Chapter 61: One Spear Cleaving The Air, Flowing Cloud Wuding Strength
Force assaulted his face, killing intent overflowed in all directions.
A saber slashed from the front, a long sword thrust from behind; in an instant, Hong Yuan was caught in a pincer attack from both sides.
His figure stood firm and unmoving, steady as a mountain. Suddenly, he reached out, striking later but arriving first, tapping like lightning on Cheng Gang’s wrist as he swung the large saber.
Cheng Gang felt his arm go numb, as if electrocuted; the large saber fell downward. Hong Yuan raised his palm, and a burst of force met the falling saber, flicking at the hilt.
Whoosh!
The large saber suddenly spun rapidly, flying forward at even greater speed like a hurricane, passing over Hong Yuan’s shoulder and meeting a figure thrusting a sword straight ahead.
The tall, sturdy swordsman charged forward swiftly; his long sword extended, only an inch from Hong Yuan’s back. Suddenly, a fierce wind assaulted his face, sending chills down his spine.
He looked up in shock, only to see a black shadow tumbling and flipping toward him. The next moment, his face exploded in pain as a massive force struck it, sending him tumbling backward.
That large saber had already embedded into his face, splitting it nearly in two. A thick bloody stench filled the air, instantly causing the customers inside the restaurant to cry out in alarm.
But more Jianghu folk had already leaped up, weapons in hand, glaring at him with predatory eyes.
In front of Hong Yuan, Cheng Gang stared at his empty palm, his expression dazed, mouth agape, mind seemingly frozen.
Then a mild voice rang out: “Robbing what? Robbing your own lives? Such people are truly rare.”
Cheng Gang shuddered, about to retreat, but Hong Yuan had already grabbed a handful of chopsticks and thrust them into his wide-open mouth, followed by a palm strike.
Pfft!
A bunch of chopsticks entered Cheng Gang’s mouth, instantly piercing through the back of his neck; spurting blood splashed against the rear wall.
As the shopkeeper and waiters in the building screamed, another seven or eight people charged in to attack. Hong Yuan raised his hand and gripped; the spear shaft wrapped in cloth shook violently, fragments scattering like butterflies, silver light leaping up like fierce electric silver serpents, dancing through the air.
A clear, crisp ‘ding’ sounded as the two sections of the spear shaft connected. With the Life-Snatching Throat-Locking Spear in hand, Hong Yuan’s figure flickered like lightning.
Moving at the same time as him was a silver spear.
Fast! So fast it was like a lightning bolt tearing through the sky; with a thunderous crack, it flashed and vanished, utterly fierce and utterly stunning.
Only a short ‘whoosh’ was heard; in the blink of an eye, the seven or eight people charging at Hong Yuan all flew backward, each with a deep gash exposed above their throats.
In an instant, he thrust several spears, killing several people, yet so fast it seemed like one thrust!
The remaining Jianghu folk who hadn’t drawn their weapons yet and were coming to surround him paled in horror, collapsing unable to stand.
Only one had already taken two steps forward, raising a steel saber—a middle-aged man with a large black mole between his brows, his face a twisted mix of cry and laugh—stumbled backward ‘thud thud thud,’ crashing through the doors and windows behind him, tumbling onto the long street.
Hong Yuan waved his hand, and a silver ingot nailed itself to the counter. He looked at the trembling shopkeeper on the side. “This compensates you!”
As he spoke, his figure flickered and he left the restaurant.
The man with a mole staggered along, face deathly pale, mustering his last breath to flee, knocking over two pedestrians. Suddenly, he halted, staring ahead with a face like ashes.
A few steps away stood a youth in simple blue clothes, holding a silver spear, his handsome features and extraordinary poise unforgettable at first sight.
The man with a mole looked as if he had seen a demon, his legs giving out as he slid to his knees on the ground.
“What famous sects and masters are there in Qingping County?” Hong Yuan looked at him and asked.
The man with a mole trembled and shakily answered.
In no time, Hong Yuan got his answer, turned, and strode away.
The man with a mole’s body slumped in relief, feeling a sense of surviving a disaster—when a ‘whoosh’ of silver light flashed, piercing his throat.
“You swung a blade at me just now too!”
The man with a mole gurgled from his throat and collapsed dead on the long street.
As screams erupted around him, Hong Yuan didn’t even look back; he sheathed his spear and walked forward unhurriedly.
Only after his figure was far gone did sounds of heavy panting rise from inside the restaurant. The remaining martial artists looked at the corpses on the ground, cold sweat beading and rolling down their foreheads, still shaken.
“Such fast spear technique, such ruthless spear!”
“This one hundred thousand taels, go rob it if you want—I’m not joining!” A saber-wielding veteran with slightly graying temples sighed, peering through the broken doors and windows at the body on the long street, his face full of lingering fear.
Leaving the county town and heading southwest for over ten li, a mountain came into view, its forests lush and green, treetops layered like waves.
As mountain wind blew, leaves rustled and surged.
This mountain was named Maoping Mountain, less than a hundred zhang high, with fairly gentle slopes. Hong Yuan followed the mountain path and soon reached the summit.
The summit had been leveled into a flat area with a square and houses and halls; it was the site of a martial world sect.
Wuding Sword Sect!
A male and a female disciple in brocade clothes were practicing sword forms in the square. The man had clear brows and bright eyes, the woman was also pretty and delicate; both around seventeen or eighteen years old. Their long swords clashed back and forth, ringing with each collision.
The male disciple’s peripheral vision suddenly caught Hong Yuan striding forward; he leaped back at once, sheathed his long sword, and shouted at Hong Yuan: “Halt, intruder!”
He leaped forward, blocking Hong Yuan’s path: “This is private property; we don’t entertain outsiders. Please leave at once.”
These Wuding Sword Sect disciples lived on the mountain, with fields reclaimed behind their houses. Even if short on supplies, they only went to the county town to procure every ten days or half a month, and different people went each time. Thus, they knew nothing of the major event that had shocked the prefecture recently, nor had they seen Hong Yuan’s bounty order.
The female disciple hid behind the male disciple, stealing glances at Hong Yuan. Seeing his radiant complexion and unparalleled elegance, she couldn’t help blushing.
“I’m no outsider.”
Hong Yuan didn’t look at the male disciple but toward the halls behind the square, suddenly raising his voice: “I am Hong Yuan. I’ve heard a great master resides here, so I’ve come specially to exchange moves.”
The technique of turning qi and blood into force wasn’t just for combat. Hong Yuan had reached the pinnacle of freely controlling it, touching the threshold of the Microscopic Level, and gradually figured out how to channel qi and blood to the throat.
In an instant, his voice boomed like a great bell, echoing outward.
The two disciples standing before Hong Yuan felt their ears buzz uncomfortably. Once they recovered, the male disciple’s face filled with anger as he shouted: “So an evil guest comes calling! Want to see our Wuding Sword Sect’s martial arts? Fine! Take my sword!”
The male disciple raised his long sword, then thrust it lightly. The sword momentum was erratic and weak, swaying as if blown by wind—now left, now right, now up, now down—impossible to predict its landing point.
Hong Yuan’s eyes brightened slightly.
This sword technique was already quite impressive, but the disciple’s skill was too shallow. In Hong Yuan’s eyes, what was exquisite swordplay became flashy and superficial.
With one glance, he saw through all the sword momentum’s changes. Hong Yuan didn’t use his silver spear; he suddenly reached out, grabbing toward the sword tip.
Seeing this, the female disciple cried out in alarm; the male disciple’s face turned cold as he snorted: “Arrogant!”
The sword tip vibrated rapidly, blooming into clusters of sword flowers that dazzled the eyes. Hong Yuan saw it aiming to slice his fingers, but he just smiled. His palm filled with force, surging and ebbing uncertainly, and in a flash collided with the sword tip.
The sword tip fell into his palm, instantly like a butterfly trapped in a spiderweb—struggling desperately but unable to escape.
The male disciple’s face flushed red; his footwork shifted repeatedly, the long sword shaking fiercely, yet still couldn’t break free.
Hong Yuan gradually controlled the amount of force until he fully retracted it into his body, allowing the long sword to slip free.
The male disciple staggered slightly, looking at Hong Yuan in shock, only to see him nod and extend his palm flatly: “Again!”
The male disciple’s face burned with shame; he thrust another sword, this time with no prior intricate changes—pure brute force thrust.
Hong Yuan’s expression grew slightly serious.
He had the sudden whim to test barehanded blade-grabbing.
Though this male disciple hadn’t entered force, with a sword in hand, he could fight even ordinary Entering Force Martial Artists. Hong Yuan first used his palm’s force to catch the long sword, then gradually reduced the force.
Now, he used no force at all, catching the sword with pure fleshly palm.
Of course, with his reaction speed, if anything went wrong, force would surge forth as he willed.
As sword light flashed, Hong Yuan stepped forward abruptly, lunged, reached out, and gripped with five fingers, tightly clasping the sword tip.
The icy touch reached his skin; Hong Yuan twisted his wrist suddenly, and the long sword warped and deformed. As he released, he vibrated the sword body with his hand back!
With a ‘crack,’ the male disciple could no longer hold it; the long sword flew from his hand, soaring several zhang into the air.
Hong Yuan looked at his fair, slender palm—not even a scratch on the skin—and smiled. After adding a bit more to his root bone, his body had indeed become even tougher.
One day, his body would become the strongest divine weapon.
‘Clang’—a crisp ring as the long sword hit the ground and bounced a few times.
The male disciple stared dumbfounded, expression flickering; the female disciple’s small mouth hung open in disbelief.
Whooshing sounds came as two figures leaped out from the halls, striding like shooting stars to the square in an instant. A gentle voice rang out: “Your Excellency is such a great master—why toy with my sect’s disciples?”
The two who appeared before Hong Yuan had refined, gaunt features, long swords on their backs, simple long robes, hair bound in wooden crowns—both extraordinary.
The speaker was slightly younger, elegant and poised; the other had a straight back, steady as a green pine.
As they appeared, chaotic footsteps sounded; over twenty sword-wielding disciples rushed out from the hall, ready to surround Hong Yuan.
The elegant man waved his hand, stopping them, and looked at Hong Yuan: “I am Qing Lingzi, unworthy Sect Leader of Wuding Sword Sect. This is my senior brother Qing Songzi. What teachings does Your Excellency bring?”
“Just passing through Qingping County, couldn’t resist the temptation, came to exchange martial arts.” Hong Yuan smiled.
The opponent had come to their door and defeated their disciple thoroughly; naturally, no reason to retreat. Qing Lingzi gave Hong Yuan a deep look and bowed slightly: “Please!”
“Guests follow the host—of course, the host strikes first!”
“Good!”
As Qing Lingzi said “good,” his back-mounted long sword was in his palm; ‘whoosh’—a sword thrust with the wind, light, agile, and swift. Amid flickering sword light, it seemed layered with phantoms, dazzling the eyes.
Compared to the male disciple earlier, the sword momentum’s refinement and sword speed were more than doubled?
But if he was fast, Hong Yuan was faster. He raised his hand and slapped; the spear turned into a silver gleam, shooting through the air straight at the center of the layered sword net.
Qing Lingzi’s sword light stalled; the spear had already clashed with his sword body. With a ‘clang’ shock, the spear rebounded into Hong Yuan’s palm.
He leaped up, thrusting down from above with peerless ferocity.
Qing Lingzi retreated hastily, dodging the ruthless spear; then he lunged forward, sword light splitting like mercury spilling to envelop everything.
In that exchange, Hong Yuan had already gauged Qing Lingzi’s general strength. Now with interest in his sword technique, he met it spear-first. In an instant, spear and sword clashed repeatedly, sparks flying everywhere!
Qing Lingzi retreated repeatedly, each strike numbing his arms. Hong Yuan shook his spear, arcing a half-circle overhead to Qing Songzi, drawing him into the assault.
“You two brothers come at me together.”
Qing Songzi had drawn his sword when the spear approached; he felt no humiliation. Without words to Qing Lingzi, sword light flashed, and they joined seamlessly against the enemy.
Their combined sword net was dense layer upon layer, pressing toward Hong Yuan. He didn’t retreat; silver light tore through the air, ripping the nets repeatedly, escalating the assault and forcing them back.
Moments later, Hong Yuan’s spear flicked up into a flickering silver thread, faintly resembling their sword style. ‘Clang clang’—two long swords flew from their hands.
Pfft!
Hong Yuan thrust the silver spear into the ground, leaped forward, palms waving, laughing: “I’ve seen your weapon skills. Now, exchange fist and foot kung fu.”
The surrounding Wuding Sword Sect disciples watching were dumbfounded. In their eyes, their sect masters were already unattainable great masters, yet this youth fought two and casually disarmed their precious swords?
Especially the male disciple who had clashed with Hong Yuan earlier, his heart overwhelmed with shock.
Bang bang bang!
Fists and feet clashed, forces colliding. Hong Yuan fully confirmed their strength, mildly surprised that this small sword sect had two experts at the ‘freely control’ level.
Moreover, both had advanced some distance in the ‘freely control’ stage.
Even during the male disciple’s sword display earlier, Hong Yuan had felt a spark of insight, sensing an unexpected gain—this confirmed it fully.
This Wuding Sword Sect’s heritage was probably extraordinary, surpassing even Tiger Subduing Sect, which lacked the key Microscopic Level insights.
In this life’s martial arts, sects with foundation liked cryptic phrases in their secrets. Hong Yuan wouldn’t force secret manuals, but with his superior comprehension, sparring let him gradually discern and learn their force method.
Hong Yuan controlled his force output, matching them evenly. After about half a quarter-hour, they faltered, retreating with exhausted strength.
In truth, this life’s martial arts emphasized one-strike kills; even same-level fights could end in instant death from one mistake.
Half a quarter-hour of fighting, not always with true force clashes, was already long—plus prior weapon combat.
Qing Lingzi and Qing Songzi retreated, faces shaken, looking at Hong Yuan’s youthful face with a sense of the new replacing the old.
“Your Excellency’s martial arts are astonishing; we submit!” Qing Lingzi sighed; having lost, he wouldn’t lose grace.
Hong Yuan laughed: “Why rush to concede? We haven’t finished. Rest first, recover strength—then we’ll fight again.”
For three straight days, Hong Yuan stayed at Wuding Sword Sect, sparring three or four times daily with the brothers Qing Lingzi and Qing Songzi.
The more they fought, the more shocked they grew—not at Hong Yuan’s high skill, which they knew.
Pfft! Pfft!
Two crisp strikes hit Hong Yuan solidly, but Qing Lingzi and Qing Songzi felt their palms sink into flowing clear wind, soft rippling water—most force dissipated elsewhere.
They sighed, exchanged glances, doubts gone, confirming a shocking guess.
Qing Lingzi smiled bitterly: “Your Excellency’s talent is truly astonishing. In just three or two days, you’ve learned seven or eight parts of our sect’s secret transmission force method.”
Qing Songzi’s face also soured; he nodded to Hong Yuan: “Please follow me.”
The three entered the main hall, to a secret hall, where Qing Lingzi and Qing Songzi quickly handed Hong Yuan a booklet.
“This is our sect’s ‘Flowing Cloud Wuding Strength’ method. For the cryptic phrases, ask us brothers freely—no need to torment us further.”
“You two brothers are joking!”
Qing Lingzi and Qing Songzi glanced at each other, shaking heads and sighing—they couldn’t laugh.
They were carefree by nature, yet these days they sighed more than in the previous decades combined.
Hong Yuan took the booklet, seeing an introduction to the strength at the front.
This ‘Flowing Cloud Wuding Strength’ was an extension of soft force, endlessly variable. It could act on enemies or self, making covered areas like soft, mutable clear wind and flowing water, dissipating enemy force or even weapon attacks.
Of course, how much it dissipated depended on one’s own cultivation achievement.
“This force method must be top-tier even among Microscopic Level ones. Your inheritance is truly not simple.”
Hong Yuan smiled at them.
Qing Lingzi felt both proud and ashamed: “Our sect ancestors left such a wondrous method, but we descendants are dull, unable to grasp its essence—truly unworthy.”
Hong Yuan couldn’t comfort them easily, so he began asking about the cryptic phrases; Qing Lingzi and the other answered one by one.
The opponent had already grasped seven or eight tenths through sparring; hiding more was pointless.
Nor could they answer falsely—with his talent, how could they fool him?
Hong Yuan listened to their explanations while browsing the secret booklet, matching his own explorations, gaining much—even touching on analogous insights.
Tiger Subduing Sect’s ‘Tiger Fiend Mountain Splitting Strength’ might be self-perfected with some time.
Half a hour later, Hong Yuan returned the booklet, cupping hands to them: “Sorry to bother you two for days. Count it as me owing you a favor. If trouble arises later, come seek me.”
Qing Lingzi and Qing Songzi glanced, spirits lifting with joy.
Such a brilliantly talented person terrified as foe, but this goodwill turned into great fortune for Wuding Sword Sect.
To Hong Yuan, it was casual promise; unless excessive, he’d honor it if they sought him in crisis.
Moreover, favors created ties.
Wuding Sword Sect had, besides the brothers Qing Lingzi and Qing Songzi’s fine martial arts, several standout disciples.
They might be recruitable in future.
Harvest sufficient, Hong Yuan left without delay.
Only days after Hong Yuan left did a Wuding Sword Sect disciple return from procurement with a bounty order, placing it before Qing Lingzi and Qing Songzi, shocking them numb and speechless again.
