Chapter 71: Arrival

When the three sect leaders stepped through the city gates, they discovered that the situation inside was far more brutal than what they had witnessed atop Mount Tai. On the mountain, the ones caught in the chaos were martial artists, soldiers, eunuchs, and members of the Imperial Guard. Even when the disciples of the Mount Tai Sect suddenly erupted, these people could at least offer some resistance.

But the common folk of Tai’an City possessed no such ability.

These citizens spent their days treading carefully, their greatest lifetime conflict perhaps no more than a heated argument, a few curses exchanged, or a bloodied lip from a scuffle. Faced with neighbors and kin suddenly consumed by madness, even those who had not succumbed to the poison were quickly overwhelmed, thrown to the ground, bitten and left howling in agony.

In this era, most houses were constructed of wood. A lamp was overturned in one household, setting clothes ablaze, and soon an inferno swept across the district, halting only at the street.

The heat was oppressive; the stench of blood and rot filled the air.

Blood spattered everywhere. The city was awash in mourning.

The three sect leaders entered through the gates, confronted by this devastation.

They had witnessed countless deaths before, and though this was their first time facing carnage on such a scale, they managed to steady themselves.

Among their disciples, however, some had never seen blood. Many could not help but vomit at the sight.

Their retching spread, casting pallor over the faces of the others.

Deng Boxuan sneered coldly, turning to his disciples, “What’s wrong!? Where’s your heroism from outside the gates!? Is this all you’ve got!?”

“If you can’t take it, don’t be a burden! Get out and wait for my return!”

Without waiting for a response, he stretched out his hand and pointed at several, “You, you, you! Out!”

Among them, one whose expression did not change was also selected. As he was about to protest, an older disciple beside him clamped a hand over his mouth, sealed his acupoints, and threw him outside the gates.

Zhou Yingxue gave a cold snort, saying nothing.

She and Zhang Jingfeng saw through Deng Boxuan’s intentions.

The three of them had entered the city after careful deliberation, fully aware of the risks and prepared to die here if necessary. They understood why they had to do this, what price they would pay, and had accepted the consequences of their choice.

But their disciples had acted merely in a moment of hot-blooded fervor.

Deng Boxuan wanted to preserve the seeds of his sect’s legacy, but if he had chosen openly outside the gates, it would have been obvious he was granting a few the chance to survive, leaving a flaw in their hearts and hindering future progress in martial arts. It would also sow jealousy among the others, who would suspect favoritism.

Thus, he waited until all had entered, then dismissed a few talented disciples under the pretext of “being unfit,” sending them out of the city.

In this way, at least, they had proven themselves not to be cowards, leaving only because of Deng Boxuan’s order. The others would not resent them, and instead feel themselves to be the “fit” ones.

Though harsh, Deng Boxuan could no longer afford to be gentle.

The older disciple understood this, too, and so sealed the younger’s acupoints and sent him out.

Zhang Jingfeng stepped forward, patted Deng Boxuan’s shoulder, said nothing, and followed suit, selecting a few disciples to send out of the city.

Zhou Yingxue snorted again and did the same.

When the city gates finally closed behind them, Deng Boxuan exhaled deeply.

“Let’s go, friends,” Zhang Jingfeng said.

“I hear unrest in the city, especially in the direction of the prefectural office.”

“The heart of this chaos surely lies there.”

With that, he employed lightness skill and led the way.

Deng Boxuan cast one last long look at the city gate, said nothing, and led the remaining group after him.

Meanwhile, at the prefectural office, Wang Hai and his companions were struggling to hold their ground.

During this time, disciples of the Ming Sect had repeatedly breached their defenses, coming within a yard of Xiao Si.

Of the four present—Wang Hai, Liu Baiyun, Mei Qinghe, and Gao Ling—only these four were first-class martial artists, and only they could overcome the Ming Sect’s poisoned warriors in a single strike.

Yet, the highest-skilled Liu Baiyun and Gao Ling, along with Mei Qinghe, were, in Wang Hai’s view, too merciful.

They always hesitated, only striking when absolutely certain their target was a poisoned warrior.

In life-and-death combat, hesitation is fatal. Here, Wang Hai, the youngest, took the lead.

Wang Hai ducked low, reached between his opponent’s legs, and twisted his hooked blade fiercely.

“Ahhhhh!”

Even the hardened will of a poisoned warrior could not suppress a cry of pain; he fell to his knees. Wang Hai seized the moment, slashing upward, gouging out an eye, then kicked him into the crowd, letting him flail and slow the others’ advance.

The Huashan disciples were nearly all gone.

In the world of martial arts, mercy is a deadly flaw. Life-or-death struggle demands decisive action.

Yet, unwilling to kill, unwilling to cripple, always probing who could be killed and who could not, the Huashan disciples, clinging to such hesitation, were often caught off guard, overwhelmed, and poisoned.

The rear courtyard was piled layer upon layer with bodies; those in the front could barely hold out, peril looming closer by the moment.

Mei Qinghe was the first in dire straits.

Her cultivation was the weakest among the four, her internal energy thin, and she lacked Wang Hai’s resolve. Her strength was nearly spent.

Misfortune compounded her plight: as she swept her sword through the crowd, her blade struck two targets.

Two poisoned warriors were advancing!

Behind her stood Xiao Si, no barriers between them.

Unable to retreat, Mei Qinghe turned abruptly, glanced back, and gripped her sword tightly.

She raised her sword horizontally, mustering her remaining energy.

Snowflakes on the flying eaves!

A sweeping upward stroke scattered the legs of the two poisoned warriors, lifting them off the ground.

Sword’s cry across the cold river!

Mei Qinghe threw herself forward, thrusting her sword into the chest of one warrior, while her other hand struck the second.

Her sword pierced the chest—but with her limited energy, she could not truly accomplish this.

So she threw her whole weight into the attack.

With both poisoned warriors, she crashed into the crowd.

In midair, the one she struck bit fiercely into her arm, clinging and tearing, blood spraying everywhere.

“Qinghe!” Liu Baiyun cried out in anguish, ready to rush to her aid.

“I’ll go!” Wang Hai shouted, his hooked blades carving a rain of blood through the crowd.

Thanks to the four of them, the defense barely held. There was no time for Liu Baiyun to hesitate; Wang Hai alone could strike ruthlessly.

Mei Qinghe, depleted of energy and unable to retreat with Xiao Si behind her, had made her desperate choice.

But if they lost Mei Qinghe, the situation would become untenable.

Wang Hai fought his way through the crowd, finally reaching Mei Qinghe.

She was on the brink of collapse, her left arm shredded, blood and flesh torn away, her right hand wielding her sword to barely keep the mob at bay.

Wang Hai darted forward. Mei Qinghe understood, holding her sword to the side. Wang Hai gathered his energy and kicked the sword, sending Mei Qinghe sliding across the ground to Xiao Si's side.

Xiao Si quickly pressed his wounded hand to Mei Qinghe’s face; soon, parasites crawled from her mouth and nose, dying as they touched Xiao Si’s blood.

Wang Hai fought his way free, scanning left and right.

“We can’t hold out,” he thought.

He was about to flee with Xiao Si when Xiao Si met his gaze and shook his head.

Just as Wang Hai prepared to escape with Xiao Si at all costs, several figures leapt over the courtyard wall, swiftly taking up positions beside Wang Hai and Mei Qinghe, bolstering their defenses.

“Master Liu, how could we let Huashan monopolize the glory! Hengshan is here to join the fray!” Zhang Jingfeng shouted, his sword flashing as he replaced Mei Qinghe’s position at Wang Hai’s side.

Zhou Yingxue rushed to Liu Baiyun, sword whirling, coldly remarking, “Well, Master Liu, where is your Mount Tai bravado now?”

Deng Boxuan managed a bitter smile, hesitated no longer, and joined the battle.

Dozens of disciples drew their swords.

It was the forces of Hengshan, Hengshan, and Songshan, finally arriving!

(The chapter ends)