Chapter 172: The Forty-Nine Folded Peaks
The Barbaric Race could not sense the Heavenly Dao, yet their warriors at the Dao Fusion Stage could contend against those at the General Realm without suffering defeat. However, the warriors that arrived tonight were no mere foot soldiers—thirteen were at the War King Realm, accompanied by an uncountable force of General Realm barbarians.
The strength and explosive force granted by their body-forging techniques, coupled with their companion-born talents, far surpassed the feeble flesh of the common cultivator.
Beneath the night sky, the cold moon hung high.
In the distance, the towering silhouette of the Mountains of Ten Thousand Beasts loomed within the mist, stretching infinitely into the horizon.
Eight War Kings of the Eastern War Zone surged forth with overwhelming might, clashing against the airborne Elders of the Immortal Sect in an instant. A tempest of sword aura and qi erupted into the heavens, shaking the very fabric of the night.
They had originally planned to shake off their pursuers before heading northwest. But with these formidable foes now upon them, evasion was no longer an option.
Thus, their chosen path had now become the most optimal route.
For once exposed, the direction no longer mattered—only the shortest path was the safest. If they traveled directly north, they would reach the thousand-mile borderline between the Demon Clan and the Barbaric Race. The Barbaric Race dared not send an army across that boundary, for it represented the Demon Clan’s honor. In these tumultuous times of impending war, even something as intangible as honor could shift the balance of power.
At this moment, Ji You retrieved a gleaming Heart Protection Mirror from his Storage Gourd and fastened it over his chest. His heart still pounded in his chest.
That last arrow had come far too close—one step closer, and countless souls in Nine Provinces would have celebrated his demise.
And countless women would have mourned the loss of their beloved suitor.
Perched atop the carriage yoke, his gaze settled on the Elders of Spirit Sword Mountain, who battled the War King Realm barbarians. Their radiant sword qi blazed brighter than his own, their Sword Intent surging with even greater intensity.
It seemed that, after the envoy list had been finalized, the Little Mirror Master of Spirit Sword Mountain had emerged from seclusion once more, sending forth yet another guardian…
At that moment, Gong Shu Chou landed beside him, panting for breath as he recovered. His gaze drifted toward Elder Yan Chuan.
“Why did Elder Yan save you?”
Ji You answered without hesitation. “Because Elder Yan is a kind person.”
“…??”
Gong Shu Chou looked at him in disbelief. He could hardly believe it.
Was Elder Yan Chuan sent by Junior Sister Ding Yao?
Though Ding Yao’s cultivation was not high and she lacked a noble lineage, she had been raised alongside the Mirror Master since childhood as a trusted companion. Her status, though unofficial, carried great weight.
Gong Shu Chou frowned, shaking his head. Even with Ding Yao’s influence, it seemed unlikely that she could summon an Elder at the Boundless Martial Stage.
Truly strange…
Ji You was a disciple of the Heavenly Script Academy, yet he seemed far closer to Spirit Sword Mountain, as though he had blood ties there.
“Sect Prestige…”
Gong Shu Chou narrowed his eyes. “Of course, it must be Sect Prestige!”
Ji You was the most troublesome troublemaker under heaven. And every time he caused chaos, he wielded the Sword Dao of Spirit Sword Mountain to do so. If he remained alive, his antics would only grow, and with them, the reputation of Spirit Sword Mountain’s Sword Dao.
Spirit Sword Mountain… they truly understood him.
Ji You, unaware of Gong Shu Chou’s musings, stood atop the yoke, his brows furrowed as he looked back.
The relentless blaze of battle stretched endlessly behind them. The violent currents stirred by charging warriors and flashing blades twisted the air into a storm, causing the horse-drawn carriages to rattle violently.
The Immortal Sect Elders wielded a myriad of techniques, fighting while retreating. But the War Kings and Generals of the Barbaric Race relied on sheer might, diving through the onslaught of spells and sword techniques with their formidable presence alone.
And then, as the carriages thundered forward—
A blazing figure abruptly descended upon them, charging toward the convoy with terrifying momentum.
With a thunderous crash, an entire wing of the convoy was sent tumbling to the ground.
A War King Realm barbarian, his body ablaze like molten fire, had struck with both fists, shattering the earth itself.
In that instant, a figure was ripped apart, blood scattering through the air. The flames illuminated the savage, monstrous grin of the War King.
“So powerful…”
Swords rang as they were drawn.
Jiang Chen Feng and the others leapt forward, driving back four General Realm barbarians. But the battle-hardened War King remained unchecked.
The young Immortal Sect disciples would not fight a battle they could not win.
Some had come for the honor of becoming personal disciples, others for the prestige of their noble clans, but all of them understood one thing—
Death meant nothingness.
Boom!
The War King’s iron fist came crashing down, his overwhelming aura surging toward the convoy.
Yet, before the blow could land, a heavy iron blade intercepted it with a forceful strike.
An Elder of the Chen Clan of Immortals had broken free from the melee, his Boundless Martial Stage aura erupting as he cleaved through the air, forcing the War King back.
But even as one War King was pushed away, another found an opening—
Like a blazing meteor, his qi erupted as he surged toward the convoy’s heart.
Seeing this, Supervisor Peng Dong Yang of the Immortal Overseer Office paled.
For a thousand years, the Northern Wall had kept humans and barbarians apart. Yet, their knowledge of the Barbaric Race remained woefully insufficient.
They had believed a single Boundless Martial Stage guardian would be enough—but once again, they had underestimated the danger. Just as they had previously underestimated the strict discipline of the barbarian armies.
If only they had warriors at the Spirit Roaming Stage, or even those who had reached completion of the Upper Five Realms…
But such figures were treated as the foundational pillars of their sects and noble houses. Even the most ancient families had only a few to their name. The loss of a single one could spell the end of an entire legacy.
In their eyes, it was better to let the Demon and Barbaric Races unite, rather than risk their own foundations being devoured.
In truth, it had taken countless petitions just to secure the aid of a single Boundless Martial Stage elder from the Chen Clan of Immortals.
Had it not been for Spirit Sword Mountain’s unexpected generosity, sending forth yet another Boundless Martial Stage guardian, they might never have even reached this far…
BOOM!
Like an unstoppable tidal wave, a colossal fist of qi surged forth.
In Peng Dong Yang’s widening eyes, the reflection of that devastating blow grew ever larger.
Amidst the tumultuous clash of warriors, a lone figure suddenly soared from the rearmost carriage, intercepting the iron fist that hurtled forward like a falling star. His frame was lean, seemingly fragile against the towering might of the barbarian warlord, yet he did not waver.
The force of the blow crashed like a mountain collapsing, but the figure severed the strike mid-air. The earth itself trembled, surging outward in waves of upheaved dust. The figure, however, was flung like an arrow shot from a great bow, his body spiraling through the sky before slamming into the ground ahead of the caravan. He tumbled like a severed kite, finally landing with a dull thud.
Witnessing this, Yan Chuan of Spirit Sword Mountain felt his vision blur with fury, his mind drumming with rage. The twelve Heaven’s Chosen, having barely forced back the barbarian generals, widened their eyes in disbelief.
[What for?!]
A hand suddenly grasped the yoke of the foremost carriage. A shadow leaped inside, breath heavy with exhaustion. Ji You’s face was pallid, a trickle of crimson tracing the corner of his lips. The Heart Protection Mirror, said to withstand a full-force strike from a cultivator at the Heaven Resonance Stage, lay shattered across his chest, its once-lustrous surface now dull and fragmented.
[Damned thing cost a fortune—but worth every coin.]
Yet, thinking of the price, a pang of anguish twisted his heart.
Inside the carriage sat three envoys—Wang Ming Chang, Yu Shu Heng, and Lu Ming—wrapped in thick winter cloaks against the biting chill of the nearing Snowy Wastes. They gazed at him, their aged eyes clouded with confusion.
“Young Master Ji…?” Wang Ming Chang hesitated.
Ji You gripped his arm. “Tell me the truth. Do you really have the means to dissuade the Demon Emperor from allying with the barbarians?”
Wang Ming Chang swallowed. “We will do everything in our power…”
Ji You’s voice sharpened. “I don’t know what price Great Xia is willing to pay or what the Seven Great Immortal Sects plan to offer, but you talk for a living. You will convince them, won’t you?”
Yu Shu Heng clenched his fists. “Failure means death.”
Ji You regarded them, his tone eerily calm. “If I had fled alone, I could have made it back. But once war starts, a mere cultivator at the Mystic Enlightenment Stage is powerless. I don’t mind dying here—but you’d best keep your word.”
Wang Ming Chang trembled, raising his hand. “You are already beyond mortal… why do this?”
“Got carried away,” Ji You muttered. “Guess I lost my reason for a moment.”
“…In all my years, I have never seen a cultivator like you.”
“The others will say the same,” Ji You smirked, “if the barbarians throw another punch.”
Loosening his grip, he retrieved a jade box from his storage gourd, a gift from the Pill Sect’s disciples. Following the inscription, he plucked out a pill and swallowed it. At once, a tide of energy surged through his meridians, his spirit and strength rapidly restoring.
Once the medicinal power settled, he crushed a handful of spirit stones in his palm, absorbing their essence in a single breath. Then, without hesitation, he leapt onto the roof of the carriage.
Their location now compromised, the caravan had abandoned all pretense of stealth, charging at full speed toward the distant border. With his keen sight, Ji You could already glimpse the city walls of Hailong City, standing stark against the snowy expanse beyond.
Drawing his bow, he pulled the string taut and loosed an arrow. With a thunderous whump, a barbarian warhorse collapsed mid-gallop, sending its rider tumbling into the dust. He moved toward the rear, where the battle raged.
There, the Immortal Sect’s Heaven’s Chosen clashed with the barbarian generals, their battle stirring violent gusts. Sword light flared like lightning, spells wove intricate dances, and indomitable warriors waged war with nothing but their sheer strength.
Yet the fiercest battlefield lay even further behind. The Six Immortal Elders unleashed their boundless techniques, their sword dao and spellcraft holding back thirteen barbarian warlords. The sky trembled as their very breath threatened to drain the world’s spiritual energy.
Yan Qiu Bai had once remarked that the barbarians’ path was but the tempering of flesh, the accumulation of strength, and the honing of innate talents.
But strength alone could shatter all techniques.
Though the six elders fought valiantly, their struggle was far from effortless. One barbarian warlord had already broken past the encirclement moments prior.
Now, the sheer force of their relentless assault once more shattered the elders’ defenses. A barbarian warlord, his aura vast as the abyss, soared through the darkness. His fist, carrying the power to turn mountains to rubble, struck down toward the envoy’s carriage.
Jiang Chen Feng cut down another foe, his voice strained. “We can’t hold them! Their pursuit is far fiercer than the Immortal Overseer Office predicted!”
Jiang Yan stole a glance behind. “We’re nearly at Hailong City! That’s the boundary between the barbarians and the demon clans!”
“We can’t all die here—retreat!”
Even as the words left her lips, Huo Hong shot ahead, his figure flickering through the air. Having long since crushed every spirit stone in his possession, his body brimmed with energy. With Hailong City before him, he abandoned all else, focusing solely on his escape.
By ‘retreat,’ he meant the cultivators would flee alone, leaving the envoys to their fate.
Better that some survive than for all to perish.
The night trembled beneath the onslaught of fists, a wave of destruction crashing toward the envoy’s carriage.
Yet—
A piercing screech split the air. As the dust parted, a myriad of sword lights erupted into the sky, one after another—forty-nine in total.
Jiang Yan and Yan Qiu Bai froze. Before them, a golden glow ignited within Ji You’s eyes. In the storm of surging wind, he raised his arms, summoning a sea of sword dragons.
Sword qi blazed, roaring with unyielding fury.
His white robes billowed wildly in the tempest’s embrace.
Ji You’s lips parted once more, crimson blood seeping forth, dyeing his silver teeth with a ghastly sheen. The force of his own strike rebounded against him—just as in the Autumn Duel, when he had only employed the Sevenfold Mountain. But now, the weight of forty-nine sword strikes, each as heavy as a mountain, pressed down on his bones, causing his hands to tremble, joints crackling under the strain.
A silent storm brewed, then—
A deafening roar burst forth, shaking the heavens. Forty-nine Dao Swords descended as one, bearing down upon the War King of the Barbaric Race. Unprepared for the onslaught, he was struck with crushing force, sent hurtling backward. Yan Chuan, seizing the opportunity, followed with a sword strike that cleaved into his chest.
Ji You crashed onto the roof of the carriage with a heavy peng, one foot piercing through the wooden boards, embedding itself deeply within. His hands quivered violently, his skin flushed red, as if blood might spill from his pores.
At the Heavenly Script Academy, he had wielded fifty-seven sword techniques before, but those were ordinary moves—not Dao Swords. Never had he directed them in this manner. Now, the backlash of Qi Force surged through him, forcing a mouthful of blood from his lips.
Jiang Yan, Yan Qiu Bai, and the Heaven’s Chosen who had planned to retreat froze in place, eyes widening in shock at the figure standing before them.
Dao Sword: Forty-Nine Folded Peaks—
A rain of shattered blades fell from the sky, their fragments scattering across the land.
The remaining unbroken envoy carriages rushed forth towards the city ahead. Hooves pounded against the snow-laden ground, leaving a trail of white dust in their wake.
Hailong City lay in ruins, built upon foundations of yellowed earth and stone, its grandeur long since crumbled. Apart from a lone boundary stele, all that remained were broken walls and dilapidated structures.
As the echoes of galloping steeds filled the air, the distant figures of Demon Clan scouts emerged, peering warily at the approaching procession.
The Barbaric War Kings halted abruptly, their savage faces twisted in fury.
“Who is this man?”
Particularly the one who had been struck down by Ji You’s Dao Sword—his chest now slashed open by Yan Chuan’s blade. His wounds gaped, yet his killing intent only burned fiercer. Fixing his eyes on the figure standing atop the last carriage, his iron fists clenched so tightly that cracking sounds echoed from his knuckles.
Dawn began to break, the night’s shroud lifting into a pale, early light.
The vast expanse of snow gleamed under the bitter wind, sharp as knives, yet the envoy’s carriages did not slow, galloping relentlessly until the first light of day.
Finally, the steeds pulling the last carriage collapsed with a resounding clang. Their heads drooped, nostrils flaring in rapid exhaustion. Their breaths grew slower… weaker… until, at last, they exhaled their final breath, their eyes closing forever.
Before setting out, they had known they might face a desperate flight. To prepare, these horses had been fed Immortal Numbing Grass—a rare elixir that granted boundless stamina while running but crushed the body with unbearable fatigue the moment they stopped.
This was not considered cruelty—for even warriors of the Human Race used it upon themselves.
It was the same elixir that Chu He had relied on in his sleepless nights of enlightenment, the very pill that had carried traces of this Immortal Numbing Grass.
The envoy finally took refuge within the crumbling earth city. Fires were lit, and those who remained took deep breaths, drawing in spiritual energy to restore their strength.
Among them, there were casualties.
The first punch of the Barbaric War King had been blocked, yet it had shattered the defensive artifacts protecting the carriage. None had known how many arrows had pierced the wagons until dawn revealed the bloodstained rear compartments. No sounds had come from within… only silence.
Tu Xu had been struck by an arrow, the shaft piercing his flesh.
For a cultivator, such a wound meant little. Yet the Qi Force embedded within had seeped into his body, leaving his life hanging by a thread.
But at last, they had crossed into the Snowy Wastes.
Time passed. The sun rose, red and muted in the lingering fog. It brought little warmth—only light to chase away the shadows of the night.
As the Heaven’s Chosen of the Immortal Sect recovered their breath, they opened their eyes, one by one. Silent, pensive. Their gazes fell upon the lone figure seated by the fire, eyes shut in exhaustion.
Their minds replayed the moment from the night before—
The Forty-Nine Folded Peaks tearing through the heavens.
And then—
He did not use his sword—he killed them with his bare fists.
These were the words uttered by Jiang Yan and Yan Qiu Bai when Ji You had slain two Upper Soldiers of the Barbaric Race at the start of the pursuit.
At first, many had doubted it.
But after tonight, belief no longer mattered.
For they had seen it with their own eyes—
Ji You had taken the War King’s punch head-on, shielding himself with only a magical artifact. And he still stood.
The artifact was extraordinary, but it had never been meant to be used in such a manner.
It was said to withstand a Heaven Resonance Realm’s full strike, but only when wielded by a Dao Fusion cultivator. It did not make one invincible.
And yet—the Barbaric War King was not of the Heaven Resonance Realm.
He was Boundless Martial Realm.
Had he not been, the Elders would never have allowed him to break through their barriers.
Thus, when that fearsome punch landed, the Heart Protection Mirror had absorbed only part of its force.
The rest—
Ji You had borne entirely upon himself.
Amidst the battlefield, none could have foreseen the final spectacle—the forty-nine Dao Swords soaring skyward, their brilliance cleaving through the heavens. In an instant, they struck with unerring precision, sending a mighty War King hurtling through the air, his form swallowed by the darkness beyond.
Among the female cultivators present—Jiang Yan, Yan Qiu Bai, Jiang Yue Rou, and even Xiao Han Yan—a single figure had been seared into their souls. That lone swordsman, wreathed in a dragon of blades, loomed eternal in their minds. Each time they recalled the scene, their Dao hearts trembled, unable to find peace.
Through years of cultivation, within the noble clans and immortal sects, they had encountered many renowned figures. Yet, never before had they witnessed one such as him—
A wandering rogue cultivator, wielding a sword that harmonized with the Dao, his fists tearing through the barbarian clans, his blade felling a War King in single combat.
“The human race does possess methods to temper the body,” someone murmured. “With the right elixirs, one can attain unfathomable might.”
“They say Ji You never touches elixirs.”
“Mere words for the outside world,” scoffed Jiang Chen Feng, the corners of his lips curling into a dismissive smirk. But as he cast a glance at Jiang Yan, that thin veil of disdain wavered, then dissipated into silence.
For he understood—no cultivation technique, no alchemical aid could ever forge such a body.
And more than that, his concern lay with the forty-nine Dao Swords. Even from afar, he had sensed it—he would never have withstood their might.
Back in Feng Prefecture, Gong Shu Chou had laughed with scorn at the rumors, dismissing them outright. “What of Ji You’s feat, cutting down a Dao Fusion cultivator with his sword?” he had sneered. “Those who attain such realms through mere years of effort are not truly Dao Fusion! Even I, at the Mystic Enlightenment stage, could match them.”
But when those forty-nine swords drove back the War King of the barbarians, the slap upon his face resounded like thunder.
Yan Qiu Bai’s voice was soft, yet her heart echoed with the memory of a fist that had torn the night asunder. “Does he not fear death?”
“If he did, he wouldn’t have come.”
“And Spirit Sword Mountain…?”
At those words, the gathered cultivators fell silent. They recalled the moment within the carriage, each one exchanging glances before their eyes settled upon Yan Qiu Bai.
By now, they had pieced together much of Ji You’s past. Though he bore the name of a Heavenly Script Academy disciple, he had never truly belonged. Even among his supposed brethren, there were those who wished for his death here in the wilds.
When the arrow had flown toward him, Elder Ge had not so much as moved a muscle. The meaning was clear.
Ji You’s greatest difference was not merely his lower cultivation realm—but the fact that no one had ever sheltered him.
Perhaps that explained why he neither feared the restrictions upon spiritual consciousness, nor hesitated to cultivate his physical body.
A lone rogue cultivator, abandoned by fate, must face death countless times. Such a man would seek every method to preserve his own life.
And yet, none had expected that an elder of Spirit Sword Mountain would stand in his defense. That, at the moment when Ji You was struck by the War King, the elder had nearly succumbed to madness.
It was as if Elder Yan Chuan had not come to escort the delegation—but had instead come for Ji You alone.
Could it be that Ji You was his secret son, much like Huo Hong, bound by circumstance to remain unacknowledged, forced to share only covert gestures?
But as this thought formed, the memory of Yan Chuan’s slight bow after intercepting the fatal arrow resurfaced in their minds.
That was no gesture of an elder to a junior. It was the bow of a subordinate to his lord.
Yan Qiu Bai felt the weight of their gazes, but she had no answer to offer.
She only knew that Spirit Sword Mountain and the Heavenly Script Academy had long been at odds. When the academy’s decree arrived, the Heavenly Sword Peak disciples had scoffed with derision.
Spirit Sword Mountain stood in the farthest reaches of the Nine Provinces, in the distant Ling Prefecture. Even if the barbarians and demons breached Cold Iron Pass, it would mean little to them. Their sect had initially intended to send only a token force.
Yet on the day of departure, she had discovered that Mystic Sword Peak had sent a Boundless Martial Stage elder—a man whose name had not appeared on the original list.
To dispatch such a figure, she thought, only the Little Mirror Master could have made such a decision.
And yet, the Mirror Master had long retreated into seclusion, vowing not to emerge until he attained Boundless Martial Stage himself.
Yan Qiu Bai pressed her lips together. The more she pondered, the more the answers eluded her.
She let out a quiet breath, her gaze drifting toward the figure lying beyond the embers of the dwindling fire. A thought surfaced in her mind—should she go check on him?
At her age, it was perhaps time to consider a Dao companion. Her inquiries to Jiang Yan about Dao partners and heirs had not been idle curiosity. Her heart had, indeed, stirred.
Yan Qiu Bai rose gracefully, smoothing her robes, tucking back a stray lock of hair, preparing to step forward with measured poise.
Yet, before she could move, two figures had already passed her by—Jiang Yan and Jiang Yue Rou, approaching Ji You with even greater elegance than she had mustered.
(This novel is translated and hosted on Bcatranslation)