Li Guanyi exhaled deeply, gazing at the nearly perfect, completely intact aura of the Xue Shenjiang's inheritance. He clenched his fist, contemplating that by the third year, he would have mastered the techniques of the battle spear, allowing him to learn the techniques of Juan Tao.
In the second year, he could impart the variations of Juan Tao.
So, what would it mean to achieve great success immediately, just like now?
Did Xue Shenjiang not consider that someone could accomplish this, hence he was unprepared?
Even mastering the techniques upon entering the realm in an instant was beyond reason.
At this moment, Li Guanyi felt a twinge of worry, while the inheritance aura left by Xue Shenjiang looked at him, seemingly regaining its original restraint and indifference, stating flatly, “...has reached great success, can inherit [Juan Tao].”
Li Guanyi realized it was inheritance, not instruction.
Xue Shenjiang raised the weapon in his hand against Li Guanyi, his eyes bright, then instantly dispersed, transforming into a pure divine charm that directly landed on Li Guanyi's brow without any reservation or consumption.
Li Guanyi's mind exploded with a loud bang.
His vision went blank.
A faint moisture seemed to waft from his nose, gradually bringing his consciousness back.
The flowing sound of the zither helped him quickly maintain his sense of self. Li Guanyi opened his eyes to see the surrounding water flowing gently, distant layers of rocks and greenery, and the mountains undulating.
He felt himself suddenly grow tall, standing on the flowing water. In the distance, there was a woman dressed in simple clothing, her face obscured by a hood, with black hair cascading slightly. Li Guanyi saw a man ahead, clad in complex and heavy armor.
This was... Duke of Chen?!
Li Guanyi looked down, seeing his own palm, noticing his left hand gripping a bow and his right hand holding a battle spear. He was adorned in majestic and ornate ceremonial armor, the golden threads binding the armor slightly raised, and he heard his own throat vibrating as he spoke.
Smiling slightly, he said, “Duke of Chen, it’s just a spar, why take it so seriously?”
Li Guanyi understood.
He had entered that memory, merging with Xue Shenjiang.
This was the highest level of teaching.
Not instruction, not assistance, but direct memory inheritance.
Nothing was more effective than personally experiencing the moves of a top-tier expert.
Duke of Chen seemed to smile, softly saying, “Your Majesty today praised the famous generals of the world in Taihe Palace, saying that your battle spear and my long spear surpass the fierce marquis faced by the founding emperor back then. This is the emperor's heartfelt words, saying our martial prowess is sufficient to plot rebellion.”
“If we do not fight, the emperor will surely feel uneasy.”
This sentence was not in the previous scene. Xue Shenjiang smiled slightly as Duke of Chen raised his long spear.
At this moment, Li Guanyi felt the aura coming from across.
Heavy, domineering, as if standing firm like a mountain rock beneath a raging torrent.
In the memory from five hundred years ago, Duke of Chen covered his faceplate, which was a dark golden mask, resembling the attire of an ancient war god, concealing the face and expression of the masked person, revealing only a pair of calm eyes.
As an observer, facing Xue Shenjiang, Duke of Chen, who seemed vulnerable, stood up.
That majestic aura, like a mountain, made Li Guanyi's consciousness tremble.
To have the title of duke in the era of great strife five hundred years ago.
Later generations learned his spear techniques, using his divine spear to slay the invading white wolves that were like deities, charging into the palace of the Liang Dynasty, establishing the lineage of the Chen Kingdom. At this moment, this hero, now revered as the founding ancestor of the Chen Kingdom, launched his attack.
Like a landslide.
Li Guanyi's pupils contracted. His talent was indeed strong; at this moment, the domineering spear thrust from Duke of Chen slowed down in his eyes.
He had once sparred with Duke of Chen, who had suppressed his realm, in the secret realm before entering.
He had witnessed his spear techniques.
At this moment, the Duke of Chen, previously judged to possess only superior spear techniques, transformed as if reborn, becoming brighter inch by inch, then imprinted into Li Guanyi's soul.
Li Guanyi memorized this spear thrust.
Then he felt Xue Shenjiang's movements.
He sensed the flow of qi, felt the activation of every muscle, felt the tension in his bones, sensed the White Tiger Dharma Image lying beside him, felt the grip of the battle spear in his hand. Everything felt as if he had transformed into Xue Shenjiang executing this move.
This was inheritance.
The battle spear swept across!
Juan Tao!!!
…………
Before this, in the desert.
Because the camel had been frightened to death, Po Jun and the guiding old man crawled laboriously in the sand.
They lay beneath a sand dune, the moonlight spilling like large sheets of silver, the bright and clean sand reflecting the moonlight, making it seem as if they were lying on the moon, surrounded by a hazy white.
Under the night sky and starlight, the desert stretched vast as if it had no end.
Without mounts, their situation was already dire, and they encountered sand bandits besieged by Turkic cavalry. The sand bandits, driven mad by the siege, would kill anything that crossed their path. A man as handsome as Po Jun would meet a terrible fate.
Po Jun was not skilled in combat or killing. He and the old man concealed their presence, hiding away as the sand bandits on desert horses searched back and forth. However, Po Jun found a clever hiding place, obscuring their sight, and they could not find them, moving further away.
But at that moment, the battle spear exposed to the outside suddenly let out a shrill cry.
The sand bandits heard the sound and surrounded them, the noisy shouts gradually closing in. Po Jun grinned.
He intended to fight.
One sand bandit charged over on a desert horse, wielding a curved blade.
Po Jun drew a soft sword from his instrument and swiftly killed the sand bandit. The old man was dumbfounded, and Po Jun said, “I am not skilled at killing.”
“Remember, the words of the people from the Eastern Land and Central Plains should be pondered carefully.”
“It’s not that I can’t, just that I know a little.”
He jumped lightly, swinging the horse-head lute in his hand, smashing it onto a cavalryman's head. When the lute emitted a piercing sound and then shattered, he used the broken end to stab fiercely, piercing through the neck of a third person.
The hollow lute body became a bloodletting channel.
Blood gushed out, splattering onto his clothes, leaving the guiding old man dumbfounded as he watched this man, who was parched, walking, and exhausted, take down three mad desert bandits in one breath.
Po Jun lifted the battle spear and placed it on the horse, allowing the old man to ride another horse.
The desert horse was not large, its physique dry and sturdy. Compared to the tall steeds of the Western Regions, they appeared smaller. The writings on the horse described that desert horses, compared to those from the Central Plains and Western Regions, lacked one lumbar vertebra and two tail vertebrae. Their ribs were rounded, and their hooves were tough, allowing them to gallop wildly across the desert.
The old man rode the horse, and the two of them galloped under the moonlight.
The old man's heart raced, the sand bandits chasing behind them. He shouted:
“Can the strategists of your Central Plains kill too?!”
Po Jun laughed heartily, “Even a frail scholar should at least master swordsmanship and archery, able to drive a chariot with one hand while wielding a spear to reap the enemy's heads with the other, loudly singing the battle songs of Qin.”
The old man admired, “The people of the Central Plains are truly formidable in battle.”
Po Jun replied, “No, most people from the Central Plains are not skilled in battle; my compatriots fear killing.”
The old man was puzzled, “Why?”
Po Jun answered, “Because they seek to defeat the enemy without injury. Once you wound them and draw blood, you will see their other side—madness, rage, and they will not rest until they tear their opponent to shreds.”
Po Jun killed another man with one hand, his brows raised, saying:
“This is what is known as [the mournful soldiers must win] and [united against a common enemy] of the Central Plains army.”
The sound of arrows slicing through the air.
Po Jun's inner qi surged, but he was not a martial artist after all.
A martial artist could sustain dozens of wounds and still fight fiercely. His inner qi was not adept at deflecting arrows, and an arrow struck the horse, causing it to collapse. As Po Jun fell, he instinctively clutched the battle spear to protect this divine weapon.
The old man had already galloped far ahead, but he gritted his teeth and tightened the reins.
The desert horse turned back, and the old man extended his hand, shouting, “Go!”
But the sand bandits had pounced like a pack of wild dogs, riding their small desert horses, much faster than Po Jun could mount, wielding curved blades that were more powerful than slender swords. Po Jun grimaced, feeling quite unlucky.
He propped himself up with the battle spear, this divine weapon should not fall here.
Po Jun's right hand gripped the slender sword, and he grinned, his beautiful eyes filled with a killing intent even more frenzied than that of the sand bandits. The Po Jun lineage, even in death, should ignite the flames of the entire world.
Behind these sand bandits, a line of torches rose; it was the Turkic cavalry. In such a situation, the sand bandits could only charge forward.
At that moment—
In the Listening Wind Pavilion, Li Guanyi happened to raise the battle spear in the illusion.
In the distant desert, this ancient weapon seemed to sense something.
It suddenly trembled, ‘falling’ forward, straight and decisive.
The charging sand bandits were cleaved in half, blood splattering on the ground. The swirling winds seemed to be stirred by the divine weapon, causing the sand bandits to freeze in their movements, their horses shaking their heads uneasily, unwilling to advance.
The sound of hooves approached.
Behind the sand bandits, the Turkic cavalry quickly closed in.
The sand bandits gritted their teeth, using their spiked boots to jab their mounts' bellies. The mounts cried out in pain and charged forward.
The howling wind rose, and the sand swirled. Po Jun could not see ahead, then the sand gathered, as if transforming into a hand, reaching deep from his shoulder, grasping the fallen weapon. The young strategist was stunned, watching the unseen master cross over him.
Li Guanyi completely merged his consciousness with that move of Xue Shenjiang.
Under the moonlight, a storm erupted in the desert, the heavy divine weapon turning autonomously.
In that memory scene, Li Guanyi's spirit, will, inner qi, and Dharma image all converged into this move, stirring up a great wave. If the waves were swept up by a storm, then the general wielding the battle spear should be the one to raise the storm of chaos in this turbulent world.
He gripped the battle spear.
In the distant desert, the divine weapon resonating with Li Guanyi and Xue Shenjiang naturally erupted with spirituality, stirring up a storm. The gathering sand seemed to take on a human form, and Po Jun saw ‘him’ raise the divine weapon, the spear's edge pointing forward, as if the legend was being reenacted.
After a pause, he swung the battle spear.
In the Listening Wind Pavilion, Li Guanyi mastered [Juan Tao].
And in the desert, the battle spear named [Tiger Roar of Heaven] swept across, its blade emitting a deep and majestic cry, the low roar of the tiger becoming domineering.
The storm ahead was torn apart.
The dozens of charging sand bandits continued to charge, but on their path, they were cleaved in half, blood spilling and dyeing the desert red. The foremost sand bandit’s head flew off, blood spraying far and wide, staining half of the young man's clothes red.
Under the moonlight, the battle spear fell before Po Jun, the wind sweeping across the desert, surrounded by corpses. The young man's eyes gazed ahead, and the guiding old man hurried over to pull him, but before they could leave, the raised torches had already enveloped the area.
The Turkic cavalry had arrived.
They rode warhorses, their armor not as refined as that of the Central Plains, but the rough iron armor carried a savage aura. One hand gripped the hilt of a heavy blade, while the other held a torch, the flames bright, as if to ignite the moon in the sky.
At the forefront was a young man, adorned with a jeweled circlet, observing this scene.
“...a sinister weapon.”
He commented, as the warhorses trod the desert, leaving burning traces behind. These mounts bore the bloodline of exotic beasts. The master of the seventh royal tent of the Turkic tribe looked at the weapon and the man before him, saying lightly, “Central Plains people.”
“What do you come here for?”
The slaughter between the grasslands and the Central Plains had not ceased for hundreds of years. Such words carried a murderous intent. The old man, pale-faced, knelt on the ground, surrounded by the heavy cavalry like hell's messengers, unable to speak. But Po Jun raised his gaze, calm as a guest, saying, “I come to deliver a gift.”
The Turkic seventh king showed little interest, saying, “Oh? A gift?”
“What kind of gift?”
Po Jun looked at him, replying, “The seventh king is not favored here; you yearn for achievements like the kings of the grasslands five hundred years ago, desire the submission of your subjects, and long for the woman you love, rather than watching her taken into your father's tent, needing to call her mother.”
The old man felt a chill run down his spine.
He nearly shouted out.
He wished he could grab a handful of blood-soaked sand and shove it into this Central Plains man's mouth to silence him.
The Turkic seventh king fixed his gaze on the man who spoke his innermost thoughts.
Under the moonlight, the man's eyes shone brightly, not from the moon's light, but like the wildfires and ambitions that seemed to consume the entire grassland, ignited by a single spark in the winter when the grass and trees withered. Po Jun smiled, saying:
“I can offer you a territory stretching a thousand miles to the west, making you the most renowned among your brothers. By then, your cattle and sheep will graze on the pastures of Tuyuhun, and you will enjoy the beauties and delicacies of the Western Regions, along with golden curved blades.”
“One day, everything you desire will return to your embrace, perhaps?”
Such words from this handsome Central Plains man sounded like the temptations of a demon in a story.
The Turkic seventh king asked, “What do you want?”
“I have but one wish.”
Po Jun grasped the now quiet divine weapon, showing no signs of change:
“I hope you can send me back to the Central Plains.”
“I want to meet someone. Regardless of the chaos of mountains and rivers, regardless of the long journey, I must go to fulfill my destined path.”
In the eyes of the guiding old man, the imposing and fierce grassland seventh king finally released the hilt of his blade, while the blood-stained man caressed the weapon, smiling slightly. His smile was serene, reflecting the light of the torches, carrying the flames that would consume the Western Regions.
Historically known as [Cunning and Ruthless], this young man revealed his fangs thereafter.
And in the Listening Wind Pavilion, Li Guanyi released his grip on the divine weapon, his face pale.
He had learned—
Li Guanyi closed his eyes.
Xue Family's Battle Spear Juan Tao.
Duke of Chen's Divine Spear Crushing Mountains.
Five hundred years ago, the two renowned generals, feared by the emperor of the Central Plains and referred to as [Majestic and Unyielding, Not Inferior to the Fierce Marquis], had their ultimate techniques converge in one person five hundred years later. Meanwhile, in the guest room of the Xue family, Changsun Wuchou raised his head to look outside, the starlight tranquil. He sighed:
“The stars are distant, the sky is peaceful; today is indeed a day of peace.”
The merchant brought a letter, picked up a pen, and wrote to the distant Phoenix beyond the border, recounting today's events.
“Second Miss.”
He paused, putting pen to paper.
“Li Guanyi has come back to life.”
(End of Chapter)