Qi Lu’s knowledge of the Ning Army could not be called lacking — but he had been too confident. He had believed that the moment he laid eyes on Prince Ning Li Chi, he could kill him in one strike.

But apart from Gao Xining and those few who were closest to him — who else could know that Li Chi wore jade armor? Who else could know that Li Chi had a protective mirror over his heart?

So now, Qi Lu was going to have to fight with everything he had just to escape.

The smoke signal rising from the Ning Army encampment was a summons for the scouts and outriders deployed in the field.

Those soldiers were individually no match for Qi Lu in martial ability — but they were the boldest and most battle-hardened soldiers in the army. And they were hunters.

All these scouts had horses, and they were certainly fully equipped. No matter how high one’s martial arts reached, being chased by a mounted group hammering away with repeating crossbows was absolutely not a pleasant experience.

With that in mind, Qi Lu began pushing himself faster — not daring to show the least arrogance any longer.

This burst of acceleration quickly opened distance between him and Li Chi. Li Chi, who had almost drawn close enough to reach him, was pulled back to more than two zhang away again.

But Li Chi — how could his body possibly carry nothing more than tools for self-preservation?

While still in full sprint, Li Chi unhooked the repeating crossbow from his hip, aimed at Qi Lu’s back, and fired a rapid burst.

Yet Qi Lu made no move to dodge — he kept running straight ahead. A man of that caliber absolutely should have been able to hear the sound of the crossbow releasing.

A moment later, the bolts struck Qi Lu’s back — and could not penetrate.

Li Chi could not help letting out a low curse: “And you have the nerve to accuse me of fearing death? You’re wearing a padded armor yourself, you—”

While still running, Li Chi swapped out the bolt magazine. This time he aimed for Qi Lu’s head — but aiming at a moving target while sprinting at full speed was far from easy.

Qi Lu was not only blindingly fast, he was also constantly shaking his head left and right. It was hardly a graceful way to run, but it effectively prevented Li Chi from landing a headshot.

After a while, Qi Lu simply tucked his head down and ran like that — which was even less graceful.

Regardless of who it was, running that fast with your head jutted forward and neck outstretched was simply not going to look dignified. Like some strange creature — a turtle running at the speed of a galloping horse.

This was the fastest opponent Li Chi had ever encountered in terms of pure speed. And if he focused on aiming, he inevitably sacrificed some concentration, which cost him speed.

Even the slightest reduction in his pace let Qi Lu pull the gap even wider.

At that very moment, the sound of war-horses came from behind. Li Chi glanced back — and nearly shouted in alarm.

Gao Xining had also caught up. This nearly frightened Li Chi into calling out.

When a person pushes their potential to its absolute limit, exceeding a sprinting horse’s speed over a short distance is not impossible. But after running this long, no person on foot could outpace mounted cavalry.

The Tingwei Corps’ black cavalry closed in. Gao Xining leaned down from the saddle as she rode and extended her hand. Li Chi grabbed it and used the leverage to vault up onto the horse.

The moment he landed on the horse behind Gao Xining, he reached both arms out and seized her waist, then threw her forward and upward with full force. He slid quickly to the front, then caught her as she came back down.

“Behind me.”

Li Chi said urgently.

Gao Xining first turned on the horse to face Li Chi, then pulled her arms around his waist and twisted herself to the back.

Qi Lu was sprinting and looking back at the same time. Seeing the cavalry drawing ever closer, even he was beginning to feel pressed.

He dug into his robes, rummaged briefly, and pulled out a fistful of something — flinging it hard toward those behind him.

Li Chi let go of the reins. Both arms came up to shield his face, and he shouted — *get down.*

A spray of iron spikes came flying — too fast to make out clearly.

Li Chi’s arms were covered by vambraces, and he felt a rapid clatter of impacts against them. He had no idea how many had hit him across the body, but with the jade armor in place there was little to worry about.

Qi Lu looked back and saw Li Chi still mounted, and fury kindled in his chest.

In the heat of the moment, he had forgotten — Li Chi was wearing protective armor.

At this exact moment Gao Xining called out: “Move!”

At this signal, the four Tingwei Corps Qianban officers behind Li Chi simultaneously leapt from their horses.

Qianban Fang Xidao swung the enormous bow strapped to his back into position in front of him — a bow of absurd size, made with an iron frame, the kind that even Li Chi might struggle to draw fully.

Fang Xidao launched himself into the air and planted himself steadily on the saddlebow. Two other Qianban came flying in from either side, each grabbing one end of the great bow.

Their bodies dropped, and the momentum drove the bow into a deep bend.

Qianban Shang Qingzhu jumped across from behind, and in midair he laid an iron spear across Fang Xidao’s shoulder, its tail braced against the bowstring.

As he seized the string, his body also left the saddle — using the backward drift of his body’s momentum to draw the string back tighter still.

Four people in concert — all of this completed in the span of a lightning flash.

Such seamless coordination was the product of countless repetitions. This had clearly been practiced many, many times.

And all of this was owed to Gao Xining.

After learning that the enemy had gained control of the Mountain-River Seal and the Cloud-Mist Map, she had begun worrying about Li Chi’s safety. Especially after learning that those individuals might possess combat ability comparable to Teacher Li’s — she had been forced to consider how to protect him.

Why was the Tingwei Corps built?

Everything, for the sake of Prince Ning.

With a thunderous shout from Shang Qingzhu, the iron spear was launched. In that single instant, it was as if even the air itself had been pierced through — an invisible ripple radiating outward in a ring.

The spear flew with such speed — sent out by four Qianban officers of that caliber combining their full strength — just how terrifying was that?

In a single blink, the iron spear was already at Qi Lu’s back.

Qi Lu sensed the danger — that razor-edge instinct of an absolute master. But in this moment, by the time he moved to evade, it was already too late.

Using every ounce of his strength, he managed only to twist his body to one side by the slightest margin.

A thunderous crack.

The iron spear struck Qi Lu’s left shoulder. Under the massive force, the shoulder exploded apart — his left arm flew off.

In a spray of blood mist, the spear flew onward and plunged hard into the earth ahead, kicking up a cloud of dust.

Struck by a force that violent while still in full sprint — how could Qi Lu possibly stay upright?

At the moment the spear hit the ground, Qi Lu tumbled and rolled.

The wound from that spear was devastating. His left arm had been severed at the shoulder — the horror of that wound was inconceivable.

He rolled a few times and forced himself back to his feet — but his mind was swimming, dizzy and disoriented, his legs buckling beneath him for a brief moment.

He forced himself upright — and saw Li Chi already flying down from the saddle, a blade arcing down toward him.

Qi Lu had a finely made and exceptionally resilient padded armor of his own. Ordinary blades and swords could not break through it. Arrows could not penetrate it. But it could not withstand an iron spear of that terrifying force.

And Li Chi’s blade came down with the force that could split mountains.

Qi Lu had no time to dodge. His mind was still slightly foggy, and his reaction was half a beat slow.

In a contest between masters of this caliber, half a beat slow was the difference between life and death.

He instinctively raised his right arm to shield his head and stepped backward. His right arm also had the padded armor — in theory, it should be able to block a blade strike.

In theory only — because his theory had failed to account for one particular blade: Li Chi’s blade, the Minghong Edge, the sharpest thing under heaven.

One stroke — Qi Lu’s right arm was severed cleanly.

In that split second, the searing pain actually sharpened Qi Lu’s mind. He wrenched his body upward, both feet driving hard into Li Chi’s chest.

Li Chi was kicked and stumbled back, and Qi Lu used the force of that kick to flip backward, hit the ground, and sprint away.

A man with no arms running — it was beyond the word *undignified*. It was simply unnatural.

Yet at a moment like this, a person’s will to survive was unleashed without limit.

Both arms gone, blood trailing in the air. He was still running at full speed.

“Send me out!”

A voice called from somewhere near Li Chi. Teacher Li’s voice.

Li Chi did not hesitate for even a moment. He tossed the Minghong Edge to the ground, clasped his hands together, and Teacher Li’s foot landed in his interlaced palms. Li Chi heaved forward with full force.

Teacher Li flew forward like a meteor streaking across the sky. A flash of lightning seemed to cut through the air.

The next moment — both of Qi Lu’s legs were severed at the knee.

Teacher Li had no intention of killing him. If killing had been the goal, that stroke could have taken Qi Lu’s head.

But the enemy was not just Qi Lu alone. Capturing Qi Lu alive was far more valuable than killing him.

The Tingwei Corps had Zhang Tang. Even for a man as powerful as Teacher Li himself — as long as a person still feared death, that fear was a weakness that could be exploited.

Qi Lu was still in mid-stride when both legs gave way beneath the knee. His body pitched forward, and those two severed legs continued the running motion for a moment on their own.

With no arms even to brace himself, he crashed heavily to the ground.

After landing, Qi Lu skidded across the earth — his face left unrecognizable, covered in lacerations, those cuts embedded with grit and sand.

Under these circumstances, a normal person would have been completely incapable of movement.

Yet Qi Lu forced himself upright through sheer core strength — blood all over his face — and bared his teeth at Teacher Li in a savage grin.

Teacher Li sensed something was wrong and stepped forward immediately. Qi Lu clenched his teeth around one side of his own collar and began chewing furiously.

When Teacher Li ripped the fabric from his mouth, it took two teeth with it — which spoke to how hard Qi Lu had been biting.

“Hahaha…”

Blood seeping from his mouth, Qi Lu grinned savagely at Teacher Li. “No one can kill me. Only I can kill myself.”

No one knew what poison was concealed in his collar — but its speed of onset was terrifyingly fast.

In a short while, Qi Lu’s eyes began to fix. The blood seeping from his mouth changed color, and a white frothy substance began bubbling out alongside it.

He was still saying something, but no sound came out. And that made it all the more disturbing.

What could not be said aloud — that was what truly shook the heart.

In only a few breaths, Qi Lu fell backward onto the ground. His eyes had rolled back.

Teacher Li stood beside the body, breathing in great heaving gasps, his expression extraordinarily complex.

Li Chi came running up. The sight before him left him shaken. That man — he too had done everything possible to protect his life, and yet in the end he had chosen to end it himself.

Perhaps this was their dignity.

“Teacher…”

Li Chi looked at Teacher Li, whose complexion had gone white. “How are you?”

Teacher Li glanced sideways at his left arm. The bone was broken. He had been running on sheer determination this whole time, and had not felt the pain. Now, as it washed over him, even his brow could not help but crease.

He exhaled slowly. “It hurts.”

Li Chi turned. “I’ll carry you.”

Teacher Li shook his head. “My legs are fine.”

Then he smiled slightly. Li Chi smiled back slightly.

But Li Chi could see it — Teacher Li’s smile was as complicated as his eyes. And within that smile was sorrow.

—