He raised his head and drew his sword.
There were no wasted words, only speed pushed to the extreme.
"How dare you!"
Seeing him charge, Chang Lai and Chang Feng waved their hands.
"Attack!"
The bandits behind them swarmed toward him.
Men like a tide, sabers like mountains, swords like forests.
They surged forward with mountain-toppling, sea-overturning force, screaming and roaring.
A sweep of Sword Qi sent blood bursting from the chests of the three or five men at the front.
Once inside the crowd, Zhang Qingyuan swung his sword with every movement of his hand.
Underfoot was the Jade Purity Lotus Step; his swordsmanship was the Jade Purity Golden Immortal Sword.
His sword was like the wind, his movements like an immortal's.
He wove back and forth through the crowd, lotuses blooming beneath each step.
His hand never forgot to slash and cleave.
Wherever he passed, not a scrap of armor remained.
Truly, he killed a man every ten steps and left no trace for a thousand miles!
Seeing such swordsmanship, the brothers Chang Lai and Chang Feng flew into a rage.
"You're chopping my men down like cabbages! You're courting death!"
With that, they joined the battle, golden sabers in hand.
Not far away, Zhu Zizhao, who had been watching the show, patted Old Seven on the back.
"They've all joined in. We can't stand around either. Our turn."
"Yes."
Old Seven answered and drew his sword from its sheath. It was three feet and two inches long, its blade exuding a chill, with three blood grooves.
His eyes were crimson, like a hawk's, as he slowly stepped toward the Dragon Lord.
Gradually, his steps quickened, and before long, he was running.
Hands behind his back, the Dragon Lord watched expressionlessly as Old Seven charged at him. He snorted. "Attack!"
Over a dozen assassins wearing fitted black outfits patterned with dragons charged straight at Old Seven, and the two sides clashed.
The Dragon Lord did not move. He watched both battlefields.
Zhang Qingyuan on one side, Old Seven on the other.
"Dao Lord Qingyuan. Heh."
Clearly, he knew who Zhang Qingyuan was. As the Dragon Lord of the Dragon Gate, his intelligence network needed no introduction. No matter how large or small, nothing in the Kaifeng area escaped them.
But when he looked at Zhu Zizhao's group, confusion crossed his face. "Then who are they?"
As the Dragon Lord, he loved putting on a grand display.
Standing at the very back like a boss, hands clasped behind him, he looked down upon all living beings and held others' lives in his hands, displaying his nobility to the fullest.
On the left, fifteen of the Dragon Lord's assassins were locked in combat with Old Seven. Working together, the fifteen held him at a stalemate for the moment.
On the other side, after joining the battle, the brothers Chang Feng and Chang Lai also held Zhang Qingyuan up.
The Golden Saber Sect's martial arts were not weak, their golden sabers striking with tremendous weight and force.
With bandits packed densely around him as well, Zhang Qingyuan had to fend off Chang Feng and Chang Lai's slashes while killing the other small fry.
Fortunately, the Jade Purity Lotus Step was extraordinarily ghostlike, impossible for them to fathom. As he wove back and forth, they could not surround him, and he always managed to open up some distance.
After several slashes struck nothing but air, the Chang Household brothers were thoroughly frustrated. "This stinking Daoist is like a loach. So slippery!"
"Don't worry. His movements might be ghostlike, but with his internal power, he can't keep this up for long. Sooner or later, he'll run dry.
"Once his internal power is exhausted and his strength is gone, he'll have no choice but to let us slaughter him."
"Good. Let the lads exhaust his internal power first!"
Internal power was an indispensable inner strength for martial artists.
Except for those born unable to gather internal power, who could only practice external arts, every martial artist's body was bolstered by internal power.
Put plainly, internal power was a kind of force. If a comparison had to be made, a person could be likened to a car, and internal power to gasoline.
If someone relied solely on physical stamina, how much did they have to squander?
So when most people fought, whatever martial arts they used, they bolstered them with internal power. This reduced the loss of stamina and allowed them to last longer.
In the martial world, people often spoke of how many years someone had cultivated, or how they possessed decades of internal power.
The longer they cultivated, the more internal power they had, and the longer they could last.
But internal power was not inexhaustible. There would always come a time when it ran out.
Of course, people were different.
Everyone had a different constitution, practiced different internal arts, and possessed internal power of different purity.
Take two people: Hong Qigong from The Legend of the Condor Heroes and Yu Canghai from The Smiling, Proud Wanderer.
One practiced the Nine Yin Manual and possessed extraordinary talent. Even before practicing the Nine Yin Manual, he had been one of the Five Greats.
The other practiced the Mount Qingcheng Sect's internal arts, had ordinary talent, and did not rank among the martial world's greats.
If both cultivated for thirty years, each possessing thirty years of internal power, could their internal power really be compared?
One was 98-octane gasoline; the other was watered-down 92-octane.
One had a hundred liters; the other had fifty.
Thus, internal power had no fixed numerical value. Especially with certain geniuses, it could not be calculated by conventional reasoning.
The Chang Household brothers wanted to exhaust Zhang Qingyuan's internal power through human-wave tactics, unaware that the Yin-Yang Limitless Art he cultivated refined his internal power into True Qi, the equivalent of rocket fuel.
Moreover, the Yin-Yang Limitless Art could provide him with two streams of True Qi. Yin and yang combined in an endless flow.
One year of Zhang Qingyuan's cultivation equaled five years for someone else.
He might have cultivated for only a few short months, but he really could last an exceptionally long time.
Zhang Qingyuan used neither palm techniques nor outward releases of internal power. With the support of the Yin-Yang Limitless Art, the internal power he expended was rapidly replenished.
More than ten minutes passed, and the brothers Chang Feng and Chang Lai discovered, to their surprise, that Zhang Qingyuan showed no sign of fatigue. Instead, he grew fiercer as he fought.
The two exchanged a glance. What the fuck was going on?
Zhang Qingyuan killed with relish, his blood rising with the slaughter.
A little while later, no one remained beside him, only a stretch of blood-soaked ground.
Zhang Qingyuan's True Qi was not inexhaustible. Had those two not tried to be clever earlier, he might already have been panting for breath.
The others dared not approach, nervously surrounding him.
"What a bunch of useless trash!"
Looking at the corpses strewn across the ground and his subordinates, who had been frightened by the slaughter, Chang Lai cursed.
Zhang Qingyuan's Daoist robes had been dyed red with blood. Even his face bore his enemies' blood.
He turned his gaze toward the Chang Household brothers.
The two of them felt chills run down their backs under Zhang Qingyuan's gaze.
Neither was a hero, and naturally, they were afraid too.
But just as they were about to retreat, the Dragon Lord barked, "Kill him!"
The brothers looked ahead, then behind them. They truly could not afford to offend either side.
Gritting their teeth, they ultimately chose Zhang Qingyuan.
"Kill!"
Watching the two charge, Zhang Qingyuan twirled his sword and raised a hand to wipe the blood from his face.
"Kill."
The wind rose. The sword fell.
The clash of sabers and sword rang crisp and clear.
The two coordinated with perfect understanding, pinning Zhang Qingyuan down from the left and right.
After exchanging more than a dozen moves, the Chang Household brothers were delighted.
We thought he was so formidable. Turns out he's just a bolt at the end of its flight.
Chang Feng grew impatient, wanting to finish Zhang Qingyuan quickly. His golden saber swept straight toward his waist.
Now...
At that moment, Zhang Qingyuan's feet flashed, swiftly evading the killing blow.
He glanced back at the Dragon Lord. The fellow was still perfectly composed.
With a thrust of his hand, his blade flicked across Chang Feng's saber-holding right hand. The golden saber immediately flew free, shooting straight toward the Dragon Lord.
Before Chang Feng could even react in surprise, Sword Qi swept across his neck, separating his head from his body.
"Little brother!"
While he was still crying out, Zhang Qingyuan's sword flashed again. With a turn, he slipped behind Chang Lai.
Chang Lai had just raised his golden saber over his head when he looked down and saw a sword growing out of his stomach.
Meanwhile, Old Seven had also settled his battle.
Compared with Zhang Qingyuan's, Old Seven's swordsmanship was sharper, like swordsmanship created solely to kill.
Of the fifteen men, only three remained, each bearing more than a dozen cuts.
"You're slow."
Drawing out his sword and pushing aside Chang Lai, who had died with his eyes open, Zhang Qingyuan looked at Old Seven as he spoke.
Seeing that he had finished, Old Seven flicked his wrist, and the remaining three immediately fell.
"I was waiting for you."
Apart from the bandit small fry who had been scared out of their wits, everyone else had been killed.
Everyone turned their eyes toward the Dragon Lord. He snorted and was just about to speak.
Zhang Qingyuan leaped forward, his sword tip heading straight for his throat.
Clang!
As though striking metal, the sword tip was stopped by his Adam's apple.
Zhang Qingyuan was taken aback too. External body-hardening arts truly were formidable.
The Dragon Lord threw a punch straight at Zhang Qingyuan's face, and Zhang Qingyuan hurriedly blocked it.
"Let's see how you break my Golden Bell Shield!"
The Dragon Lord held his breath and focused, a golden light radiating from his body.
I wondered why he was putting on such airs. Turns out he really does have something to back it up. Zhang Qingyuan looked at Old Seven.
"Any ideas?"
"If the throat doesn't work, then the groin."
Martial arts such as the Golden Bell Shield and Iron Shirt all had vulnerable points, except when brought to full mastery.
As long as the vulnerable point was found, they would collapse without further assault.
With that, Old Seven leaped forward, heading straight for his crotch, while Zhang Qingyuan stood aside, watching their fight and pondering his weakness.
Every attack Old Seven made targeted the lower body. Naturally, the Dragon Lord dared not block with his own baton, so he could only use other parts of his body.
Was the Golden Bell Shield really that hard to break?
Zhang Qingyuan thought it over. I refuse to believe there's no weak spot besides his baton.
After pondering for a while, his eyes lit up.
He picked up a sword from the ground, hid it behind his back, and shouted to Old Seven, "Old Seven, move aside! Watch me cut him down!"
Zhang Qingyuan advanced with his sword, and Old Seven retreated a few steps. Seeing Zhang Qingyuan thrust toward his stomach, the Dragon Lord burst into laughter.
"You want to attack me head-on? Let's see if you have what it takes!"
He immediately sank into a horse stance, lowering his Qi into his Dantian, golden light gleaming over his body.
Yet the instant Zhang Qingyuan's sword struck his chest, a metallic clang rang out.
"You overestimate your-"
Before the smug Dragon Lord could enjoy his triumph, his vision blurred, and Zhang Qingyuan suddenly vanished.
The next instant, a sinister laugh came from behind him:
"Hidden Leaf taijutsu secret art... One Thousand Years of Death."
Pfft!
The longsword pierced through his tender chrysanthemum.
Watching from the sidelines, Zhu Zizhao and Old Five hurriedly covered their faces. "Too brutal..."