Chapter Twenty-Five: Destiny Ordained by Heaven

Ma San swung his blade like a wheel, the shimmering light of his sword relentlessly pressing down on Old She and Lady Yin. After Old She lost her arm, her vital essence drained away, and her aging body could no longer muster any strength. Within moments, her once jet-black hair had begun to show streaks of white, her face grew ever more wrinkled, and the mortal shell proved unable to sustain vigor for long. Strangely, Ma San’s swordsmanship advanced even further, entering a realm of emptiness and oblivion—no self, no thought of right or wrong, no thought of life or death. Gradually, he shed the constraints of forms and techniques, his moves as elusive as a goat’s horns hanging in the air, leaving no trace to follow. Yet Ma San’s expression shifted wildly—from rage, to joy, to sorrow—as if it was not the man wielding the blade, but the blade controlling the man. In the midst of his unmatched swordplay, even Qian Si and Hu Yi Fei were swept into the fray.

"Demon Blade!"

"Commander!"

"Brother Ma!" Qian Si and Hu Yi Fei cried out in desperation, but their calls could not reach him; they were forced to join Lady Yin and Old She in opposing him together.

Despite their combined efforts, the four could not withstand Ma San. Fortunately, Lin Tai slew five soldiers and entered the melee, turning the tide slightly. Sand and stones flew, chaos reigned, and the battle became impossible to follow. All present were first-rate masters, and with a frenzied Ma San among them, the flashes of blades, shadows crossing, bursts of fists, and surges of palm strikes battered the ground into a cratered wasteland.

The gleam of Ma San’s blade flickered relentlessly; his face waxen, yet the more he fought, the more mad and valiant he became. His swordplay always favored fearless offense, but who could outmatch a madman in recklessness? His vitality was already being exhausted.

With a flourish, Ma San’s blade sliced across Lin Tai’s chest, spraying blood and severing all ten fingers. Even Lin Tai’s Iron-Grinding Hands could not withstand such swordsmanship. Amidst the bloodshed, Ma San let out a wild roar, the blade’s aura spinning like a millstone, stirring toward the others in a mighty sweep. This move was the final technique from his nameless sword manual—the Blade Millstone—one Ma San had sought for twenty years but never mastered. Yet today, in a moment of stupor, he achieved sudden enlightenment.

"The millstone grinds the beans, crushing all beneath it. The blade’s momentum is like dark clouds blotting out the sky—four shoulders, three legs; three wonders, six rites. It defies the way of men, and lets ghosts and spirits wield the blade."

The blade’s radiance poured down like autumn rain, as dense as a violent storm—mad and merciless.

Before the Commander’s Mansion, dozens of soldiers lay dead in disarray, each with a small sword wound between their brows. Zhou Xun’s silhouette vanished into the darkness.

Between two small buildings, Ma San stood alone, his iron blade broken in half, the remaining half embedded in Lady Yin’s chest. His own body was riddled with wounds.

"Chun’er, Chun’er..." Ma San muttered, staggering with each step, leaving a trail of blood on the ground.

He knelt slowly before Lady Yin, gazing at her face, still beautiful as a flower. "Why has it come to this? Why must it end like this?"

Lady Yin opened her mouth as if to speak, but only coughed up frothy blood. Ma San leaned in to listen, and she seemed to cry and smile at once, her voice faint as a whispering insect, breaking off again and again.

"What a handsome general you are!"

Ma San was stunned, then burst into laughter—laughing with tears, laughing until he spat blood, laughing until his death.

Five years ago, Ma San suppressed the bandit Six Flying Mice and returned triumphantly to the city. For a time, the streets were deserted as everyone gathered to welcome him. Upon the Moonlight Tower, a young maiden with bright eyes and delicate features, as fair as spring scallions, watched the surging crowd below, thrilled beyond measure. As Ma San led his army into the city, the soldiers marched like a tidal wave, grand and imposing. Leading them was a general, high on horseback, broad-shouldered and powerful, his eyes shining.

"Grandma! Grandma, look! What a handsome general!" the young girl’s eyes sparkled like flowing water, her cheeks flushed.

As if fate guided him, Ma San looked up and caught sight of her. Such a girl, lost among the flower gardens and willow lanes, would be a pity.

"Ah! The Soul-Capturing Technique is truly wondrous—bewitching without notice, remarkable indeed," Old She said sarcastically, glancing at the two fallen.

"True feelings dwell in the world, Grandma. You just don’t understand," Tan Monkey grinned, holding two broken ropes as he emerged from the left building.

"How did you—?" Old She asked, surprised.

"Because of me, of course!" Wang Wei smiled charmingly, leaping from the second floor and landing gracefully.

"Young Wang Wei of the Wang family greets Elder She!"

"The Golden Sword Wang family!"

"My family has two martial traditions—the Golden Sword and the Silver Bow. Most in the martial world know the Golden Sword, but few the Silver Bow," she said, patting the small bow at her waist.

"You’re the mysterious archer?" Qian Si struggled to his feet, incredulous.

"Otherwise, how could all you elders meet here by chance? Did you really think it was fate?" Tan Monkey laughed.

"So that’s it!"

"Now that your martial skills are mostly gone, I fear you elders aren’t even a match for us juniors! Will you tie yourselves up, or should we do it for you?" Tan Monkey grinned.

"A three-year-old toppling an eighty-year-old! Grandma forgot that these fledglings are the most reckless when they first enter the martial world," Old She cursed inwardly.

"Too bad these kids never realize that while the mantis stalks the cicada, the oriole waits behind," came a chilling voice from behind.

"Sun Zhen!" Old She exclaimed in delight.

Sun Zhen laughed heartily, "After being separated in the chaos, those big-headed soldiers chased me like mad. I barely escaped, but found the code you left in the tunnel, Grandma. Don’t worry, let me subdue these two juniors first!"

Sun Zhen launched his "Poison Dragon Burrowing" attack mercilessly...

But Sun Zhen’s arrogance was his flaw. Had he snuck up, Wang Wei and Tan Monkey could not have resisted, but he underestimated them, giving them time to respond—and so the situation grew more uncertain.

Sun Zhen’s martial style was the common Iron Shirt, but any skill mastered to its heights becomes extraordinary—so it was with Sun Zhen. At this moment, his body was like brass and iron.

Wang Wei unleashed "Starlight Scatter," her sword weaving blossoms toward Sun Zhen. He grinned, clapped his hands, and with a crunch, Wang Wei’s priceless Jade Maiden Sword snapped in two. Tan Monkey’s Monkey Fist was agile and ever-changing, sometimes breaking brute force with skill, sometimes breaking skill with brute force. If struck, he responded fist to fist, regardless of technique—always countering with a punch.

Pressed by such a shameless style, Tan Monkey threw six punches, took four hits, and suffered one himself; the force of his blows vanished, but with one punch, he was knocked down, vomiting blood.

"Ha! Kids are just kids—thinking a bit of kung fu means they can roam the world. What a joke!" Sun Zhen stepped on Tan Monkey’s chest, sneering.

"Light the fire!" Tan Monkey suddenly yelled to Wang Wei.

She quickly struck a fire starter, its faint glow illuminating Sun Zhen. From the shadowy corner of the building came the sudden twang of a crossbow.

Caught off guard, Sun Zhen’s right shoulder was pierced by a bolt; his body shuddered in alarm—someone else was here!

The sound of bowstrings in the silent night was especially sharp, but Sun Zhen was ready now; listening for direction, he caught two bolts in his hands, snapping them with a crack.

From the darkness came a resigned sigh, and Zhou Qian slowly stepped out.

"Just missed!" Zhou Qian muttered.

"Good, good, the two little brats are here! The Red Lotus Sect’s struggle here wasn’t in vain!" Sun Zhen laughed arrogantly.

"The outcome is still unknown! Big Beard, why are you laughing?" Zhou Qian asked curiously.

"You want to fight me, kid? Your master may be formidable, but how much of his skill could you have learned at your age?"

"Didn't you get shot? Don’t you feel anything?"

"Just a bolt! My training makes me immune to arrows!" Sun Zhen scoffed, yanking the bolt out. Though the wound was thumb-sized, the blood had already stopped.

"But I distinctly smeared poison powder on the arrowhead—how is it having no effect? Did Second Brother mix it wrong again?" Zhou Qian wondered.

"What did you say?" Sun Zhen’s face changed, dizziness overtaking him. "Kid! Kid, you—" Before he could finish, his massive body swayed left and right, then crashed to the ground with a thud.

"Ha! Good lad! Coating the arrow with poison—such underhanded tricks, was that taught by your sword master?" Tan Monkey hugged Zhou Qian, patting his back.

"Young Hero Zhou, that’s hardly the conduct of a true swordsman," Wang Wei smiled.

"Really?" Zhou Qian scratched his head. "I suppose the process doesn’t matter, as long as the goal is achieved!"

The three chatted excitedly, unaware that Old She had quietly produced a cylindrical object from her bosom: the Thousand Mechanisms Hundred Holes Needle, a unique hidden weapon from the martial world, capable of firing eighty-one poisoned needles at once—rare and priceless, and who knows when Old She acquired it.

The eighty-one needles whistled through the night, almost invisible, but midway, a flash of sword light swept them away one by one. The blade moved like flowing clouds and water, without a trace of heat—ethereal as an immortal descending to earth.

"Master!" Zhou Qian cried out in delight.

"Third Brother!" "Zhou!" came the voices of Li San Shan and Wang Hu.

The night was vast, but the rising sun pierced the darkness—dawn had arrived…