Chapter 80: Fierce Battle on the Mountain Summit

The seven of them groped their way to the mountain summit under the cover of darkness.

It was already deep into the night, yet the lavish villa of Tian Yunhu was still ablaze with lights. Faintly, the sounds of revelry and drinking games drifted out from within.

None among them were in a hurry; they hid themselves in the woods and waited. The six young men and women were all somewhat excited—cultivators inevitably walked paths of blood and danger. Though they hadn’t seen much themselves, they’d heard enough, and to roam the world with sword in hand was a dream cherished by all.

Only Yang Cheng felt a little nervous. After all, this was quite different from the fights he’d known in his previous life; if things went awry, he might very well lose his life here. Still, it was no time to dampen the group’s spirits.

They waited a good while longer. Eventually, those who had come to Tian Yunhu’s house for drinks left one after another, descending the mountain, and most of the lights in the Tian household went out.

Everyone looked to Yang Cheng, who nodded. With no airborne restriction arrays outside of Wuzhou City, the seven slipped silently over the walls into the Tian residence. Following Mei Yuchen’s advice, they planned to launch a sneak attack, just as they had done with the Dagger Gang. But they had barely set foot in the courtyard when a guard dog came charging at them, barking furiously.

Hua Mingzhu hurriedly dispatched the dog with her dagger, but its barking had already alerted the household. Lamps flared to life all around, flooding the courtyard with light, and more than twenty people stormed out to the gate, shouting curses.

At their head was a fierce-looking man, wielding a great ring-bladed saber and sporting enormous hands. He pointed at Yang Cheng and his companions, barking, “Who are you villains, trespassing on my land?”

The rest, dressed not much differently from street thugs, saw that their opponents were mostly young men and women and let loose with a barrage of crude insults.

Yang Cheng sized them up—just a gang of ruffians, and not worth trading words with. He signaled to the group. Mei Yuchen leapt forward, drew his sword, and declared, “I’ve come to claim your life!” lunging straight at Tian Yunhu.

Bai Zhuluo immediately followed, and together they attacked Tian Yunhu. The rest each found their own opponents and charged into battle.

Yang Cheng, sword in hand, engaged one of them—who, judging from his moves, had only just entered the early stages of cultivation. Within a few exchanges, Yang Cheng wounded him in the arm, eliciting a wail. Secretly, Yang Cheng marveled at his own prowess; anxiety vanished as he dispatched his foe with ease.

But at the man’s call, two others joined in to surround Yang Cheng. They seemed to think he was the leader and thus the strongest. Under their combined assault, weapons rained down upon him from every direction—strikes, stabs, hacks. Lacking real combat experience, Yang Cheng was forced on the defensive, relying solely on his agility to avoid disaster.

Tian Yunhu, long used to strutting about town unchecked, had lost the wariness he’d possessed in his early days. At first, he was startled when two sword-wielding youths rushed at him, fearing they might be true experts. But after a few hurried exchanges, he couldn’t help but laugh. The shorter youth’s swordplay was fierce, each move targeting his vitals—yet their spiritual power was nowhere near his, and neither dared meet his great saber head-on.

The other—thin, with a sharp face—wielded an intricate sword technique but was clearly much weaker, an obvious novice. Tian Yunhu silently mocked their audacity.

After ten or so attacks, Bai Zhuluo was already struggling. She’d boasted earlier of regularly sparring with experts at the fusion stage, but now she realized those family elites had only humored her out of respect for her former status. Tian Yunhu’s saber nearly struck her several times; if not for Mei Yuchen’s timely aid, she’d have been injured repeatedly. The three were locked in a stalemate, but any discerning eye could see it was only a matter of time before Tian Yunhu bested them.

Hua Mingzhu moved with agility, her short sword weaving among the throng—many fell to her blade. The brothers Tian Hu and Tian Biao, though short in stature, were never cowed, each taking on two opponents with ease.

In the midst of the melee, Li Tianxing was truly in his element. He never cared for weapons—preferred his fists. Though his master taught with the sword, he adapted his instruction to each disciple, allowing Li Tianxing to develop his own strengths. Since beginning cultivation, his body had grown stronger by leaps and bounds. Though his cultivation was low, even the family guards at the foundation stage could scarcely harm him without weapons.

Most cultivators relied on weapon mastery—a gap that only widened at higher levels, when one could kill from miles away with a stroke. Thus, few chose to temper their bodies; humans were inherently weaker than the demon beasts, who were born formidable. Even those cultivators known for hand-to-hand combat had fragile bodies.

But Li Tianxing was different—his constitution was extraordinary, his fists as heavy as iron hammers. Coupled with his bold nature, his attacks were sweeping and domineering. Several of the thugs matched him in cultivation, but none could withstand even a single round; some died instantly from a punch, others had their weapons bent and their ribs broken from the shock.

Though Li Tianxing had never killed before, he dared not hold back in his first real battle. Three or four fell dead at his hands in quick succession, but he was only briefly startled and soon pressed on.

Seeing his fearsome prowess, the remaining foes dared not engage him directly, instead circling at a safe distance, shouting. Li Tianxing glanced around and saw Yang Cheng in dire straits—knocked to the ground by a kick from behind. Fearing for Yang Cheng’s safety, Li Tianxing moved to help, but Hua Mingzhu flashed by, her dagger piercing one attacker’s neck from side to side.

Having noticed Yang Cheng was outmatched, Hua Mingzhu had quickly doubled back to assist. Yang Cheng was both surprised and grateful at her ruthless efficiency, but knew this was no time for mercy.

Li Tianxing, seeing that Tian Hu and Tian Biao could handle their opponents, turned his attention back to Tian Yunhu. Mei Yuchen and Bai Zhuluo were being forced back step by step, the danger mounting. Clearly, the gap between the foundation and fusion stages was too great—Mei Yuchen could defend himself, but Bai Zhuluo was in peril.

Sensing the urgency, Li Tianxing felled another foe with a few punches and charged towards Tian Yunhu.

After dozens of rounds, Tian Yunhu saw his victory secured. Seizing an opening, he swung his saber to drive off the short youth and then aimed a vicious blow at Bai Zhuluo. Unable to dodge, she braced herself for death—but in that instant, a shadow flashed past. Li Tianxing’s fist slammed into the saber, deflecting it and nearly wrenching it from Tian Yunhu’s grasp.

Shaking out his aching fist, Li Tianxing marveled at the gulf in cultivation.

Tian Yunhu’s palm split from the force, and he struggled to hold his saber, astonished. Only now did he realize these youths were not to be underestimated. That short one, at most late foundation stage, had held him at bay for so long. And this big youth, though young and of low cultivation, had managed to deflect his full-strength saber blow with bare hands.

He glanced around the courtyard and his temper flared. Only three or four of his men remained standing. He’d always known they were useless, but kept them around for dirty work. Even after teaching them some basic techniques, they remained hopeless. Now, he bitterly regretted not spending more to hire some proper foundation-stage cultivators.

But regrets were useless—he needed to finish this fight first.

With Li Tianxing joining the fray, Mei Yuchen and Bai Zhuluo found relief. Mei Yuchen pressed the attack, his sword dueling the saber, while Li Tianxing engaged at close quarters, forcing Tian Yunhu to split his attention. Yet Li Tianxing’s cultivation was low; landing a blow on Tian Yunhu meant suffering nearly as much himself. Bai Zhuluo darted around, seeking an opening for her sword.

The four were locked in fierce battle. By now, Tian Hu and Tian Biao had dispatched the rest, soaked in blood and nursing wounds. Knowing their limitations, they dared not attack recklessly but joined the fight, looking for chances to strike at Tian Yunhu.

Hua Mingzhu had already helped Yang Cheng finish off the last of his opponents. Scanning the courtyard and seeing no enemies left standing, she refrained from joining the melee, instead observing Tian Yunhu intently.

Now facing five opponents, Tian Yunhu held his own for the moment. Bai Zhuluo and the brothers’ sneak attacks were deftly countered time and again, and he managed to wound Li Tianxing more than once. But that youth was tenacious—growing bolder with each setback.

After watching for a while, Hua Mingzhu called out, “Yuchen, mind your footwork! Tianxing, watch the center!” Mei Yuchen leapt back in time as Tian Yunhu’s saber swept low, and Li Tianxing dodged the incoming kick.

Several times in quick succession, Tian Yunhu’s frustration grew; it seemed the girl had a perfect read on his techniques, warning her companions just in time. The more agitated he became, the sloppier his moves.

Suddenly, Hua Mingzhu shouted, “Yuchen, meet his strike! Tianxing, attack his legs! Tian Hu and Tian Biao, go for his sides! Zhuluo, aim for his throat!”

Mei Yuchen, usually wary of taking the saber head-on, didn’t hesitate at her command and blocked the incoming blow with all his might. The impact sent his blood surging—he nearly collapsed. Li Tianxing kicked at Tian Yunhu’s calf; though Tian Yunhu wasn’t worried about being injured, the blow disrupted his balance. Unable to recover his saber in time, he leapt aside.

In that split second, Tian Hu and Tian Biao thrust their swords into his sides. Roaring with pain, Tian Yunhu tried to retaliate, but a shadow flickered before his eyes—a cold slash at his throat. Bai Zhuluo’s sword pierced through.

Tian Yunhu stared in disbelief, his body no longer under his control as he collapsed heavily to the ground. When the group stepped forward to check, he was already dead.

Everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief. The youngest, Tian Biao, let out a cheer. Yang Cheng, seeing that all six of his companions had only minor injuries, was overjoyed. Spotting a few wounded enemies still alive, they spared them, tying them up and threatening them not to descend the mountain the next day.

These were not hardened criminals; with their leader dead, they cared only for survival. None had any intention of seeking vengeance. If Tian Yunhu had survived, perhaps some officials would investigate, hoping to profit. But with him gone, who would bother?

At last, the group returned to the inn, washed up, and changed their clothes. Once dawn broke, they would head to the Luo family, fetch Old Luo, and return to the city together.