Chapter 72: The Fox Borrows the Tiger's Might

The three factions arrived at the provincial government office, and seeing the throngs of people surging madly toward the entrance, they knew they had found the source of the turmoil. Scaling the wall, they caught sight of Liu Baiyun and her companions fending off the crowd, evidently protecting the young Fourth behind them.

Though Liu Baiyun had previously shown off her power over the three factions at the Mount Tai sect, her note left afterwards made it clear to them that her actions were more warning than intimidation. Thus, without further words, they stepped forward to help Liu Baiyun and her party fend off their adversaries.

As for Zhou Yingxue’s biting remarks—well, the two had never gotten along, and it wasn’t just a recent matter. When Liu Baiyun had dragged her along that day, it was partly out of personal grievance. Zhou Yingxue had come to help, so Liu Baiyun could hardly retort and simply kept silent.

Both were seasoned masters, among the finest below the absolute peak, and had known each other for years. Even if they disliked one another, their cooperation at this moment was seamless.

Gao Ling spoke loudly about the key tactics against the venomous soldiers, and the leaders of the three factions quickly grasped her meaning. With their support, the crisis eased significantly, giving Wang Hai a chance to withdraw from the fray and restore his inner energy.

He was still young, with limited internal strength, unable to match Liu Baiyun and the others. Though slightly better than Mei Qinghe, he was nearly exhausted now.

Wang Hai approached Fourth Sister and whispered, “Fourth Sister, is it about time?”

“No need to save everyone; rescuing fifty or sixty percent is enough,” Fourth Sister replied, stretching out her wrist and tearing off the bandage, letting fresh blood drip into the basin.

This method of gathering the venom only worked well with fresh blood. If Fourth Sister kept dripping blood sporadically, the effect would diminish, and once the gathered people dispersed, all their efforts would be wasted.

“Just a little longer… Brother Hai, just a little longer… It’s nearly enough…” Fourth Sister’s face was growing paler, making Wang Hai ache with concern.

But the two understood each other deeply. Wang Hai knew that beneath Fourth Sister’s fragile appearance lay a heart as stubborn—almost obsessive—as his own.

He could only grit his teeth. “Alright, we’ll wait a bit longer.”

With that, he grabbed Mei Qinghe’s left arm, his hand turning red and emitting wisps of white smoke as he staunched the bleeding.

Wang Hai had learned from Li Miao; he knew the healing technique, though not as profoundly. Still, it sufficed in emergencies.

Letting go, Wang Hai focused on restoring his energy, watching the deadly struggle unfold before him.

In his mind, he calculated that in half an hour, he would have no choice but to forcibly take Fourth Sister and flee.

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Meanwhile, the Banner Leader of the Flood Banner from the Bright Sect arrived with his disciples outside the city gates.

This group had initially been near Mount Tai, preparing manpower for their plans there. Having received news from Mao Yingxia in haste, they rushed to Taian City, arriving just in time.

All the soldiers and officials within Taian had been taken to Mount Tai and slaughtered by Cheng Yuanzhen. Now, only a dozen elderly, sick, and frail guarded the gate.

The Flood Banner Leader ignored them and was about to order his men to kill a few and open the gates.

Just then, the sound of hooves approached slowly from not far away.

The Flood Banner Leader turned, his pupils contracting.

The newcomer was alone, riding horseback, clad unmistakably in the uniform of the Imperial Guard, carrying the Embroidered Spring Blade, and a gleaming badge of a Thousand Household Commander hung at his waist.

He rode to the city gate, turned sideways to face the Bright Sect followers, his expression full of disdain, silent.

Seeing his demeanor, the Flood Banner Leader felt uneasy and dared not act rashly. His disciples also halted their steps. Mao Yingxia had sent him after hearing of Lan Lechuan’s death.

Lan Lechuan had died at the hands of an Imperial Guard Thousand Household Commander named Li Miao—a fact the Flood Banner Leader also knew.

Who was Lan Lechuan? The Bright Sect’s Left Envoy! Second only to the Sect Leader, above tens of thousands! Before Ji Tianrui’s death, he rarely appeared, and the sect’s affairs fell almost entirely to Lan Lechuan. After Ji Tianrui was gone, Lan Lechuan carried the sect on his shoulders.

In the minds of the Bright Sect, ranking Ji Tianrui and Lan Lechuan was a difficult choice. Not to mention Lan Lechuan’s martial prowess, which surpassed the peak—except for Yun Zelin, who was rarely seen, no one in the sect could match him.

Such a figure died silently at the hands of an Imperial Guard Thousand Household Commander, along with Zuo Lishan, who was nearly at the peak.

How could the Flood Banner Leader not be frightened, not hesitate?

He looked at the Thousand Household Commander—slender, loose uniform, weak limbs, lifeless eyes, clearly appearing as a scholar unable to fend for himself.

Yet this only deepened his suspicion: “Is this the ultimate refinement? The spirit contained within?”

What he didn’t know was that the “Imperial Guard Thousand Household Commander” before him, whose palm gripped the reins, was drenched in sweat.

He was not Li Miao, but Jiao Qingfeng.

He was the county registrar of Taian, whom Li Miao had chosen at the last moment to manage affairs.

Li Miao had him don the Imperial Guard uniform, carry Li Miao’s badge, and patrol the city gates.

If he encountered negligence, he was to kill. If faced with troublemakers from the martial world, he was to use his attire to intimidate.

Jiao Qingfeng had started out trembling, but being a native of Taian, the screams from within gradually made him realize the gravity of his responsibility.

He began to force himself into a semblance of authority that had never existed.

He had just killed a panicked soldier at another gate who tried to open it. Seeing blood, he vomited, but his resolve hardened.

Arriving here, he saw the Flood Banner Leader approaching with his men, their faces hostile.

He quickly ordered the soldiers to keep their distance, mounted his horse, and feigned a composed air as he slowly approached.

By sheer luck, he intimidated the Flood Banner Leader.

Now, both sides were “awkwardly” frozen.

Like a skinny pole fighting a wolf, both sides were afraid; neither Jiao Qingfeng nor the Flood Banner Leader dared to speak first.

The Flood Banner Leader waited for “Li Miao” to speak; Jiao Qingfeng was clueless about matters of the martial world, unable to even respond with the correct terms.

Nervous yet feigning calm, an eerie silence prevailed.

But not everyone present understood the situation.

A trembling voice broke the silence: “Master Jiao… what’s going on here…”

It was one of the gate guards, sensing the heavy atmosphere and seeing no action, quietly trying to ask Jiao Qingfeng what was happening.

He thought he was whispering, but the Flood Banner Leader’s keen hearing caught it clearly.

“Jiao? Not Li?” He looked astonished.

Seeing the Flood Banner Leader’s expression, Jiao Qingfeng panicked.

With only a handful of men at the gate, they could never hold back these martial artists.

His mind raced, but his face remained calm, ignoring the soldier and instead calling out in a loud voice, “Who are you? State your name!”

(End of chapter)