Volume One: The Emperor’s Sword Chapter 23: The Blood Savage

Changliu Street boasted dedicated pawnshops where one could exchange spirit stones for gold and silver. A single intact spirit stone required a price of ten thousand taels of silver to obtain. Although the cost was steep, the convenience made up for it. In truth, outside these shops, ten thousand taels could sometimes fetch two spirit stones, but cultivators willing to trade spirit stones were rare, and they hardly had the time to wander about. Those in urgent need of money would inevitably come to these specialized establishments. This, too, was the pawnshops’ way of making a profit.

Yun Que had not a single spirit stone to his name, so upon arriving, he naturally needed to exchange some. The Overflowing Spirit Ring required spirit stones to power it—if he tried to use sword energy instead, the ring would likely explode the moment he tried. Since he had enough silver notes, Yun Que exchanged one hundred thousand taels at once, receiving ten spirit stones in return.

A single visit to Changliu Street cost him two hundred thousand taels of silver—a display of wealth that left Wu Dachuan green with envy. Silver might not be as precious as spirit stones, but it was by no means easily earned. His envy aside, remembering Yun Que’s noble title, Wu Dachuan could only accept it. What he didn’t know was that Yun Que, the Marquis of Coldwater in name only, would have been even poorer than Wu Dachuan himself, were it not for the spoils he’d taken from the Apothecary’s Abbey.

On the way back to Sword Palace, Yun Que dragged Wu Dachuan into a gambling den.

"You’re fond of this too, Brother Yun? Ha, perfect—I’ve been feeling lucky. Let’s play a few rounds!" Wu Dachuan thought Yun Que wanted to gamble, but was caught off guard by his companion’s calm and chilling words.

"Someone’s tailing us. If you don’t want to be robbed and killed, you’d better think of a way out."

"Really? Who would dare! This is the imperial capital of Great Yan, right under the Emperor’s nose!"

Wu Dachuan glanced at the gambling house entrance and spotted two burly men with fierce eyes making their way in. "I know this place well. Follow me," he whispered.

Realizing trouble was brewing, Wu Dachuan squeezed into the crowd, pulling Yun Que with him, and slipped out the back door.

"No wonder Elder Si said Changliu Street had been restless lately—there really is danger! We must have been marked at the pawnshop. Let’s hurry back to Sword Palace; I want nothing to do with desperate criminals," Wu Dachuan muttered as he hurried along. But as soon as he turned into a narrow lane, he froze.

Ahead, a burly man stood waiting, arms crossed, as if he had been there all along.

"Damn!" Wu Dachuan tried to turn back, only to find the other brute had already blocked their retreat. The two of them were now trapped in the deserted alley, surrounded.

"Gentlemen, what business do you have with us? Let’s talk this through—we’re disciples of Sword Palace!" Wu Dachuan tried to sound calm, but a sheen of sweat betrayed his panic.

"Sword Palace? Ha! A mere sword servant dares claim to be a disciple? Laughable," sneered one.

"Servant or not, even if you were true disciples, you’d still die tonight! Hand over everything of value, and maybe we’ll make your deaths swift!"

The two brutes clearly had no intention of leaving witnesses. As they spoke, each produced a slightly curved saber of at least medium grade. Hearing their strange accents and seeing the cruel blood grooves on the blades, Wu Dachuan immediately realized something.

"Barbarians... You’re barbarians!"

Wu Dachuan drew his longsword, abandoning all previous restraint; bloodshot rage filled his eyes. North of the Coldwater River lay lands occupied by the barbarian tribes, and it was these same people who had been Yan’s foes in the legendary Battle of Coldwater.

Mortal enemies meeting face to face—hatred burned bright.

"Filthy barbarians dare set foot in the imperial capital! Perfect—I’ll avenge my father! Brother Yun, fight by my side. Let’s kill them!"

With a snarl, Wu Dachuan charged the barbarians. Though untrained in cultivation, his skills were not lacking; activating his Overflowing Spirit Ring, his sword burst with energy, slashing and sweeping with fierce wind.

But his adversaries were even stronger.

They brushed aside his sword energy with ease, taunting smiles never leaving their faces. Suddenly, one of them swung his saber, unleashing a violent gale. Caught off guard, Wu Dachuan was sent flying, crashing to the ground, bruised and battered, his sword flung aside—utterly humiliated.

He was badly injured. Thick-skinned as he was, his organs were spared, but he was left weak and dazed, blood streaming from his nose. In a single exchange, Wu Dachuan was utterly defeated.

"What’s their cultivation?" Yun Que dragged Wu Dachuan to the wall, eyes fixed on the two barbarians as he asked in a low voice.

"At least... at least third level of Qi Refinement. Don’t worry about me—run..." With that, Wu Dachuan’s vision went black, and he passed out.

Yun Que picked up Wu Dachuan’s sword, stood slowly, and a playful smile curled on his lips. With his free hand, he reached behind him and drew the Thunderseal Sword.

In that deserted alleyway, the youth stood with two swords, the very image of a god of slaughter.

"Two against one—I’m at a disadvantage," Yun Que remarked, activating his Overflowing Spirit Ring. Spiritual energy surged into the blade, and instantly, sword aura shimmered along its edge. The Thunderseal Sword in his other hand also radiated a keen, lethal energy.

Such a display was nothing short of provocation; the two barbarians sneered in response.

"Not bad, kid—still dares to fight. We’ll play with you," one taunted.

"Nice swords—medium grade at least. This boy must be wealthy—let’s butcher him!"

The two burly barbarians charged, dragging their sabers along the ground, carving deep gouges in their wake—a signature dual assault of the barbarians. Together, they could cut down an entire squad of armored cavalry.

Yun Que had never faced real barbarians before, but he knew their tactics well. From childhood, his father had told him countless tales of barbarian warfare. As the Marquis of Yanmen and Yan’s foremost military expert, none knew the enemy better.

In the cramped alley, as the two barbarians closed in and together swung their weighty blades, Yun Que’s twin swords slashed out as well.

No flourish, no pretense.

Just a direct, forceful cross-cut.

CLANG!

Twin bursts of sparks erupted at Yun Que’s sides. Sword met saber, four deadly blades recoiling from the impact.

"Strong, aren’t you!" one barbarian grunted.

"Interesting! This will make killing you worth the effort!" the other replied.

With a shout, both men tensed, their arms bulging, the force behind their sabers doubling. One aimed for Yun Que’s waist, the other for his throat. The crushing blows left nearly no room to evade; only by meeting them head-on could he hope to survive.

"Blood Barbarians," Yun Que murmured, a dangerous gleam in his eyes.

His father had told him of these rare warriors—barbarians capable of unleashing the full power of their blood and qi, vastly boosting their strength and speed in an instant. Such warriors, known as Blood Barbarians, were formidable and few.

And now, he faced two.

With no way to dodge, Yun Que sprang upwards, launching himself into the air as the sabers swept beneath him. Though their blades missed, the two Blood Barbarians only sneered, readying to strike upward—no escape in midair, he was a sitting duck.

They could easily hack him to pieces.

But b