear the sound of water.
The wind was coming from below.
In other words, this mountain interior held a cave or chasm connected to the lake.
He Lingchuan breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps he could find a way out through here.
What now—jump down?
Judging by the sound, he was not far from the water's surface, two or three zhang at most.
He Lingchuan leaned forward, preparing to drop, when another strange noise drifted up from below.
***
He Lingchuan's sudden accident had caught the other soldiers completely off guard.
By the time Maotao and the rest looked back, the eldest young master had already plunged off the cliff along with his horse.
The horse's dying scream had been so shrill and piercing that hardly anyone heard He Lingchuan shout.
Frightened out of his wits, Zhao Qinghe immediately reined in his horse and rushed to the cliff edge to look down.
The space below was vast and empty, with a jutting boulder obstructing the view so he could not see the bottom.
Still... things did not look good.
Searching back and forth, he soon spotted the carcass of the horse broken against the jagged rocks, blood dyeing the lake water red.
Maotao also leaped from his saddle and hurried to the edge, peering down. "Oh no, Eldest Young Master!"
Zhao Qinghe urgently asked, "Where is he?"
"I—I don't see him." Maotao craned his neck. "Could he be pinned under the horse..."
"..." Zhao Qinghe pulled out a coil of rope. "I'm going down to look."
"Let me! I'm thinner than you, more agile." Maotao snatched the rope and tied it around his waist. Fastening the other end to a saddle, he slid down along the cliff face with practiced nimbleness.
The bandits had also noticed the commotion here and began loosing arrows. Zhao Qinghe rallied the men to form a protective ring. "Guard the horses!"
After a moment, he shouted down the cliff, "Did you find him?"
The first few times, Maotao answered, "No!" But as he descended deeper, his voice grew too muffled to carry up, so he had to tug the rope as a signal.
Zhao Qinghe and the others hauled him back up with effort.
The moment Maotao scrambled up, he said, "There are blade gouges on the rock wall, but I didn't see the young master!"
Everyone's hearts sank.
Right then, with a deafening crash, the final line of wagons was forcibly hacked apart, and bandits surged through.
The first two charged too fast, lost their footing, and slipped flat on their backs.
The rest stamped on the icy surface. It was solid, and treacherous underfoot.
However, they were now only five or six zhang from the soldiers. Let alone arrows, someone with good arm strength could easily hit them with a thrown handaxe.
Under such conditions, how could they possibly mount a rescue?
One soldier said anxiously, "We have to go! We can come back once it's safe..."
He could not bring himself to finish the sentence. *Come back to collect his corpse?*
Zhao Qinghe looked down at the base of the cliff, then glanced back at the howling bandits. Knowing there was no other choice, he ordered everyone to mount up.
Finally able to withdraw, the soldiers spurred their horses frantically, wishing the beasts had grown an extra pair of legs.
Watching the soldiers gallop away in a cloud of dust, Lu Yao looked at the stretch of frozen road five or six zhang before him and sneered. "Petty tricks. Did you really think this could stop us?" With that, he swung his axe and slammed it fiercely into the ice.
With a sharp crack, an icy crater appeared.
If he hacked out a couple more, he would have solid footholds to step on.
The other bandits followed suit, and for a time, the ice rang with a clattering din of chopping.
Some among the bandits were actually versed in sorcery, but a small fireball fizzled out the instant it struck the ice, leaving only a faint scorch mark.
Ice condensed with the aid of origin power was both rock-hard and long-lasting; ordinary spells could hardly affect it.
Even though it was an uphill climb and their pace was slow, with footholds to step on, the bandits made their way up, one hollowed notch at a time.
Chapter 125