Nightfall

Hearing the distant sound of forces trying to breach the mountain, the crowd around the altar could not help but feel shocked. After all, this was no ordinary mountain – this was Peach Mountain. Yet their panic turned out to be short-lived.

The sounds of battle intensified. Smoke and dust from the fighting gathered into swarthy plumes. Even in the outer reaches of the mountain where the defenses were the weakest, the invading forces had already entered a tough battle. The strength of the invading party could be seen from this.

Any of the strongest warriors amongst those gathered, such as the Golden Tribe’s National Master and Qi Nian from Buddhism, needed only to glance at the smoke rising in the distance to draw this conclusion about the invader’s skills.

Ye Hongyu had already assembled two thousand Papal Cavalrymen in preparation to stamp the South Sea’s people into submission. Although the terrain made it impossible to charge through, people without sufficient strength still would not be able to break through. This made the audience curious about the identity of the invader, but not worried. Some of the Divine Priests even mocked silently, What kind of crazy cultivator who can’t even defeat the soldiers on the boundary tries to pick a fight with the famous fighters gathered here? They must be unbelievably stupid.

Since the invader was no cause for concern, the crowd’s attention returned to Chen Pipi, held captive on the altar of white stone. Everyone wanted to know how the Hierarch would respond to the Great Divine Priest of the South Sea’s interrogation – would he maintain his calm facade, or would he explode in rage?

An unexpected melody suddenly arose from the battlefield on the outer reaches of Peach Mountain. Although it came from far away, the clear notes of the song carried across to the mountain, instilling joy in the hearts of those who heard it. It was as if the song stretched across a thousand li of grassland.

Those around the altar pricked their ears up and looked towards the battlefield to listen to the sparse yet beautiful melody, imagining a young girl singing.

The invader was in the heat of battle, how would they be in the mood to sing?

The crowd soon drew their attention back to the valley. Only a few kept their eyes fixed on the battlefield, as if in a daze. Ye Hongyu stared quietly, betraying no emotion on her face. Hidden in the crowd, Ning Que began to regulate his breathing. On the altar, Chen Pipi stared at the source of the sound, and his right hand which held the bowl of water began trembling.

They knew the identity of the invader and also knew why they were singing. The Wild People all liked to sing, especially before a life-and-death battle, to build up their courage.

There were still people looking at the smoke.

Sang Sang stood before the Divine Hall of Light, looking down the mountain. At this point, the two nuns were in the hall and there was nobody else on the mountain. Sang Sang’s silhouette struck a lone figure.

Her gaze showed no emotion.

…

When they looked at the smoke and heard the beautiful song with its notes of iron conviction, the audience felt as if they were staring at thousands of iron-clad cavalry charging across the vast plains of the Wilderness.

Suddenly, a discordant noise disrupted the melody. It was a dull, deafening sound of a blow. One of the horses from the Papal Cavalry was suddenly thrown up into the air and ripped into chunks of flesh. Fresh blood spurted out, falling like a fine sheet of rain on the ground.

All those who heard the impact bore witness to the horse’s cruel end and heard the sound of the blood falling like raindrops on the ground. They could even hear the sickening noise of the horse’s flesh being torn apart.

The dull sounds of the blows came faster and faster. Now, all those gathered no longer thought that the invader was having a hard time fighting Peach Mountain’s defensive forces as they could hear the sounds clearly. Some of the noises were dull but others sounded like something breaking. With every blow, the invader seemed to break the armor of a Papal Cavalryman.

Since the blows sounded dull, the person must have been wielding a blunt weapon. The Papal Cavalrymen were covered in armor strengthened with runic symbols. Yet, the armor had been broken so easily. Even if the invader had some legendary weapon, how could they have such strength?

Apart from the Papal Cavalrymen thrown into the air, many more had toppled directly into the river of blood which had formed. Although they were out of sight from the crowd on Peach Mountain, the smoke was easily visible.

The surroundings of the altar became quiet. Nobody spoke a single word. After a long pause, a Deacon from the Divine Hall rushed to the scene and yelled, “Peach Mountain is under attack!”

It was the same Black-robed Deacon who had reported the situation at the beginning. At that time, his tone was loud but calm when he first reported that someone was attacking the mountain. Now, when he said that Peach Mountain was under attack, his voice had become desperate.

To say that the mountain was under attack was a matter-of-fact declaration. To say that Peach Mountain was under attack was a completely different matter, although there was only a difference of one word. This meant that the invader had already fought their way through its defences and now stood at the entrance of the heavily-defended Peach mountain.

Seated in the Sacred Sedan, Ye Hongyu ignored his cries.

The audience became worried, furrowing their brows and trying to guess the invader’s identity.

The smoke finally reached Peach mountain.

Two hundred Sacred Guards of West-Hill streamed towards the source with their swords in hand. These Sacred Guards were the Hierarch’s forces. Back then, they were led by Luokedi. Although they did not claim to be undefeatable, they were still undeniably tyrannical. When Ning Que encountered them in the Yuelun Kingdom’s Chaoyang City, he felt fear strike deep inside him.

The sounds of the blunt blows and sharp rips echoed before Peach Mountain, then slowly died down. It was obvious that the West-Hill divine forces had attained an absolute advantage. The pained expression on the face of the head of Revelation Institute relaxed a little, and the West-Hill officials relaxed their tense postures in relief.

At this moment, the invader’s song arose again. This melody was soft yet chilling, like slaughter and blood running through soft water weeds. As if by magic, silence again settled on the crowd and the sounds of battlefield intensified once again.

The disciples on the edge of the dais suddenly scattered to two sides in fright. Amongst the screaming, there were whistling sounds. Countless Sacred Guards of West-Hill were thrown into the air, then slammed into the faraway trees. With a smattering of sharp claps, the solid trees remained still, but the divine soldiers’ bodies were smashed into a bloody mess.

The guests of the West-Hill Divine Halls who had come to participate in the Rite to Light were unperturbed by this disturbing sight. They were sure that the invader’s skill had only reached the level of the Knowing Destiny State. For some reason, this person had decided to give this battle their all. Still, the dais of Peach Mountain was filled with countless expert masters and famous fighters, and the guests saw no need to worry.

Chen Pipi sat on the altar, staring intently at the battle. Seeing the silhouette flickering in the smoke, the colour drained from his face and his hands trembled more violently.

Ye Hongyu and Ning Que continued to watch.

In front of the Divine Hall of Light, Sang Sang looked neither down the mountain nor at the sky. She was staring towards the Chang’an in the North. Listening to the song from the foot at the mountain, she thought about how she had sung countless years ago to a certain person on the banks of a snowy river, although the song had no words and no melody.

Thinking back to that day, she found it a little ridiculous.

Suddenly, her expression changed. Just recently, she had found it ridiculous when Chen Pipi had moved to loosen his pants. Perhaps what she was thinking of now was not that funny or ridiculous after all – perhaps she had forgotten that emotion.

…

The Sacred Guards of West-Hill had been decimated.

A figure appeared before the dais in a gust of wind, shining in a gentle light.

The cast of luminous light seemed to be controlled by some external force. It suddenly spiked up some three metres off the ground. It seemed like someone was popping bubbles on the surface of the water with a twig.

The spike became brighter and brighter. With a clap, it transformed into a hole.

Who was this that could break through the Peach Mountain’s battle formations?

It was a very thick iron rod. Its surface had recently been melted; it was still covered with traces of molten iron. It seemed quite ugly, but indestructible.

The question was, what kind of force could have melted such a sturdy rod into this mess?

With one fell swoop, the rod scattered the Blow of Light, leaving a hole in the ground. Slowly, the smoke from the battlefield started to seep out of the hole. It was a strange, magical sight.

A silhouette appeared in the smoke.

Suddenly, a flying sword appeared, charging down the mountain.

The sword came from an elderly Divine Priest.

Ning Que had first seen this Divine Priest when he entered the West-Hill Divine Hall. The priest was responsible for checking if there were any cultivators present. Even though he had attained the Knowing Destiny State, he still attempted to use an ambush.

The person in the smoke did not turn to face the attack, and instead simply waved the iron rod lightly. It somehow made direct contact with the sword, which promptly broke into two.

That old Divine Priest fell on the ground, coughing up blood.

The same officer who had reported the situation before now kneeled before the Divine Sedan. His voice was nothing more than a trembling whisper as he delivered his latest report. “The invader has made their way inside.”

Everyone looked towards the subsiding smoke. The mood was heavy, laden with tension.

All who were present were strong cultivators. Even if the opponent were any stronger, they would not be shaken. The intruder was obviously a student of the dissolved Devil’s Doctrine sect. As long as it was not the Twenty-Three Year Cicada, there was no need to fear. If it was indeed the Twenty-Three Year Cicada at the mountain, why would the battle be so bloody and long-drawn?

Still, they found it hard to remain calm. What they felt was shock, and even respect for the invader.

This was not because the person could overcome two lines of defense and the Blow of Light, but because of how their power seemed to have grown. In the early stages of battle, their strength was formidable, but not a match against the forces of the West-Hill Divine Halls. After the long, arduous battle, the invader’s power had not weakened. In fact, it seemed to have grown much stronger by multiple levels by the time they stood before Peach Mountain.

Buddhist philosophies spoke of the pursuit of enlightenment, while the followers of the Devil’s Doctrine sought to claim victory by sowing discord and waging war continuously. Yet these battles had been over in a flash, how had this person done it?

Other than the legend of the Academy’s senior student Mu Zhiming, when had the world of cultivation been shaken to this extent? Who was this person?

Chen Pipi looked at the figure in the smoke. His body shook so violently that water spilled out of his bowl and made his clothes wet. He knew who the invader was and he also knew that she sang not just to give herself courage, but to remind him to have faith.

She was using the song to send him a message: Hold on a little longer, I’m here.

In the crowd, Ning Que looked at the ground beneath his feet. In the Divine Sedan, Ye Hongyu silently stretched out her right hand to grip her sword.

The smoke subsided to reveal a small, graceful figure.

Her shining, jet-black braid trailed behind her in the wind.

The animal skins she wore had been torn and cut by countless swords.

Her body was covered in bleeding wounds. Blood dripped to the floor.

Her name was Tang Xiaotang.

She came from Chang’an City, a thousand miles away.

She looked battered and bruised, but still majestic.

She looked at the West-Hill Hierarch and asked, “Who dares to say that the Academy has no one?”

She turned her head towards the young South Sea girl before the altar and asked, “Who dares to steal my man?”

…