Chapter Eighty-Nine: The Stalking Sparrow? (Please recommend and add to your collection)

Ju Bei City and Po Bei City lay sixty li apart—neither far nor near. Zhang Dao Yi stood alone at the very heart between the two cities.

Yang Fan and his companions ran toward Ju Bei City, glancing back as they fled. To most, the measure of a strong person was always defined by martial prowess; this notion had long been ingrained. Yet, another concept of strength lingered in the world. There were those who, though not unmatched in battle, dared to stand before the weak, refusing to retreat even when danger was clear and change seemed impossible. For the sake of their convictions, they would not yield. Could these not also be called the truly strong?

The dark canopy gathered overhead, and Zhang Dao Yi’s spear struck out again and again. The newly mended sky was rent open once more, yawning wide.

Upon the ramparts of Po Bei City, dozens of formidable warriors burned with rage. Foremost among them, three of the eleventh rank wore expressions so grim they seemed about to drip water.

At last, Yu Tian could endure no more. This battle should have restored his image in the heart of the Dark God, yet accidents had plagued it from the start: the other world had developed new weapons—missiles and laser cannons never seen before, and finally, devastating bombs rivaling the power of the eleventh rank. Mishap upon mishap.

When their own eleventh rank fighters took the field, a peerless blade-wielder emerged, sweeping aside all opposition. Three against one, yet they were forced back. There was no shame in losing to a stronger foe, but now, a mere tenth rank Martial Sovereign dared to challenge them at the edge of the canopy. What was this? Did he truly see the denizens of the Dark Realm as nothing?

Yu Tian bellowed, “Chang Feng, Chang Shou, Chang Ming! The three of you, annihilate him. Po Jun, Li Sheng, support them!”

At his command, Cui Li and Huang Yue Tian’s expressions changed, but neither spoke. Behind them, five tenth rank Martial Sovereigns roared, streaking across the sky like five radiant arcs.

Standing before the darkness, Zhang Dao Yi watched as five blazing trails soared from the distant city. He tightened his grip on his spear and quietly murmured to himself.

How fast could tenth rank experts fly? Those below that level could hardly imagine. Yang Fan’s group had barely run five li when the battle erupted before the canopy.

Chang Feng, Chang Shou, and Chang Ming, each wielding identical iron rods, formed a compact battle formation the instant they met. Their rods fused as one, their beings seemed to merge, and in a flash, they became a single entity.

Zhang Dao Yi thrust his spear forward. The spear and fused rods crossed paths, and Zhang Dao Yi was forced back instantly. His expression twisted in alarm—damn it! The three had merged, and at the moment of contact, the force he sensed was nearly equivalent to the eleventh rank. With just one blow, he had already suffered internal injury. The powerful shockwaves rippled through his body.

The merged trio, now known as Feng Shou Ming, rushed after him, wielding a rod three times thicker, raining blows upon Zhang Dao Yi. Each strike threatened to scatter him; though it was but an illusion, the impact and shock were real, inflicting considerable harm.

Meanwhile, Yang Fan, Li Xian Yi, and Hu Dao led their squad away from the battlefield. Suddenly, Li Xian Yi leaped from the head of the group to the rear, drawing his sword mid-air and thrusting into the void.

Li Xian Yi, at the peak of the fourth rank, had barely struck when Yang Fan saw him thrown back, blood spraying from his mouth. Other team members at the rear were similarly battered, their bodies enveloped in surging vital energy.

The aftershocks of the battle between the mighty had reached them. At this point, Yang Fan’s squad was six or seven li from the battlefield. The two sides were fighting in the sky, and the aftershocks scattered in all directions. Even at such a distance, those ripples flung Li Xian Yi—peak fourth rank—through the air, his fate unknown. It was clear just how terrifying the power at the front lines was.

Hu Dao drew his blade and rushed to the rear, while Yang Fan leapt up to catch Li Xian Yi, who was vomiting blood in mid-air. The moment he embraced Li Xian Yi, Yang Fan felt as if a massive hammer had struck his chest. An irresistible force drove both men backward—two hundred meters before he regained his balance, a trickle of blood at his lips. They staggered to the ground; Li Xian Yi was unconscious.

Yang Fan checked himself—thankfully, only minor internal injuries, nothing serious. Yet the strength of the aftershocks was astonishing: he was third rank, Li Xian Yi peak fourth rank, and neither had directly faced the force—he had merely caught Li Xian Yi, and still both were hurt. The power wielded by martial experts was once again made clear to Yang Fan.

On the battlefield, Zhang Dao Yi’s spear tirelessly blocked Feng Shou Ming’s relentless rod.

Before long, Zhang Dao Yi began to cough blood. Feng Shou Ming, watching his foe’s repeated bleeding, grew not more confident but more wary. Po Jun and Li Sheng, holding the line behind, were tense as taut strings.

Everyone knew this was a trap, designed only to lure the Dark Realm’s forces out. Once they emerged, Hua Xia would surely have a contingency waiting. No one was foolish enough to let a tenth rank Martial Sovereign challenge an array led by three eleventh rank masters and a dozen tenth rank warriors without some backup. Only an idiot would court death like that.

Yet there was no choice. As leaders, as those revered in the Dark Realm, they could not ignore such provocation.

At Po Bei City, Yu Tian, Huang Yue Tian, and Cui Li were poised to strike. If the enemy dared such tactics, Li Tian might well be lying in ambush outside. Huang Yue Tian’s bow was already drawn, prepared for a long-range attack.

As all had anticipated, Li Tian was indeed waiting beneath the canopy. When Zhang Dao Yi spat blood once more, Li Tian erupted from below.

As Li Tian soared upward, Huang Yue Tian loosed an arrow from Po Bei City. A rainbow streaked across heaven and earth. Yu Tian and Cui Li sprang from the ground, charging toward the canopy.

Po Jun and Li Sheng, defending before the canopy, reacted instantly, brandishing their weapons in the void and retreating even as they attacked. Feng Shou Ming, locked in battle with Zhang Dao Yi, felt his hair stand on end, and his iron rod struck with greater force, hoping to knock Zhang Dao Yi aside and escape.

Yet this time, Zhang Dao Yi no longer retreated at each blow. His spear shifted its momentum, surging like a green dragon from the depths, thrusting straight toward Feng Shou Ming.

Looking at Zhang Dao Yi now, there was no trace of the pallor inflicted by the earlier shock—his face showed none of the weakness from the injuries moments before.