36: Chapter 36: The Gauntlet Battle

As A-Fei's voice fell, the expressions of everyone at the village entrance changed instantly.

Han Meng grabbed him by the collar. "How many? Speak clearly!"

"Ten... more than ten!" A-Fei panted. "I lay on the hillside and counted, at least fifteen! Some are carrying swords, some are holding sabers, and there are two riding horses! They've booked two inns in the town and are currently drinking and eating meat, saying something..."

He swallowed a mouthful of saliva.

"Saying things like 'If we go late to Yangjiao Ravine for that bit of profit, we won't even get to drink the soup'."

Han Meng let go and looked at Lu Zhao.

Lu Zhao didn't speak, merely standing under the old locust tree with his hands behind his back, gazing in the direction of the mountain path.

Shen Qingqiu hurried over from the back mountain, her expression also looking grim. "Guest Elder Order. This move by the Xuanshuang Sect is much more vicious than sending deacons."

"What is a Guest Elder Order?" He Shan asked.

"The Xuanshuang Sect keeps a group of Guest Elders, all of whom are Loose Cultivators. Their cultivation levels are uneven, ranging from the first level of the Qi Refinement Stage to the seventh or eighth." Shen Qingqiu said. "These people are usually not managed by the Sect and are free to do as they please. But as long as the Sect issues a Guest Elder Order, they must respond to the summons and handle matters for the Sect. If it goes well, there is a reward; if it goes poorly, it doesn't harm the Sect's foundation—after all, it's not their own people dying."

Yan Meng frowned. "Doesn't that mean however many come, that many will die?"

"Correct," Shen Qingqiu said. "A war of attrition. A batch dies, and they summon another. They'll wear you down until you exhaust your strength, reveal all your trump cards, and your people are mostly dead, then the Xuanshuang Sect will send proper deacons to collect the bodies."

Everyone fell silent.

This move was indeed vicious.

Han Meng gritted his teeth. "Damn it, are these sons of bitches really going to keep hounding us?"

Lu Zhao suddenly spoke.

"It's not us they are hounding," he said. "It's the four words 'Martial Dao remnants'."

He looked at everyone.

"When Zhao Hanshan returns, he will definitely report the matter of Uncle Ya and Granny Xue with added embellishments. Once the Xuanshuang Sect hears 'Martial Dao Legacy', they won't be able to sit still—they were one of the main forces in that encirclement and suppression sixty years ago. If the Martial Dao Legacy were allowed to rise from the ashes, they would be the first to lose face."

"So..."

"So, they must crush this matter here in Yangjiao Ravine," Lu Zhao said. "They cannot let the news spread, and they cannot let other Sects know. The best way is to send a group of irrelevant Guest Elders to kill everyone here, then burn it all down and tell the outside world that 'Loose Cultivators caused chaos, and a bandit village was exterminated'."

He paused.

"Clean, efficient, and leaving no evidence."

Everyone felt a chill in their hearts upon hearing this.

He Shan gripped his longbow tightly. "Then what should we do?"

Lu Zhao looked at Shen Qingqiu.

Shen Qingqiu understood and pulled a piece of parchment from her bosom, spreading it on the ground. The map showed the terrain around Yangjiao Ravine—the mountain path, the creek valley, Wild Wolf Slope, and Eagle Beak Cliff, all clearly marked.

"There are three paths they must take to get here from the town," she said, pointing to the diagram. "The northern mountain path is the closest but the most dangerous; there are cliffs on both sides and it's only a zhang wide in the middle. The eastern creek valley has an easy path, but it's a detour, adding twenty li. The western Wild Wolf Slope is where we set our ambush last time; that place has many loose rocks, making it easy to hide people."

She looked up.

"If I were them, I would split my forces into three routes. One route would press forward from the mountain path to attract our attention; one would go around the back from the creek valley to block our retreat; and one would sneak up from Wild Wolf Slope to launch a surprise attack during the chaos."

Lu Zhao nodded.

He looked at the diagram, fell silent for a moment, and suddenly asked, "How large an area can a Formation cover?"

Shen Qingqiu was startled, then immediately understood his meaning. "The Concealment Array can only cover the area of the secret cave. But if you are referring to a Trap Formation, Confusion Formation, or Killing Formation..."

She pondered for a moment.

"If there are enough Spirit Stones, we can set up simple Formations at these three strategic points. We won't aim to kill, only to delay, confuse, and provide early warning."

"Are there enough Spirit Stones?"

Shen Qingqiu shook her head. "The ones we captured have long been used up."

Lu Zhao looked at Han Meng.

Han Meng gave a bitter smile. "Sir, in the black market, one Spirit Stone costs as much as three ordinary Spirit Stones. Our meager savings can't buy much."

Lu Zhao didn't speak, merely pulling something from his bosom.

The Soul-Chasing Order.

That black wooden tablet carved with a ghost face glimmered with a faint, cold light in the morning sun.

Han Meng's eyes lit up. "Sir, you want to..."

"Is this thing valuable?" Lu Zhao asked.

Han Meng took it, examined it back and forth for a long while, and grinned. "It's valuable! Items from the Nether Path are hard currency on the black market. Although this Soul-Chasing Order isn't top-tier, it's enough to trade for thirty Spirit Stones—if you run into someone who knows their stuff, it could get forty!"

"Go trade it," Lu Zhao said. "Exchange it all for Materials used to set up Formations."

Han Meng put away the Soul-Chasing Order and turned to leave.

After walking a few steps, he suddenly turned back.

"Sir, this thing... you were keeping it to save your life, weren't you?"

Lu Zhao didn't answer.

Han Meng looked at him and suddenly grinned. "Don't worry, Sir. My life, Han Meng's, was saved by you. This time, I'll bring back forty Spirit Stones for you."

Having said that, he strode away.

Night.

The black market.

Han Meng wrapped himself in a tattered cloak, huddled in the shadows of a corner. In front of him were a few pieces of junk—some broken iron, a bottle of inferior Medicinal Pill, and a chipped knife. They were all worthless goods, laid out just for show.

The item he actually wanted to sell was tucked inside his bosom.

He squinted his eyes, watching the people coming and going.

The black market was in an abandoned mine deep in the Funiu Mountains, and it was filled with all sorts of people. There were tattered Loose Cultivators, masked figures in black, and brawny desperadoes. Occasionally, one could even see a few well-dressed people wearing masks—those were people from major Sects who found it inconvenient to show their faces but came to the black market to trade for goods.

Han Meng waited for half an hour before finally waiting for a person.

The man was about forty, lean, dressed in a dusty Daoist robe, with seven or eight bulging cloth bags hanging from his waist. As soon as he entered the mine, several Loose Cultivators surrounded him, taking out items to show him as if they were presenting treasures.

Han Meng recognized him—Manager Xu of the Wanbao Pavilion, who specialized in collecting items at the black market. He had a sharp eye and a ruthless hand, but he offered fair prices.

He stood up and squeezed over.

"Manager Xu."

Manager Xu turned back, squinted at him, and frowned slightly. "You are... the one from the Funiu Gang?"

Han Meng nodded. "I used to be. I don't do that anymore."

Manager Xu snorted. "Better that you don't. Those beasts from the Funiu Gang should have died long ago." He glanced at the things in Han Meng's hands. "What good goods do you have?"

Han Meng looked left and right, then lowered his voice. "Let's step aside to talk."

The two walked to a corner.

Han Meng pulled the Soul-Chasing Order from his bosom and handed it over.

Manager Xu took it, and after just one glance, his expression changed.

He examined it back and forth for a long while, leaned under the oil lamp to inspect it carefully, and finally looked up, staring at Han Meng. "Where did you get this?"

"I found it."

"Bullshit," Manager Xu sneered. "The Soul-Chasing Order is an item of the Nether Path and never leaves their side. You found one? Let me see you find one."

Han Meng wasn't annoyed and only said, "Manager Xu, give me a price. If it's suitable, I'll sell; if not, I'll find someone else."

Manager Xu stared at him for a long while, then suddenly laughed.

"Interesting." He returned the Soul-Chasing Order. "This thing is a hot potato. No one dares to openly accept items from the Nether Path. But I, Xu, dare—however, the price will be marked down by thirty percent."

"How much?"

"Twenty-five Spirit Stones."

Han Meng shook his head. "Too little. Sir said to trade it for thirty."

"Sir?" Manager Xu squinted. "Do you have someone behind you?"

Han Meng knew he had let it slip and decided not to pretend anymore. "Yes, someone. The item is his; I'm just running errands."

Manager Xu pondered for a moment and held out one hand. "Twenty-eight. No more than that."

Han Meng thought about it, gritted his teeth, and said, "Deal."

Manager Xu counted out twenty-eight Spirit Stones from a cloth bag at his waist, wrapped them in a piece of rag, and handed them over. Han Meng took them, hid them close to his body, and turned to leave.

After walking a few steps, Manager Xu suddenly called out to him.

"Hey."

Han Meng turned back.

Manager Xu looked at him, his gaze deep. "That Sir of yours, is he the one from Yangjiao Ravine?"

Han Meng's expression changed slightly.

Manager Xu smiled. "Don't be nervous. What doesn't spread in the black market? The Xuanshuang Sect issued a Guest Elder Order to exterminate a village. What was that village called... Yangjiao Ravine. I guess that Sir of yours is Lu Zhao, right?"

Han Meng didn't speak, only staring at him.

Manager Xu waved his hand. "Rest assured, I won't snitch. People who do business don't get involved in these killing matters. However—"

He paused.

"Take a message to your Sir for me."

"What message?"

Manager Xu walked to his side and lowered his voice. "At the Hour of the Rat tonight, ten more people arrived in the town. They are dressed differently, but what they have hanging at their waists are all Guest Elder Orders from the Xuanshuang Sect. The total number is already thirty."

Han Meng's pupils shrank.

Manager Xu patted his shoulder. "Go. Don't look back."

Han Meng ran wildly all the way.

Thirty Qi Refinement Stage cultivators!

His brain was buzzing, with only one thought: Hurry, hurry back to report the news!

Thirty Qi Refinement Stage cultivators, that's thirty Wang Tongs or Zhao Hanshans! How can Yangjiao Ravine block them?

He ran until his lungs felt like they would explode and his legs felt like they would break, but he didn't dare stop. Every step slower meant more danger for Sir and the others.

When the horizon turned fish-belly white, he stumbled into the village.

"Sir! Sir!"

Lu Zhao came out of the house. Seeing him in this state, he frowned. "What happened?"

Han Meng collapsed to the ground, panting heavily, took the bag of Spirit Stones from his bosom, and handed it up.

"Sir... Spirit Stones... twenty-eight pieces..."

Lu Zhao took them and handed him a bowl of water.

Han Meng gulped it down, caught his breath, and looked up at him.

"Sir, Manager Xu asked me to pass on a message..."

"What message?"

Han Meng swallowed hard.

"Ten more have arrived in town. That makes... thirty in total."

The courtyard fell silent.

He Shan's fists were clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white. Yan Meng said nothing, merely staring fixedly at the ground. Zhong Tiegu held an iron hammer, the handle creaking under his grip. A-Fei, being the youngest, had a face drained of color, his lips trembling.

Lu Zhao was silent for a moment before suddenly asking, "Why would Manager Xu tell you this?"

Han Meng was taken aback. "He... he said he's a businessman and doesn't get involved in fighting and killing..."

Lu Zhao shook his head.

"Businessmen are the best at protecting themselves. There must be a reason he took the initiative to tell you this."

He looked toward Shen Qingqiu.

Shen Qingqiu mused, "Perhaps... he is testing us?"

"Testing what?"

"Testing our trump cards," Shen Qingqiu said. "Thirty Qi Refinement Stage cultivators—on the surface, they are here to kill us, but in the shadows, they are forcing us to reveal our true capabilities. If we can withstand this wave, those in the black market will re-evaluate our weight; if we can't, we die, and they can just come to pick up the spoils."

Lu Zhao nodded.

"Then let them see."

He turned around and looked at everyone.

"Thirty Qi Refinement Stage cultivators—if each of them spat on us, they could drown us. But—"

He paused.

"They won't come all at once."

He Shan was stunned. "Sir, you mean..."

"Thirty people, belonging to different factions, each with their own agenda," Lu Zhao said. "Some want to claim the credit, some want to pick up the spoils, some want to fish in troubled waters. They won't work together; they will only harbor their own ulterior motives."

He looked at the distant mountain path.

"We don't need to defeat thirty people. We only need to defeat the first, the second, the third... one by one. Fight until they are afraid, fight until they retreat, fight until they know that Yangjiao Ravine is a bone that is hard to chew."

He turned back, his gaze sweeping over everyone.

"Are you afraid?"

No one answered.

But among the twenty-three people, not a single one retreated.

Lu Zhao nodded.

"Then prepare."

At noon.

On the mountain path, the first group appeared.

There were five of them, all dressed as Loose Cultivators. The burly man in the lead carried a giant mountain-cleaving axe, his face full of flesh. They swaggered toward the village, laughing as they walked.

"Just this crappy village? What kind of tough opponent could there be?"

"That guy surnamed Lu probably ran away long ago."

"Better if he ran, saves us the trouble. Let's go in and rummage around. If we can snag something, good; if not, we'll just treat it as a wasted trip."

The five reached the village entrance and suddenly stopped.

Under the old locust tree, a person stood.

Lu Zhao.

He stood with his hands behind his back, his expression indifferent, his gaze calm as he looked at them.

The burly man was taken aback, then laughed. "Oh? So someone really didn't run?"

He hefted his giant axe and strode forward.

"You are Lu Zhao?"

"Yes."

"Alright then." The burly man raised his axe. "I'll be taking your head."

Before he even finished speaking, he stepped forward and swung his axe down!

The axe wind whistled, carrying immense force!

Lu Zhao sidestepped, dodging the blade, and followed through by slapping the flat of the axe with his right hand.

"Clang!"

The giant axe was knocked to the side, and the burly man stumbled a step, shocked in his heart—how could this person have so much strength!

Before he could react, Lu Zhao had already closed the distance.

A punch.

A simple, direct punch.

The burly man raised the axe to block.

"Boom!"

The force of the punch penetrated the axe, cracking the skin between his thumb and forefinger! He screamed as he stumbled back, the giant axe flying out of his hands!

Lu Zhao retracted his fist and stood with his hands behind his back.

"Who's next?"

The remaining four looked at each other, their faces filled with terror.

A moment later, someone shouted "Run," and the four scattered, disappearing into the woods.

The burly man lay on the ground, clutching his bleeding hand, looking at Lu Zhao in horror.

Lu Zhao looked down at him.

"Go back and tell the others," he said. "Whoever wants to die, feel free to come."

Half an hour later.

The second group arrived.

Seven of them.

This time they had learned their lesson; they didn't swagger, but instead dispersed and crept into the village from three directions.

But the village was empty.

They searched house by house, but after a long time, they couldn't find a ghost.

"Where are the people?"

"Did they run?"

"No, there were people here just a moment ago!"

Just as they were confused, a scream suddenly rang out!

A Loose Cultivator clutched his throat and fell, an arrow protruding from his neck—shot from who knows where.

"There's an ambush!"

Before the words were finished, several "whoosh" sounds followed, and two more fell, struck by arrows.

The remaining four panicked and turned to run.

Running out of the village, their feet suddenly gave way—the ground collapsed, revealing a deep pit with sharpened bamboo stakes at the bottom!

Two couldn't stop in time and fell in, screaming.

The last two turned pale, running for their lives without daring to look back.

The sun tilted to the west.

The third group, the fourth group, the fifth group...

Group after group of Loose Cultivators came, and group after group fled.

Some died under arrows, some died in traps, and some were surrounded by villagers who suddenly popped out and hacked them to death. Occasionally, a few powerful ones managed to force Lu Zhao to take action personally, but it was just a matter of lasting a few more moves.

When the sun set, over a dozen corpses lay across the mountain path.

The living had all fled.

Night.

At the village entrance, under the old locust tree, Lu Zhao sat cross-legged.

He was covered in blood, both his own and others'. His left shoulder had been slashed, the wound deep enough to see the bone; Granny Xue had just bandaged it. He had taken a palm strike to his right ribs, breaking two, and even breathing hurt.

Yet, there was a faint smile on his face.

He Shan walked over and said softly, "Sir, we've counted. Seven of the brothers are injured, and one... is dead."

Lu Zhao's smile faded.

"Who?"

"Song Laosi," He Shan's voice was hoarse. "His throat was slit by that Loose Cultivator who used throwing knives. Before he died, he held onto that person's leg, allowing Yan Meng to go up and finish him off with a blade."

Lu Zhao was silent.

Song Laosi was one of the ten households, a cousin of Song Shouren, not a man of many words, but hardworking. He had just married a wife a few days ago, and she was carrying his child.

He closed his eyes.

After a long time, he opened them.

"Give him a proper burial," he said. "Record his name on the Legacy Stele."

He Shan nodded.

Lu Zhao looked into the distance.

In the night, firelight flickered faintly on the mountain path—that was where the Loose Cultivators were camping. They hadn't left; they had only retreated, waiting, and watching.

"Sir," He Shan said, "will there be more people tomorrow?"

Lu Zhao didn't answer.

He just stood up and walked toward the back mountain.

In the secret cave, Shen Qingqiu was maintaining the Formation.

Seeing him enter, she looked up, her gaze falling on the wounds on his body, and her brows furrowed slightly.

"How many more days can you hold out?"

Lu Zhao sat down opposite her.

"I don't know," he said. "But holding out for one day is one day."

Shen Qingqiu looked at him and suddenly asked, "Is it worth it?"

Lu Zhao looked up.

"Is what worth it?"

"All of this," Shen Qingqiu said. "You could have left. With your abilities, you could have just found a place to hide, cultivated for three to five years, and come back for revenge once you were strong. Why insist on guarding this crappy village to the death?"

Lu Zhao was silent.

After a long time, he spoke.

"Do you know why I was able to survive today?"

Shen Qingqiu didn't speak.

"Because those people blocked blades for me," Lu Zhao said. "Song Laosi blocked a blade for me. Han Meng blocked a palm strike for me. He Shan shot seven people who tried to sneak attack me. Yan Meng guarded my back."

He looked at Shen Qingqiu.

"They trusted me, so they stayed. They stayed, so I could live."

He paused.

"In this world, some things are more important than revenge."

Shen Qingqiu looked at him, her gaze complex.

After a long time, she suddenly smiled.

"You... really are something."

She lowered her head and continued to maintain the Formation.

The cave was silent.

Suddenly, hasty footsteps came from the cave entrance.

A-Fei scrambled in, his face pale.

"Sir! It's bad!"

"On the mountain path... people have come," A-Fei swallowed hard. "They aren't Loose Cultivators, they are... they are the real deal from the Xuanshuang Sect! Three of them! Riding Spirit Beasts, and wearing the robes of Inner Sect Disciples of the Xuanshuang Sect!"

Lu Zhao's pupils constricted.

Inner Sect Disciples.

That meant Foundation Establishment Stage.

Lu Zhao strode out of the cave and looked up.

On the mountain path, three giant, snow-white wolves approached under the moonlight, carrying three young men and women on their backs, one in front and two behind. The leader was in his early twenties, with a cold expression. A cyan longsword hung at his waist, the scabbard inlaid with seven Spirit Stones, shimmering with a faint, cold light under the moonlight.

He pulled on the reins of the giant wolf, looking down at the village entrance from above.

His gaze swept over the corpses of the Loose Cultivators and finally landed on Lu Zhao.

"You are that remnant of the Martial Dao?"

The voice wasn't loud, but it sounded like a thunderclap, vibrating everyone's eardrums until they hurt.

Lu Zhao didn't speak, merely staring at him.

The man's lips curled into a smile.

"Interesting." He flipped off the wolf and stood with his hands behind his back. "Inner Sect Disciple of the Xuanshuang Sect, Lin Han. Second level of the Foundation Establishment Stage."

He paused.

"I am ordered to take your life."