258: Chapter 258 Pass

In the dense forest, the snow was ankle-deep, and dead branches crunched loudly underfoot.

Ye Yisong carried the sobbing, choking Can'er on his back, using his sword blade as a crutch to steady himself.

Every step brought excruciating pain to his chest, and droplets of blood trickled down the tip of his sword, staining the snow like scattered red plum blossoms.

Behind him, the sound of iron cavalry hooves rolled like thunder across the ground, the crisp clatter of armor plates mingling with the wind and snow, drawing ever closer.

He dared not take the main road, choosing instead the treacherous paths overgrown with thorns.

Can'er, on his shoulder, clutched his lapels, her crying fading into soft, intermittent sobs: "Uncle Ye, it hurts..."

Ye Yisong's throat tightened. He freed one hand to pat her back, his voice hoarse: "Bear with it. Once we reach the capital, we will be safe."

Before he could finish speaking, several feathered arrows pierced the wind towards them.

He spun around, shielding Can'er in his arms, his longsword dancing into an impenetrable curtain of steel.

The arrows struck his blade and snapped, but the impact caused his chest wound to tear open.

A mouthful of blood welled up in his throat, which he swallowed back by sheer force of will.

The iron cavalry had charged into the dense forest.

The leader, clad in heavy black iron armor and wielding a long spear, was none other than Zhou Lie, the trusted commander of the Fifth Imperial Prince.

He pulled on the reins, his gaze locking onto Ye Yisong like a hawk's.

He shouted coldly: "Young Marquis, why involve yourself in our affairs? Put down the orphan and leave, and I, this general, will certainly not hinder you."

Ye Yisong hid Can'er behind a tree and stepped forward with his sword.

Though the sword momentum of the Dugu Nine Swords was fierce, his lack of strength made it a fraction slower.

When it collided with Zhou Lie's long spear, the web between his thumb and forefinger split, and his longsword nearly flew from his grasp.

Zhou Lie possessed immense strength, his spear wind carrying a chill, every strike aiming for a vital point.

Ye Yisong dodged left and right, adding several more wounds to his body, his clothes soaked in a mixture of snow and blood.

Several iron cavalry took the opportunity to circle behind the tree, intending to abduct Can'er.

Ye Yisong's eyes were bloodshot with rage.

Ignoring the spear strike coming from Zhou Lie, he turned and pierced the throat of one of the cavalrymen, only to be struck heavily on the back by Zhou Lie's spear shaft.

He stumbled and collapsed into the snow, a mouthful of blood spraying out and staining the white snow in front of him red.

"Uncle Ye!" Can'er's cry spurred Ye Yisong to prop himself up with his sword.

He wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth and pointed his sword at Zhou Lie: "If you want to touch her, you must first step over my corpse."

Zhou Lie sneered and led the iron cavalry to close in.

Ye Yisong stood guard before Can'er, his sword momentum becoming increasingly resolute.

He pushed the counter-attacking methods of the Dugu Nine Swords to their limit, every strike carrying the ruthlessness of someone seeking mutual destruction.

He killed several more cavalrymen, but they kept coming, and his strength was fading rapidly.

The pain in his chest flared in waves, and his vision began to blur.

After fighting all the way, he managed to protect Can'er and break out of the dense forest.

Not far ahead lay the walls of the capital, with banners on the watchtower snapping in the wind and snow.

Seeing this, the killing intent in Zhou Lie's eyes intensified.

He urged his horse forward, thrusting his long spear down with all his Qi.

Ye Yisong killed one cavalryman, seized a fast horse, and pushed Can'er forward with all his might, shouting: "Run! Once you enter the city gates, call for the Northern Garrison General's Mansion!"

Can'er rode the horse, stumbling as she galloped toward the city gates.

Ye Yisong turned back and met Zhou Lie's spear head-on with his longsword.

With a "crack," the longsword snapped.

The immense force sent him flying backward, where he slammed heavily into a tree trunk.

His chest caved in, and blood poured out wildly.

Zhou Lie urged his horse closer, his long spear pointing directly at his throat.

Leaning against the tree trunk, though already at his end, Ye Yisong still looked up toward the direction where Can'er had entered the city gates, a hint of relief rippling in his eyes.

He raised his hand to grasp the incoming spear shaft, blood gushing through his fingers as he held onto it with sheer stubbornness.

"You cannot stop it..." Ye Yisong's voice was weak, yet every word was clear.

"The people of the Northern Garrison General will surely keep her safe..."

Zhou Lie was enraged and violently twisted the long spear.

Ye Yisong's palm was crushed, and the spear shaft finally pierced through his chest.

Ye Yisong's body slid softly onto the snow, yet his gaze remained fixed on the direction of the capital, a faint smile lingering at the corners of his mouth, his hand still clutching the broken half of the sword blade.

Zhou Lie withdrew his long spear and stuck it into the snow, then took the longbow from his back, nocked an arrow, and aimed at the little girl in the distance.

"Whoosh!"

The arrow shot out, flying straight toward the little girl's back.

Ye Yisong held his breath, using his final ounce of strength to hurl the broken blade in his hand, striking the arrow and causing it to veer off course.

"You are courting death!"

The iron cavalry surrounded Ye Yisong.

Zhou Lie watched as the small figure was received by the soldiers at the city gates, and he spat fiercely.

Looking at the dying Ye Yisong on the ground, he ultimately dared not rashly kill a royal clan Disciple and could only order hatefully: "Retreat!"

The wind and snow continued, falling upon Ye Yisong and gradually covering his body, leaving only specks of dark red that were particularly jarring against the white snow.

That broken sword, slanted in the snow beside him, became the most resolute mark of a promise in this wilderness.

"In the end, they did not let my Xiao King lineage go. Fifty years have passed, and they still remember the events of that year."

"For this useless body of mine to be able to protect the descendants of the Dynasty's loyal subjects, it can be considered a death well-deserved, and I have not failed my father's entrustment."

"Father, Song'er is coming."

Ye Yisong weakly lowered his eyelids and never opened them again.

...

Ye Yisong felt as though he had had a very, very long dream.

In the dream, he had no memories, his Martial Artist cultivation was sealed, and he was reincarnated as a royal clan Disciple of a Dynasty, with his title having dwindled to merely a Marquis by his generation.

Yet fifty years ago, his grandfather, in an effort to ensure the young Crown Prince ascended the throne, had offended the most powerful feudal prince at the time.

Fate always loves to play tricks.

The Crown Prince passed away from illness less than five years after ascending the throne, and the Dragon ascended to heaven.

The throne was still passed into the hands of that feudal prince, and a path of suppression lasting fifty years began, only ending when Ye Yisong finally died and this lineage's incense was completely extinguished.

"Awake?"

The old man called out softly and gently; his attitude was significantly better than before.

"Senior, what was that just now?" Ye Yisong asked tentatively.

"A Dream Trial," the old man explained with a smile.

"In the dream, a Martial Artist's Mental Energy can transcend the limitations of time and grow rapidly."

"It can also test a Martial Artist's Heart-Nature."

Upon hearing this, Ye Yisong realized why the old man's attitude toward him had changed so drastically.

He guessed it was because the old man had seen him keep his promise in the dream, even at the cost of his own life.

Because he had found a suitable successor for his martial path, he was now looking at him through the eyes of someone viewing a Disciple to inherit his mantle, so naturally, it was different.

The realistic sensation of death in the dream left Ye Yisong still reeling, and he remained shaken.

The martial path of the dream world, while incomparable to the world he was currently in, was not fake in its sensations—the pain of torn muscles and the shadow of death from being pierced through the heart by a spear felt incredibly real to Ye Yisong.

Ye Yisong looked at the clear tea on the stone table and sighed inwardly: Truly, the world is vast and full of wonders, even possessing such treasures to test a Martial Artist's Heart-Nature.

"Follow me."

The old man stood up and walked toward the rear hall, speaking indifferently.