Chapter 21: Thirteen Blades of the Ghost Gate!

Upon hearing Li Chang'an's profoundly arrogant declaration, every soul within the county magistrate's office involuntarily widened their eyes in sheer disbelief.

Had these words fallen from his lips a mere few minutes prior, many a spectator would have split their sides with derisive laughter; after all, who could have lent such audacity to a greenhorn youth, permitting him to spout such grandiloquent nonsense?

Yet now, anchored by the gruesome reality of the two severed, bleeding heads resting at their feet, the entire Sanhuang County office fell into a suffocating hush, with not a single soul daring to voice a word of refutation.

Li Chang'an stood clad in a coarse linen tunic that had been washed white until it faded, its sleeves bearing sparse, mottled stains of dark blood; though his silhouette appeared somewhat lean and fragile at this moment, it did nothing to veil the palpable, suffocating aura of slaughter written across his countenance.

Alone with his blade, he stood sentinel at the threshold, and when several blind, reckless bailiffs charged blindly forward, the long saber in his hand uncoiled like a swimming dragon, clearing its scabbard with lightning speed to trace a fleeting phantom through the empty air.

Thud! Thud!

Several heads tumbled to the floor.

The forward momentum of the charging men ground to a jarring, sudden halt, and only after a heartbeat's delay did the heavy, dull thuds of their collapsing bodies resonate against the ground.

Li Chang'an flicked his wrist, shaking the still-dripping blood from his long saber, and spoke with an air of detached serenity: "Since I have resolved to restore a bright and unblemished sky to this world, then let this first battle commence with you parasites... let us paint this place red in a river of blood!"

Magistrate Chai had nearly lost his mind to madness, his entire being erupting in a tempest of thunderous rage.

Yet, witnessing Li Chang'an butcher the bailiffs as effortlessly as one might cleave melons and chop vegetables, he could not help but shudder violently with an icy chill, his voice cracking with a mixture of terror and fury: "Where is everyone? Where have you all died off to? Charge, damn you all, mince this wretched fiend into a pulp of flesh!"

As he spoke, a sudden realization seemed to strike him, and he whipped his head toward the Judicial Secretary, Liu Wenlai, who had already gone as pale as a corpse from fright, barking in urgent, breathless tones: "Secretary Liu! Go, take this magistrate's official tally and summon the garrison forces immediately! Along the way, enlist Master Cao from the Prisons and Punishment Department! Tell them a sorcerer has emerged in broad daylight to slaughter officials of the imperial court!"

Hearing these commands, Liu Wenlai froze in a daze, only regaining his wits after a long pause before nodding his head in frantic emphasis, scurrying in a chaotic rush toward the storehouse to fetch Magistrate Chai's official seal, whereupon he fled without once looking back to summon reinforcements.

The garrison forces required no elaboration; they represented the most formidable strength Magistrate Chai could mobilize under ordinary circumstances.

The Prisons and Punishment Department, however, possessed an even grander and more formidable pedigree, serving as the ultimate apparatus of raw violence under the demonic Qing Dynasty, tasked specifically with purging demons and apprehending martial artists, where even the lowest-ranking members were recognized martial practitioners who had successfully drawn spiritual energy into their bodies.

It was readily apparent to what extremes of desperation Magistrate Chai had been driven in his mad quest to apprehend Li Chang'an.

In the face of this, Li Chang'an made no grand movements, making no attempt even to obstruct the man, but merely advanced directly toward the gathered crowd within the courtyard, a blood-stained longsword dangling from his grip.

The vast majority of the ordinary clerks and bailiffs in the courtyard had already been paralyzed with sheer terror.

No matter how Magistrate Chai threatened them with violence or enticed them with rewards, none dared to take another step closer to Li Chang'an.

At this precise moment, the Li Chang'an in their eyes was no longer a youth scarcely ten years of age, but rather resembled Yama, the King of Hell, stepping out from the abyss; for every single forward stride he took, dozens of bailiffs would tremble uncontrollably and scramble back several paces.

They were consumed by the paralyzing dread that drawing too close would forfeit their wretched lives.

Within the confines of the entire county office, Master Wang was perhaps the only individual who still managed to maintain a fragile semblance of composure at this juncture.

As for the reason behind his lingering stability, it lay entirely in the fact that behind him loomed a gargantuan man, standing nearly two meters tall like a veritable tower of iron.

This iron tower of a man wore a short-sleeved tunic, his frame radiating a potent and perilous aura; he was currently narrowing his eyes as he sized up Li Chang'an, and only after a long silence did he crack a smile fraught with wary caution, speaking aloud: "Little brother, my name is Liang You, a martial artist of the Fengzhou Liang Clan Martial Academy. I suspect some slight misunderstanding has transpired here today..."

Li Chang'an had naturally taken note of this burly man's presence long ago.

After all, that nearly two-meter-tall physique resembled an iron monument; merely by standing there, he was conspicuous enough that overlooking him was an utter impossibility.

Intuition informed Li Chang'an that this self-proclaimed Liang You was a highly troublesome adversary, possessing a caliber of strength that placed him, at the very least, as a seasoned practitioner well-versed in the art of drawing energy into the body.

If one were to factor in the physical advantage of his towering, nearly two-meter stature, it was highly probable that ordinary veteran martial artists would prove no match for him.

Yet, Li Chang'an harbored not a shred of fear regarding this.

During this past period, although his path had been occupied with healing the sick and saving lives, he had by no means neglected his martial cultivation; on the contrary, because his journey demanded he brave the elements and sleep in the wilderness, frequently suffering ambushes from demonic beasts and brigands, Li Chang'an's practical combat experience had sharpened by leaps and bounds.

At this present moment, even he himself was somewhat unclear as to what precise realm of cultivation his current combat prowess belonged.

A martial artist, a martial master?

Or perhaps something existing even beyond a martial master?

Without ever having exerted his full strength, Li Chang'an himself remained in the dark.

Liang You intended to speak further, hoping to leverage the renown of the Liang Clan Martial Academy alongside his own formidable strength to weave a tapestry of deterrence, thereby rendering Li Chang'an hesitant to raise a hand against his benefactor.

Yet Li Chang'an uttered not a single syllable throughout the exchange, nor did he so much as lift his eyelids; he simply raised his long saber and shore straight down toward Master Wang, whose complexion had already turned a ghastly shade.

The first form of the Thirteen Blades of the Ghost Gate: The Phantom's Despair!

The blade-light flashed like a stroke of lightning, causing the burly man's expression to shift subtly as he whipped a three-section staff from his waist, intercepting Li Chang'an's assault with the blinding speed of a swooping hawk.

Clang!

The three-section staff collided violently with the long saber, unleashing a deafening, metallic screech that rang through the air.

The palm with which the burly man gripped his three-section staff trembled perceptibly, and his countenance gradually darkened into a grim mask.

Never in his wildest dreams had he anticipated that this youth, whose physical frame was less than half his own size, could unleash such a terrifying, Herculean force upon striking, sending a dull, throbbing ache radiating through his wrist.

Having narrowly escaped death, Master Wang was nearly frightened to the point of losing control of his bladder; gone entirely was his former serene and collected posture of a triumphant victor, as he collapsed heavily onto his buttocks, weeping bitter tears of profound distress: "Hero, spare my life! Hero, spare my life! I can offer you compensation! Name whatever sum of coin or tract of land you desire, just give me a figure!"

Ignoring Master Wang's clamorous din, the long saber in Li Chang'an's grip spun with frantic agility, resembling a butterfly fluttering through the air, and in an instant, he unleashed his second strike!

This particular strike was no longer aimed at Master Wang, but went slicing directly toward the face of Liang You, the towering iron giant.

The second form of the Thirteen Blades of the Ghost Gate: The Deceptive Butterfly Blade!

Clang! Clang!

The ensuing clash resonated with even greater violence, generating a visible ripple that rippled outward through the air surrounding Li Chang'an's form.

Liang You sought to parry the assault just as he had done previously, attempting to deflect Li Chang'an's offensive.

Yet he had failed to anticipate that the long saber in Li Chang'an's hand seemed to have suddenly sparked to life; the angles at which the blade slashed were exceedingly bizarre and devious, and though he repeatedly raised his hands to block the onslaught, he found himself deceived each time by that butterfly-like flash of steel.

When he finally managed to secure a desperate block, the explosive, overwhelming force behind the strike nearly jarred the weapon clean from his fingers.

However, before he could even draw a breath of relief.

A sudden curl of a smile graced the corner of Li Chang'an's lips; the long saber, which by all rights should have exhausted its momentum, inexplicably whipped backward with a sudden, vicious snap, and in a flash of brilliant light, a fine crimson line materialized across Liang You's throat.

Reaching up to touch the warm blood spurting from his neck, Liang You's face froze in an expression of absolute, shattering disbelief, his eyes widening as he murmured in a dying breath: "How... how... is this possible...?"