Chapter 375: Wine in the Pot Is Not Cold, Blood on the Blade Is Still Fresh

Chapter 375: The Wine in the Flask Still Warm, the Blood on the Blade Yet Reeking

In that instant, whether atop the walls or below, the air fell silent, as if time itself had halted.

On the city wall, Lü Shiheng sensed the battle below would not conclude anytime soon, his focus mostly on the supreme clash between Maitreya and the two masters, Wang and Yang. But the moment his attention strayed, a surge erupted below. He turned to see that Yu Cixiu had been slain... How had he died?

Had Zhao Changhe and Xue Canghai failed in their joint assault?

Maitreya, with his all-seeing eyes, observed clearly, yet even he had not foreseen this outcome. No one could have imagined that Zhao Changhe, alone on horseback with a single blade, would cut down Yu Cixiu in just two moves...

It felt as though he had fallen into some fated nightmare—every time he was entangled, some great matter below was stolen from him. The first time, at the Tang family’s rear mountain, Zhao Changhe and Tang Buqi acted together; the second, at Lake Tai, Tang Buqi alone; the third, at Xiangyang, Zhao Changhe alone.

And this time, the impact was greater than all before.

The defeat at Lake Tai had made Xiangyang Maitreya’s last hope, yet in an instant, it was shattered.

It must not be shattered!

With a furious roar, Maitreya’s blade-light surged, forcing back Yang Jingxiu and Wang Daozhong. He withdrew, hurtling straight toward Zhao Changhe in the battle formation!

If he could kill Zhao Changhe too, there was still hope!

The commander of the Maitreya army was Maitreya himself, not Yu Cixiu! Yu Cixiu was merely a general. If Maitreya could return, he could still steady the army’s morale, at least leading a retreat!

But the moment he pulled back, a sword-light suddenly struck from beneath the moon, a bone-chilling cold enveloping his back.

Maitreya’s heart leaped violently.

Tang Wanzhuang!

So that was where she had been hiding—such a crucial battle, and she had left no trace... It seemed she, too, had learned to play dirty, refusing to show herself until she was certain her strike wouldn’t be betrayed by the Wang and Yang factions. Now, with the dust settled and Maitreya retreating in defeat, she struck with a sudden ambush!

When even someone like Tang Wanzhuang resorted to ambush, even gods found it hard to defend.

Maitreya, midair with no foothold, let out a wild roar.

Tens of thousands watched in shock as a colossal Buddha phantom appeared behind Maitreya, radiant with golden light, a lotus throne vivid as life.

Buddhist words echoed in every heart, and a giant palm struck toward Tang Wanzhuang.

Tang Wanzhuang seemed to have anticipated this, her gaze resolute, her sword’s path unchanged as it pierced Maitreya’s chest.

The giant palm struck around her, ripples shimmering faintly, the force dissipating. A soft “Ah?” was heard, the palm’s shadow vanished, and the sky above was clear with moon and sparse stars—nothing remained.

Tang Wanzhuang spat out a mouthful of blood, then pushed forward another palm.

Maitreya struck back with his own palm. With a “Boom!” the two palms met, and Maitreya transformed into a blood-light, fleeing to the horizon, unable even to utter a threat, blood spattering across the sky.

Tang Wanzhuang spat blood again, her face pale as she shook her head slightly.

She had not expected Maitreya to have such a hidden card—even this could not take his life... Behind him, were gods or Buddhas hidden?

Tang Wanzhuang took a deep breath, glanced at the silent Wang Daozhong and Yang Jingxiu, then turned her gaze below the walls. The battle was decided.

The fighting atop and below the walls happened simultaneously. As Maitreya retreated and Tang Wanzhuang ambushed, Zhao Changhe had just chopped off Yu Cixiu’s head, raising it high with a furious shout: “Yu Cixiu’s head is here!”

Fear spread like a plague, radiating from where Zhao Changhe stood, sweeping across southern Xiangyang.

At that moment, Maitreya was ambushed by Tang Wanzhuang; even the divine Buddha’s descent could not prevent his grievous injury and flight. The Maitreya army instantly lost all backbone, collapsing into chaotic flight.

Xue Canghai raised his blade with a furious roar: “Now is the time to train blood and nurture killing intent—kill!”

The clamor of battle cries shook the heavens as thousands chased tens of thousands in the southern outskirts of Xiangyang. The Yang family’s private soldiers attacking the left flank watched dumbfounded, unsure whether they should join the pursuit.

Zhao Changhe himself did not pursue. Though it seemed he had slain the enemy in one stroke, the spirit and energy behind that blade were no joke—it had nearly drained all his strength. The aftereffects of the “Heaven and Earth Without Self” buff began to set in, leaving him dizzy and weak.

But at least he was not as powerless as before; he still had some strength left. He took a few deep breaths, regulated his inner energy, and turned his gaze to the city wall.

Tang Wanzhuang stood on the wall, her robes fluttering, watching him.

With a blade in one hand and the enemy general’s head in the other, covered in blood amid a field of corpses, behind him the rout of thousands upon thousands of troops... The sight in that glance was breathtaking.

Tang Wanzhuang could not help but recall a time in Gusu when someone had said to her: “Next time, I hope that with me here, you won’t have to think about anything.”

His name was Zhao Wangtang—was it a gaze of longing, or a hope? What did he hope for?

Zhao Changhe suddenly leaped up, soaring like a roc over the city wall, casually tossing Yu Cixiu’s head to the ground: “I have not failed my mission.”

Tang Wanzhuang wanted to say something but could not; a thousand words condensed into a single: “Mm.”

Zhao Changhe did not linger with her. First, he cupped his hands toward Yang Jingxiu: “Greetings, Uncle Yang.”

Then he cupped his hands toward Wang Daozhong: “Old Wang, good to see you.”

Wang Daozhong: “...”

Finally, Zhao Changhe turned, his gaze sharp as he fixed on Lü Shiheng: “Prefect Lü, I have a question for you.”

At this moment, Zhao Changhe’s aura was truly oppressive. Lü Shiheng felt a twinge of fear and could only reply: “Young Hero Zhao... what is it?”

Zhao Changhe said: “You colluded with Maitreya, captured my Demon Suppression Bureau agents, and plotted to ambush and kill the court’s chief—what crime do you admit to?”

Wang Daozhong hurriedly interjected: “He was controlled by Maitreya’s Heavenly Maiden technique, not of his own will... Chief, look, he defended the city well enough, didn’t he? Shiheng, apologize to Chief Tang? We’ll report back to the court and let them decide on the punishment...”

Before he could finish, Zhao Changhe cut him off: “Being controlled is understandable, but I am not appeased. A mere apology or future dismissal won’t settle my anger.”

Wang Daozhong’s face darkened: “What do you want, then?”

Zhao Changhe said flatly: “How about this, Prefect Lü? Don’t say I’m being unreasonable and stubborn... Earlier at the Immortal Garden, Prefect Lü, under Chief Tang’s sword, hastily took my strike of ‘Gods and Buddhas Scatter’ and emerged unscathed—I was quite impressed. Take one more strike from me, let me have my satisfaction, and this matter is settled.”

Yang Jingxiu, watching from the side, thought Zhao Changhe was just finding a face-saving way to vent.

After all, Lü Shiheng was the Prefect of Xiangyang, subject to court regulations; he could not be tried privately and would have to be debated at court. In these turbulent times, with Lü Shiheng backed by the Wang family’s power and commanding a garrison of elite troops, caution was necessary.

All he could do was rage impotently and let off some steam.

Moreover, Zhao Changhe’s qi and blood were depleted; he only seemed fierce on the surface. In a real fight, he likely could not defeat Lü Shiheng now, further suggesting he just wanted to blow off steam. Perhaps he was also trying to curry favor with Tang Wanzhuang—showing he was avenging her...

With that in mind, Wang Daozhong and Lü Shiheng thought the same. Wang Daozhong gave Lü Shiheng a look: “Then just exchange a few moves with Young Hero Zhao.”

Lü Shiheng thought to himself, I’ll just take his blade, spit out some blood, get a little injured, and be done with it.

So he cupped his hands with a smile: “Please enlighten me, Young Hero Zhao.”

Zhao Changhe weighed the Dragon Sparrow in his hand, his face expressionless: “Watch yourself.”

Before the words faded, he leaped up, raising his blade for a furious chop.

A textbook toad-leap style “Gods and Buddhas Scatter,” almost identical to the strike he had used when leaping from the rooftop across the street into the Immortal Garden’s rear courtyard to cut at Lü Shiheng.

Lü Shiheng could sense that Zhao Changhe’s momentum now was far weaker than that time.

Killing Yu Cixiu, satisfying as it was, had not been easy. Such exertion meant he should be resting in meditation now.

With a “Clang!” Lü Shiheng drew his sword, and as he met the blade, he was still calculating how much force to use to look suitably battered and injured.

The thought flashed by, and blade met sword.

But in that instant, Lü Shiheng sensed something wrong.

This was not the expected forceful chop! The power was extremely weak, almost a light graze, and the blade’s trajectory had shifted.

From the raging fury of the Blood God’s Wrath, it turned into a gentle drizzle, drifting into the night on the wind.

By the time you realized it, that wisp of breeze had reached your throat.

Listening to the spring rain in a small chamber all night.

Tang Wanzhuang, watching from the side, felt a stir—this move, how very much like Wangtang...

Wang Daozhong clearly saw something amiss and moved to block with his sword, but Tang Wanzhuang casually pressed down with her Spring Water and Green Waves technique, pinning him in place. She smiled faintly and said, "I said I would vent for you, Master Daozhong—what are you trying to do?"

"I..." Wang Daozhong couldn't even finish his words.

While the two were making their moves, Lü Shiheng naturally struck as well.

His sword, which had originally intended to receive a single blow, suddenly transformed into a torrential rain, enveloping Zhao Changhe from head to toe, attempting to force him back with this mutual-destruction tactic and then reconsider.

But Zhao Changhe's blade stance remained utterly unchanged. He let the rain pour down, and that wisp of gentle wind still sliced through the rain, vowing to take his head.

Lü Shiheng had no choice but to raise his sword to block his neck while retreating with borrowed momentum, a mirror of when he had received Zhao Changhe's blow at the Immortal Palace Garden.

But he forgot one thing.

His original treasured sword had been broken in that encounter; this was a temporary replacement, its quality incomparable to the previous blade.

If that treasured sword could barely hold for an instant, this new one was like paper, offering no resistance at all.

With a clang, the Dragon Sparrow severed the longsword and slashed across his throat.

Threads of blood spurted from his throat, like the drizzling night rain, carried away by the wind.

With a thud, Lü Shiheng fell backward, eyes wide open, dying with regret.

This seemingly fierce Zhao Changhe was also so treacherous—he had promised to take a single furious slash, but changed his move at the last moment... He had never intended to merely vent his anger; from the very start, he planned to kill, right in front of the Earth Ranking experts!

Wang Daozhong roared in fury: "Zhao Changhe! You dare kill a court prefect! Are you trying to rebel—"

"What?" Zhao Changhe turned his head, his expression calm. "I am also a jade-plaque secret agent of the Demon Suppression Bureau. My authority may not match his as prefect, but my rank is in no way inferior. If he has crimes awaiting the court's judgment, then whether I have crimes or not, please report to the court, Master Wang. I'll wait for the court's slow deliberation."

Wang Daozhong was so enraged he couldn't speak: "You..."

"Don't like hearing that, do you? Neither do I. So why were you spouting that nonsense to me earlier?"

"You..."

"Stop with the 'you' and 'me.' Let me put it another way." Zhao Changhe stared into his eyes and said slowly, "Swaying between two sides, betraying the nation for private gain—if this man does not die, the calamity will be endless. I am a bandit; I cannot wait for your judgment... I killed him, so what will you do about it?"

His long blade lay horizontal at his side, blood dripping from its tip, drop by drop.

The killing aura in his eyes had not faded; the soul of the Human Ranking coalesced. Wang Daozhong found himself cowed by this very spirit, choking and unable to retort.

Suddenly, golden light burst forth in the sky.

"On the second day of the second month, the dragon raises its head."

"The Deathless Wraith halted his troops here and advanced on Xiangyang. Zhao Changhe led his men in a surprise assault, pierced the military formation, and slew the Wraith amidst the multitude, his robes stained with blood, the thousand troops trembling in fear."

"The siege of Xiangyang was lifted. While Zhao Changhe's qi and blood were still depleted, he challenged the Xiaoxiang Divine Sword Lü Shiheng and severed his head with one stroke. Wang Daozhong tried to stop him but failed."

"In an instant, he killed two from the Human Ranking; the Earth Ranking fell silent, and all above and below were horrified."

"The Human Ranking shifts."

"Human Ranking forty-fourth: Blood Asura Zhao Changhe!"

"The Deathless Wraith here meets his fate; the Xiaoxiang Night Rain abruptly ceases. The clear wine in the pot has not yet cooled; the blood on the blade's tip is still rank."

It was deep night, and many in the world were fast asleep.

But all who were still awake looked up, lost for words, and the world was shaken.