Under countless watchful eyes, Wu Man'er rode out alone from the army lines, galloping straight toward Martial God Pass.
Chang Wu's sharp gaze locked onto him. His brows furrowed slightly. A faint sense of discomfort crept through him—a feeling he hadn't experienced since taking the Martial God Pill.
"Who goes there? Name yourself!"
Chang Wu's roar thundered across the field, stirring up clouds of dust.
Wu Man'er gripped a massive halberd in his hands—the heaviest weapon among the armies of the seven provinces, weighing a full 270 catties. Yet, to him, it felt perfectly balanced, like an extension of his arm.
"Qingxiao Sect—Wu Man'er!"
He bellowed with full force, his vital energy surging as his voice rolled through the mountains. The sound was no weaker than Chang Wu's, echoing like a clash of thunder and steel.
The declaration sent shock through the soldiers atop Martial God Pass. Even Chang Wu's warhorse reared in fright, its front hooves clawing at the air.
"Qingxiao Sect?"
A glint of hostility flickered in Chang Wu's eyes. Over the past month, King Wei had summoned many martial masters to challenge him, so he wasn't surprised anymore. Still, that sect's name stirred a vague memory—it sounded… familiar.
Wu Man'er knew nothing of psychological warfare. Just as his second senior brother had instructed, he announced his name and lineage—and then charged straight at Chang Wu.
The soldiers of the seven provinces watched in breathless tension, every gaze fixed on the lone rider speeding across the field.
Seeing Wu Man'er charge head-on without hesitation, Chang Wu's expression darkened with fury. He snapped his legs against his steed's flanks, spurring it into a thunderous gallop.
Both men rushed forward faster and faster, each trailing a plume of dust. Like two unstoppable storms, they hurtled toward one another.
Wu Man'er raised his halberd high, bringing it down with the force of a mountain collapsing. Chang Wu's great saber arced upward from below, trying to deflect the strike.
Clang!
Wu Man'er's brows knitted. Chang Wu's face twitched slightly. Their weapons shuddered violently from the collision, and both warhorses exploded beneath them—flesh and blood spraying into the dirt.
The instant their feet hit the ground, they attacked again, their bodies crashing together like two war gods locked in mortal combat amidst a storm of blood.
Chang Wu swung his saber horizontally, aiming to cleave Wu Man'er in half. Wu Man'er gripped his halberd in his right hand while his left palm surged forward, bursting with boundless vital energy that cracked through the air like thunder.
Boom!
The Nine Heavens Divine Palm erupted with explosive force, blasting Chang Wu off his feet. The shockwave tore across the battlefield, sweeping up clouds of dust and forcing soldiers to shield their faces.
Chang Wu was sent flying more than ten zhang before crashing down. His boots scraped deep grooves in the ground as he tried to stabilize himself, stabbing his saber into the earth to anchor his stance.
But before he could regain balance, Wu Man'er suddenly hurled his halberd.
The throw carried his entire strength—muscles bulging, armor plates straining to hold together. His left foot stomped down like a pillar, shattering the ground beneath it.
Cold light flashed.
The halberd flew faster than the eye could follow—too fast for anyone on either side to track. Even Chang Wu couldn't react.
His pupils widened.
Pfft!
The halberd pierced straight through his armor, ripping open his chest and stomach. The violent momentum lifted him clean off the ground, flinging him backward like a broken spear.
Chang Wu's body smashed against the massive wall of Martial God Pass. Stone cracked with a deafening rumble, spreading like a spider's web across the surface. The entire fortress trembled, and the soldiers atop the ramparts felt the quake under their feet.
Silence.
Tens of thousands of soldiers stood frozen in disbelief.
From the moment Wu Man'er and Chang Wu clashed to the moment it ended, only three moves had passed. The entire duel lasted less than three breaths.
Chang Wu hung impaled against the fortress wall, trembling as blood poured from his chest like a fountain. Foam bubbled from his mouth, and the light in his bloodshot eyes rapidly faded away.
The once invincible "One Man Guarding a Pass, Ten Thousand Can't Break Through"—Chang Wu—was dead.
Wu Man'er still stood in his throwing stance, the muscles in his arms coiled like steel. Behind him, every soldier of the seven provinces stared wide-eyed, etching his figure forever into their memory.
To pierce a man said to be invulnerable to blades and spears—and to send him flying dozens of zhang—was an act that defied belief. Many stared as if witnessing a god descend to earth.
"Kill! Attack the city!"
A roar like thunder broke the stunned silence. The army of the seven provinces erupted as one, their battle cries shaking heaven and earth. Even the mountains trembled.
Tens of thousands charged forward—a sight of unstoppable grandeur.
King Wei and Pei Zhangzhi stood atop their war chariot, gazing at Wu Man'er's mighty form, both struck speechless by awe.
Pei Zhangzhi exhaled slowly, his voice filled with reverence. "A peerless warrior indeed… a god of war reborn."
King Wei's eyes gleamed as though they could burn through steel.
Li Sifeng grinned proudly. "I told you I wasn't exaggerating! That's my fifth senior brother—Chang Wu was nothing compared to him!"
Amidst the deafening chaos of battle cries and clashing steel, King Wei still heard Li Sifeng's words. He burst into hearty laughter, clapping the young man's shoulder.
"Reward them! I'll see both of you richly rewarded!"
A brutal siege was about to begin.
Though the imperial troops were shaken by Chang Wu's sudden death, they still had the mighty Martial God Pass to defend them. Even against a million men, they stood their ground with grim determination.
Wu Man'er charged toward the fortress. Archers lined the battlements, drawing their bows and loosing a rain of arrows that blotted out the sun.
Yet the man, despite his towering build, moved like the wind. His footwork flowed with impossible grace as he slipped through the deadly storm, dodging arrow after arrow, and continued his charge straight for the gate.
Behind him, the soldiers of the seven provinces roared in unison, their blood boiling.
Each step they took shook the earth itself.
Before the eyes of countless soldiers, Wu Man'er leapt over the river that guarded Martial God Pass. His body tilted in midair, shoulder leading forward like a boulder hurled from a mountain peak. He smashed into the massive gates of the pass, and with a thunderous boom, the entire gate shattered. Soldiers standing behind it were flung backward, their screams echoing through the chaos.
Brutal.
Violent.
Unstoppable.
Wu Man'er's display of raw power completely ignited the seven-province army. Their fear burned away, replaced by sheer exhilaration.
King Wei's blood surged with excitement. He had expected Wu Man'er to slay Chang Wu, but to see him smash through the fortress gate as well—it was beyond his imagination. The costly first assault they had prepared for was no longer needed.
At that moment, King Wei could almost see the imperial throne itself beckoning to him.
Meanwhile—
On a mountaintop west of Martial God Pass, several dozen figures in black stood silently, their faces hidden behind demonic ghost masks. They gazed down at the fierce battle below.
"Who is that man? How can he be that strong?"
The one leading them—clearly the commander—spoke in a deep, measured voice that couldn't fully mask his shock.
One of the masked men behind him replied, "Commander, that's Wu Man'er of the Qingxiao Sect—the fifth disciple of Lin Xunfeng."
"Qingxiao Sect again?" The commander's tone darkened. "Even Chang Wu, enhanced by the Martial God Pill, couldn't withstand him. No wonder Lord Xuan Gong ordered us to come."
He gave a cold snort, then barked, "Prepare to descend the mountain. Our primary objective is to capture Wu Man'er of Qingxiao Sect. Remember—alive, not dead."
"Yes, Commander!" the black-clad men answered in unison.
Just as they were about to move, a piercing screech split the heavens. Instinctively, they looked up. A massive black shape circled high above, too distant to make out.
The commander was about to lower his gaze when a violent gust of wind slammed down from the sky. The pressure alone forced every muscle in their bodies to tense. The trees around them bent and groaned under the force.
Before they could react, a streak of silver light shot down from the heavens—a sword glowing with cold radiance. It pierced into the earth between them, wind exploding outward in a blast so fierce it sent grass, dirt, and leaves flying, clearing an entire open space.
The commander turned his head—and froze. Beneath his mask, his eyes went wide.
Before him stood a sword planted upright in the ground, its blade gleaming. Upon its hilt, a man balanced on one foot.
Li Qingqiu.
Bathed in sunlight, even dressed in a simple traveler's outfit, he radiated the ethereal grace of an immortal descended to the mortal realm.
The dozens of masked men recoiled instantly, jumping back several steps in panic. They stared at him in horror, then quickly looked up at the sky—but aside from the distant black silhouette circling above, there was nothing. Not even a single cloud.
"You…"
The commander stammered, unable to comprehend what he was seeing. Did this man just fall from the heavens?
The others trembled as well, unsure if Li Qingqiu was a man… or a ghost.
Li Qingqiu stepped down lightly from the sword hilt, landing with effortless grace. He grasped the hilt, drawing the blade free as he spoke calmly.
"You want to go down the mountain and capture my junior brother? Then you'll have to pass through me first."
Junior brother?
The commander stiffened. "Who are you from Qingxiao Sect?"
"Li Qingqiu," he said, his tone flat, his gaze unreadable.
Those three words sent a visible shudder through the masked group. They all knew the name—this was the man who had slain the Demon Emperor.
Li Qingqiu raised his sword and pointed the tip directly at the commander. "Come then. You're surrounded already. There's nowhere left to run."
The taunt ignited the commander's fury. He drew his blade and roared, "Arrogant fool! Kill him! Break his limbs and bring him back as a cripple!"
Dozens of black-clad assassins charged at once.
Below the mountain, the battlefield roared with chaos. Above, on the ridge, the clash of steel and death began.
The ring of blades striking rang out again and again. Li Qingqiu didn't use any spells or cultivation arts—only his swordsmanship. Against opponents who had consumed the Martial God Pill, he fought with calm precision.
These men were far stronger than ordinary martial masters, their power surpassing even Zhao Linglong's, who had cultivated the Mystic Yin Art for over 200 years of accumulated strength.
The Martial God Pill was no trivial creation.
Li Qingqiu could sense the unstable pulse in their blood. A domineering, violent force rampaged within them—the aftereffect of the pill.
Their speed and agility were incredible; any one of them on the battlefield below would be an unstoppable force.
Unfortunately for them, Li Qingqiu was faster still. Every time they crossed paths, one of them would fall, their body slashed open by a clean sword strike.
He wasn't in a hurry to kill them all. He wanted to test their limits.
The commander swung his blade, unleashing a wave of blade energy—but Li Qingqiu sidestepped effortlessly. In a blink, he spun around and rushed straight at the man.
Seeing the ghostlike figure appear right in front of him, the commander gasped and leapt backward, slashing down midair.
Four of his men lunged in unison from different angles, blades whistling through the air, sealing off every escape route.
But Li Qingqiu merely gave his sword a slight shake—and the violent shockwave shattered all four incoming strikes like glass.
The black-clad men stumbled back, their faces pale with terror.
They had never faced anyone like him. The sheer dominance radiating from Li Qingqiu filled them with despair.
Yet as members of the Martial Enforcement Guard, retreat was not an option.
The fight dragged on. Li Qingqiu's movements blurred faster and faster, while wounds multiplied across their bodies.
After half an incense stick's time, one man's strength gave out. He fell to his knees, blood gushing from countless cuts, before collapsing lifeless into the dirt.
The commander's armor was torn and blood-soaked. His breathing turned ragged, his movements sluggish. Surrounded and hopeless, fear began to seep into his eyes.
Li Qingqiu turned his gaze on him and said coldly, "Don't even think of running. That would only make me unhappy—and trust me, if you die after that, your suffering won't end there."
His calm words struck the masked men harder than any sword. Their faces twisted in terror—the same fear they once showed before Lord Xuan Gong himself.
And then, suddenly—
A bright system prompt flashed before Li Qingqiu's eyes:
[ Because your Dao Lineage has produced its first cultivator to successfully create a Spirit-Gathering Array, unlocking the Dao of Formations, you have gained 1 Fortune Opportunity. ]
'A Spirit-Gathering Array?'
'Who could've managed that?'
A rare smile crossed Li Qingqiu's face. He hadn't expected one of his disciples to surprise him with such a gift.