Chapter 111: The Next One
On the Martial Arts Stage, Wei Huan’s Water Dragon Blade was locked in a stalemate with Wala’s stone axe.
One was a young, simple-hearted recruit from the Vanguard Battalion of the Central Plains, the other a cruel and brutal veteran of the battlefield from the Western Qiang. Though Wei Huan’s blade skills were exceptional, his practical combat experience was ultimately lacking. Moreover, his opponent was a warrior capable of lifting a thousand pounds.
Compared to Wei Huan’s agility, Wala’s stone axe was massive and heavy, seemingly wielded with reckless, unrefined swings. Though the axe appeared cumbersome, Wala’s immense strength made it formidable. As Wei Huan dodged, the axe struck the ground, splitting even the stone floor with a crack.
Wei Huan’s stamina was gradually failing him.
He was, after all, young and not as robust as Wala. He couldn’t withstand such relentless, brute-force attacks for long. Apart from leaving a scratch on Wala’s face, he hadn’t even been able to get close to his opponent—Wala was clad in armor!
This was an inherently unfair fight. Wei Huan’s wounds multiplied, yet Wala had no intention of killing him outright. Each time a potentially fatal strike was possible, Wala would deliberately shift it slightly, avoiding vital points but leaving Wei Huan battered and bruised.
It was like a cat toying with a mouse, not rushing to devour it but playing until the mouse was utterly exhausted before swallowing it whole.
This was nothing but a one-sided slaughter.
Below the stage, Shen Han watched, his fists clenched so tightly they creaked. He was about to step forward when Rida Muzi blocked his path.
The vulture-like, burly man leaned against his horse, a bloodthirsty smile on his face. “Instructor, no helping allowed.”
Shen Han drew his blade.
“What? You want to fight me too?” Rida Muzi laughed, his gaze sinister. “Then I’ll gladly oblige.”
Around the Martial Arts Stage, Qiang soldiers had gathered, intentionally or not. Whenever a recruit from the Liangzhou Guard tried to intervene, these Qiang tribesmen would engage them. Even if they could break through, it would be too late.
On the stage, Wei Huan’s vision was slowly blurring. His dodges grew increasingly sluggish as his strength rapidly drained away. Gasping for breath, he failed to evade in time, and Wala’s axe struck his right leg. A piercing pain shot through him, but he gritted his teeth and made no sound.
Wala walked up to him. Wei Huan no longer had the strength to flee. He saw Wala looking down at him like a butcher eyeing a lamb on the chopping block. Wala sneered, “Tsk, finished so soon? How boring. You Central Plains people are so weak, not even worth a single finger of the Qiang Tribe.”
Wei Huan remained silent. Large beads of sweat dripped from his forehead, mingling with the blood on his face, a pitiful sight.
“Don’t worry, it won’t hurt,” Wala licked his lips, his gaze greedy as he stared at Wei Huan. “When this stone axe comes down, your brains will splatter. It’ll be beautiful. Too bad you won’t get to see it.”
With that, he swung the massive axe, aiming straight for Wei Huan’s neck!
“Wei Huan!” Ma Damei cried out in despair. Before Wei Huan joined the Vanguard Battalion, he had been under Ma Damei’s command, and their bond ran deep. Ma Damei tried to rush forward to save him but was blocked by a Western Qiang soldier drawing his blade. It seemed Wei Huan’s life was about to be extinguished.
At that very moment.
Behind the Martial Arts Field stood a lush banyan tree, its leaves still vibrant even in winter, showing no sign of withering. Everyone’s attention was fixed on the stage, so no one noticed when a figure had taken a seat among the branches of that banyan tree.By the time they saw it, the figure was like a bolt of black lightning, grabbing the cloth tied to the tree and swinging over like a pendulum. He let go mid-air—everything happened too fast. He swept to the front of the Martial Arts Stage and kicked away the axe aimed at Wei Huan’s head—
Leveraging the momentum, even with Wala’s immense strength, the side kick sent him staggering backward. The heavy, sharp axe wounded even himself. Had he not been exceptionally strong, managing to steady himself after two steps back, the stone axe might have cut deeper.
“He Yan?” Wei Huan murmured.
The recruits of Liangzhou Guard were stunned.
It was widely known that He Yan had been imprisoned in Liangzhou Guard’s dungeon due to the White Moon Mountain incident. How could he suddenly appear here? Had he been released?
Wala looked at the person before him.
The youth in black martial attire stood with hands on hips, tilting his head with a cheerful smile. “You’re too fierce, sir. If I hadn’t intervened just now, my friend’s head would have been gone.”
The recruits of Liangzhou Guard saw them as thorns in their side, and with the blood feud of all sentries being wiped out, they glared at them with red eyes. At best, they were as expressionless as Wei Huan. Yet this youth grinned as if nothing had happened, sparking a flicker of interest in Wala, as if he had found new prey.
“And who are you?” he asked.
The youth in black brushed aside his disheveled hair and smiled. “I am He Yan, the recent champion of the flag competition in Liangzhou Guard.” He glanced at Wala. “Maybe you don’t know what flag competition means, but no matter. Just remember that I am number one in Liangzhou Guard.”
“Number one?” Rida Muzi below the stage narrowed his eyes at him. “You?”
He Yan indeed appeared too short and frail. If Wala and Wei Huan standing together resembled a robust tiger and a lamb, then He Yan, who looked even weaker than Wei Huan, compared to Wala, was like a chick facing an eagle.
“Sorry, I arrived a bit late. What exactly are you all doing here?” the youth said with a beaming smile. “If this is a martial arts contest, not inviting me but choosing others is truly a waste of talent.”
Wala laughed heartily. “You really have a big mouth!”
“He Yan!” Shen Han called out to him.
“Chief Instructor Shen,” He Yan looked at him, “I’ve been holding in a lot of frustration these past few days. A good fight might help me vent. Please be accommodating and don’t stop me.”
Shen Han had nothing to say.
Rida Muzi had come targeting the recruits of Liangzhou Guard. Since he refused to let the instructors step in, only the recruits could fight. Among them, aside from He Yan, few could truly match him. Those with outstanding skills lacked practical experience, while those with experience were older and lacked the stamina of the young. He Yan possessed unparalleled martial prowess and a clever, cunning mind. By all accounts, he already had a significant chance of winning.
It was good that this side of the Martial Arts Stage had captured the Qiang people’s attention. More importantly…
He Yan asked, “Is this a contest now? If so, may I take my friend’s place?”
“You?”
“Exactly. I am number one in Liangzhou Guard. Defeating me,” He Yan glanced at Wei Huan on the ground, “would be far more satisfying than defeating him, wouldn’t it?”
The Western Qiang people below the stage burst into laughter.
Rida Muzi looked at him. “I like this one’s temperament! Let him fight!”He Yan said, "Someone, please carry this brother away."
Wei Huan was carried off, and as he was being taken away, he looked at He Yan and whispered, "You... be careful."
He Yan replied, "I know."
On the high platform of the Martial Arts Field, only two people remained once more.
The recruits below watched, all holding their breath for He Yan.
Over the past half year, He Yan had made a name for herself on this stage more than once. Some genuinely admired and revered her, while others were jealous and resentful. But at this moment, the recruits of Liangzhou Guard stood united, hoping only that she could defeat
Wala and teach those Qiang people a lesson, letting them know that Liangzhou Guard was not to be trifled with!
While the recruits below were on edge, He Yan on the platform remained completely unfazed. She smiled and said, "By the way, I don’t know what the stakes are for this match. Let me propose something: if I lose, you can do whatever you want with me. If you lose," she recalled the youth from her memories, chuckled, and said in a casual tone, "you have to call me 'Dad.'"
At that, the recruits of Liangzhou Guard burst into laughter.
Liang Ping was both worried and proud. "What kind of time is this to be joking!"
None of Rida Muzi’s men, however, found it amusing. Wala stared darkly at He Yan, wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, and said, "We don’t need stakes. We fight three rounds. The loser dies, the winner lives. That’s the rule."
"Life or death, no exceptions?" He Yan asked.
"What, scared?"
"Not exactly," He Yan replied. "Instructor, throw me a steel whip, a long one!"
Shen Han grabbed the longest steel whip from the top of the weapon rack and threw it over. He Yan caught it effortlessly, twirling it in her hand as she looked at Wala. "Is it alright if I use a weapon?"
"Fine," Wala sneered. "But are you sure you don’t want to switch to a sword or blade? A whip can’t kill."
The youth curled the corner of her lips. "It’s enough to kill you."
Before Wala could fully grasp the meaning of her words, he saw the youth suddenly charge forward with the whip. Wala was taken aback, then burst into laughter, swinging his giant axe to meet her head-on.
But as the youth closed in, she didn’t strike. Instead, she lightly tapped her toes, dodging the stone axe’s attack and circling behind Wala. When Wala turned around and swung his axe again, she sidestepped once more.
She seemed to take the initiative but never attacked, the whip coiled around her hand as if she were just circling Wala. In an instant, she turned and ran. Wala followed, but as soon as he lifted his foot, he felt something wrap around it, throwing him off balance and causing him to stumble.
But the giant reacted quickly. Realizing He Yan’s whip had entangled his foot, he tried to steady himself. However, He Yan gave him no chance. She slung the whip over her shoulder and pulled hard, as if hauling cargo—
Wala could no longer hold his ground. His massive, clumsy frame relied on both feet for stability. With one foot off balance, the other struggled to compensate, and with He Yan pulling from the other end, he fell to the ground with a heavy thud.
The whip seemed only as long as a person, yet He Yan somehow managed to pull it from under Wala, effortlessly returning it to her hand. Without pausing, she rushed to Wala’s side, one hand wrapping around his neck as the whip coiled around it.
Wala instinctively tried to pull it away.
He Yan tightened her grip with both hands—Day after day of throwing stone locks had given him considerable strength in his hands. The strange warrior wore armor, yet his neck remained uncovered—ordinary flesh and blood, the most vulnerable spot after all. He was not truly made of steel and iron.
Those on the Martial Arts Field heard only a sickening crunch—
Wala’s head drooped limply.
“You are not human; you are a beast,” He Yan murmured softly. “So, to kill you, a whip is enough.”
She raised her head again, smiling, yet her eyes were icy and piercing as she calmly addressed the crowd below. “He’s dead. I’ve won. The outcome is decided. Next.”
On the Martial Arts Stage, the situation had abruptly reversed.
Just moments ago, Wala had toyed with Wei Huan like a cat with a mouse, delaying the final blow. He likely never imagined he would die at the hands of this seemingly frail youth before him.
How long does it take to kill a person? The time it takes to drink a cup of tea, burn a stick of incense, or pass a quarter of an hour?
None of that was needed.
The new recruits of Liangzhou Guard knew He Yan was formidable—the memories of her previous matches against Huang Xiong and Jiang Jiao on this very field were still vivid. Yet the He Yan before them now seemed different from the one who had “sparred” on the stage in the past. When this youth shed all jest, she became cold and chilling, radiating an aura of lethality that was hard to meet directly.
She smiled and said, “On the battlefield, there’s no need for flashy performances. Once you’ve figured out how to kill, you can act.” Her gaze fell upon Rida Muzi.
Rida Muzi returned her stare.
Slowly, the new recruits of Liangzhou below began to react, exclaiming excitedly, “He Yan won! He Yan killed Wala!”
“Brother He is amazing!” Cheng Li Su, though restrained, did not forget to cheer for He Yan. “Beat them until their heads are covered in bumps!”
Liang Ping and Ma Damei exchanged glances. The speed at which He Yan had killed—even for a prodigy—was astonishingly fast.
“You,” the youth stood on the high stage, smiling at the Western Qiang people, “surely aren’t poor losers. Who’s next?”
For a moment, no one among the Western Qiang spoke.
She smiled again, this time with a hint of provocation. “I know betting with one’s life is somewhat terrifying. I never thought the Western Qiang warriors, who boast of fearing nothing, would also have moments of not daring to step onto the stage. But it’s fine. We, the sons of Great Wei’s Central Plains, have always been benevolent and kind-hearted. If you truly don’t wish to continue, just admit defeat as I said earlier—call me ‘father,’ and this sparring ends here. How about it?”
“But,” He Yan stared at Rida Muzi, “who will call me ‘father’? You are their leader. Why don’t you do it?”
“Bastard!” A soldier behind Rida Muzi stepped forward angrily.
He Yan showed no fear, replying innocently, “Is that not allowed either?”
Wang Ba whispered, “So satisfying!”
“She’s deliberately provoking the opponent,” Huang Xiong said gravely. “But in this situation, it seems unnecessary to do so.”
He Yan’s nature had always been this arrogant and confident. In the past, others might have dismissed it as youthful exuberance, but now, provoking Rida Muzi was not a wise move.
“I’ll compete with you.” A voice rang out from behind Rida Muzi. “Commander, Bazhu is willing to fight.”
Rida Muzi glanced at him, showing neither joy nor anger, and simply said, “Go.”
The man named Bazhu stepped onto the high stage of the Martial Arts Field.Unlike the previous Wala, although Bazhu was robust, he was not as excessively huge as Wala and was also older, around thirty years old. He was shrouded entirely in a dark cloak, with even his head hidden under a wide-brimmed hat, revealing only half of his chin. His features were indistinct, making him appear pale and eerie, like a ghost. His voice was hoarse, as if scorched by fire, unpleasant like the caw of a crow.
Bazhu walked over to Wala’s side. Though they were companions, he showed no sympathy, kicking Wala’s corpse off the high platform of the Martial Arts Field and cursing, “Useless thing.”
Wala’s body tumbled down the platform, but Bazhu didn’t spare it a glance. Instead, he said to He Yan, “You have old injuries.”
He Yan’s heart sank. This man named Bazhu was more troublesome than Wala.
Wala was merely a brute relying on sheer strength, a warrior who lacked adaptability. Dealing with such a person only required finding his weakness and striking it to quickly end the fight. In any battle, the most feared enemy was one like the one before her—someone with a mind. He could identify his opponent’s weaknesses, making every subsequent move constrained.
Slowly raising the saber in his hand, He Yan wrapped her iron whip around her arm and charged toward him.
During the fight between Wei Huan and Wala, He Yan had been a spectator, observing Wala’s weaknesses and shortcomings in advance. That was why she could swiftly and decisively defeat Wala. But in this battle, Bazhu was someone she had never encountered, and during her fight with Wala, this man had observed her clearly.
In other words, Bazhu understood He Yan, but He Yan knew nothing about Bazhu.
Beneath his cloak, he seemed to conceal many other things. He Yan remained vigilant, but this man was also cunning, avoiding direct confrontation with her. Learning from Wala’s example, he kept his distance. Whenever the whip lashed toward him, Bazhu would swiftly change direction. He was far more agile than Wala, and for a while, the iron whip couldn’t get close.
A dull pain had already begun to throb in He Yan’s waist.
Earlier in Liang Province City, she had been injured while fighting Ding Yi. Later, she was tricked by a traitor and lured to White Moon Mountain, where she fought with hidden assailants. After repeated struggles, her nearly healed wounds had long since reopened. To make matters worse, she was thrown into the Liangzhou Guard’s dungeon afterward. There was no Shen Muxue there to bring her medicinal soup daily, and the cold, damp conditions likely worsened her injuries.
When she killed Wala earlier, she had exerted too much force, aggravating her wounds. It was manageable for a short time, but now, in a prolonged battle with Bazhu, the pain grew increasingly sharp and piercing.
Bazhu laughed, “Why do you look so pale? Is it because your old waist injury is acting up?”
He Yan was taken aback. Bazhu’s curved saber had already entangled her iron whip, pulling her forward. The crowd below gasped. With his saber tangled, Bazhu didn’t hesitate to strike He Yan’s old waist injury with his other hand.
He Yan took the solid blow but didn’t stop moving. She released her whip, letting it coil toward his face. Bazhu dodged, but the whip caught his wide-brimmed hat, tearing it off and revealing his face.
Both of them stepped back and stood firm.That palm struck firmly against her old wound. He Yan barely managed to swallow the blood rising in her throat, still wearing a faint smile as she looked at the person before her and mocked, "Tsk, truly ugly."
Without the veil hat to conceal him, Ba Zhu revealed his true face. One half of his face was intact, even somewhat handsome, while the other half had been burned by fire, pitted and scarred. Dark red scars like centipedes grew across his face, distorting his features.
Someone below the stage gasped in fright.
With his veil hat knocked off by He Yan and his true appearance exposed to the crowd, Ba Zhu’s expression turned extremely grim. His gaze fixed on He Yan as if he wished to devour her flesh and drink her blood.
He Yan smiled, curling a finger toward him. "Again!"
Ba Zhu sneered and charged forward.
As soon as He Yan moved, she knew it was bad. Ba Zhu’s earlier palm strike had been ruthless, and now blood was seeping out. Fortunately, she had changed into Lei Hou’s black martial attire for warmth before coming, so even if she bled, it wouldn’t be visible. Still, she didn’t know how much longer she could hold out like this.
In truth, the sparring on the high platform of the Martial Arts Field was never the main focus. The real purpose was to use these three "sparring matches" to buy more time. If no one could withstand the Western Qiang’s curved blades, and it turned into a one-sided slaughter, then everything afterward would be lost.
She had to kill Ba Zhu for there to be a third match.
The Western Qiang were skilled with curved blades, and each person’s blade was adjusted according to their physique and strength. Ba Zhu’s curved blade leaned toward agility, making it difficult for He Yan’s iron whip to entangle it.
He Yan’s whip lashed toward Ba Zhu’s leg. Ba Zhu sneered, "Using the same move on two people? How naive!" With that, he sidestepped He Yan and swung his curved blade toward her neck—
Unlike Wala, Ba Zhu had been aiming for He Yan’s life from the start, without a single feint. He Yan gripped her whip with both hands, holding Ba Zhu’s curved blade inches from her face. Ba Zhu let out a sinister laugh, leaning back. He Yan couldn’t dodge in time as he drew a dagger from his cloak with his right hand.
This dagger was only as long as a person’s thumb, thin as paper. It resembled a blade more than a dagger, and unless one was up close, it was nearly impossible to see. He released his palm forward, and to outsiders, it looked as if he had merely slapped He Yan’s waist. But aside from He Yan, no one knew that the sharp weapon in his palm had plunged entirely into her flesh.
He Yan felt a piercing pain in her waist and instinctively clenched her fist to strike. Ba Zhu’s face was close to hers as he sneered, "Does it hurt? If it hurts, you—"
His words cut off abruptly.
He Yan’s clenched fist pressed against his throat, refusing to let go.
Ba Zhu struggled frantically, but at some point, the iron whip had bound He Yan’s leg to his. With no escape, he thrashed violently, but the more he struggled, the more his eyes rolled back. Finally, he spat blood and gradually stopped moving.
He Yan’s expression remained impassive as she pressed her fist deeper, confirming that the man beneath her had no breath left before releasing her grip.
On Ba Zhu’s neck, a small iron-like object was visible—only a tiny bit, the rest unseen, likely lodged deep in his throat. It was an iron caltrop.
He Yan had picked it up from the ground when she arrived.Always carry hidden weapons on your person—it can only be beneficial, never harmful. No one knows what kind of enemy they might encounter, what might happen next, or when it will occur. The only thing one can do is increase the odds of survival.
She couldn’t get close to Ba Zhu anymore, as he had already grown wary of her. Her final strike was nothing more than a mutually destructive tactic—hurting the enemy by eight hundred while harming herself by a thousand. But she was still better off than Ba Zhu. She had merely been wounded in the waist by a dagger, reopening an old injury, while Ba Zhu was now dead.
"You have your trump card, but who’s to say I don’t have mine?" she murmured.
A moment later, He Yan struggled to pull the iron whip free from both Ba Zhu and herself, coiling it back around her wrist. She stood up, the black martial attire she wore no longer as lively as the red one, instead carrying a more solemn and deadly air. She stood perfectly straight, showing no sign of fatigue, and played with the iron whip around her wrist, smiling faintly as she repeated the exact same words from earlier.
“He’s dead, I’ve won. The outcome is decided. Next.”
(End of Chapter)
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