Chapter Ninety-Four: The Bloodstained Mo Dao (5)

Kong Sheng suddenly darted beneath a nearby awning, plunged his unfamiliar broadsword into the ground, then bent forward and wrapped his arms around a watering trough carved from green stone, nearly a meter and a half long and half a meter tall. With a grunt, he heaved the trough free from the earth and, raising it high above his head, strode forward in great steps. With a thunderous roar, he hurled the massive stone trough into the midst of the dozen soldiers encircling him.

The trough descended like a mountain, whistling through the air with a gale, threatening to crush everything beneath it. The soldiers were terrified, drenched in cold sweat, scrambling in all directions to escape its deadly path.

What tremendous strength! Li Xuan and the others, not far away, turned pale and gasped in astonishment.

By their estimation, the stone trough weighed at least four or five hundred pounds—moving it would take two or three men working together. Yet Kong Sheng had lifted it overhead with ease and wielded it as a weapon, casting it forth. What supernatural power was this?

With a hearty laugh, Kong Sheng pulled his broadsword free, slung his Vanquisher’s sword and pack over his back, and whistled sharply. His steed, Whirlwind, thundered toward him, hooves pounding the snow. Kong Sheng vaulted onto the horse and shouted, “Mount up, go!”

Mu Changfeng bellowed in reply, broke the reins of his horse with Wu Xian and Wu Jie’s help, mounted, and charged forward.

Kong Sheng brandished his broadsword, roaring, “Death to those who dare block my way!”

Under the radiant sun, across the blinding snow, the young man rode his white steed like a god of war. The fierce, icy light upon his resolute face, and the invisible aura of killing intent emanating from him, unsettled the hearts of the soldiers who tried to close in.

This was no gentle scholar—he was a demon, a warlord reborn!

The thunderous throw of the stone trough had left an indelible mark upon the soldiers, stirring an unparalleled awe and a subtle fear toward Kong Sheng. He moved swiftly, breaking through their encirclement with deft attacks and dodges.

“Ha! Give me your life!” A burly soldier, about thirty, leaped high, his broadsword whistling as he brought it down with fierce force. If struck, Kong Sheng and his prized steed would surely be torn apart.

In that urgent moment, Kong Sheng did not dodge. He raised his broadsword horizontally with both hands, bracing it above his head. The soldier’s blade crashed down, only to be rebounded with tremendous force. The soldier’s hands went numb, his grip failed, and his blade spun away, humming through the air and embedding itself in the ground with a strange arc.

Kong Sheng led the charge, riding at full speed. Mu Changfeng followed closely, but Wu Xian and Wu Jie were entangled by two or three soldiers wielding broadswords, unable to break free. Mu Changfeng, enraged, let out a long cry, kicked free of his stirrups, and launched himself into the air. His sword flashed like lightning, piercing the throat of a soldier attacking the Wu brothers.

Kong Sheng turned and shouted, “Brother Mu, don’t kill anyone!”

These men were official soldiers. Conflict was inevitable, and injuring them could be justified as self-defense, but killing an officer would bring dire consequences. Kong Sheng’s foresight compelled him to restrain Mu Changfeng.

Upon hearing this, Mu Changfeng checked his sword, avoiding the soldier’s vital points and instead pierced his shoulder, leaving the man writhing in pain on the ground.

Mu Changfeng snorted coldly, “Wu brothers, useless lot! Break through quickly—I'll cover the rear!”

Wu Xian and Wu Jie breathed out in relief, swung their curved swords, and spurred their horses, soon breaking out of the encirclement.

Mu Changfeng spun, his sword flickering, wounding three fierce soldiers in rapid succession. Their cries echoed across the field, though Mu Changfeng had shown restraint. Were he not so merciful, the soldiers would not have survived.

A proud, cold smile crossed Mu Changfeng’s lips. With another long cry, he sprang into the air, stepping lightly atop the heads of the chaotic soldiers, gliding like a bird for more than ten yards, and landed gracefully upon his galloping horse.

At that moment, Kong Sheng caught sight of Li Xuan—the youth in elegant robes—suddenly darting atop his luxurious carriage. Using the momentum, Li Xuan launched himself into the air, tumbling and twisting in a dazzling display. His sharp short sword angled from the left, thrusting toward Kong Sheng.

Li Xuan was also a swordsman skilled in the art of light movement, rivaling Mu Changfeng. Such airborne agility filled Kong Sheng with envy.

“Master, beware!” Mu Changfeng, riding nearby, cried out in alarm. Li Xuan’s skills in light movement were extraordinary, and his swordplay elusive and deadly. Mu Changfeng was too far to intervene.

He understood well: Kong Sheng possessed natural strength and a foundation in swordsmanship, more than enough for ordinary soldiers. But against a master like Li Xuan, adept in aerial techniques and agile movement, Kong Sheng’s slower reflexes and lack of nimbleness spelled danger.

Li Xuan’s figure flashed through the air, his short sword’s glint already brushing Kong Sheng’s hair. The cold, ruthless expression on Li Xuan’s handsome face was clear.

In that instant of life and death, Kong Sheng’s mind became calm and clear as never before.

He knew he could not evade Li Xuan’s lethal strike—a blow as precise as the hand of fate. Only by risking everything, exchanging life for life, might he grasp a slim chance at survival.

His body moved instinctively; Kong Sheng ducked and arched backward, just enough to avoid the sword’s fatal trajectory. Li Xuan’s blade scraped Kong Sheng’s shoulder, missing his vitals. Pain stabbed through him, but Kong Sheng roared, clenched his left fist, and unleashed a desperate punch with all his strength, striking Li Xuan squarely in the chest.

The impact felt odd for a moment, but with blood streaming from his shoulder, Kong Sheng had no time to dwell. He spurred his horse, charging onward.

Li Xuan’s subordinates, those disguised soldiers guarding the front of the caravan, were galloping to reinforce him. If they managed to form up and unleash a volley of arrows, Kong Sheng and his companions would be doomed.

Li Xuan, struck by Kong Sheng’s blow, was hurled through the air, his body twisting in agony. He screamed, high-pitched and furious, before crashing to the ground and tumbling across the snow.

Several soldiers, crying out in alarm, abandoned their pursuit of Kong Sheng and rushed to Li Xuan’s side. To them, Li Xuan’s status was beyond precious. Should anything befall him, they would pay with their lives. If their superiors demanded answers, more than a hundred northern soldiers might be buried alongside Li Xuan.