“Waaah…”

From atop the pavilion, a savage roar erupted.

A wine cup spun through the air above the street, and a tall, sturdy figure rose to his feet, blade in hand.

Monkey King’s staff swung through the air.

Atop a distant pavilion, “Divine Hand” Zhu Yang, expressionless, drew his longbow once more.

On this day, those chosen to hold position for the four Great Kings before the old administrative street in Jiangning were, without exception, no ordinary fighters.

They were the elite of their respective faction’s action forces, having already seen bloodshed in days past — most of them established, well-known figures of the martial world, no strangers to open combat and reckless bravado.

This was a day of tension in the air; the atmosphere around the old martial administration building appeared relaxed on the surface, but was tightly wound beneath. One formidable first-rate master after another held position and made their names known at each intersection; behind them, the elite guards paced slowly, chatting among themselves, occasionally showing flashes of bloodthirst; and at one or two elevated positions nearby, a grandmaster or venerable elder with truly overwhelming martial power sat, seemingly at ease. But among all of them, the vast majority were, of course, hardly letting their guard down for real.

The rupture of the Fair Party’s five factions, this so-called “four against one,” reflected the balance of power across the whole of Jiangnan — but within Jiangning itself, if He Wen truly had no shame left, he could at any moment deploy an army of tens of thousands to simply flatten this entire assembly ground.

And even if he wouldn’t go that far, having flown the “Fair King” banner for so long, how could his own ranks possibly lack for masters who had come over to his side?

Before the great battle had even begun, people could only speculate about what was to come based on past “common sense.” According to what was already known, everyone had a rough sense of which martial artists the “Fair King’s” faction had mobilized to Jiangning this time, and a general tally had already been made — but the greatest hidden variable outside this open board, in truth, was the “Black Banner” that He Wen had constantly been touting.

This was, by now, a force that no one in the entire realm could afford to ignore.

But even so, how many men could the Black Banner actually send?

On the board as it currently stood, presiding at the center was the divinely skilled “Greatest Master Under Heaven,” Lin Zongwu, and around him, one first-rate master after another with a storied combat record, dozens of grandmasters and great masters who had each founded their own schools — together they represented fully half of the entire realm’s martial-world strength. With them all gathered here, even an army of tens of thousands would, in theory, be a match they could handle.

One had only to recall that when Zhou Tong had made his attempt on Nian Han’s life, nearly succeeding, he’d mobilized no more than a hundred or so martial-world masters.

And the formation arrayed here in Jiangning today was such that any master, from any faction, coming to face it should, by all rights, hold a seventy percent chance of victory.

He Wen’s own strength was certainly not to be underestimated, but even with every master he had at his disposal, the guardians of Sect Leader Lin’s own Great Radiance Sect alone would probably be more than enough to stand against them evenly. And if the Black Banner should send several dozen, or even a hundred or more masters, that would certainly be astonishing — but for everyone gathered here right now, it would actually be a source of excitement rather than dread.

A powerful outsider, as the old saying goes, can never truly overwhelm the local dragon on its home turf. While no one here would dare go stir up trouble in the southwest itself, if the southwest’s masters came charging into Jiangning, fought a battle, and ultimately achieved nothing, that alone would give everyone here enough bragging rights to last half a lifetime.

Seventy percent odds of victory. From every angle, people had prepared themselves for a genuine clash of dragons and tigers. From last night through this very moment, the many masters and elites participating in the defense had already privately discussed, on multiple occasions, the likely roster of southwestern masters — speculating on who might come from the southwest, and imagining how the Black Banner Army’s most notorious fighters might fare against today’s grandmasters of Jiangning…

Beneath this air of casual nonchalance, people hadn’t missed a single development in the outer streets and plazas.

When Xue Jin walked forward slowly, everything still seemed ordinary.

When the little monk caught the arrow, everything still seemed ordinary.

When the blade-wielding boy exerted force through his feet and lunged forward, it seemed like nothing more than one martial artist suddenly striking.

At this very moment, similar scenes were perhaps unfolding at several of the other surrounding intersections as well.

Lü Fan’s spear-play fell like rain, howling like a great serpent, displaying the formidable foundation built over years of training with the weapon — but the instant the boy’s blade-light coiled and drove straight through the central line, the “grandmaster”-level masters stationed atop the pavilion had already knit their brows.

In that instant of savage exchange, the boy’s blade technique was fierce and domineering, like ink splashed violently across a great river — in the blink of an eye, it broke through Lü Fan’s advantage of reach and power. Within just a few strokes, the blade-light had struck against the spear shaft, closing the distance between them like Death itself bearing down. Lü Fan’s spear carried force enough to split earth and shatter stone, yet he could no longer escape that advancing, domineering blade edge — and the final, leaping strike came down like crashing waves against the shore, carrying a force as if to crack heaven and earth apart, smashing down with brutal finality!

Lü Fan was going to die—

This realization came in a single flash of thought, and behind them on the street, in the pavilions nearby, several masters had already reacted — someone opened their mouth to shout: “Spare his—”

But couldn’t get the second half of the sentence out.

Battle-hardened figures had already drawn their blades and leapt up; some rushed out from behind the wooden horse barriers.

The grandmaster atop the pavilion let out a cry of “Waah—” flinging his wine cup aside, rising to his full height, flipping his hand to bring forth a towering edge of blade-light.

A burst of blood-red light exploded before their eyes.

Ever since deciding to rebel and joining Fang La’s planning for the Yongle Dynasty uprising, honed over half a lifetime under Liu Dabiao’s tutelage, this truly accomplished “Overlord Blade” technique had gone unseen in the martial world for years now.

This ferocious blow felt more like the reckless, merciless act of an ignorant young man striking without restraint — and for those steeped in the blade-licking world of the martial arts, once dealt such a humiliating blow in public, the other party would have to die in an even more horrific fashion in response.

People roared out loud!

At that same moment, a strange, sharp whistle sounded across the outer perimeter of this southern battleground, spreading outward far and near — figures appeared at windows, figures appeared behind courtyard walls, a quiet relay of signals beginning to spread through the surrounding area.

Little Seven’s cold face appeared at the edge of a teahouse rooftop behind the scene, and in response to a question from someone in the distance, she nodded.

“Divine Hand” Zhu Yang drew his bow, preparing to fire an arrow.

“Monkey King” Li Yanfeng was less than two zhang from Ning Ji; the pace of his staff-wielding stride faltered slightly — a nearly imperceptible slip, for a grandmaster-level master, in the midst of charging at an enemy.

The little monk, still puzzled, undid the bundle, and the black flag bearing morning stars broke free of its wrapping, fully revealed in his hands.

Xue Jin walked past the black flag’s side…

Further behind — where “Monkey King” had just turned his head to look — several figures had already emerged from that direction; some rolling up their sleeves, some twisting their necks, and some unwrapping the long bundles strapped to their backs.

Li Yanfeng’s throat went slightly dry, a massive wave of cold dread surging up one side of his spine, the hairs all over his body standing on end. And within his chest, his heart suddenly felt as if it had been set alight, contracting and expanding rapidly, pumping hot blood with a violence far beyond what it had before.

“Black Iron God” Qiu Shuyan had already spotted him.

Voices clamored…

…

“…We’re finally going to fight, cough cough… You two little charcoal briquettes, if you run into trouble later, don’t expect me to save you…”

“…Being heartless in what you say is certainly a hallmark of yours, you cripple, but I still want to ask — why exactly is that?”

“…Because you two won’t even call me ‘Father’ — I’ve got no face left to show anyone…”

Amid the crowd, Yuwen Feidu shook his head with a sigh, even as he pulled open his gun holster…

At a distant rooftop wall, someone was likewise raising a rifle…

…

A crack rang out, slicing through the sky.

Black smoke rose, and dozens of zhang away, a burst of blood bloomed for an instant.

“Divine Hand” Zhu Yang tumbled off the rooftop in response, falling amid a shower of roof tiles.

…

The black flag unfurled in the center of the plaza. The little monk’s expression, initially confused, suddenly brightened — his eyes went wide, his mouth falling open in an “ah.”

Behind the wooden horse barriers at the street corner, the several figures charging in this direction caught sight of that black color almost simultaneously. The grandmaster stationed atop the pavilion drew his longsword in one clean, decisive motion, vaulted over the railing, and landed with a thunderous crash on the street below.

“Waaaaaaaaaaaaaah—”

“Monkey King” Li Yanfeng’s gaze turned savage in an instant, his internal power surging forth, his long hair whipping upward. This was the second time in his life he had faced, unmistakably, the group responsible for killing his father. Even as a wave of cold dread surged through him, the pride and discipline of a grandmaster-level master drove him, in that same instant, to force his power to the very peak of his life’s achievement. He gave his long staff a shake and finally charged forward in great strides.

Toward the staggering, approaching figure of Xue Jin.

Advancing ahead, Black Girl and several beside her raised their blade-shields.

“…Wenjiang and I will handle this monkey, Brother Hei will help Little Long break through the formation, the rest of you accompany the cripple to seize the high ground…”

A full Black Banner special-forces squad numbered twelve men.

At the front of the plaza, Ning Ji, drenched in blood, shoved a wooden horse barrier and slammed it into several charging masters, his longsword flashing with fierce, brutal force, hacking violently forward. He traded two blows with the two masters at the front in the blink of an eye, his momentum surging to its peak, and then, in the next instant, dropped low and lunged forward along the ground.

His blade-light flowed almost flush against the ground as he executed a move called “Night Battle in Eight Directions,” cutting through the crowd from beneath the crotch of the massive, iron-tower-built “Camel God” Jiang Lian. This master named Jiang Lian dropped his stance, and in that moment, the blade-light had already sliced through the bone of his left calf and right thigh.

Blood erupted violently — there was no surviving this…

This fearsome, demonic-looking master collapsed to his knees in a daze.

The masters nearby leapt aside, then closed back in to surround and attack. Ning Ji darted away at high speed, and at the same moment, Little Hei had already pulled the pin cover off the grenade in his hand…

Explosions were already sounding out from the surrounding courtyards.

The quickest to react was the residence where the so-called “Divine Hand” Zhu Yang had been stationed — since this marksman had shown himself most conspicuously, the squad assigned to this segment reacted first.

In the instant after receiving the order, the sniper who had gotten a clear shot at Zhu Yang drawing his bow immediately pulled the trigger, and at the same time, figures crossed the street and threw three grenades over the courtyard wall.

Zhu Yang’s corpse hit the ground, and the three grenades landed inside; one martial artist, having witnessed Zhu Yang fall, even moved to help him up — and then, an explosion rang out within the courtyard.

Amid the billowing dust, seven or eight figures scaled the courtyard wall; three masters rushed the second-floor corridor of the pavilion; one martial artist charged out of a room, only to be shoved back by blade and shield, while another grenade was thrown into the room from behind, followed by blades drawn to deal with the enemies ahead.

…

“Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah—”

Li Yanfeng roared, his staff instantly filling the street with a whirlwind of shadows. Blocking him ahead were the shields raised by Black Girl and another Huaxia Army soldier, Chi Wenjiang. Monkey King was a formidable master, nearly at grandmaster level in the martial world; with his agile movements and deep internal power, his swung staff carried enough force to shatter bluestone — no ordinary shield could withstand it. But of course, Black Girl and this Chi Wenjiang were no ordinary fighters either. The two shields, clanging repeatedly, pushed Monkey King steadily backward, while the longblade behind them remained a constant, looming threat.

This style of fighting wasn’t particularly satisfying, but it was relatively secure against a group brawl. As for Li Yanfeng, his sudden surge of bloodlust met a wall pushing horizontally against him, only intensifying his fury — yet his staff simply couldn’t break through these two stubborn walls. Suddenly, with a great shout, he dropped and rolled along the ground, then leapt into the air more than a zhang away, snatched up a stone in his hand, and hurled it at the staggering, approaching figure of Xue Jin behind him.

The stone whistled through the air.

When the straightforward path proves impassable, one resorts to cunning strategy; when a shield cannot be broken through, one attacks what the enemy must defend — this had long been Li Yanfeng’s philosophy of life. He had no idea who Xue Jin actually was, but since the man was clearly being protected by the enemy, striking him dead himself would be a satisfying blow.

The stone whistled past the shield formation, and in the next instant, it was knocked aside beside Xue Jin by a swift blade-stroke. A man dressed in gray-white robes, blade in hand, glanced at him with faint disgust as he walked forward — and sensing the fluid grace of the man’s blade technique and the power of his footwork, Li Yanfeng felt an inexplicable chill run through him.

“Feather Blade” Qian Luoning didn’t pause; in the space of that single swing and glance, his figure had already crossed several zhang of distance, walking directly toward the site of the fighting at the street corner.

Only Black Girl gave a sudden flick of her longblade and shouted, “Screw you—” as she lunged violently at Li Yanfeng, her body surging forward like a cannonball. Li Yanfeng retreated rapidly, staff whirling, but was quickly overwhelmed by her torrential assault as she broke through his center line — this woman’s fists came like a rainstorm, and though Li Yanfeng’s own monkey-fist techniques combined hardness and softness in equal measure, within moments the woman had lunged in close, seizing his arm, grabbing at his clothes amid the struggle, locking his joints and disrupting his footwork. Li Yanfeng fought back fiercely, while beside him, Chi Wenjiang delivered a kick to his chest.

Off-balance and struggling on all sides, Li Yanfeng, dragging along the dark-skinned woman he simply couldn’t shake off, crashed through a nearby courtyard wall with a thunderous impact, shouting as he went: “If you’ve got the guts, fight me one-on-one—” but the two of them continued chasing and pummeling him relentlessly, smashing everything around them into rubble…

At the mouth of the street, grenades exploded, dust and smoke filling the air.

Ning Ji, pursued, was driven into a building on the side of the street; Little Hei, having thrown his grenade, had already leapt over, trading several blows with the grandmaster stationed there before chasing into the building. At the same time, Ning Ji darted up from behind the roadside building onto the rooftop, several masters pursuing him with blades drawn.

The blade-wielding grandmaster shouted loudly, directing the nearby masters to converge and surround him from this direction. Then, giving his steel blade a shake, he turned to face the approaching figures — as a martial artist, his instincts told him that the most formidable one had arrived.

“I am Gao Haifeng of the Xuandao Sect, known as ‘Boundless Cut’ — who among the Black Banner comes to challenge me!?”

“‘Feather Blade’ Qian Luoning.” The reply came from several zhang away, then closed the distance in an instant.

“Haha, good! Excellent—”

Gao Haifeng’s longblade flowed forth like water, his entire body seeming fused with the blade itself, advancing just as silently. The blade-light of the two men clashed several times in midair in an instant, the clanging sounds ringing out one after another. This “Boundless Cut” Gao Haifeng possessed truly astonishing skill, genuinely one of the notable masters of the Jiangnan region, worthy of ranking alongside “Heaven Blade” himself. The two exchanged several strokes; from the side, another master leapt down from a rooftop, lunging straight at Qian Luoning. Qian Luoning shifted his stance, his blade-light slashing toward the ambusher, while Gao Haifeng pressed forward from behind — and in the next instant, a loud “bang” rang out through the air, blood blooming from the sky.

The man who had leapt down to ambush him from above had his throat sliced open by a single stroke of Qian Luoning’s blade, while Gao Haifeng’s body staggered backward step by step — it turned out that Qian Luoning’s left hand held a double-barreled short-gun, wisps of smoke curling up after firing. In that very instant, having killed the ambusher with his blade, he had simultaneously discharged a full load of iron shot into Gao Haifeng’s chest.

Gao Haifeng’s body was flung back nearly two zhang, and he collapsed to a sitting position on the ground, his face full of disbelief, blood seeping profusely from his chest in dense patterns.

“Master…”

Behind him, eight or nine disciples surged forward — some trying to drag Gao Haifeng away, others charging at Qian Luoning. Qian Luoning slid the firearm back behind him, his longblade slicing forward like flowing water as he advanced, and the air filled with countless crisscrossing lines of blood…

At that very moment, along a stretch of several li on the southern and western sides of the old martial administration building, a total of eleven special-forces squads from the southwest began storming into the inner walls and alleyways of this defensive position, seizing their designated high ground…

Without any warning at all, like a small ripple, this mighty mountain had suddenly begun to shake.

…

The sound of explosions came from the distance, faint and indistinct — the disturbance had not yet reached its full intensity.

Atop a pavilion on the northeast side of the old martial administration building, Lin Zongwu opened his eyes, sensing the killing intent spreading through the air…

Thanks to book fan “Xiao Ju’er Wo” for the alliance-leader-tier tip. Why the back-to-back updates? Well, of course, thanks to the alliance leader. Mm, that’s exactly how it is.