Chapter 484: The City Bathed in Blood

Chapter 484: The City Drenched in Blood

The wan, yellow sun hung over a river of blood swollen with corpses, while beacon smoke rose straight into the distant lone city; the thunderous echo of explosions surged into the evening wind, rolling across this desolate ruin.

Su Ce remained seated in that chair, the ember of his cigarette still curling thin blue smoke between his fingers; even as he fell into the Buddhist realm, he stayed composed and unruffled.

Around him lay countless broken banners of the Wokou clans, piles of spent casings and shattered weapon fragments; severed limbs and bodies stacked like mountains, innumerable vultures circling down, eager to join the feast of flesh and blood.

A tattered Ming dragon flag was planted behind Su Ce, its metallic pole riddled with cracks, the fabric limp and drooping.

“Mile, the third-tier pagoda master of Sangyan Temple, pays respects to Hero Su.”

The nun in a scarlet foreign robe lowered her gaze, palms pressed together before her chest, inscribed with red sutras for subduing demons.

“Liang Ji, the third-tier Yellow Millet Immortal of Qingcheng Mountain, greets Hero Su.”

The young cultivator, his brows etched with yin‑yang fish, clasped his fists and bowed respectfully, then spoke.

“Zhang Xiliang, the third-tier Yellow Millet Immortal of Longhu Mountain, pays homage to Hero Su.”

The black‑robed old Daoist, his robe embroidered with dragons and tigers, bore a solemn expression.

Su Ce gazed at the three before him and laughed aloud: “It seems both your houses and the New Donglin Party have gone all‑out this time, sending three third‑tier masters to see off this old man whose half‑body is already buried in the loess. Not bad—you’ve given me plenty of face.”

“We dare not clash with you in the mortal world, so we resort to these underhanded tactics; please forgive us, Hero Su.”

Liang Ji of Qingcheng’s Daoist sect wore a faintly gloomy expression, as if feeling guilty for dragging Su Ce into the Buddhist realm.

Su Ce smiled: “Are you afraid I won’t give you the chance to shed your mortal coil?”

‘Yes.’ Liang Ji gave a bitter smile.

“Have the Buddhist and Daoist orders already decided to let Zhang Fengyue take the first step toward breaking through to the second realm?” “Yes,” the nun replied.

“Then the price for this bargain is my life? Do you intend to use my death to push the three of you to the pinnacle of the third tier, perhaps even finding a sliver of chance to ascend to the second tier from my corpse?”

‘Yes.’ The old Daoist’s words boomed like a muffled thunderclap.

Very well, it’s reasonable. Pleasantries exchanged, now let’s get down to business.

Su Ce exhaled his last puff; the glowing ember flicked from his fingertips fell into the blood‑soaked earth.

The old man rose slowly from his chair; behind him the dragon‑flag pole suddenly unfurled in the wind, the banner snapping and fluttering.

The vultures feasting on flesh jerked their heads up in fright, flapped wildly, and a dark cloud rose.

Zhenzhu Ting, Su Ce.

The old man, just as he had on the Wokou battlefield years ago, announced his identity slowly, word by word.

At the instant his words hit the ground, a tremendous roar erupted skyward.

Edo has fallen; the Wokou state is destroyed!!

Far off, the lone city erupted in earth‑shaking cries; the red sun resting on the horizon finally closed its eyes in relief.

In that very moment when heaven and earth plunged into darkness, the immortal drew his sword, the bodhisattva glared with wrath.

Faced with the side‑by‑side immortals and buddhas, the lone, withered warrior lifted one hand and thrust a fist forward.

Boom!

Boom!

Qian Fengting lunged forward, dodging a blast of a water‑rising fire dragon, hit the ground and rolled, raising his gun to fire repeatedly, blasting the head of the ambushing enemy to pieces.

Sir, the communication channel remains jammed; we cannot reach any other outpost.

A Jinyi Guard hid behind cover and shouted at Qian Fengting.

Hearing that, Qian Fengting’s face instantly turned grim.

At this moment the street where the Thousand‑Household Office stands has become a slaughterhouse; led by Lu Yu, the mutinous Jinyi Guards and Liu Dian’s retainers have corralled the office’s personnel into a cramped pocket, slicing them into scattered squads. Without reinforcements, the office’s annihilation is only a matter of time.

The situation has progressed to this point, and Qian Fengting cannot forgive himself.

As the deputy chief responsible for intelligence in the Thousand‑Household Office, he had been kept in the dark from start to finish, oblivious to the maneuvers of the Ming Prince and Liu Dian, only realizing the betrayal when Lu Yu led his men into Edo.

The mistake he made can only be atoned for with his own life.

Qian Fengting suppressed the hatred in his heart, striving to calm his mind, leaning against a broken wall while loading bullets and assessing the situation.

The enemy is strong, we are weak—an undeniable fact. The rebels not only outnumber us in troops, but their arms and equipment are far superior to ours.

Moreover, the office’s forces have been utterly scattered, surrounded and divided; they can only rely on the alleys and buildings around the office for a feeble resistance.

The Ming Prince and Liu Dian never appeared; the one directing the rebel assault is Lu Yu, the battalion chief of Songjiang.

With no reinforcements in sight, the only way to slow the rebel onslaught and ease the pressure on the office’s men is to behead Lu Yu.

Click‑click~~.

The final bullet was pushed into the magazine; Qian Fengting pulled the bolt, lifted his sleeve to wipe the blood from his face, and the once‑refined features now brimmed with killing intent.

Follow me!

Qian Fengting gave a low shout, led the charge out of cover, and plunged into the alley across the street.

The alley was long and narrow, cold corpses lying in viscous pools of blood.

Each step splashed, emitting a pat‑pat sound; as the foot lifted, distinct strands of blood trailed behind, like restless souls urging the wanderer onward.

The gunfire echoing in his ears had begun to wane, indicating that the surviving Jinyi Guards were dwindling.

Anxiety burned in Qian Fengting’s chest, drying his lips; his stride grew ever more hurried.

Turning a corner, a flash of cold light lunged straight at his face.

Qian Fengting seemed to have anticipated it; at the instant the blade reached him, he slipped backward, the edge grazing his nose. He twisted his waist, drew his already‑loaded gun, and aimed it at the shadowy assailant.

Bang!

Blinding gunfire flashed in the darkness, light and shadow interlacing; ferocious faces flared then faded, manic laughter lingering, wrathful and blood‑thirsty gazes colliding, crimson blood spraying and drifting.

Spent bullets arced uselessly skyward; a powerful sweeping kick struck Qian Fengting’s shoulder, throwing him off balance and stumbling back. Before he could regain his footing, a weapon whistled from behind, slicing the air.

Pfft!

A dagger plunged deep into his waist, yet Qian Fengting felt nothing; with fierce resolve he twisted his body, gun barrel pressed to the foe’s jaw, and squeezed the trigger to the hilt.

The gunflash illuminated a pair of terrified eyes; the searing bullet would burst through the skull an instant later. Engaged in close combat, Qian Fengting resolutely discarded his heavy tiger‑headed rifle, reached behind for his embroidered spring blade, and in a flash sliced down several foes.

Again came the sickening thud of steel biting flesh; Qian Fengting caught the blade lodged in his body with his arm, and before the enemy could drop his weapon and retreat, he stamped down, shattering the opponent’s shin, stepped around to his rear, and pressed his blood‑slicked blade to the turncoat Jinyi Guard’s throat.

Uh

Qian Fengting coughed up a mouthful of blood; the piercing pain finally seized the moment and surged through him, yet it still could not topple the once‑refined scholar.

It’s quite a coincidence to run into you in this setting, wouldn’t you say, Deputy Chief Qian.

All the Jinyi Guards who followed Qian Fengting have fallen, cold corpses; a tall, strapping man stands in the blood‑pool, issuing a mocking laugh.

Indeed, it is precisely the target Qian Fengting intended to behead—Lu Yu, the battalion chief of Songjiang!

I’ve always had a question I couldn’t figure out: you say the Wokou district’s Jinyi Guards number in the thousands, so why did Su Ce let you and the old relic Guawang Da occupy the deputy chief’s posts?

Is it because you’re utterly loyal? Or because you’re so feeble you harbor no ambition?

Lu Yu shook his wrist, brandishing his blade, ignoring the Qian Fengting’s subordinate kneeling before him, he stepped closer through the flowing blood: ‘Since we all eat from the same bowl of the Jinyi Guard—living off blood‑stained blades—it’s a matter of whose sword is faster, whose fist is stronger. Benevolence and fairness are nonsense; profit and gain are what we imperial drifters truly crave. Su Ce really is losing his sight.’

The blade's edge sliced through the traitor's neck in agonizing increments, each cut deepening the terror in his eyes. His hands clawed at the hands pinning him down, his body trembling with a fear that soon hardened into icy resignation. A thud echoed as the decapitated corpse collapsed, a ruptured vessel spilling crimson from its severed spine. The severed head landed at Luqiu's feet, but he kicked it aside with casual disdain. "You dare behead me, a mere fifth-rank officer? Even on the brink of sixth rank, you think yourself worthy?"

The traitor's words rang hollow. Not only had the precinct shown signs of betrayal, but even his own guards harbored conspirators. "How utterly useless I am," the deputy commander muttered, his blood-crusted face etched with shame. "Forgive me, Commander," the traitor stammered, his voice cracking as he fled. But as his foot left the ground, his expression twisted into a snarl. With a flick of his wrist, he hurled his sword, then kicked the fallen tiger guard's corpse into motion.

The metallic clang of steel against flesh rang out as the blade pierced the traitor's chest, draining his strength. His head lolled against the commander's shoulder, a torrent of blood splattering Luqiu's robes. "I've always wanted to kill you all," the commander rasped, his golden eyes gleaming. "You're first. Next comes General Dada, then Li Jun, and finally Su Zhen. I'll watch each of you die."

Luqiu's fingers tightened on the hilt, his mechanical body smoking from recent wounds. "Why?" he demanded, his voice a low growl. Blood trickled from the wound in his back, staining his hands as he gripped the traitor's collar. "Because only then can I live well," the traitor gasped, laughing maniacally. "Hahaha!"

But before Luqiu could respond, a shrill whistle split the air. The commander froze, his head snapping up as a colossal whale erupted from the shadows, its belly plates unfurling to release a swarm of black shadows. The source of the sound? A cannonball hurtling toward them.

**BOOM.** The explosion reduced the alley to rubble, flames engulfing the scene. Amid the inferno, a demonic figure emerged—Luqiu's cybernetic frame scorched black, his synthetic skin blistered. "Other Inks?" he growled, scanning the sky. "I'll reroute the survivors to the Four Leagues' strongholds," a voice transmitted.

Another roar interrupted—a black stallion charged through the flames, its driver's eyes blazing crimson. "Supercharge!" the mechanical core whirred, its scream of fury shaking the vehicle. "I'll crush your head!" the gunner bellowed, yanking the trigger.

The bullet's spiral grooves gleamed in Luqiu's vision as it hurtled toward him. He crossed his arms, bracing for impact—until the blade pierced his arm, slicing through his mechanical core. "Mechanical heart... overdrive!" he gasped, the connection severed.

Above, Zhao Qingyan clenched his fists on the whale's back, his vision unclouded by smoke. He saw ants swarming through burning ruins, the wounded General Dada holding the line, and the relentless assault of the Inks' forces. His gaze fell on Li Hua, kneeling at his feet, tears streaming as she tried to catch falling raindrops.

"I am Inks' Zhao Qingyan," he declared, standing atop the whale. Wind howled like a blade as he spoke. "The chains binding Zhuxi and Commander Su are forged from the Four Leagues' 'Leagues of the Deer.' Destroy them, and the bond breaks. I need allies."

"Southwest, Captain Zou!" a raspy voice called.

"Southeast, Consort Yuan!"

"Northwest, Chen Qi!"

"Northeast, Zhao Qingyan!"

**ROAR.** The whale transformed into a bird, its wings slicing the sky as it dove toward the Northeast Leagues. Zhao Qingyan wiped his face, his voice steady against the gale. "Now, move!"

Thank you, teacher.