Hot Blood and the Long Night Shared One Hue

Qian Yong followed his orders and led fourteen soldiers around behind the house to stop the Daoists from fleeing out the back.

The village houses were all crude. Though the house Wuzheng and the others occupied had three rooms, there was no courtyard wall behind it, only a row of wooden fencing marking the boundary.

Beyond the fence stood a grove of trees that stretched deep into the mountains.

Qian Yong had initially stationed his men outside the fence, but he soon sensed something wrong.

Firelight flickered in the courtyard ahead, and he could faintly hear screams. More importantly, those voices sounded somewhat familiar...

Qian Yong hesitated. With Wang Jing's strength and so many men accompanying him, he should have been able to sweep through a group of Daoists.

Had something unexpected happened?

Should he keep guarding the rear to prevent the Daoists from escaping, or go forward to help?

Though they had all become renegade soldiers, they still maintained a strict internal hierarchy and a tight organization.

Qian Yong truly hesitated. Wang Jing's supposed pincer attack actually meant having him guard the back to keep the Daoists from scattering.

Such a small courtyard could not accommodate so many men fighting at once.

If he took the initiative to provide support but let a few Daoists escape as a result, he could not bear the grave consequences.

While he hesitated, Qian Yong felt that things were going badly, because the sounds from the front courtyard were growing fainter.

If Wang Jing had won, he would certainly have signaled with his brass whistle. If the fight was going against him, he would also have sent a signal for support.

Now there was no sound at all. It was too strange!

Qian Yong had a very bad feeling. He badly wanted to turn and leave.

But how would he explain himself to Wang Qi when he returned?

Wang Qi was Wang Jing's own elder brother, a true seventh-rank expert and a duly appointed battalion commander.

Without Wang Qi leading them, their band of renegade soldiers could never have been so united.

Besides, if he fled without finding out what had happened, Wang Jing would never spare him even if he was unharmed.

Qian Yong weighed the pros and cons. He really had no other choice; he could only steel himself and lead his men forward.

If there truly was a formidable expert holding the place, he would find another chance to flee for his life...

"Advance in formation." At Qian Yong's command, the fifteen men formed three ranks of five and advanced.

The five spearmen in front pushed the wooden fence over and forced their way into the courtyard.

Once they passed the house, they saw corpses strewn across the ground.

Despite the deep darkness of the night, the armor, spears, and long sabers on the bodies told them that those lying on the ground were their comrades.

One headless corpse wore a full suit of steel lamellar armor that gleamed with a deep, cold light in the darkness...

The five spear-wielding soldiers paled in shock at the sight of that corpse. It had to be Wang Jing!

How had a seventh-rank expert died?

The spear-wielding soldiers all looked toward the courtyard's only living person, the Daoist standing motionless with a sword in hand.

They could not make out his appearance, but they felt that his bearing was deep and unfathomable, filled with a sense of danger.

Following behind the spearmen, Qian Yong also saw the situation in the courtyard through the gaps between them.

As an Eighth-Rank Martial Artist, Qian Yong had sharper eyesight. He even found Wang Jing's head amid the courtyard's disarray. Looking at that bloodstained face, he could even sense the fear and despair frozen upon it!

Qian Yong's heart plunged. Wang Jing really was dead! Everyone else was dead too!

He was genuinely dazed, unsure whether he should attack with all his strength and kill that young-looking Daoist, or immediately turn and run.

Fighting in formation, they could still stand together and fight to the death. They could even put up a fight against a seventh-rank expert.

If they turned and fled, their formation would collapse at once, leaving them at the mercy of their opponent's slaughter.

Qian Yong had always been quick-witted, and precisely because of that, he considered far too much.

But then he understood something else. Against such a formidable expert, how could they possibly outrun him while wearing armor?

In an instant, Qian Yong understood the advantages and disadvantages. At this point, only fighting to the death offered a way to survive.

He immediately shouted, "Front rank, crouch! Loose!"

The five spearmen in the front rank crouched without hesitation. The five men in the middle also parted to either side, clearing the way for the five archers at the rear.

The five archers all skillfully drew their bows and shot at Zhou Wuji.

There were only a dozen or so paces between the two sides. Five seasoned archers could not have missed even with their eyes closed.

They all used stiff bows and heavy arrows, powerful enough to pierce armor within fifty paces.

Five heavy arrows tore through the night, converging on Zhou Wuji.

Zhou Wuji had noticed these renegade soldiers long ago. He was not putting on a show of composure; the improvement to his swordsmanship brought about by the Origin Profound Spirits had caused such enormous changes that he still needed a little time to adapt.

After investing three Origin Profound Spirits into the Xiaoxiang Sword, he had practiced swordsmanship for a very, very long time in the small world opened by the Northern Emperor's Book of Heavenly Punishment.

Repeated practice in a state of concentration had advanced his swordsmanship to major accomplishment.

Reaching this realm meant that he had thoroughly integrated his swordsmanship. Every variation was clear in his mind, with no hindrances or obstructions remaining.

He had gained his own profound understanding of both swordsmanship and swords, enough to devise something original and establish a school of his own.

Swordsmanship at major accomplishment changed more than his understanding of combat. It also changed how he used Qi, which in turn changed his physical state.

After all, once his sword practice bore fruit, his body necessarily had to adjust to its optimal condition as well.

This was also a change from the outside inward, touching every aspect.

The time spent practicing inside the Northern Emperor's Book of Heavenly Punishment was actually extremely short, totaling less than two breaths.

But after Zhou Wuji emerged from the state of attaining major accomplishment in swordsmanship, he needed time to adapt to the changes in his body.

Knowing full well that the enemy had entered, Zhou Wuji still seized those final moments to adjust his condition and adapt to his body.

Only when the enemy drew their bows and loosed their arrows was Zhou Wuji forced out of that wondrous state, raising his sword to slash in succession.

Though the heavy arrows were swift, Zhou Wuji still had the enhancement of the Six Yang Dharma Eye. Combined with his swordsmanship's major accomplishment, his senses had become even keener and more perceptive, letting him catch even the trembling arcs of the heavy arrows as they slid through the air.

The Seven Star Sword in Zhou Wuji's hand seemed to slash, but as it descended, he turned it to strike with the spine, knocking all five heavy arrows away one after another.

The Seven Star Sword was too sharp, and his slashes too fast. He could easily cut the heavy arrows in two, but the arrowheads flying wildly onward would still pose a threat.

With his swordsmanship at major accomplishment, Zhou Wuji wielded his sword with ever greater composure.

The renegade soldiers opposite him could not see such minute changes in his swordsmanship. They saw only a brilliant bloom of cold sword light, dazzling their eyes as it flashed through the deep night.

Without needing an order, the five archers immediately drew their bows and loosed together again.

But Zhou Wuji would not stand stupidly in place waiting to intercept arrows. Stiff bows and heavy arrows were terrifyingly powerful; if he mishandled even one arrow, he would be finished.

No matter how accomplished his swordsmanship was, there was no need to show off like that.

He flicked his left sleeve, and a ball of fire burst into bloom in the air.

Though the momentary light was not particularly intense, it tore through the darkness and blurred the renegade soldiers' vision.

Unable to see Zhou Wuji, some of the five archers shot from memory, while others held their bows drawn.

Seizing the opportunity, Zhou Wuji advanced straight ahead with his sword raised, charging right up to the five spearmen.

The soldiers were all well trained. Though they could not clearly see Zhou Wuji, they rose and thrust their spears at him.

In a clash between armies, nothing was more formidable than a spear formation. With spears raised and thrusting forward together, no one could withstand its repeated thrusts unless the disparity in strength was immense.

This time, Zhou Wuji did not dodge. He leveled his sword and pressed straight into the wildly stabbing spears.

His movement was now faster than they could withdraw their spears. Just as the renegades sensed something wrong, Zhou Wuji had parted their spears with his sword and charged into their midst.

He unleashed the Dusk Snow Sword, the Seven Star Sword delivering a chain of swift slashes.

This move of the Dusk Snow Sword had three variations: First Snow, Middle Snow, and Dusk Snow.

With his swordsmanship at major accomplishment, Zhou Wuji had finally honed Dusk Snow Reaching the Heavens to perfection.

The Seven Star Sword became an unbroken expanse of sword light, truly like heavy snow blanketing everything, turning river and sky the same hue.

Brilliant, cold sword light covered the renegade soldiers. Wherever it passed, hands were severed and heads went flying, one soldier after another.

As Zhou Wuji slaughtered them, a line of poetry somehow came to mind: Severed limbs and heads flew together; hot blood and the long night shared one hue...

But this is a little too cruel. Perhaps I shouldn't mock death like this.

Then Zhou Wuji set aside that trace of pity. They were all rotten bastards who had come to kill. Who should he mock if not them!

He also felt some regret. Had he known swordsmanship at major accomplishment would be so overwhelmingly powerful, he would have had Wuming and the others stay. Such peerless swordsmanship without an audience was rather dull...