Unorthodox Wuxia: While Others Practice Martial Arts, I Cultivate Immortality - Chapter 29

Chapter 29: The Hidden Secret

Yuan Zhao and her men had been guarding the western entrance for more than half an hour.

Suddenly, Old Wolf’s ears pricked up. After twitching twice, he let out a low growl.

Yuan Zhao instantly understood his meaning and immediately whispered to the soldiers: “Everyone, someone’s coming.”

The soldiers instantly perked up, gripped their weapons tightly, and stood on full alert.

Sure enough, before long, they heard the hurried sound of footsteps.

The moment a figure stepped out of the passage, Yuan Zhao swung the Heaven’s Prison Blade down.

But to her surprise, the man reacted with astonishing speed—just as the massive blade descended, he crossed his arms above his head in defense.

When the blade struck, a teeth-aching metallic clang rang out, sparks flew where steel met flesh.

If it had been daylight, Yuan Zhao would have seen the man’s arms covered in brown, scale-like patterns resembling a lizard’s hide.

The intruder was none other than Yang Fei, head of the Sha Long Gang.

Forced back several steps by the blow, Yang Fei shouted: “Who is there?” But in his heart he was deeply shocked.

Even their hidden escape tunnel was ambushed—there had to be a traitor. Second brother must also be trapped. Could it really have been Third Sister?

“The one who’s going to take your dog life.” Yuan Zhao wasted no words. She charged forward, her great blade sweeping out with a gale of force.

The gust alone toppled Yang Fei’s followers, who screamed as they were hurled to the ground. Seizing the moment, the Liang soldiers rushed in, weapons flashing. Old Wolf also leapt with a savage snarl.

The night filled with the clash of steel, battle cries, screams, wolf howls, and the sound of rending flesh.

At the same time, Yuan Zhao and Yang Fei were locked in fierce combat.

Yang Fei’s scaled fists hammered relentlessly against the descending blade. The Heaven’s Prison Blade rang like a bell, its thick body dented with shallow fist imprints.

The backlash numbed Yuan Zhao’s arms and hands. As expected of a first-rank martial warrior.

Sizing her up, Yang Fei sneered between strikes: “A mere second-rank dares block my path? Overestimating yourself!” With that, his attacks became even more ferocious.

Yuan Zhao braced her blade before her, but the sheer force of his punches drove her back step by step.

When her back nearly hit a massive boulder, she suddenly braced both feet against it, springing forward and forcing Yang Fei back with a powerful slash across his chest.

He grunted and staggered back several paces, but when Yuan Zhao looked—his body bore no wound.

‘Anyone else would’ve been cleaved in two by that strike.’

‘Such terrifying defense!’ Yuan Zhao’s heart sank.

Yang Fei only laughed: “Fine blade work. But too bad you met me. We’ll part ways for now—next time, I’ll settle this debt!”

Clearly, he was more concerned with fleeing than continuing the fight.

But Yuan Zhao roared: “Think you can leave? Not a chance!”

She launched her Swallow’s Shadow Skimming Waves movement art, her figure blurring like smoke until she appeared before him in the blink of an eye, her blade slashing straight at his face.

Yang Fei was caught off guard, shocked by her speed. He quickly raised a fist to block.

Clang!

Blade met fist. The Heaven’s Prison Blade shuddered, its edge curling slightly.

Both were forced back by the shockwave. Yang Fei scowled: “D**n brat, so troublesome. Must I kill you here and now?”

Yuan Zhao set her blade across her chest. “If you can, then try.”

Yang Fei’s anger turned to laughter. “Good, good, good! It’s been years since I’ve met such an arrogant junior. If I don’t kill you, how can I vent my hatred?”

So what if it’s Mo Guanshan? he thought darkly. We’re both first-rank. Victory is still undecided!

With that, he lunged again.

Boom!

His fist slammed into the blade, blasting Yuan Zhao back dozens of feet. The terrifying force rippled through the steel, surging into her arms and rattling her whole body. Her bones felt as if they would shatter.

By instinct, spiritual energy from her dantian surged through her meridians, protecting her flesh—otherwise, she would’ve died on the spot.

“Pffft—” She spat blood, unable to contain it.

So this is the true strength of a first-rank warrior… I underestimated him, Yuan Zhao thought bitterly.

When she’d faced Xiao Hong before, she’d always had the option to retreat, which gave her leverage to negotiate. But now—she had no such advantage.

If she let Yang Fei escape, it would be like releasing a tiger back to the mountain.

***

Meanwhile, Lang Mingyue confronted Hong Tao.

The moment Hong Tao saw him, realization dawned on his face. “No wonder Mo Guanshan found us… Lang dog, you’re still alive?”

Lang Mingyue stood with his long sword on his back, his white hair flowing like ghostfire in the night. He looked like a vengeful spirit risen from hell.

He sneered: “You swine live on—how could I die?”

“Cut the crap. If you’re alive, then what of Third Sister?” Hong Tao demanded.

“You want to know?” Lang Mingyue’s eyes glinted coldly. “Go ask her in the underworld!”

With that, he drew his sword and lunged, thrusting straight for Hong Tao’s brow.

Hong Tao only sneered. “You think you can kill me? Overconfident fool.”

Even as the words left his mouth, he sank swiftly into the sand beneath his feet—vanishing without a trace.

This was his famed technique: Wave-Turning Sand.

Lang Mingyue knew something of his skills. He unleashed eighty-one rapid sword strikes, each like driving rain, slashing the ground to flush him out.

But he still underestimated his foe.

As soon as Lang Mingyue’s sword light faded, Hong Tao reappeared like a phantom behind him, striking toward his back.

Lang Mingyue had sensed it just in time. He whipped his sword back, intercepting the blow.

Bang!

Palm met steel, and both were driven back.

Hong Tao smirked. “Not bad. Seems following my Third Sister all these years gave you some skill after all.”

At the mention of Man Li, Lang Mingyue’s fury erupted. “Silence! Don’t you dare mention that wench again!”

He lunged again, sword aimed for Hong Tao’s throat.

But Hong Tao only laughed wildly, vanishing once more into the sand. His mocking voice echoed through the night: “If I don’t mention her, does that erase the past? Even if my sister is dead, once her dog—always her dog. A lowly mutt for anyone to beat and humiliate!”

Lang Mingyue’s old wounds tore open, his spirit shaken. Pain stabbed his skull as if Man Li herself were standing before him again.

Hong Tao’s laughter rolled like thunder in his ears, each word digging deeper: “You don’t know, do you? When Third Sister told me and Big Brother your pathetic story, we were overjoyed. If only we’d been there to watch you break, to see your spirit shatter! That sight—ah, it must’ve been truly delightful! Truly delightful! Hahahaha!”

“Ahhh!!!”

Riled up by Hong Tao’s taunts, Lang Mingyue’s mind unraveled further. Clutching his head, he screamed in anguish.

Just then, Hong Tao appeared silently behind him and struck with his palm.

Pffft—

Lang Mingyue was sent flying, blood spraying from his mouth in heavy gushes.

His body was already frail, and this palm left him gravely wounded.

But the strike also jolted his mind back to clarity.

Now his eyes burned scarlet, glaring at Hong Tao with unbridled hatred.

Suddenly, his expression hardened, as though making a desperate decision. From his robes, he pulled out three silver needles.

Had Yuan Zhao been present, she would have instantly recognized them—these were the very needles Man Li used to trigger the Tian Kui Art.

Lang Mingyue had secretly kept them all along.

Without hesitation, he stabbed the three needles into the acupoints at his crown, nape, and spine.

In the next instant, madness overtook his face. Drawing his sword, he lunged at Hong Tao with lightning speed.

Hong Tao’s expression changed drastically—he knew all too well how terrifying Lang Mingyue became once driven by the Tian Kui Art.

But this power came at the cost of his own life span. That was why Doctor Hu had once said Lang Mingyue bore the signs of premature decline.

Facing Lang Mingyue, now almost at the strength of a first-rank warrior, Hong Tao dared not meet him head-on.

Yet even with his speed, he failed to evade—before he could move, Lang Mingyue’s sword had already severed one of his arms.

“AAAHHHH!!!”

Hong Tao’s scream tore through the night, gone was his earlier ease of a cat toying with a mouse.

***

Meanwhile, inside the Sha Long Gang’s lair, Mo Guanshan and his elite troops had slaughtered nearly all the resisting bandits. Against such ruthless criminals, Mo showed no mercy.

Those who surrendered were bound and guarded.

Then Mo Guanshan discovered the gang’s treasury.

When he saw chest after chest of silver and gold, even he was shaken.

He had expected a hoard, but not this much.

“Marshal…” gasped one of his subordinates, equally stunned.

“How much do you reckon?” Mo Guanshan asked.

The subordinates hesitated before answering, “At least a hundred thousand taels!”

“One hundred thousand taels…” Mo muttered, his expression shifting.

Suddenly, something in the corner caught his eye—a wooden chest.

Opening it, he froze.

Inside lay weapons, and on the hilt of one was engraved a circular crest.

If Yuan Zhao had been there, she would have recognized it instantly—it was identical to the pattern embroidered on the headscarf she used to wrap her coins.

Shoving the weapon back into the chest, Mo’s face twisted with fury. “I knew it! I knew it—d**ned Emperor!”

The soldiers around him blanched and quickly warned: “Marshal, beware your words!”

Mo snarled, “And I wondered why our years of bandit hunts always came to nothing. So it was all His Majesty’s doing! Sun Zhang must be in on it too—he’s likely the one feeding the bandits our movements!”

Sun Zhang was another general of Blackstone City. Though ranked beneath Mo Guanshan, his appointment came directly from the Emperor, and for years he had been a thorn in Mo’s side.

“Good thing we kept this operation secret from that cur, or we’d have failed again,” one subordinate said with relief.

Mo barked, “Search! There’s more hidden here—I’m certain of it!”

Another subordinate stepped forward, bowing. “Marshal, leave this to me. I am skilled in such matters.”

Mo nodded.

The man carefully examined the treasury, tapping shelves and walls. Soon, he found something odd.

“Marshal, here—this wall is hollow. But I’ve yet to find the mechanism.”

“No need for tricks,” Mo said, hefting his great crescent blade.

With one mighty swing, he smashed the wall open.

Amid the rubble, a small wooden box appeared.

A soldier quickly fetched it and handed it to Mo.

He opened it to find a thick ledger.

Flipping through it, his face darkened with rage.

“Outrageous! Absolutely outrageous! And he dares call himself Emperor? So it’s true—His Majesty is in league with the bandits! Year after year the treasury is empty, while he wallows in luxury. And I wondered where the money came from… so this is it!”

“Marshal, calm yourself. Surely the Emperor has been misled by treacherous ministers!” another subordinate tried to soothe.

“Misled? He knows better than anyone—who could possibly deceive him?!” Mo’s fury erupted.

The Sha Long Gang was not the only bandit clan tied to the Emperor. A single gang could never have produced such wealth for his indulgence.

The soldiers dared not speak further.

After a long breath, Mo closed the ledger and tossed it back into the chest.

“Quickly—send this to the capital. Deliver it in secret to the Empress herself! Leave at once, without delay!”

“Yes, Marshal!” Two soldiers lifted the chest and hurried off.

Mo sighed heavily. “Let us hope we are not too late…”

He had long suspected such corruption—that was partly why he had stationed Yuan Zhao and Lang Mingyue at the escape routes.

Such secrets could never be entrusted to wandering swordsmen.

***

Meanwhile, outside, Yuan Zhao was still locked in a desperate battle.

Yang Fei’s hardened body arts made him nearly invulnerable to brute force.

So she tossed aside the Heaven’s Prison Blade.

Yang Fei laughed scornfully. “What’s this? Throwing away your weapon—ready to bare your neck?”

But before his laughter faded, Yuan Zhao struck with her palms.

He tried to dodge—only to find his feet sinking into sand, unable to move.

Her speed was breathtaking. In a blink, she was upon him, darting around him like a soaring swallow, her palms raining down in dozens of strikes, executing the Heaven-Sweeping Hand.

Her Swallow’s Shadow Skimming Waves footwork was too fast—before Yang Fei could free himself, Yuan Zhao’s assault had already ended.