Chapter Thirty-Seven: The Bloody Battle of He'an

Three low wooden arrow towers, a range of thirty yards—I’ll need about three breaths to rush past them. Judging by the throwing spears hurled by the three martial artists atop the towers, their strength is, at best, mid-tier, nothing to fear; they won’t be able to harm me. However, that young man is stationed inside the stockade; he has yet to make a move, and I can’t gauge his strength! He An spoke calmly.

As long as you can break through, that boy is no match for you! Let’s launch another assault—once you’re inside, deal with the martial artists on the arrow towers, but don’t kill the boy. I want him alive, kneeling before me, begging for mercy! Zheng Yiqing’s gaze was vicious as he stared at Ye Mo in the distance.

He then barked orders to the martial artists, commanding He An to lead the charge. The group once again attacked Ye Mo’s mountain cave camp.

At the instruction of Steward Hou, seven or eight captured martial artists were shoved to the front, used as human shields. Zheng Yiqing and his men followed close behind, launching a charge toward Ye Mo’s camp.

The captive martial artists were deeply dissatisfied, yet dared not resist; gritting their teeth, they pressed forward.

Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!

As soon as they entered firing range, the spiritual wood spears and arrows from the three towers rained down in a frenzy.

This time, He An was at the very front, drawing most of the fire from the spiritual wood arrows and spears. Yet, his skill in lightfoot techniques was extraordinary—like a shadow he drifted toward the camp, weaving left and right, so that the chaotic arrows and spears fell all around him, none finding their mark.

A master! He’s definitely at the peak of martial prowess! Stop aiming at him; you won’t hit him—target the martial artists behind him! Ye Mo’s face changed as he witnessed He An’s movement skills, shouting loudly to Mo Ling and the others.

Mo Ling, Wang Hu, and Yang You immediately gave up trying to shoot He An, focusing all their arrows and spears on the martial artists charging behind him.

Soon, cries of agony echoed again.

The martial artists’ abilities varied; many were ordinary fighters, nothing like He An, a peerless master, and could hardly evade the crossfire from the three arrow towers.

He An was nearing the spiritual wood stockade—less than five yards away.

He truly is a peak martial artist, his lightfoot technique so superb! With such skill, he doesn’t need to break through the stockade, he can simply leap over its two-yard height! Ye Mo’s body tensed, gripping his Azure Edge Sword, eyes narrowed, locked onto He An’s approach.

Four yards, three, two...

Cloud-Stepping Ladder!

When he was two yards from the stockade, He An drew a deep breath and suddenly leapt into the air, stepping thrice mid-flight, clearing the height of the spiritual wood stockade in an instant.

Whoosh!

Mo Ling, stationed at the center arrow tower in the cave camp, though focused on shooting other martial artists, kept a wary eye on He An. Seeing him soar through the air, she immediately unleashed a sharp arrow at him.

The spiritual wood arrow shot toward He An in midair at lightning speed.

He An snorted coldly; unable to dodge in midair, he swung his sword to parry the incoming arrow.

Clang!

The arrow was deflected, sent flying.

He An descended into the camp.

Twin Wave Slash!

Ye Mo had long been waiting inside the stockade. He shouted loudly, lunging forward, Azure Edge Sword slashing. The blade trembled, instantly splitting into two sword shadows, six hundred pounds of force pouring forth.

Ah! Soul-Severing Triple Slash!

He An’s eyes flashed with surprise—he dared not be careless. His Mo Ling Sword swept forward in a flurry, conjuring three sword shadows, unleashing his strongest sword technique.

Clang! Clang! Thud!

Sword shadows crossed.

Ye Mo staggered back several steps before regaining his footing, his arms numb and a sharp agony flaring in his right arm. He glanced at it—there was a bloody gash.

He was inwardly startled; the master before him was far stronger than he had imagined.

With a single move, He An forced Ye Mo back, landing lightly inside the stockade, successfully invading the camp.

Mo Ling, Wang Hu, and the others continued firing arrows, cutting down the martial artists following He An.

He An looked at Ye Mo with a hint of surprise, his tone cold. Your martial skills are impressive, your sword techniques have reached the realm of ‘turning decay into marvels.’ For someone your age, that is already something to be proud of. Unfortunately, you’re only at the stage of double strikes; you’re not my match. Surrender! Bow your head to the Young Marquis and admit your mistake—I’ll mediate for you, and you can serve him in the future.

Ye Mo pressed his lips tightly, saying nothing, gripping his Azure Edge Sword with both hands, aimed at He An, stubborn determination in his gaze, with not a hint of fear.

Bow his head?

Never!

Since his parents died when he was eight, he had struggled alone in the city of Wang, scraping by, enduring hardship by himself, never bowing to anyone, never lowering himself!

Admit his mistake to the Young Marquis? Not a chance!

Think carefully! Serving the Young Marquis could be a fine opportunity. I am not bloodthirsty—otherwise, I would have severed your head with a single stroke just now! I spare your life because I value talent!

He An saw the stubborn, unyielding resolve in Ye Mo’s eyes and frowned.

So young, yet able to cultivate a basic sword technique to the realm of ‘turning decay into marvels’—a rarity indeed, enough to rival a grandmaster. Even he, the foremost martial artist of the Zheng Kingdom, had only recently mastered a single sword technique to that level.

He genuinely admired this young martial artist before him.

Enough talk! Ye Mo replied coldly.

He was ready.

Hold if he could; if the camp he had painstakingly built fell, he would flee into the island wilderness.

He still had two Vitality Pills. If he could buy a few more days, breaking through to the peak of martial arts, the ninth layer of body refinement, was no problem. He might even step into the realm of cultivators, becoming like an immortal—then what would he have to fear from Zheng Yiqing or He An?

Refusing the toast only to drink the penalty wine! For the courage you’ve shown, I, He An, will send you on your way myself, sparing you the humiliation of dying at the hands of the Young Marquis. After you’re gone, I’ll see you properly buried, not left to rot in the wild.

He An’s tone turned icy.

He rarely sought out other martial artists; this was an exception. Yet, the young man before him showed no gratitude, rejecting his offer outright.

Let me measure your true skill!

He An’s words had barely faded when he raised his sword and struck at Ye Mo, his figure drifting like a phantom. Not even military archers could easily hit him.

Such speed!

Ye Mo was startled, hastily retreating.

At the same time, his Azure Edge Sword swept out in a Vortex Slash, sword radiance expanding outward from him, slicing the air with a fierce whistling, to prevent He An from closing in using his ghostly footwork.

He only knew three moves: Wave-Breaking Slash, Vortex Slash, and Twin-Wave Slash—all cultivated to their absolute limits, reaching the realm of ‘turning decay into marvels.’ Against ordinary martial artists, one strike was enough to establish dominance, killing opponents on the spot.

But before He An, the foremost master of Zheng Kingdom, these three moves were woefully inadequate.

Ye Mo sprang back, dodging a cold gleam from He An’s casual swing, but his headband was severed by the sword’s force, his black hair tossed wildly in the wind, leaving him a bit disheveled.

This won’t do!

Ordinary methods won’t defeat He An; it seems I have no choice but to take a desperate risk!

Ye Mo’s eyes flashed with reckless resolve.