Chapter 146: The Eve of Battle, Two Figures Drinking on the City Walls

Returning to the small courtyard, the old scholar and the sword cultivator A Fei had both already departed. Only the young demon Lang Fei was left, curled up in the woodshed, shivering violently, saliva drooling from his mouth as he let out whimpering, mournful cries much like a dog.

He had been thoroughly tormented by the sword cultivator.

That shameless old A Fei, his eyes gleaming with excitement, had brandished a bamboo sword and lightly poked the young demon a few times—merely for show, without infusing any spiritual energy at all.

Yet, the young demon had nearly lost control of his bodily functions, his handsome yet sinister face turning a pale greenish hue from sheer terror.

After inquiring into the cause and effect, He Chang'an said nothing further.

He did not like this young demon.

Of course, he could not be said to loathe him deeply, either.

In his view, this was simply another version of himself—an excellent whetstone, a mirror that reminded him to constantly reflect upon himself.

As for teaching him to read and write, it was also a way of reminding himself never to waste a single moment that could be used to enhance his own strength.

After tidying up the mess left behind by the old scholar and A Fei, he picked up a wooden bucket and washed his bowls by the well, his state of mind calm and serene.

His conversation with the down-and-out scholar in the bookstore had not yielded an overwhelming amount of tangible benefits, but it left behind an enduring resonance.

Faint, upright, and peaceful, it left his mind tranquil.

Having finished his chores, he tossed a piece of dried beef to Lang Fei, locked himself in his room, and silently pondered the book *Distant Sword Qi*. Finding profound insights within it, he unconsciously drifted into a state of void clarity and sudden enlightenment.

Close Sword Qi was a sword form, a sword intent.

Meanwhile, Distant Sword Qi was a vague and inexpressible state—somewhat like holding up a flower with a smile and pointing towards the heavens, or perhaps simply an invisible and intangible 'talisman sword'.

In the world of scholars, between heaven and earth, all things could serve as paper and brush;

In the world of swordsmen, every wispy thread was filled with crisscrossing sword qi. That was roughly the meaning of it.

This sensation made He Chang'an feel immensely gratified. It was the feeling of holding a rusty, massive iron sword in his hand, while in reality, deep within his dantian's spiritual ocean, that tiny black sword had already taken a stroll a hundred miles away, lopping off a branch of peach blossoms in the mountains.

*Finally, I'm starting to look a bit like Master Ximen.*

*This Distant Sword Qi is indeed a technique meant for cultivators of the higher realms.*

He Chang'an formed a sword gesture with his left hand and smiled faintly, then pointed his right hand towards the window, testing it by gesturing in the direction of the young demon outside.

The demeanor of an expert lay in invisible showmanship.

...

The young demon, who had just managed to catch his breath and was about to gnaw on the piece of dried beef, suddenly felt his whole body tense up.

He whipped his head around and witnessed with his own eyes an imposing and fierce sword intent, surging forth from the room where He Chang'an resided like a gentle breeze sweeping through willows or rain piercing through a forest, pouring outward all the way.

It flashed in the blink of an eye.

Then that sword intent vanished without a trace, leaving him filled with doubt and uncertainty as he fiercely pinched the base of his thigh.

Pain, a piercing, agonizing pain.

It seemed that the sword technique of that bastard He Chang'an had entered a brand-new realm; he had broken through.

Upon learning of this outcome, the young demon was consumed by such a fierce jealousy that he wanted to die. He longed to charge in, sink his teeth into He Chang'an's neck, and drain every drop of his human essence...

...

Three days later, He Chang'an finally received the order: the battle was about to begin.

He quickly packed his belongings, left a ingot of silver for Lang Fei, and warned him not to wander around, lest he be mistaken for a demon and executed by humans amidst the chaos of war.

Lang Fei naturally agreed repeatedly.

Joking aside, even in normal times, if he were not following closely behind He Chang'an, he wouldn't dare to step out alone for anything in the world. Now that a massive battle was imminent, did he have a death wish?

Without He Chang'an needing to say much, the young demon would never risk his own life.

As long as he could survive by cowering, he was willing to act like a dog.

At a certain moment, Lang Fei even began to wonder if what the other youths in the town whispered was true—did his mother really have an affair back then with a stray Celestial Dog wandering the pugilistic world?

No, wait, there must have been at least seven or eight affairs!

That damned mutt got off easy; a mother wolf carrying the prestigious bloodline of the Celestial Wolf actually stooped so low as to yield to a stray dog...

...

Leaving the small courtyard, He Chang'an headed straight for Garrison Commander Zheng Hongxue's grand tent.

Inside, wartime strategies were being arranged. Those coming and going were all high-ranking generals of the Great Tang, or major figures such as Li Yishan and Shen Yan. He Chang'an had no opportunity to enter at all.

He found the leisure acceptable and simply squatted outside the grand tent, holding a small wooden stick in his hand as he continued to ponder the 'Distant Sword Qi'.

Having ventured out, witnessed some supreme experts, and even encountered a [ Celestial Human ], He Chang'an's state of mind had undergone massive changes.

However, his personality remained largely unchanged.

After more than an hour, the wartime arrangements inside Zheng Hongxue's tent were finally concluded.

"Why aren't you rolling in here yet?" Zheng Hongxue called out, sounding somewhat fatigued yet overwhelmingly domineering.

He Chang'an dropped his small wooden stick, strode quickly into the tent, bowed with cupped fists toward Zheng Hongxue—who was sitting sideways in the garrison commander's tiger-skin chair—and said in a resonant voice, "Yellow-rank Demon Slaying Envoy He Chang'an pays his respects to the Garrison Commander."

Zheng Hongxue nodded slightly, signaling him to sit wherever he liked.

In the hearts of the northern border garrison troops, the status of a Demon Slaying Envoy was worth virtually nothing.

For compared to brutal, silent slaughters involving hundreds of thousands of men, the covert methods of the Demon Slaying Bureau seemed rather unrefined—at most, it was merely a label among their own people.

Her complexion was somewhat pale, with faint dark circles under her eyes, clearly showing she hadn't rested well in a long time, having expended a great deal of effort preparing for the war.

He Chang'an expressed his thanks for the seat and settled into a chair near the door, asking hesitatingly, "Commander Zheng, is my mission... still to provide healing?"

Zheng Hongxue shook her head, offering a wry smile. "This time, healing won't be necessary."

"Ah, why is that?" He Chang'an felt a jolt of alarm.

Could it be a decisive battle to the bitter end? If that were the case, it would mean mutual destruction, and indeed healing would no longer be needed.

"Don't overthink it. The enemy's strategy has changed, and our response must be adjusted accordingly." Zheng Hongxue watched He Chang'an's expression and smiled. "What, are you scared?"

"I'm scared, but I won't cower," He Chang'an replied calmly.

"Hm. It seems this southern trip has brought this kid quite a few gains. Just this state of mind is already quite commendable." Zheng Hongxue's eyes flashed, revealing a hint of appreciation.

"However, you mustn't become complacent. On the path of cultivation, opportunity is one aspect, but more importantly, it is about accumulation over time and a sudden eruption of potential."

Hearing this, He Chang'an repeatedly agreed, stood up once more to cup his fists in a bow, and thanked Commander Zheng for arranging his journey south.

"It wasn't my merit; it was Elder Zheng's intention," Zheng Hongxue chuckled. "When you become the top sword cultivator in our Demon Slaying Bureau, don't forget your roots."

"This subordinate wouldn't dare," He Chang'an replied with a smile, cupping his fists again. "By the way, Commander Zheng, what is my mission this time?"

"Follow by my side and undermine the Ghost King-class experts of the enemy camp. That happens to be your specialty," Zheng Hongxue chuckled.

He Chang'an felt a slight shock in his heart.

This mission was somewhat treacherous.

Moreover, it was far too dangerous.

For him—a mere ninth-rank martial artist—to follow closely beside a formidable third-rank martial arts master meant not only that he might be a burden to Zheng Hongxue, but more importantly, he himself would have to face top-tier bosses far superior to him in rank...

"How specifically is it arranged?" He Chang'an asked with some trepidation.

"An hour from now, you will follow me out of the city to meet the enemy. Go down and change into a set of ordinary soldier's attire."

"Right, you don't need to be too nervous. With supreme experts holding down the fort, the enemy's old monsters at or above the Ghost King level won't dare to strike lightly."

Seeming to worry that He Chang'an's state of mind might become unstable, Zheng Hongxue carefully instructed him further on various precautions needed when heading out of the city to face the enemy.

For instance, just outside the city walls lay the regions where ghostly and baleful qi were most concentrated; he must stabilize his mind at the very first moment and prevent that baleful qi from invading his body.

Naturally, she felt relatively at ease regarding He Chang'an.

This kid possessed peculiar cultivation techniques that allowed him to rapidly refine baleful qi, and he could even execute the 'following the vine to find the melon' divine skill, which exerted a strong restraining effect on those nether ghosts hiding behind the scenes.

Yes, she had to make good use of him.

In this massive battle, both sides had been preparing for several months. Once hostilities commenced, it was bound to be a fight to the death.

Both factions would undoubtedly unleash their ultimate trump cards at the very beginning to catch the other off guard...

...

Emerging from the garrison commander's tent, He Chang'an collected a set of ordinary soldier's armor to change into and meticulously checked his storage pouch once more.

Over a dozen catties of talismans, a large pile of bottled pills, and two or three dozen graded magic artifacts—the mere sight of them provided a sense of reassurance.

In addition, he untied the bamboo sword from his waist, hesitated for a moment, and tied it back on.

He had never practiced sword techniques much, and this bamboo sword, named 'Chunli' by A Jiu, had basically never come in handy, which made him feel somewhat embarrassed.

He decided that he must practice swordsmanship in the future.

The tiny black sword in his dantian's spiritual ocean was currently only the size of a willow leaf and possessed extraordinary power, but amidst the chaos of an army battle, its utility would likely be severely restricted.

He was somewhat worried that if he encountered a powerful adversary, it would be best not to expose his little black sword prematurely.

He had heard the mysterious old man of the Chen Family Apothecary in the demon town say that if a swordsman's natal flying sword was damaged, the consequences would be severe.

At best, his mind would be injured; at worst, his sword would shatter and he would perish.

...

On the battlements of Dasan Pass, people were drinking together.

The old scholar held a book, occasionally extending a finger to lightly dab a drop of wine to turn the page—driving the sword cultivator opposite him to twitch his beard in anger and grumble incessantly.

"I say you old pedantic scholar, can't you keep your dog claws out of my bowl? Can't you be reasonable?"

"Right, do you think Zheng Hongxue's arrangement this time makes sense?"

"If you ask me, why don't you boast a bit and bless me with something like [This single sword settles the cosmos], letting me go wreck the ghost clan's lair all by myself? Wouldn't that be exhilarating?"

"That brat He Chang'an is truly a good-for-nothing. He's been pondering *Distant Sword Qi* for so long and still hasn't condensed a single decent sword intent. It's driving me mad."

"Old pedantic, are you mute? Why aren't you speaking? Did your brain get kicked by a donkey?"

"Dammit, this thieving heavens, won't they let humanity live? One day, I'll fly up there alone with a sword and poke a few holes in those inhumane bastards..."

Sword cultivator A Fei chattered endlessly, occasionally brandishing his sword, gesturing a stab toward the distant northern horizon, and laughing heartily. "If that old monster dares to twitch, I'll stride over in one step and poke her right in the thigh!"

Suddenly, he stopped his nagging, looked up at the sky, and his expression turned solemn.

"Old pedantic, something's wrong. Why do I sense demonic qi..."

The old scholar finally put down his book, stretched lazily, leisurely picked up a bowl of wine, drained it in one gulp, and smiled warmly. "Of course there's demonic qi. Otherwise, why would I need to make a move either?"

"Since that's the case, let's reason with them properly."

"Hahaha, hearing the words 'reasoning' come out of your old pedantic mouth always makes me feel so good. Why do you suppose that is?"

Sword cultivator A Fei rose to his full height, laughed heartily, took a single step, and instantly vanished a hundred miles away.

Facing the northwest, he effortlessly slashed out with a sword.

The sword energy was like rumbling thunder, sweeping across like an overwhelming wave.

"I have only one sword. I wonder—will it reason with them?"

...

Watching sword cultivator A Fei take a single step to head northwest and 'reason' with certain beings of the demonic clan,

the old scholar shook his head with a wry smile, picked up his book once more, and drank another bowl of wine.

Gazing toward the north, he merely stared gently, doing nothing and saying nothing, just like someone waiting for a guest arriving amidst a snowy night to gently knock on the wooden door of a rustic courtyard.

An old fogey matching an old fogey—that was fair enough.

...

An hour later, the northern gate of Dasan Pass slowly opened, and a column of troops filed out in a continuous stream.

At the vanguard was none other than Zheng Hongxue.

The Garrison Commander of the Northern Frontier and a Heavenly-rank Demon Slaying Envoy of the Great Tang Demon Slaying Bureau, dressed entirely in crimson like a burning flame, led a force of one hundred thousand human cavalry straight into the northern territory.

Far away, on the horizon roughly a hundred miles off, a dark, oppressive shadow rolled forward like a tide.

The earth began to tremble slightly.

At Zheng Hongxue's command, the main army swiftly seized a relatively gentle slope. Securing the geographical advantage, they began to form ranks and array themselves in battle formations.

In an instant, the battlefield fell into absolute silence.

A silence that felt almost ethereal.

It was He Chang'an's first time participating in a formation battle of the cold-weapon era. His heart surged with excitement, and he felt as though both palms were slick with sweat.

He blended among a group of ordinary soldiers, wearing standard armor and carrying a scarlet banner.

Embroidered upon the large banner was a character for 'Tang' as large as a peck measure.

Zheng Hongxue had previously instructed that once the battle commenced, if she encountered a powerful adversary, He Chang'an must secretly intervene to assist.

Otherwise, he was merely an ordinary soldier carrying a banner, following closely behind Zheng Hongxue to punch through the enemy lines.

For human cavalry facing the wolf-riding warriors of the ghost tribe, their sole advantage was heavy armored cavalry, which could nearly sweep away the ghost tribe's light cavalry units.

Yet their disadvantage was also obvious: heavy cavalry could not sustain prolonged combat. Once surrounded and trapped deep within the enemy lines amidst the vast sea of wolf riders, their prospects would become perilous.

Therefore, when two armies met in formation, they had to strike with a single, unstoppable momentum and pierce through in one go.

After another counter-charge, the enemy's formation would scatter into disarray, allowing the subsequent light cavalry, infantry, and archers to display their prowess.

...