Chapter Seventy-Five: Testing the Sword in the Rivers and Lakes

Li Guang was accompanied by three deputy generals and ten elite soldiers, while the Celestial Tactics Secret Guards numbered only seven. Yet the battle was utterly one-sided. The wheel of swords formed by the heavy blades of the Celestial Tactics Secret Guards spun relentlessly, claiming lives with every turn. In just moments, four men had fallen. This was not due to the incompetence of Li Guang’s men, but rather the terrifying lethality of these death-defying killers. Even if Zhou Qian himself faced them before attaining his core, the outcome would be uncertain.

Should he intervene or not? Zhou Qian’s expression flickered with indecision, the performances of those two Celestial Tactics Secret Guards and Tu Yong’s words echoing in his mind.

Save! Zhou Qian made up his mind. Since he could save Li Guang, he could also kill him. On the battlefield, no number of Zhou Qians could match Li Guang, but in killing, the balance shifted the other way.

As Zhou Qian hesitated, only two men remained by Li Guang’s side, and blood still seeped from his bandaged abdomen. His white hair and beard, long blade in hand, radiated the brutal aura of a survivor of a hundred battles.

“To die wrapped in my war cloak—that has always been my wish!” Li Guang raised his blade to meet the enemy. His swordsmanship was ruthless and domineering, all offense and no defense, trading wound for wound. In the clash of steel and blade, blood splattered.

Li Guang staggered, breath heavy, eyelids drooping. He was no longer young, and thanks to his battlefield swordsmanship, he now bore six more sword wounds. Across from him, the six silent and icy Celestial Tactics Secret Guards bore only fresh white scars on their heavy armor.

Six heavy swords slashed down. Li Guang laughed hoarsely, lifted his head, and roared, “Truly, these men are worthy of having been trained by me!”

A powerful force yanked him from behind, narrowly pulling him clear of the six blades, then slammed him heavily to the ground, nearly flipping him over.

“What a sword technique…” Zhou Qian grimaced at the sight of Li Guang’s wounds.

“I’m no good at commanding armies,” Zhou Qian said blandly as he drew his Ghost Master sword, “but you’re no good at fighting.”

He darted forward, bent low—the six heavy blades whooshed overhead—turned, slashed one man’s throat with Ghost Master. Surrounded by six, he cut, stabbed, spun, his sword a whirling shield, sparks flying. He swept two men’s legs, breaking their bones, reversed his grip, beheaded two more. In a flash, seventy-eight strokes broke another’s armor, shrank the distance to evade three crossbows, executed the Nine Peaks of Mount Hua to sever two heavy swords. With a single sword-breaking technique, he killed two more, his footwork following the blade, spinning around—until the last man’s head fell to the floor.

There is a saying in the martial world: a slight gap in skill can mean a world apart. The difference here was far more than slight.

“Huh? The old man’s passed out? What now?” Having slain the seven Celestial Tactics Secret Guards, Zhou Qian turned to find Li Guang already unconscious from blood loss. He scratched his head in bewilderment.

Li Guang awoke groggily to see a ceiling of jade tiles and beams. He tried to rise, winced at the pain in his wound, and looked down to find it bandaged with white cloth. Scanning the room, he saw small groups of martial artists, all reeking of blood. Zhou Qian, in the midst of a quiet discussion with several others, spotted him and his eyes lit up.

“Old man—no, General Li, you’re awake!”

“Where am I? And I want water!”

Zhou Qian glanced around; clearly, this was meant for him. Sighing at his own bad luck for saving an old man, he was at least grateful that his good deed still carried some weight. He soon borrowed a jug of water and handed it over.

After gulping it down, Li Guang finally caught his breath. But nearby, a dissatisfied murmur arose:

“Why did Young Hero Zhou bother saving that old guy…”

Li Guang’s expression remained unmoved as he covertly surveyed the others—faces cold and resentful. Clearly, none here still trusted the court, and some had even lost friends or brothers to the Celestial Tactics Secret Guards. The court’s position now seemed ever more precarious.

“This is a side hall in the inner tomb. As for these fellow martial artists, they are all who remain; the rest have either been killed or are missing…” Zhou Qian sighed. After this affair, the martial world would be devastated, needing at least a decade to recover. “Even my uncle-master Tu Yong and Tang Sect’s Master Wei have vanished. And as for my master, no one has seen him since we entered the First Emperor’s tomb.”

“Moreover, the court still owes us an explanation—for this inner tomb, and for the Celestial Tactics Secret Guards running amok!” Zhou Qian said slowly.

“Such an explanation is indeed necessary.” Li Guang’s demeanor did not change. “But I fear it is the court that has suffered most in this matter!”

The others were drawn in, some for fame, some for wealth, some for justice. In the end, all had helped the court, only to be abandoned and hunted by both the rebel remnants and the Secret Guards. If not for the implacable enmity between the two factions, many would have suspected collusion to wipe out the martial world’s elite.

“In truth, the court began preparations for the First Emperor’s tomb twenty years ago, and already possessed a true map of the tomb.” His words stirred a thousand ripples. “By chance, Zhou Xun and the Red Lotus Sect’s Lü Cunwen were also investigating the tomb, leading to the plan to ally with Wu to eliminate Cao.”

“Zhou the Mad, Old Tu, Pu Du, and Old Wei each had their own goals, so the court collaborated with them. Perhaps you won’t believe it, but the key in the Red Lotus Sect Master Lü Cunwen’s hand was a bait set by the court, intending to wipe out these rebels in one stroke!”

“Until three days ago, everything was proceeding smoothly. The martial world created confusion in the outer tomb, while Six Doors’ spies lured the rebels into the inner tomb, ready for a decisive strike. But at the crucial moment—the Celestial Tactics Secret Guards went berserk!”

Li Guang’s face darkened.

“That Lü Cunwen used some demonic sorcery to summon a black fog. Ordinarily, this would have just required extra effort to deal with. But somehow, it triggered the true immortal mechanisms within the tomb—”

“Countless streams of black and yellow mist descended from above, transforming into colored threads that entered everyone’s eyes, ears, mouth, and nose. There was no escape. Ordinary people were unharmed, but the Celestial Tactics Secret Guards, after inhaling the smoke, went mad and began killing indiscriminately. The rebels lost many, but managed to escape. The court’s arrangements within the tomb were centered on the Secret Guards, supported by elite troops. With them berserk, the court’s forces were shattered, the map stolen by villains. We fought our way out, fleeing until we encountered Young Hero Zhou—”

“That is the true story of the First Emperor’s tomb!”

A hush fell. The great hall was silent, faces tense and varied. Only Zhou Qian spoke softly: “The Black Spirit Miasma of Chaotic Demons.”

How did Zhou Qian know? Because Li Guang’s account matched one of the Five Mystical Forbidden Techniques described in the “Xuan Yin Sword Manual.” The miasma could cover a thousand yards, invade the spirit, and cloud the mind. As for why others were unaffected, Zhou Qian could guess—the First Emperor’s tomb was built to guard against sword immortals, not mortals. The smoke was deadly to immortals, but harmless to ordinary folk. The berserk state of the Secret Guards could only be explained by some strange connection with demonic martial arts...

“Where is the Red Lotus Sect now? And where are Uncle-Master Tu and the Tang Sect Master? And my master?” Zhou Qian pressed.

“The rebels have the map, and are likely in the Xuan Yin Hall, trying to break the restrictions there. That hall holds immortal texts and treasures—the most valuable part of the tomb. As for the Beggars’ Sect and Tang Sect leaders, I saw them trapped in a formation in the southeast corner during our escape—”

Zhou Qian paced, considering his next move.

“If the court won’t keep its word, then any agreement made outside the tomb is void. What will you all do?” Zhou Qian turned to the others.

“We’ll follow your lead, Little Sword Immortal!” Flying Squirrel Tang Xiao answered without hesitation.

“Revenge. Kill!” The Bloodless Sword, Fu Xiaolou, said coldly—his brother had just been slain by the Red Lotus Sect.

“We should rescue our chief first, then decide,” pleaded two elders of the Beggars’ Sect.

“The Tang Sect concurs!” Fei Yue nodded. He had been wounded in the assassination attempt and now spoke weakly.

“We must stop the Red Lotus Sect’s plot, or chaos will engulf the world!” declared Xiao Mingzhen, leader of the Four Seas Gang.

The others echoed similar sentiments. None wished to withdraw. Zhou Qian forced a bitter smile. “All the gold and jewels you’ve found here could last several lifetimes. You’re still willing to wade into these bloody waters?”

“Haha! Who doesn’t want treasure? But such an event as the First Emperor’s tomb comes once in decades. I’d regret missing it for the rest of my life!” The Mischievous Boy, Zhou Tong, grimaced as he accidentally jostled his wound, yelping in pain.

“The martial world has been boring lately—my old legs are rusting!” The Iron Swordsman tapped his wooden leg with a laugh.

“You saved our lives. We’ll do whatever you say.” Several voices agreed simply.

The responses were as varied as the people themselves. Some even said they wanted to see what the villains of the Red Lotus Sect looked like. Despite the deadly toll, few were willing to leave and enjoy their riches in peace.

“If you value your life, why venture into the martial world? You can’t survive here by being ordinary.” Someone concluded.

“My plan: first, rescue Uncle-Master Tu and Master Wei from the formation, then head to the Xuan Yin Hall and have a chat with Lü Cunwen. All you reckless, suicidal, vengeful types—if you want to come, then follow!” Zhou Qian cursed helplessly.

A chorus of agreement erupted.

“Haha! Good!”

“This time I’ll capture one of those villains and bring him back for my granddaughter to play with!”

“We get to kill again!”

“To uphold justice is my duty as a man of the martial world!”

“Lord Wu, will you join us?” Zhou Qian asked.

“I will not. Do you even know where you’re going?” Li Guang replied with a sidelong glance.

“Martial artists truly are troublesome!” Zhou Qian sighed, patting his head and wiping his Ghost Master sword clean with a cloth.

But wasn’t Zhou Qian himself a man of the martial world?

“According to the map, there are six major formations within the inner tomb! The Counter Two-Yi Formation is one; the one in the southeast corner is called the Small Eight Trigrams Formation. It is good at trapping people and raising mist. There are eight gates: Qian is Heaven, Kun is Earth, Xun is Wind, Zhen is Thunder, Kan is Water, Li is Fire, Gen is Mountain, Dui is Marsh. Remember! The map notes: Qian is the Gate of Life, Kun the Gate of Death; Xun and Kan only allow exit, not entry; Zhen and Li allow entry, not exit. Bow to the mountains, do not swim in the lakes—follow this, and you’ll break the formation…”

As Li Guang spoke, the group drew closer to the Small Eight Trigrams Formation—