A killer with graying hair at the temples and a lead-colored mask immediately sensed something was wrong.
At this moment, he had already left the area where Yue Qianfeng had sealed off the natural energy (yuanqi).
Gripping his weapon, a blood-red aura surged from his body.
It was a technique imitating a Dharma Manifestation, taking the form of a fierce blood-colored wolf that crouched by his side, scanning the surroundings with a menacing gaze.
"Very good. What a Melodic Strike of the Zither. I didn't expect there to be such a master hiding here."
"One with deep inner strength can kill with a leaf or a flower."
"A Daoist of supreme spirit could also kill with sound—string melodies like swords, cleaving mountains and seas in a single tune. I wonder—who might the master be today?! I, lacking in skill, am willing to learn."
As he spoke, he paced slowly, a mighty presence flowing through his body, his eyes sharp and alert.
His right foot stopped beside a boulder. A breeze stirred. Branches gently swayed.
The zither music suddenly shifted.
To the left, a tree shuddered violently. Its branches snapped and fell.
Leaves fluttered down and landed beside the boulder. In an instant, the killer sprang into action, moving like lightning. The rock shattered beneath him. Three pale yellow spring flowers at its base were instantly crushed into the mud as he surged toward the direction the music had come from.
He raised his hand to parry—his sword let out a chilling screech.
It felt like clashing with a blade.
He swung his weapon with follow-through. The murderous aura formed a blade of light that tore through the air, but it was instantly cut off.
The blood-colored wolf's blade dissolved in midair, sliced cleanly. The forceful edge hidden in the zither's melody surged again. Pain bloomed on the killer's cheek—blood seeped out. His expression remained cold but was now mixed with heated killing intent.
He was no novice.
His long career as a killer meant he had faced all sorts of opponents.
Among them, of course, were the so-called refined masters of qin, chess, calligraphy, and painting—none of the typical Buddhist, Daoist, Confucian, or martial types.
"I've found you."
He leaped into the air. The void trembled with each step, the distance closing rapidly.
He wasn't a match for true warriors like Xue Daoyong or Yue Qianfeng.
But against one who focused on the arts—he had the upper hand.
His foundational teachings came from one of the Hundred Schools, excelling in hiding breath and presence before launching a lethal ambush. He knew that when qin masters reached a high level—bolstered by spiritual force—they could manifest extraordinary abilities.
But they all shared a fatal flaw:
Close combat.
Within a three-foot radius, warriors were virtually unstoppable.
The man swung his blade wildly, cutting through all the lingering sonic edges. The shattered traces of force tore apart trees, boulders, and earth—leaving devastation in his wake. After charging a few miles, his eyes lit up.
He saw a woman seated on a bluestone slab. The killer's blood surged, and he used a forbidden move.
His speed soared, ignoring the slashing energies as he lunged forward.
The woman calmly raised her zither to block a strike.
The killer pressed his left hand down onto the back of his sword.
His energy burst again.
"You've lost!!!"
Blood spattered.
A severed head flew through the air and thudded to the ground.
The headless killer looked like he had cut off his head with his weapon.
Still clutching his blade, he staggered.
His head rolled to the ground, face still twisted in a smile. Just then, the leaves he'd seen earlier finally fell and drifted onto his body. Then his corpse collapsed, kneeling beside the shattered rock. The pale yellow flowers were now dyed crimson.
The breeze whispered through the trees. The rustling leaves echoed the sound of a zither—gentle and haunting.
The tune had not even fully ended—but everything was already quiet.
Though his senses had told him trees had been cleaved and the ground ravaged—
In reality, everything remained whole.
The blood on his blade was his own.
He had never truly left the small clearing within the forest.
The song faded.
Its first stanza is completed.
The 73rd-ranked assassin in the southern court of Chen Nation—
Dead by his hand.
Li Guanyi charged into the encirclement of five assassins. Ducking under crisscrossing sword strikes, he stepped forward, twisted his body, and smashed his blade's hilt into one man's abdomen, distorting the killer's face. He then followed up with a swing that forced the rest back.
His blade was sharp and overwhelming.
All five had believed their strength to be greater than this boy's.
But once they lost access to their cultivation techniques and couldn't use their intricate moves—they realized they were unprepared for this kind of close-quarters brawl. Though their bodies had been refined through energy tempering and were stronger than the boy's, it wasn't enough.
Tigers and elephants may be strong, but they are no match for humans.
Strength alone doesn't determine victory.
His heavy blade, using the Eight Cuts of Breaking the Army, swept out like a storm, repelling weapons. His footwork was fluid like a butterfly's—despite wielding a heavy blade, it danced like a curved saber. He stepped lightly, and in one graceful move, the blade swept across a killer's throat—blood sprayed.
The man, capable of wielding a sword qi, staggered backward clutching his throat.
He quickly sealed his meridians with internal force and jabbed a silver needle into his neck to stop the flow. It saved his life—for now. But any exertion would reopen the wound and kill him.
He suddenly recalled his teacher's first lesson:
"Martial arts are techniques to overcome stronger foes with less power."
"Victory through skill, not force."
Li Guanyi relaxed his muscles.
"One down."
"Break the formation, shatter their edge—boost our momentum."
— The Art of War, Chapter: On Facing Battle
He cast off Xue's military teachings from his mind.
He didn't know why that line had appeared so vividly just now—but it pushed him to act with full strength, slaying one first to set the tone.
At that moment, the other four hesitated.
It felt like they weren't facing a young boy—but a seasoned general, one who had survived countless bloodbaths.
The assassin who specialized in stealth was now exposed in daylight—
And found himself facing a commander with no fear of death.
Fear surged within them for no reason. Their leader drove it away with a growl:
"Form up! Even if he's a natural-born warlord, he won't kill all five of us without a cost!"
They advanced in formation. Though Guanyi had eliminated one, the remaining four adjusted tactics—two-at-a-time strikes, then swift retreat—using their superior footwork. Guanyi had only battlefield movement techniques, while the assassins excelled at burst agility.
Gradually, cuts began appearing on Li Guanyi's body, staining his blue shirt red.
But curiously—
The more injured he became, the more power surged through him.
Perhaps it was the suppressed energy trying to break into his meridians.
Or the starlight that had slowly integrated into his body over time.
Wounds itched instead of hurting. The pent-up force in his core felt ready to explode.
When an assassin leaped in again—
Li Guanyi suddenly burst forth.
He spun his heavy blade in a wide arc. The timing was perfect. The killer was caught mid-motion, right in its path. The strike was so precise it looked like the man had stepped into it himself.
The killer was cut clean in half.
Shock still lingered in his eyes.
His last thought:
"He read our attack rhythm?!"
Impossible!
Guanyi reversed his grip and drove the blade into another's throat.
He rested his hand on the hilt, his eyes calm.
"Second."
Xue Daoyong had used tally marks to unnerve him during training. Now, Guanyi used the same technique on his foes.
One killer crawled on the ground, screaming.
Guanyi delivered a final blow through his throat.
He calmly observed the remaining three.
Their breathing paused.
Li Guanyi recognized this assassin style—it was a degraded branch of the Mohist school, once chivalrous, now purely focused on killing.
He had fought their founder in a past attempt on General Xue's life.
They hadn't changed.
When the three remaining assassins faltered, Guanyi flicked his wrist and threw the heavy blade.
Everyone froze.
The leader suddenly paled:
"He's going for the spear!"
Guanyi lunged and seized the abandoned weapon. One twist and the spearhead unleashed a wide arc of light.
This—this was far more comfortable than the blade.
No wonder the imperial court restricted these weapons.
With a spear in hand, he advanced.
His strikes borrowed from General Xue's techniques—wide sweeps, followed by spinning, rising arcs. Though exhausting, it felt incredibly satisfying.
He smashed a killer to the ground, then twisted the shaft and drove it into his throat.
The spear's flexible body helped rip through the man's neck. The momentum carried through, pushing back the remaining assassins.
A shadow flickered—Guanyi instinctively raised his spear. A bolt struck his shoulder.
Thanks to the Canglang Guard's skill, it didn't pierce through—just lodged into his flesh.
It was the first killer—the one who had sealed his own throat.
Somehow still alive.
Guanyi snapped the bolt in half and tossed the shaft aside, his gaze sharp.
The lead assassin's heart froze.
"What kind of thirteen-year-old is this?!"
"The Court tricked us!"
Roughly one incense stick of time later—the battle ended.
Li Guanyi stood, covered in blood, gasping for air.
Five killers lay slain.
The first—throat cut while mounted.
Second—cleaved in half.
Third—impaled with a spear.
Fourth—killed when he saw an opening.
Fifth—wore armor, but was stabbed in the heart with his aunt's dagger when Guanyi crashed into him after breaking his spear.
Only the first, somehow still breathing, remained.
Guanyi had severed his limbs, intending to question him.
He breathed deeply. White Tiger and Red Dragon spirits lay dormant.
Removing more bolts from his shoulder, abdomen, and thigh.
His Canglang Guard saved his life.
He should have been in agony, but the Breaking Formation Tune surged through him. His breathing turned hot. With the battle over, exhaustion struck. His limbs weakened. His meridians ached.
The energy he had suppressed for so long—
Was finally ready to burst.
Not yet. He still had questions. He needed answers.
Just then, a familiar figure appeared.
Yaoguang, hooded, emerged and knelt by him. She placed her crossbow on the ground. Her silver hair shimmered. Guanyi felt a sense of peace.
She took his hand and said gently,
"With a pure heart, and a body tempered in battle—"
"You're about to break through."
"Forgive me for not aiding you earlier."
"No need to worry. The man who fled—his life star has already dimmed."
Guanyi weakly pointed at the surviving assassin.
"Interrogate… him…"
Yaoguang nodded quietly.
She picked up her already-loaded crossbow. If Guanyi had failed, the starlight-charged bolts of the Star-Gazing School would have killed his enemies instantly.
Her tone was soft, holding his hand. A gentle energy calmed his raging meridians.
"Within the hidden realm, there is an array that draws in heavenly and stellar energy."
"With me here, you can rest."
Guanyi finally passed out.
Yaoguang rose, wanting to carry him back.
But his injuries were severe. Carrying him on her back would drag his feet, even his calves.
She gave up.
Instead, she scooped him up in her arms—cradling his knees and shoulders—and swiftly returned to the secret realm. Guanyi's solid build made her strain. Her porcelain-like face flushed with effort.
Expression calm, she bent over, gasping for breath several times.
Then she went back—
And used the stick that had once skewered a bun—
To hook the assassin's clothing, dragging him through the stream, banging his head on rocks the entire way.
Lastly, Yaoguang returned alone and used the Star-Gazing School's methods to erase all traces from the area.
Peace returned.
Not even a tea time later, Xue Daoyong and Yue Qianfeng arrived in a frenzy.
Their expressions turned dark.
All they saw was carnage.
The body of the warhorse Guanyi had ridden to battle.
His bloodied black blade, was still stabbed into the ground.
And the shattered remains of the Suni Bow.
(End of Chapter)