Chapter 171: Ji You’s Arrow and Sword
The Barbaric Race was a fusion of disparate tribes, a people of differing bloodlines and scattered customs, bound together by neither a shared culture nor a unified spirit. To the eyes of the human race, who themselves were riven by factional strife, the notion that such a fractured people could unite and rise to power seemed nothing more than the fevered dream of a madman.
Yet, reality spoke otherwise. The ruling elders of the Barbaric Race had forged their unity upon a single, blazing ambition—to reclaim the Nine Provinces and see the azure sky once more.
A mere hundred miles separated their lands from those of the humans, yet the difference was stark. To the south, verdant plains stretched without end, while beneath their feet lay desolate wastelands where not even the hardiest of grasses would grow. The lands were infested with venomous creatures, the air thick with the scent of death. The tribes of the Ten Thousand Beast Mountains longed to return, to stand once more beneath a sky untainted by suffering.
Thus, the war raged on. For centuries, the Cold Iron Pass bore the brunt of their ceaseless assaults. Though they failed to break through, they never ceased their efforts. Battle after battle, they honed their warriors and wove their kin into an unbreakable force, like iron reforged in an endless cycle of fire and blood. Their existence became a war machine, where the pulse of combat was the only rhythm of life they knew.
For the human race, communication between command and ranks was a challenge akin to reaching immortality. The sheer weight of bureaucracy, much like the corrupt taxes that bled Great Xia’s treasury dry, ensured that orders were often twisted by greed before reaching their destination.
Thus, when the Immortal Overseer Office first encountered the Barbaric Race’s ability to relay intelligence with near-instantaneous efficiency, they were taken aback. A single missing scout was enough to alert the higher echelons. To human commanders, this was an enigma beyond comprehension, but to the Barbaric Race, it was second nature. No longer were they the cowed, fleeing wretches of the Primordial Era. Extreme deprivation had shaped them into warriors of relentless discipline.
——
In the rattling carriage, Ji You lifted the curtain and peered into the night, his gaze sharp as a drawn blade. The galloping of hooves echoed through the vast darkness, their rhythm merging with the whispering wind. A realization struck him then—a shared kinship between himself and the Barbaric Race.
He, too, had been shaped by suffering. Three years in Yuyang County, surviving on wild vegetables, witnessing death and graves covering the mountains, had forged within him an impulse to slay, a disregard for life—even his own. Rescuing Qiu Ru, marching to Qiling, storming Feng Prefecture—each act fueled by the same fervor. Death was but an afterthought.
As his eyes narrowed, he felt the approach of countless hostile auras. Then came the storm of hooves, crashing through the night like rolling thunder.
From all sides, riders emerged—shadowy figures streaking through the darkness. Their coarse furs fluttered in the wind, their eerie, green-glowing eyes filled with murderous intent.
Bows drawn. Arrows nocked.
Humm!—
The shriek of arrows splitting the air shattered the silence. Like a stone plunging into still waters, the tranquil night erupted into chaos. A torrent of arrows poured forth from all directions, an obsidian tide set to drown the caravan in death. The gleaming arrowheads flashed silver in the moonlight, a grim constellation against the void.
The Barbaric Race, born with strength beyond human limits, wielded mighty bows crafted to match their monstrous might.
But the caravan was not unprepared. The defensive artifacts beneath the carriages flared to life, unleashing violent currents of spiritual energy. A luminous barrier surged upward, intercepting the deadly rain.
Boom! Boom!
The repeated impact of steel and sorcery sent shockwaves rippling through the night. The carriages trembled wildly, jolted like lone ships amidst a raging storm. The emissaries inside clutched the walls, their expressions tight with dread.
The Deputy Warden of the Immortal Overseer Office had been right. Their presence had been exposed.
Within mere hours, the Barbaric Race had tracked them, piecing together the clues left by the disappearance of their soldiers. Scouts had been closing in from all four directions, converging precisely where the caravan now traveled.
As arrows were deflected, the whistle of something sharper followed.
——
Two figures descended gracefully from the sky—Jiang Yan and Yan Qiu Bai. Their forms shimmered with radiance as they landed atop the leading carriage, their light skirts rippling in the wind.
“They are merely scouting riders, those who had been patrolling the outskirts before converging here,” Jiang Yan murmured. “It seems our missing soldier theory was correct.”
“We scouted the route ahead. The strongest among them is at the Upper Soldier Realm, with roughly twenty warriors of similar strength. The rest are of Mid and Lower Soldier Realms.”
“The heaviest concentration is to the southwest. The western path leads closer to their main camp, making either route perilous.”
Tracking their location through vanished scouts was neither precise nor immediate, but now that they had been pinpointed, stronger forces would soon arrive.
The moment to act was now.
Peng Dong Yang exchanged glances with the elders and declared, “We head east first, shake off the pursuit, then veer northwest toward the Snowy Expanse.”
One elder cast his spiritual sense outward, scanning the riders giving chase. “We must cut down the vanguard before they gather in full force. A delay will bring our doom.”
“Agreed.”
“Then—leave none alive.”
——
A deafening explosion rang out, its reverberations like a divine hammer upon the earth. From the flanking carriages, figures leapt into the fray, each one a storm of spiritual energy.
At the vanguard, Gong Shu Chou was the first to act. His Dao Sword ignited with blinding brilliance as he met a charging foe—an iron-clad Barbarian Warrior who had launched into the air, spear poised like a dragon leaping from the sea.
Clang!—
Blade met spear in a clash that sent shockwaves rippling outward. The sheer force of their collision churned the very air.
All around, warriors sprang into battle—Jiang Chen Feng, Huo Hong, Chu Bu Tian, Tu Xu, Jiang Yue Rou, Xiao Han Yan, Shi Jun Hao—each a star descending upon the battlefield, radiating power like celestial beings made flesh. They turned, facing the incoming storm of hooves and fury with blades drawn and spirits unshaken.
The night blazed with the dance of swords and the roar of battle, where the collision of steel sparked ephemeral fireworks beneath the heavens.
Gong Shu Chou’s sword trembled with fierce resolve, striking upward with the force of a tempest, sending the long spear before him into the sky. The energy within his blade surged, poised to descend like the wrath of the heavens.
Yet at that very moment, a deep, resonant hum cut through the darkness to his right. His pupils contracted—instinct forced him to retract his blade and twist away, retreating like a wisp of smoke.
A dozen arrows, each imbued with formidable energy, tore through the night. Hidden in the shadows, their lethal intent was masked by the cover of darkness.
The barbarians, warriors of the Upper Soldier Realm, were accompanied by their mid-ranked kin, who wielded bows drawn taut with their unnatural strength. Their sheer might alone was enough to defy mystical arts, for when raw power reached its zenith, even the most refined techniques could be shattered.
Among them, one barbarian bore an unnatural trait—an extra set of arms sprouting from his back. With his upper hands, he gripped a black bow, while his lower hands pulled the bowstring back like a full moon. His savage glare burned with a ferocity that made even seasoned warriors curse their fate.
Years of warfare had forged the barbarians into a force of seamless coordination. Their ability to act as one, moving in perfect unison, was enough to send chills down the spine of any mortal foe.
Gong Shu Chou’s sword sang, its waves of force shattering the oncoming arrows. Yet before he could catch his breath, the iron spear returned, cutting through the wind like a ghostly whisper, lunging straight for him once more.
Just then, a single arrow streaked forth from three inches above Ji You’s left shoulder, its spiritual energy condensed into a piercing force that refused to be denied.
With a thunderous impact, the barbarian holding the iron spear felt his grip falter—his tiger’s mouth split open from the shock, forcing him to clench his teeth in pain. His momentum was broken in an instant.
Upon the roof of a moving carriage stood Ji You, his figure tall and unmoving. He wielded a mighty bow, his arm muscles taut like coiled steel. Every fiber of his being thrummed with power, enough to rend through flesh and bone with ease.
Without hesitation, he loosed another arrow. It whistled through the air before burying itself deep into the skull of the barbarian’s warhorse. The beast collapsed instantly, its body swallowed by the retreating night, never uttering a final cry.
A bow of exquisite craftsmanship had long rested within Ji You’s storage gourd—the most expensive bow from Celestial Splendor Pavilion. A gift from Yan Shu Yi during his journey to Qiling Town, meant for self-defense. He had once used it to slay many Malignant Beings, yet he had not drawn it again until now. No grand battles had necessitated its use—until this moment.
He did not know why Gong Shu Chou had always shown him goodwill. But to wield Spirit Sword Mountain’s bow in aid of its disciples—was that not proper justice?
Ji You drew another arrow, golden light flashing in his eyes, though beneath that radiance, there was a hint of reluctance.
[Once loosed, these arrows cannot be retrieved…]
“Hah! Truly worthy of the man who nearly killed me!”
“What a shot!”
Gong Shu Chou roared in exhilaration, his blade surging forth. He struck down the spear-wielding barbarian with a mighty blow before plunging into battle once more.
His shout echoed across the battlefield, drawing the attention of the Dao Fusion Realm warriors locked in combat. Though their foes were only Upper Soldier Realm, their physical resilience made them difficult to break in a short exchange.
And with every clash, the sky rained with arrows of terrifying force, disrupting their focus.
But as Gong Shu Chou’s voice rang out—
“Good shot!”
—many turned their gazes toward Ji You upon the carriage.
Whoosh!
Another arrow flew. The bowstring quivered violently.
The opposing warhorse fell lifelessly to the ground. A Mid Soldier Realm barbarian, caught mid-draw, crashed into the night, swallowed by the retreating darkness.
Ji You’s arrows struck true. Even the resilient spear-wielding barbarian, whose flesh could withstand blades, was now a bloodied mess. Before he could thrust his spear again, a sword cleaved him apart.
Ji You did not pause. Again, he drew back his bow, and once more, an arrow pierced through a warhorse’s skull.
A barbarian, thrown from his steed, rolled through the dirt. He roared in fury, baring his jagged fangs as he watched the carriage vanish into the distance, his comrades in relentless pursuit.
He reached for the arrow lodged in his fallen horse, intent on wielding it as a weapon—but as he pulled, his expression twisted in shock.
The arrow had not merely punctured the horse—it had nailed its head to the ground.
In the distance, Jiang Chen Feng, Huo Hong, Jiang Yue Rou, Xiao Han Yan, Shi Jun Hao, and the others observed Ji You’s relentless archery with complex expressions.
“I thought once he was exposed, a mere Mystic Enlightenment Realm cultivator would be of little use… but he has a bow?”
“A fine bow indeed…”
“He came prepared,” one murmured. “A bow, a sword—he compensates well for his lack of cultivation. As long as he keeps his distance, he might just survive.”
Steel clashed as Shi Jun Hao repelled an Upper Soldier Realm barbarian. But before he could press forward, dozens of arrows forced him to retreat, abandoning his attempt to breach their defenses.
He scowled as he caught sight of Ji You atop the carriage, bow in hand.
[As fellow disciples of the Heavenly Script Academy, should he not be aiding us? Instead, he lends his strength to a Spirit Sword Mountain disciple?]
Xiao Han Yan shared the same displeasure. She called out sharply to Ji You, yet he remained unresponsive, irritation flaring between her brows.
Yet amidst the chaos, Ji You’s face was like a placid lake, untouched by the turmoil around him. The spiritual energy within his body coursed into his bowstring, his fingers growing quicker, his arrows relentless.
He was but one man—splitting his focus would be his downfall.
His priority was to disrupt the pursuit, forcing the enemy to lose direction. If the main forces converged here, their survival would be uncertain.
Thus, he did not aim for the barbarians themselves.
He aimed for their horses.
Barbarians could deflect arrows—but their steeds could not.
Ji You furrowed his brows and loosed another arrow. The wind shrieked as it cut through, piercing its target with absolute finality.
Yet in the veil of the silent night, two grotesque shadows burst forth from either side of the carriage, eyes glinting with murderous intent.
These were not pursuers from behind. They had lurked in the flanks, awaiting an opportunity. Upon seeing Ji You rain destruction upon their brethren, their killing intent boiled over. They leaped from horseback, soaring toward him.
And the first to notice—was not Ji You.
The taut string of the bow thrummed as Ji You loosed arrow after arrow, each shot felling a steed, each strike lending support to Gong Shu Chou, whose sword danced like a tempest against the enemy.
Thus, it was Jiang Chen Feng, Jiang Yue Rou, Huo Hong, and the disciples of the Heavenly Script Academy, Xiao Han Yan and Shi Jun Hao, who first bore witness to the unfolding scene.
To survive without allowing the enemy to draw near—such was the judgment of all.
Time and again, Ji You had emerged from battle battered, the price of victory against a single Upper Soldier Realm warrior costly and precarious.
But now, two warriors of the Upper Soldier Realm surged toward him at once.
And yet, Jiang Chen Feng and the others did not move to aid him. Instead, they focused on breaking the enemy’s ranks before them. Even Xiao Han Yan and Shi Jun Hao, fellow disciples of the Heavenly Script Academy, held their ground.
“To shake off the pursuit of the barbarians is the greater task.”
“Why should a cultivator at the Mystic Enlightenment Stage involve himself in such peril?”
“We’ve long seen that he barely holds his own. The road ahead grows ever more treacherous—we cannot always intervene. A burden like this is better discarded.”
“Standing atop the carriage makes him far too conspicuous…”
The night was thick, ink-black, drowning the battlefield in the haze of uncertainty. The Heaven’s Chosen among them turned slightly, already envisioning a gruesome demise beneath the stars.
But then, in that dire moment, a sword’s cry shattered the darkness—
A surge of sword qi, bright and unrelenting, split the heavens, lancing toward the two charging barbarian warriors. Its force howled like a celestial decree, descending upon them with crushing might.
Dao Sword: Little Overlapping Mountain.
A muffled impact rang out. The two warriors, blades raised, found themselves abruptly driven downward by the sheer force, their airborne forms dipping three inches as their iron sabers trembled under the weight of that strike.
The spectators had barely grasped what had transpired when Ji You, a lone figure against the night, erupted with untamed sword intent. In an instant, he soared skyward, his sword surging forth like waves upon waves, relentless and deep.
The sheer pressure of his aura rattled the very frame of the carriage, the wood creaking in protest, on the verge of collapse.
Clang!
The barbarian warriors, straining against their faltering stance, exchanged glances of shock. Without hesitation, they withdrew, shifting sideways to evade. With nothing left to impede its descent, Ji You’s sword qi carved a great gash into the earth, sending dirt and debris flying.
Yet the warriors did not falter.
They landed in the dust, only to spring forth anew, launching themselves toward Ji You with renewed ferocity.
But he was ready.
In the brief moment before they reached him, his bow had already been drawn, the taut string singing with stored energy. His fingers loosened, and the arrow streaked forth—a black streak of death.
It struck one warrior’s iron saber, not his heart as intended. The barbarians had long learned that their weakest point lay in their chests, their arms and skulls thick with natural armor. But no strike could ever be perfectly placed.
Sparks erupted as the arrowhead met steel.
Yet the barbarian warrior’s heart pounded in disbelief—the impact alone had robbed him of momentum, sending him crashing backward, unable to advance.
At the same time, Ji You retreated midair, his feet gliding as spiritual energy surged beneath them. He widened the gap between himself and the remaining foe. Then, with a flourish of his blade, seven swords rose into the night, each gleaming with lethal purpose.
With a single downward stroke, the clash resounded—
The enemy’s iron saber, battered and overwhelmed, snapped asunder.
A sword plunged into the barbarian’s chest, its edge carving deep. Blood spurted from his lips as his body was hurled away.
It was one of the Four Swords of the Spirit Sword Mountain Sect, the keenest of its kind—
New Willow Color.
Without pause, Ji You snatched a spirit sword, nocking it upon his bowstring. The tension of the draw infused the blade with sword qi, pulsing with condensed power.
Then, he loosed.
The second barbarian, still reeling from his earlier setback, barely had time to react before the storm descended upon him.
From the twin arcs of flashing steel to the blood that rained from the sky, it had all happened in the blink of an eye—far too swift, beyond comprehension.
Silence blanketed the battlefield.
Jiang Chen Feng was struck speechless.
Jiang Yue Rou’s gaze shimmered with disbelief.
Others, too, turned their eyes toward Ji You, unable to fathom what they had just witnessed.
No one had imagined that two Upper Soldier Realm warriors could be dispatched so effortlessly.
“Wasn’t he barely able to scrape by against just one before? Now against two… How?”
“Because wielding a sword is always stronger than fighting with bare fists.”
In the hush of the night, Jiang Yan and Yan Qiu Bai murmured, their voices carried away by the wind.
The length of one’s blade determines their strength—more so for the human race, whose fragile bodies pale in comparison to the barbarian’s sheer might. The role of weaponry could not be overstated.
But why did these words surface now? Before they could dwell on it, another voice rose with eerie calm—
“There was a day when we examined the corpses you brought back… The one killed by Ji You was strange. No sword wounds, only a collapsed chest—”
“In the center of that ruin was a single, flawless fist imprint.”
“The marks of his knuckles were clear, as if they had pulverized the heart, forcing the blood to surge from the eyes, ears, and mouth…”
“…”
“… So his previous struggles… They were not because he lacked strength. He simply hadn’t drawn his sword.”
“And now, he has.”
The wind carried their whispers, and the faces of Jiang Chen Feng and the others shifted subtly.
Just his body alone.
The battle they had thought arduous had been nothing but the strength of flesh and bone.
And now, he had begun to wield his sword.
Jiang Yan and Yan Qiu Bai remained transfixed upon his silhouette. Though they had steeled themselves for this realization, it did nothing to quell their astonishment.
There were many ways for one’s body to attain strength—
A rare elixir, a fabled artifact, a technique forged through years of discipline…
But none of them changed the simple truth—
Ji You had only now begun to truly fight.
None had witnessed the battle firsthand; only the fist imprints upon the corpses bore silent testament to the struggle. Thus, no one could make a definitive judgment.
Jiang Yan and Yan Qiu Bai had long deliberated upon seeing the bodies that Ji You had brought back. They pondered deeply, questioning why he would engage the barbaric tribes in direct combat instead of wielding his blade.
The most plausible explanation remained unknown—perhaps Ji You’s fists simply outmatched his sword. It was possible that amidst the chaos, his sword had been knocked away, leaving him no choice but to fight barehanded. Yet, such reasoning had flaws. Could his sword truly be disarmed so easily, battle after battle? Regardless, it seemed the most reasonable assumption.
Not until they beheld the sword qi piercing the heavens did they realize—the blade in Ji You’s hand was far stronger than even his flesh.
Cultivators possessed keen senses, and Ji You, too, caught the whispers carried upon the wind. His head turned slightly, eyes flickering with intrigue.
He had never expected anyone to scrutinize the corpses he left behind, for unlike him, these individuals had no need to search for coin pouches.
As his thoughts churned, two more figures came hurtling through the night. Ji You turned, summoning his sword once more. A single stroke split the firmament, illuminating the ten directions in resplendent light before crashing down like the judgment of heaven itself.
“That is Elder Qi’s sword from Spirit Sword Mountain,” someone murmured. “Senior Brother Gong Shu once said that during his seclusion, Ji You had ventured into the Sword Forest of Heavenly Sword Peak, learning its secrets in a single pass.”
“Yet… I never imagined he could be this strong.”
“Elder Qi is a recluse, dwelling in the mountains, never leaving his domain. None have witnessed him unleash his full might in decades. Even the sword qi within the Sword Forest is merely a weakened shadow of his true power. And yet… this is terrifying.”
Under the veil of night, Yan Qiu Bai could not help but murmur in awe.
Meanwhile, atop the grand carriage, Elder Ge of the Heavenly Script Academy raised his gaze, staring intently at the lone figure amidst the storm of sword qi. He was not one to meddle in affairs unnecessarily, yet he had heard much of Ji You’s name.
The academy housed countless disciples, its elders numbering many, yet few harbored fondness for this youth.
Before their departure, emissaries from the Hall of Longevity and the Hall of Purity had come bearing gifts, entreating him to safeguard Shi Jun Hao and Xiao Han Yan. But no such concern was spared for Ji You.
On the contrary, whispers from powerful clans—some with ties to Elder Ge himself—had subtly suggested that it would not be unwelcome if Ji You perished beyond the borders.
Slaughter, beheadings, blatant disregard for rules.
His actions in Feng Prefecture had been too ruthless.
Yet, setting aside these matters, Ji You was the kind of disciple any immortal sect would admire. Had he been born into an ancient lineage, powerful figures would have surely invested heavily in his future.
“What a sword…”
“Truly, you never disappoint.”
Ji You remained standing at the front of the carriage, countless voices singing praises in his wake.
It had to be said—Gong Shu Chou truly possessed a knack for offering emotional validation.
Ji You had just repelled another barbarian warrior who had leapt onto the carriage roof. Now, Gong Shu Chou once again raised his bow, not yet fully drawn, when an overwhelming sense of peril suddenly surged through him. His spiritual consciousness expanded outward in an instant.
Terrifyingly, he could detect nothing.
In that very moment—
A sharp whistle split the air.
Tu Xu, a barbarian of the Upper Soldier Realm, had just been cleaved by a sword stroke when his body abruptly stiffened. An arrow, swift as a thunderbolt, had pierced his left shoulder, sending him flying.
The first to react was the elder of the Dao Seeking Sect. His face darkened as he stepped into the night, braving the howling wind to retrieve Tu Xu. His gaze snapped toward the southeast.
In the far distance, eight figures strode forth, each a warrior of towering stature, their bodies wreathed in searing qi.
At their center, one man already had his bow drawn taut. Without hesitation, he loosed an arrow toward the lone figure upon the carriage.
This was an arrow beyond the grasp of those in the Dao Fusion Realm. Only the six great elders present could perceive its terrifying might—a lethal intent, surging forward with unstoppable force, its target none other than Ji You.
Silent. Swift beyond measure.
Elder Ge’s eyes widened in shock, but he made no move to interfere. Instead, he braced himself, unleashing his full presence in preparation for battle.
For as he had said before—
Ji You was unlike the other prodigies. He had no one to shield him on this journey.
Yet, just as the arrow closed in—
A tempest erupted from the carriage, sword qi spiraling into the heavens.
A single note of sword intent reverberated through the air.
In a flash, Yan Chuan, an elder of Spirit Sword Mountain, appeared atop the carriage. With a speed surpassing thought, he caught the incoming arrow barehanded.
His figure stood tall, his once-black hair now streaked with white. Yet, his posture remained upright, unwavering.
And yet—
As he stood beside Ji You, gripping the arrow, his form seemed ever so slightly bowed.
A stunned silence fell upon the battlefield.
(This novel is translated and hosted on Bcatranslation)