Chapter 50: A Forceful Strike Drives the Enemy Back

There were more than forty of them; he couldn’t allow them all to come intact. Even ants, in great numbers, could potentially topple an elephant.

This group was no ordinary rabble—they were all at the Qi Refinement stage. He wasn’t afraid of being surrounded, but they were. In terms of tactics, humans and beasts differed greatly; beasts were far inferior to humans.

The fastest runners were those in mid-Qi Refinement, and they were also the first to fall.

One mid-stage cultivator had just run down a hillside onto flat ground when he saw Qin Anyu charging at him. Hastily swinging his greatsword, he tried to strike, but before his blade could come down, a sharp “ding” sounded in his ear. His throat tightened, and he lost consciousness.

Three more mid-stage cultivators behind him accelerated, roaring angrily, “Qin Ganxi, you deserve to die!”

Their comrade in front had been caught by a single sword, his greatsword pinned and his throat grasped by one hand, then tossed aside like garbage. The humiliation was unbearable. The flicker of fear was consumed by raging anger, leaving only one thought: “Kill him.”

He was not like Dai Linglong, who would capture if possible and kill if not, as long as he could bring back the head. This man had run ahead alone and was caught off guard by an attack. Now, with three enemies, he couldn’t escape.

In the next moment, a head flew through the air. The other two instinctively dodged aside.

Qin Ganxi pivoted sharply on his left foot and, with a single sword stroke, sent the middle cultivator’s head spinning through the air. The whirling head sent chills down their spines.

“His strength is truly formidable—not merely luck.”

This thought flashed through their minds, and they instinctively distanced themselves from him.

But Qin Ganxi did not cease his assault. If they did not come to him, he would go to them.

Planting his right foot, he stepped toward the mid-stage cultivator on the left.

That cultivator, seeing him rush forward, quickly adjusted his stance, gripping his greatsword tightly and fixing his eyes on Qin Ganxi. It was this split-second decision that made him sense that death was imminent.

What kind of eyes were those? Filled with murderous intent, steeped in blood and storm, they drew his spirit in and held it captive, chilling him to the bone.

In a blur, he saw the sword strike toward him and hastily raised his greatsword to meet it.

This very clash pulled his spirit back from the storm of bloodshed, but it was too late.

The worn sword broke through his greatsword and continued downward. Then... a sudden coolness touched his forehead, and he was swallowed by boundless darkness amid excruciating pain.

The third mid-stage cultivator, witnessing another comrade slain in one move, finally showed terror on his face. Retreating with loud shouts, he bellowed, “Kill him! Surround him, form a battle array, attack from a distance with archers!”

He had no idea that the four mid-stage cultivators were faster than the others, and Qin Anyu’s speed was so swift that even the quickest were still thirty or so yards away.

Qin Anyu set his sights on the next opponent and turned to charge.

Seeing this, the mid-stage cultivator immediately fled uphill—when you can’t win, escape is the only option.

“Want to run? Did you get permission from this Immortal Emperor?” Qin Anyu snapped.

He swapped his clumsy sword for a bow and shot an arrow.

The mid-stage cultivator, caught mid-stride in mid-air, was unaware of the incoming arrow. With a “puff” sound, he let out a piercing scream and fell to the ground, the arrow piercing his left chest.

Qin Ganxi examined his bow with satisfaction and stored it in his spirit ring. “Not bad. It can still withstand 60% of my current power. I’ll continue to refine it, hoping it can accompany me further.”

The bow and arrows came from Huai Mountain. He had expected the bow to break but was surprised it could endure this level of power—a very good bow indeed.

He quickened his pace to seize the mid-stage cultivator. A live person was a valuable source of information and couldn’t be spared.

As he bent down to grab the cultivator’s ankle, two arrows shot from his left front and directly ahead.

“The flight speed of these arrows is too slow,” he thought.

With a flick of his hand, he caught both arrows effortlessly. They were somewhat different from his own—more advanced.

It made sense. The archer from Huai Mountain was only at the ninth stage of Qi Cultivation, while these two were early-stage Qi Refinement.

“Their bows and arrows must not be allowed to survive,” he suddenly thought, tossing the two arrows toward the archer ahead while rushing toward the left-front archer.

The arrows streaked like shooting stars.

The archer ahead, having just fired one arrow, moved sideways to prepare the next volley but was struck by the two arrows. One pierced his lower left abdomen, the other his right chest.

Like a leopard, the left-front archer was also moving, seeking a better position to continue shooting. But halfway, he collided with the charging Qin Anyu, who reached out to strike him.

“Did he anticipate my route and lie in wait here?” Qin Anyu thought, his hair standing on end. Still, he instinctively attacked with bow and arrow.

Qin Anyu ignored the crashing bow, caught the incoming arrow with his hand.

With a pull, the archer was thrown forward.

The archer hastily released his grip to avoid being pulled in.

Qin Anyu took advantage of this momentum, stepped forward, and struck a punch.

The archer was hurled back, blood spurting from seven orifices, his skull shattered.

“At this stage, the difference in physical strength is not yet stark enough to completely crush the opponent,” Qin Anyu felt a slight dissatisfaction with this outcome, his emotions stirred. He turned his gaze to survey the surroundings.

Only then did he realize that nearly forty Qi Refinement cultivators were rapidly retreating uphill, abandoning their descent. Their speed uphill surpassed that of those running down, as if they had summoned every last ounce of strength—rationally, they had unleashed their full speed potential.

One after another, they ran silently, breathing heavily, no longer shouting.

The battle by the river had ended. Qin Lingxue and Qin Youqin were cleaning the battlefield, while Qin Wushuang lay collapsed on the ground, drenched in blood, gasping for breath.

Qin Anyu shook his head, took the archer’s bow, and removed the spirit ring.

He crouched before another archer, stripped him of his bow and arrows, and coldly demanded, “Tell me your purpose here. I’ll give you a quick death.”

The archer, pierced by two arrows, struggled even to die quickly. He would never say the foolish words, “Tell me the truth, and I’ll spare your life.”

The archer tried to hold on, eyes filled with a death-defying resolve.

Qin Anyu said nothing, drew his clumsy sword, and severed the five fingers of the archer’s right hand. A spirit ring appeared. A curse erupted from the archer’s mouth.

With a sword flick, Qin Anyu snatched the spirit ring from the detached fingers and examined it. “Not bad. Nine spirit stones. Seems he’s quite valued by the Pu Tian Sect.”

Zhang Yuan, the leader in the capital city, had no spirit stones in his ring; Chen Qi and Hu Jie, mid-stage Qi Refinement cultivators, also had none. That this archer possessed spirit stones indicated the varying degrees of favor among them.

The archer spat blood, eyes wide with disbelief, and asked in terror, “I haven’t broken my bond of allegiance. How could you peer into my spirit ring?”

Qin Anyu sneered, “How could an ant like you comprehend the power of an Immortal of the Nine Heavens?”