Chapter 73: Holding Up Well

This line was certainly not in the style of the martial world.

Jiao Qingfeng, a minor official, knew nothing of the ways of the jianghu. He could only cobble together a phrase based on the stories he’d heard in teahouses, improvising on the spot.

But he got it wrong. It was clearly a mangled version of “State your name, challenger!”—the customary call at the opening of a duel between armies.

The Flood Banner Leader, upon hearing this, sensed that something was off. Besides the oddity of the words themselves, there was even a hint of a Tai’an accent.

Hadn’t this “Li Miao” always resided in Shuntian Prefecture, never leaving the capital?

Was his hometown actually Tai’an?

Could it be that Left Envoy Lan had run into him returning home to visit family, only to meet a tragic end?

A suspicion took root in his mind, and his gaze toward Jiao Qingfeng grew ever more strange.

Having forced out that line, Jiao Qingfeng felt every ounce of courage he’d managed to muster drain away completely. He could only force himself to appear disdainful, casting a sidelong glance at the Flood Banner Leader and keeping silent.

“Are you, in fact, Lord Li Miao himself?” the Flood Banner Leader asked after a moment.

“I am.”

“Oh… Then it was you who killed Left Envoy Lan.”

“I did.”

“And you also killed Master Zuo, didn’t you?”

“…”

This last question was a trap.

Zuo Lishan had been killed by Yun Zelin, not Li Miao. If Jiao Qingfeng continued with his earlier responses and said another “I did,” the Flood Banner Leader would have leapt forward and killed him on the spot.

But Jiao Qingfeng’s one skill was reading faces and intentions.

As a minor official, his first lesson had always been to act according to his superior’s moods. After years in the yamen, this skill had reached the pinnacle.

Jiao Qingfeng had already been wary of the rapid-fire questions. Sensing a flash of murderous intent in the Flood Banner Leader’s expression, he immediately fell silent.

After a moment’s thought, he replied, “Who killed Master Zuo… Don’t you know yourselves?”

The answer was ambiguous. If Li Miao had done it, it meant, “You don’t know whom I’ve killed?” If he hadn’t, it meant, “Why are you asking me about someone your own people killed?”

When it came to evasion and equivocation, this rough-and-tumble leader of the martial world was no match for Jiao Qingfeng.

Under normal circumstances, Jiao Qingfeng might have managed to bluff his way out using Li Miao’s fearsome reputation.

But not today.

The Ming Cult was determined to succeed. They had already sacrificed a Left Envoy, and the plot against the Mount Tai Sect had been foiled by Yun Zelin. Having paid such a price, they were desperate for results. The matter in Tai’an City was something the Ming Cult would not let go.

The Flood Banner Leader hesitated, then his face hardened with resolve.

“I don’t care if your name is Li or anything else. Since you stand in our way, you are an enemy of the Sacred Cult!”

“Even if I can’t defeat you, if I can hold you here, Protector Mao will be free of an obstacle!”

With his decision made, he wasted no more words.

In the blink of an eye, the Flood Banner Leader lunged forward, sending a palm strike toward Jiao Qingfeng’s face.

“Let’s see who lives and who dies—let our fists decide!”

“It’s over… I can’t hold him…” Jiao Qingfeng, in despair, forced himself not to panic, watching helplessly as that palm grew larger and larger in his vision.

“At least I’ve shouldered, for a moment, the burden of an ‘official’s’ duty…”

——

Let us turn back a moment in time.

Meanwhile, with Li Miao—

Five hundred Gu soldiers.

Wang Hai was already struggling to fend off just one or two of them. When two came at once, Mei Qinghe was forced to risk her life.

Though it was partly because their inner energy was nearly depleted and retreat was impossible, it also showed just how formidable the Ming Cult’s Gu soldiers were.

And the Gu soldiers on Mao Yingxia’s side were even more fearsome than those already infiltrated into the city.

Those scattered in Tai’an ahead of time were, in a sense, disposable pawns. The ones with Mao Yingxia, however, were the result of the Ming Cult’s careful cultivation over more than a decade, refined from the strongest stock—true assets for conquering cities and lands.

It was a creed among martial artists: No matter how great your skills, surrounded by overwhelming force with no escape, you will meet your end.

First, even the most advanced inner power is not limitless; it will be exhausted eventually.

Second, no matter how skilled, one is still human and must breathe.

Being surrounded doesn’t play out like a movie, with the hero fighting only those in front while the rest stand around waiting their turn. In a real encirclement, attacks rain down like a storm. At every instant, your face, groin, waist, back, arms, and legs are all under assault.

Against such ferocity, even the toughest practitioners must breathe. The moment you do—when your power wavers for just a second—you are vulnerable. Injuries accumulate, movements slow, inner strength thins, and death follows.

Li Miao was surrounded by five hundred fearless, blade- and sword-resistant Gu soldiers.

Now, only a hundred remained.

Sweat beaded lightly on Li Miao’s brow. He formed a blade with his fingers, bringing his hand to his waist.

A diagonal slash—

A single “blade” from the Iron Justice War Manual!

Keen inner energy shot forth, cutting three Gu soldiers in two. Even after their upper bodies hit the ground, they continued crawling and howling toward him.

Li Miao’s original plan had been to kill Mao Yingxia, then rush back to Tai’an to support Xiao Si.

But after seeing these five hundred Gu soldiers, he changed his mind.

Only by stopping and slaughtering them all here could Tai’an be saved.

And now, the end was near.

Li Miao darted forward, forming a claw with his hand, and used “Falling Leaf,” raking downward across a Gu soldier’s face.

When he withdrew his hand, half a blood-and-ivory skull remained in his grasp.

The Gu soldier fell wordlessly to the ground.

Li Miao leapt high to evade several lunging attackers.

Then—“Thousand-Pound Drop,” “Mighty Vajra Kick!”

His body crashed down, smashing several Gu soldiers into the earth. He hammered his fists into the backs of their heads.

When he lifted his fists, the dark gloves were smeared with a mess of red and white brain matter.

On the ground nearby, Mao Yingxia lay in utter despair.

No matter how hard she tried to deny it, she had to accept the truth: Li Miao was truly annihilating all the Ming Cult’s Gu soldiers, which had taken more than ten years to amass.

“How can this be… How can this be…”

“How is your inner energy not exhausted… You’re not a ‘Sumeru,’ how can you have such power…”

“How can you be both ‘Vajra’ and ‘Mediator,’ how are you not dead!?”

“Who are you—who are you really?!”

Mao Yingxia was a direct disciple of Ji Tianrui and utterly loyal to the Ming Cult. Now, watching with her own eyes as the great revival plot was shattered by this unfathomable anomaly, she was powerless to stop it.

On top of her grievous wounds and massive blood loss, her mind had begun to slip, and she screamed at Li Miao in a frenzy.

Li Miao paid her no heed, continuing his slaughter.

Before long, the last Gu soldier was caught by both arms and torn in two by Li Miao. The halves crawled a short distance before falling silent.

Li Miao turned and walked toward Mao Yingxia.

“Who are you! You’re—”

Xuantian Finger.

A razor-sharp surge of inner energy pierced her forehead. Mao Yingxia collapsed before she could finish her sentence.

“There’s no point wasting words on a butcher who would massacre a city,” Li Miao muttered.

He stepped forward and reached into Mao Yingxia’s body, extracting a bloody, indistinct mass.

Leaving behind the mountain of corpses and sea of blood, Li Miao did not pause. He summoned all his strength and raced toward Tai’an City.

——

Just as Jiao Qingfeng awaited death with wide eyes—

Suddenly, something hot and wet splattered across his face.

Then, the palm that had been about to strike him fell to the ground.

Jiao Qingfeng turned his head in astonishment and saw a severed hand lying in the dirt.

Li Miao, clutching the one-armed Flood Banner Leader by the head, crashed into the midst of the Ming Cult ranks.

Blood and flesh flew everywhere.

Moments later, Li Miao walked over to Jiao Qingfeng, patted him on the shoulder, and said, “Not bad, you held your ground.”

With that, Li Miao scaled the wall as if walking on level ground and vanished into Tai’an City.

A while later, Jiao Qingfeng suddenly slumped over his horse, drenched in sweat and gasping for breath.

“Heh… heh heh…”

He couldn’t help but laugh, utterly relieved, as if a great burden had been lifted.

(End of chapter)