Chapter 774: Why Should Modern People Chase After Ancient Times

Chapter 774: Why Must Moderns Chase Antiquity

The wind and sand were blocked by the Xuanwu manifestation, no longer harming the soldiers, yet beyond the protective barrier, the sandstorm raged on, vision still obscured, making marching difficult. Only Huangfu Yongxian, with his Earth List ability, could see through the sand and lead the troops straight north, the Xuanwu manifestation following along to shield them, remarkably "intelligent."

Who wouldn't want a smart turtle?

The soldiers' field of vision was limited to within the Xuanwu's protection, but they didn't mind—wherever General Huangfu went, they followed.

That was absolute trust in their commander, forged through years of life-and-death struggles.

"Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!" Amid the howling gale, the faint sound of crossbow bolts was barely discernible—an ambush of arrows!

The Eternal Heavenly God naturally couldn't send his own split soul alone; once it was held at bay, he needed other raiding forces to tie down Huangfu Yongxian.

While San Niang had to focus on keeping the Xuanwu guardian following the troops, the Eternal Heavenly God likewise had to divert attention to ensure his raiding forces weren't affected by the sandstorm. The Xuanwu guardian could block the sandstorm well enough, but it couldn't specifically defend against pinpoint penetration; the arrows, though slightly weakened, still had to be dealt with by the soldiers themselves.

In the end, it was god against god, man against man.

"Raise shields!" Cui Yuanyong bellowed, and the soldiers beside him swiftly lifted their shields, the weakened arrows clattering against them and falling to the ground.

A flash of blade light appeared, striking at Cui Yuanyong's throat from an odd angle.

"Clang!" Cui Yuanyong crossed his sword, precisely parrying the strike. The blade light faded, revealing the slightly surprised expression of the opposing commander.

He had never met Cui Yuanyong, nor had Cui Yuanyong met him, but they had long known each other by reputation.

This was "Fox Demon" Chili, once the top of the Hidden Dragon List.

Many still remembered that year's Hidden Dragon List: Chili first, Yue Hongling second, Cui Yuanyong third; they also recalled that Cui Yuanyong had challenged Yue Hongling over it, and Yue Hongling had once fought Chili in Yangzhou. That was the pure world of young martial artists, gallant and spirited, with fiery steeds and fine clothes.

But few remembered that Cui Yuanyong had traveled all the way to Beimang to challenge Yue Hongling, not simply because he was one rank lower, but because Yue Hongling had jumped to second after defeating Xue Canghai, inexplicably pushing him down—a bitter pill to swallow. In other words, the original second place was Cui Yuanyong.

The one who had long admired Chili and wished to duel him was Cui Yuanyong, and their mutual regard predated Yue Hongling's by far.

"Qinghe Sword Art, Cui Yuanyong?"

"Spirit Fox Blade, you're Chili..."

They both spoke at once, then both chuckled.

Now, talking about the Hidden Dragon rivalry of those days seemed almost laughable—not because times had changed, but because there had been two anomalies on that list. While their peers were earnestly climbing the Human Rankings, those two bastards were on the Heavenly List, and not only that, but now they faced the top of the Heavenly List.

Were they insane?

Being on the same list as those two rampaging mad dogs was a tragedy. Everyone else on that list paled in comparison, their own improvements substantial and their skills surpassing previous years, yet in the eyes of the world, they seemed like the worst batch ever.

Even they felt their own contests had become childish. Look at what others were doing, and what were you doing? They were fighting a Heavenly God, while you were a flanking deputy in the army, or a small squad leader tasked with harassment and diversion. What was the point of comparing? Even the old habit of challenging someone had vanished, leaving only a hollow emptiness.

But at this moment, the two armies clashed, meeting on a narrow path.

"Clink, clink, clink~" The sound of curved blades and long swords clashing rang out continuously, amidst the roar of battle all around.

Cui Yuanyong swung his sword, locked in a rapid duel with Chili, yet spoke leisurely: "I wonder if being left far behind by Yue Hongling has dampened your spirit, the one who once thought she was your lifelong rival. I felt that way for a while. But later, I let it go. Zhao Changhe, Yue Hongling, and perhaps even my sister—these people came into this world not to compete with us ordinary folk. They have their own path to follow. Our so-called lifelong rivals were never them; we chose the wrong targets."

"Ourselves?"

"Exactly. For me, my target should be you. I imagine you feel the same now."

It made sense. This was the proper opponent for a normal martial artist. If you just mentally excluded those few lunatics from the list, you and I still had plenty to show!

"Clang!" The curved blade swept toward his neck, once again precisely parried. A flash of purple light appeared, slashing back at Chili's throat.

Chili leaped back and whistled: "Retreat!"

The rear forces were already encircling, and Chili didn't linger with Cui Yuanyong, quickly withdrawing his men.

On the surface, there were no casualties—a brief skirmish, swift as the wind, like a ghostly fox darting through the sandstorm.

Cui Yuanyong looked around. Outside, the sandstorm still raged, blotting out the sky. The army stretched for miles from front to rear. How could they guard against such sudden ambushes at any moment?

Was this their harassment? Cui Yuanyong glanced toward Huangfu Yongxian's vanguard. During the fight, Huangfu Yongxian hadn't even moved; he had merely turned to watch Cui Yuanyong's performance. When their eyes met, Huangfu Yongxian smiled slightly and shouted orders: "March as usual! Ghosts and goblins are nothing to fear!"

"Commander! Commander!" A horseman galloped from the rear, shouting from afar: "Yanmen..."

Huangfu Yongxian suddenly raised his hand, and an arrow shot through the air, striking the messenger squarely in the mouth. The man didn't finish his words before toppling from his horse, kicking up a cloud of sand.

Cui Yuanyong was stunned.

Huangfu Yongxian said, "With Chili's back-and-forth raids, how could anyone come from the rear to deliver a message? If it's not one of Chili's men in disguise, then he deliberately let him through. Military secrets should be reported to me in private, not shouted for the whole army to hear. Do you take me for a fool?"

Cui Yuanyong admired the insight. He rode up beside Huangfu Yongxian and asked quietly, "How do we deal with Chili's hit-and-run attacks? We can't guard every point from front to rear."

"They rely on the sandstorm." Huangfu Yongxian looked up at the sky, where the aftershocks of San Niang's battle with the Eternal Heavenly God's split soul could still be felt in the distance. He said in a low voice, "The Xuanwu Venerable is assigned to our route based on prior assessment, not just because she happened to be nearby."

Cui Yuanyong nodded. Given the speed at which these beings could fly, Xuanwu, Zhao Changhe, and Yue Hongling could easily swap "defense zones" within a day, so her original direction didn't matter much. The reason they hadn't swapped was, of course, that everyone thought Xuanwu was better suited for this route.

Huangfu Yongxian continued, "Though the Xuanwu Venerable has no spare strength to help us directly, her manifestation stands guard, and its gentle, watery essence is always at work. Unnoticed, the sand around us will gradually become moist. When their horses tread on it, they'll find themselves stuck in a quagmire. That will be our chance."

Cui Yuanyong asked, "And Yanmen..."

"It's just a ploy to shake our morale, claiming Yanmen has fallen. In truth, we've made preparations. No need to worry—just keep marching."

"Boom!" High above, Xuanwu's fist clashed viciously with the Eternal Heavenly God's split soul. The split soul drifted back, trembling slightly.

The trembling split soul looked at San Niang's seductive smile and felt a chill in its heart.

It had only been three or four months since the East Sea battle. Back then, Xuanwu had just broken through the third secret vault, but now she was not only in the Imperial Realm but had reached at least its late stage. At that time, she couldn't even approach the center of the battle with Xia Longyuan, but now, with one punch, the earth split and the sky shattered, and his split soul could no longer withstand her.

"By sending a split soul, you've already lost."

She wasn't boasting. It was true.

The Eternal Heavenly God couldn't help but say, "You must be the strongest among them."

San Niang tilted her head thoughtfully. "Maybe. But I feel that if my man gets really fierce, he'll spank me."

Even if he didn't get fierce, you'd willingly let him spank you. What's the point of that comparison? The Eternal Heavenly God kept the thought to himself, of course, and said coldly, "Putting the strongest of you against a mere split soul of mine, used only for harassment... If that's not a miscalculation, then it's a bid for a quick resolution, so you can rush back to support Yanmen. But I'm sorry, Venerable, you won't be leaving."

San Niang laughed softly. "You're overthinking it. The reason I'm staying here is that I don't feel like moving."

A phantom, identical to San Niang, appeared behind the Eternal Heavenly God. Two San Niangs, one serious and one seductive, spoke in unison: "To me, your split soul is nothing more than a whetstone for my dual turtle-snake path. That's all. Please enlighten me on the second path."

The Eternal Heavenly God's heart trembled.

This woman could already manifest a split soul! And if she could, why hadn't she sent it to support Yanmen? What gave them such confidence?

...

Yanmen Commandery.

The demon god Wind Shadow led the forces of southern Jin northward, sweeping through northern Jin without resistance, straight to Yanmen.

Northern Jin had been temporarily subdued by Vermilion Bird using "martial methods," but such methods were not universally applicable—they left endless troubles, only a temporary expedient. As soon as you left, anything could happen.

Governing and controlling a region could never rely on one or two gods or demons; it required a layered system of management, manpower, and armies. Otherwise, you'd only get lip service.

This was also one reason why the conflict between Hu and Han couldn't be settled by a single divine battle.

But given the urgency at the time and the Han's stretched resources, they could only manage a temporary solution, whose greatest effect was probably gathering taxes and grain.

This time, as Wind Shadow marched north, the various tribes of northern Jin behaved slightly better than Vermilion Bird had anticipated. They didn't collectively defect, but simply made way without resistance, as if to say, "Whoever wins, we'll follow," having learned their lesson.

For Wind Shadow, it was enough that they didn't cause trouble, allowing him to reach Yanmen unhindered.

The Yanmen border troops were permanently stationed here, with their families settled in the commandery. If the rear was breached, word would reach the front, and Huangfu Yongxian's western army would collapse without a fight. Honestly, Temür and Li Boping couldn't imagine how the Han dared to send Huangfu Yongxian out of the pass northward while the Three Jins were unstable. What gave them such confidence?

Wind Shadow arrived at Yanmen Commandery ahead of the southern Jin army, hovering above the sparse defenders on the walls, cackling: "Hastily, they sought to seal the Wolf's Residency, only to flee in panic northward. This poem has been passed down since the last era—haven't your people heard it?"

The soldiers looked up at the demon god in the sky. Despite the terrifying pressure descending upon them, most showed little expression.

Feng Yin was infuriated by that calm expression of indifference to life and death, for it reminded him of Zhao Changhe, who had once faced him with the same look despite being grievously wounded.

Feng Yin waved his hand, stirring up sand and stones, whipping the wind into a frenzy that engulfed the entire city: "Rest assured, I won't kill you. I wonder how many pages of the Heavenly Book a city full of families is worth in Zhao Changhe's heart? So much for protecting the divine land—how laughable, hahaha... eh..."

His laughter abruptly caught in his throat.

A soft sound of flowing water arose, not loud, yet it easily spread throughout the city and reached the heights where he stood.

The wind that had sought to sweep away the city's population seemed to collide with an invisible wall of air, not a single wisp entering the city.

Was that... the power of sound waves?

The sound waves were like water, omnipresent, merging with the wind and carried along by it. All the force of the wind, the pressure, the energy, vanished without a trace.

Instead, Feng Yin's own heart began to pulse, and something stirred and resonated within his soul.

Feng Yin looked down in alarm. Atop the city gate sat a woman, her robes fluttering, brushing her sleeves as she played the zither. Her autumn-water eyes glanced up casually, like the landscapes of Wu and Yue reflected against the dark clouds and mist in the sky—no matter how ugly the weather, it could not shake the beauty of the mountains and rivers.

A petite maid stood beside her, looking up at him with curious eyes, as if speaking.

He could read her lips: "Miss, I thought a demon god's envoy, representing a lineage of mastery, would have some bearing, no matter how ugly, it wouldn't be too bad. But I never expected such ugliness... If it were me, I'd be too ashamed to crawl out of a grave to see people, and I'd rather bury myself back in."

Feng Yin: "..."

Feng Yin had never seen this mistress and maid before, but the name of the miss mentioned by that venomous little maid naturally surfaced in his mind: Tang Wanzhuang, former head of the Demon-Slaying Bureau, now Chancellor of the Great Han.

He had heard people say she was the most beautiful woman under heaven, and now seeing her, it was indeed no exaggeration. Even without the added charm of her frail, sickly aura, she was still so lovely... Yet Feng Yin still felt that if Jiuyou were not so excessively pale, it would be hard to say...

Regardless, this woman had not stayed to guard the capital but had come alone with a little maid to defend Yanmen.

No wonder Jinbei had not defected, and no wonder the Yanmen garrison was so calm. Tang Wanzhuang, as the empire's steadfast anchor for many years, held a place in the hearts of the Han people no less than Huangfu Yongxian, and in a broader sense, far surpassed him. With her guarding the city, who would fear the enemy?

He just hadn't expected that she, too, had broken through to the mastery realm. How could she, burdened with worldly affairs and with no time for cultivation, have achieved mastery? Feng Yin, with his two epochs of knowledge, found it hard to comprehend. Was mastery a common cabbage, something you could achieve just by thinking about it after a long day's work?

Feng Yin couldn't help asking: "If you come out, who will guard the capital?"

Tang Wanzhuang spoke softly, her voice reaching the heavens: "A master of wind should be the most carefree being in the world, drifting with the wind, hiding among the clouds—that is the essence of 'Feng Yin.' Yet you, sir, rush east and west, defeated by the Zhao King in the East Sea, wounded by Zhuque in Jinbei, clinging to mortal powers, busy with worldly strife—why?"

Feng Yin clicked his tongue and sneered: "I only want the Heavenly Book. If you have the skill to make Zhao Changhe hand it over, I'll leave immediately. What do I care about worldly strife?"

"Then," Tang Wanzhuang pressed lightly on the zither strings and asked calmly, "why don't you dare to confront the Zhao King directly?"

Feng Yin: "..."

"An ancient demon god, and yet so pathetic, truly a laughingstock to the world." Tang Wanzhuang continued to play, smiling lightly: "Indeed, the capital is empty. If you have the nerve, go ahead and launch a surprise attack. I, the Chancellor, cannot catch up with you."

"..." Feng Yin dared not go, so he sneered: "I care not whether the capital is an empty city. But your Yanmen truly is an empty city. Do you really think that playing the zither here can scare me off?"

As he spoke, the silhouette of the southern Jin army finally appeared on the distant horizon, marching toward the city walls.

"If you are protecting this city, you will have no strength left for anything else," Feng Yin sneered. "Yanmen has only these few troops left; it can fall at any moment. What use is one person here?"

Tang Wanzhuang's zither playing grew more urgent, as if attacking the distant army, but Feng Yin merged it with the wind and sent it up to the heavens, where it faded into silence.

The army pressed closer.

Feng Yin laughed: "Perhaps capturing you would mean more to Zhao Changhe than taking all of Yanmen. I wonder how many pages of the Heavenly Book you are worth?"

Tang Wanzhuang watched the approaching army and said calmly: "I have been testing you these past exchanges to confirm whether I can neutralize all your tricks. It seems I can... so there is nothing to worry about."

As she spoke, soldiers on the city wall uncovered some objects draped in cloth, revealing over a dozen black cannon barrels pointing out from the battlements.

"What are these things?" Feng Yin had never seen such devices. As he stared in bewilderment, he saw the soldiers light the fuses.

The sizzling sound of the burning fuses gave Feng Yin an instinctive sense of foreboding. He quickly raised his hand.

A fierce wind swept across the battlefield, blocking all paths of the projectiles.

A sharp glint flashed in Tang Wanzhuang's eyes. With a twang of the zither, sound waves scattered.

The wind resistance before her was twisted into a spiral by the violent sound waves, shooting straight into the sky toward Feng Yin's position.

The next moment, a thunderous roar erupted. The city's cannons fired, blasting the troops pushing siege ladders toward the walls into bloody shreds, smashing the ladders and battering rams to pieces.

Dust scattered, and the entire battlefield fell silent. The Jin army, from generals to soldiers, stared blankly at the carnage of flesh, blood, and splintered wood, their minds a complete blank.

What was this?

Feng Yin, who had just dodged Tang Wanzhuang's attack, was equally stunned. What was this?

Sizzle... The second round of fuses was lit. Tang Wanzhuang's calm voice spread across the battlefield: "Why must people of today chase after the ancients... Sir Feng Yin, please return. If you still linger here, your name may vanish from the world."

Boom! The cannons roared again.

Clang! A flash of light split the sky as the Spring Water Sword was drawn.

A rainbow-like streak shot toward the heavens, aimed at the bewildered Feng Yin: "Since she once defeated you, I must do the same."

Feng Yin snapped back to reality and suddenly realized that Tang Wanzhuang had come here only for this one line.