Sword light and spear glint clashed in blinding flashes.
The warhorse neighed sharply, hooves pounding as two figures moved like lightning and shadow.
Every time their weapons collided, Chen Sanshi had to use every ounce of strength in his body just to withstand it.
It was no wonder Song Wu had been so confident before striking.
The gap between tempering bones and tempering blood was indeed enormous.
But for Chen Sanshi, as long as he survived the first wave of attacks, that meant he wouldn't lose—and might even have a strong chance of winning.
Because—
He could outlast him!
The Dragon Elephant Blood didn't just grant him tremendous strength; it made his qi and blood far more efficient than ordinary cultivators.
For the same amount of qi and blood expended, an average fighter could deliver one strike—while Chen Sanshi could unleash three.
In such a battle of endurance, the longer it dragged on, the more the balance tipped in his favor.
No one understood this better than Song Wu himself.
"What kind of freak are you?!"
His Thunderclap Sword Technique was one of the best in all of Poyang County.
Combined with the power of both tempering bones and blood, he should've been able to crush anyone beneath that level.
Yet after a dozen exchanges, not only had he failed to take the upper hand—he couldn't even sense victory within reach.
The young soldier's spearwork was honed to perfection. Though it looked like he was constantly on the defensive, in truth, every time Song Wu grew even slightly careless, the spear's tip was already flashing toward his face.
And because Chen Sanshi fought from horseback, towering above him, the spear's long reach dominated the field.
Each sweeping thrust covered several zhang, and Song Wu couldn't even get close enough to touch the warhorse—he was trapped in a dance against the tip of death itself.
Frustration built in Song Wu's chest.
"He's still just tempering blood!"
"I want to see how long you can last!"
He roared, his qi and blood surging wildly. His sword became a storm of flashing arcs as he hacked forward again and again, trying to force the boy into exhaustion.
If he could make him burn through his qi and blood, his superior cultivation would guarantee victory.
The onlookers grew tense.
"Wang Li," Zhu Tong muttered through clenched teeth, "if things start to go bad, we'll rush in together and smash that bastard's head in!"
"Got it!" Wang Li nodded.
Meanwhile, Zhao Qiao and Wu Da had quietly fetched bows from inside the house, ready to loose arrows the moment Chen Sanshi looked in danger.
Only Xu Bin seemed oddly calm.
Yes—this feeling was familiar.
He grinned. "We don't need to help. Shitou's got this. Nine out of ten, he's gonna win."
"How can you tell?"
"Just watch."
Sure enough, after another twenty rounds, Song Wu's explosive strength began to wane.
In contrast, the young man's movements were as steady and composed as when he started—his energy unbroken, his breath calm.
It was Song Wu who began slipping, his attacks losing precision, his stance opening up with tiny flaws.
Chen Sanshi seized the chance.
The willow-leaf spear roared to life, striking from several meters away like a monsoon. Each thrust came for Song Wu's face or throat, fast and vicious like a venomous serpent that killed the instant it drew blood.
"Clang! Clang! Clang!"
Song Wu parried again and again, slicing at the serpent's head—but for every one he cut down, three more came hissing in.
The spear moved faster and faster until the air itself seemed full of flashing silver light.
There was no way to block them all.
He could only twist his neck and duck wildly, dodging by instinct.
To the onlookers, it looked like some insane acrobatic performance—except this one was painted in sweat and death.
Cold sweat poured down his back.
A dreadful realization struck Song Wu like lightning.
At this rate, it wasn't about winning or losing anymore—it was about living or dying.
'How does he still have this much power?! He's tempering blood, not bones! His stamina's endless—how?!'
He couldn't keep fighting.
If this went on any longer, he would die.
The fury in his chest ebbed away, replaced by cold clarity.
"Clang!"
He gathered all his strength for a powerful swing, knocking aside the spear tip before leaping backward, retreating fast to gain distance.
But Chen Sanshi didn't give him the chance.
He leapt from the saddle, body arched like a hunting tiger.
In midair, the spear shot forward in a blinding arc straight for Song Wu's chest.
The thrust came so fast that Song Wu didn't even have time to raise his blade. He barely managed to twist his torso—narrowly dodging a fatal strike.
The spear grazed his chest, tearing through his robe and slicing a deep line across his flesh. Blood gushed out in torrents.
"Bang!"
Chen Sanshi didn't withdraw the spear. His Dragon Elephant Blood surged through his veins, muscles tightening like coiled steel.
He swung the shaft like a massive iron cudgel, his waist and horsepower united in a single motion, and slammed it across Song Wu's chest.
The fifth son of Tailei Hall's Master was flung backward several zhang, crashing into the muddy road.
Momentum carried him through several rolls before he finally stopped.
His face was smeared with blood. His fine embroidered robe was torn to shreds, and the proud martial master of the hall now looked utterly humiliated.
"Stop… stop!"
Song Wu staggered to his feet, using his sword for support. "I—I admit defeat! I won't pursue the deaths of my disciples anymore. Let's end this here!"
The entire place fell silent in shock.
A cultivator in the tempering blood realm had just defeated someone tempering bones?!
"Farewell!"
Song Wu didn't care about saving face anymore. He spat out the words and turned to flee without hesitation.
"Fifth Master!"
The martial hall disciples still surrounded by soldiers shouted in panic.
But clearly, their Fifth Master had no intention of saving them.
"Good! Ending it here is best," Xu Bin said, finally relaxing. "A few martial hall disciples dead—shouldn't be too big a problem."
But his relief lasted only a moment.
Because the young man didn't seem inclined to let that "Fifth Master" leave alive.
Chen Sanshi lowered his spear, slung it aside, and picked up his Kaiyuan Bow. He crouched beside one of the corpses, pulled out an arrow, and drew the bow without hesitation.
"Whoosh—!"
Song Wu had already fled nearly one hundred paces, glancing back every few steps.
When he saw the bowstring drawn, he instinctively raised his sword to deflect. But he was a heartbeat too slow.
The Wolf Fang Arrow screamed through the air, tearing through flesh before embedding deep in his chest. It missed his heart but shattered bone, leaving him gasping in agony.
He stumbled and fell to the ground, clutching the wound. Looking up at the youth galloping toward him, Song Wu's face twisted in rage and disbelief.
"You… you killed my disciples, and now you dare to kill me too?!"
"Why wouldn't I dare?"
Chen Sanshi's roar thundered across the entire village.
His White Swan horse neighed and charged forward. In one fluid motion, Chen Sanshi leapt into the saddle, the willow-leaf spear gripped tightly in his hands.
He gathered all the power of his qi and blood, channeling it entirely into the spear's tip. The warhorse thundered down the dirt road, and in mere moments, he was upon his prey.
With a burst of force, the spear thrust forward like lightning.
Song Wu's sword shattered on impact.
The razor-sharp spear pierced straight through his chest with unstoppable momentum.
"Ah—!"
Song Wu screamed in agony, collapsing backward, his hands clinging desperately to the spear shaft to stop it from driving deeper.
The White Swan horse didn't stop.
The long spear impaled through Song Wu's body, dragging him across the ground.
His robe tore to ribbons, his back scraped raw by gravel and dirt, and the blood pouring from his mouth mixed with dust and mud. His grip on the spear weakened with every passing heartbeat.
He coughed up blood and tried to bargain for his life, voice trembling and wet. "I… I pay tribute every year to the Prefect himself… If you kill me, you'll—"
"Die."
"Splurt!"
Chen Sanshi didn't let him finish. He twisted the spear sharply, the blade spinning inside the man's chest like a drill. Bones shattered; his heart burst apart.
Song Wu's fingers went slack. His body convulsed once, then stilled forever.
Swallow-Edge Village fell silent as death.
Chen Sanshi raised his spear high, his voice steady and clear.
"Brothers, don't worry! Song Wu was killed by me alone. I'll report everything directly to Thousand-Household Xiang. None of you will be blamed."
——
At the Eight Treasures Restaurant.
Inside a private room, fine dishes and wine filled the table—but not a soul touched them.
At the head seat sat Thousand-Household Xiang Tingchun.
Across from him were the four great martial hall masters of Poyang County.
"I've said my piece," Xiang Tingchun said slowly, his gaze sweeping across each man. His words were heavy. "Who agrees—and who objects?"
"You can forget it!"
The first to speak was Song Nanshan, master of the Tailei Martial Hall.
His hair and beard were white, his breathing weak—a man clearly recovering from a grave injury—but his voice remained firm. "Thousand-Household Xiang, you're being far too aggressive. I see no reason to continue this discussion!"
He rose, leaning on his cane.
At the doorway, Hundred-Household Officer Luo Dongquan stepped forward and drew his blade.
Song Nanshan's expression darkened. "What is the meaning of this?!"
"Isn't it obvious?"
Xiang Tingchun poured himself wine, speaking unhurriedly. "Whether you agree or not, you'll agree today. Otherwise, none of you are leaving this room alive.
"Master Song, you're the eldest and most senior among us. I hope you'll set a good example."
"I've made myself very clear."
Song Nanshan snorted coldly. "If we don't see the goods, don't expect a single Bronze Coin from us!"
"Well said!"
The master of Tianyuan Martial Hall slammed the table in agreement. "Xiang Tingchun, I think you never had any so-called immortal treasure at all. You've been lying to us from the start!"
"Master Liang, don't try to bait me," Xiang Tingchun said, his eyes narrowing. "I'll say it one last time—cooperate, and once spring arrives, the treasure will be delivered into your hands."
Song Nanshan's voice turned cold. "And if we insist on seeing it first?"
"Then I might just find something in your manor," Xiang Tingchun said flatly. "Armor, perhaps. Bows and crossbows. Maybe a stash of military-grade long weapons."
"Absurd!"
Song Nanshan's anger flared, stirring his injuries. He coughed violently, pointing a shaking finger at Xiang Tingchun. "You fool! Don't forget—we're grasshoppers tied to the same rope. If this blows up, it'll hurt both sides!"
Xiang Tingchun's eyes turned dark. "Are you threatening me?"
Song Nanshan turned to the others. "Don't be afraid of him! He's bluffing! Those planted armors and weapons can easily be explained. And as for his so-called immortal treasure—he doesn't dare expose that lie!"
Xiang Tingchun's hand rested quietly on the hilt of his sword, but he didn't draw it.
The old man was right.
The evidence he'd planted in their halls wasn't yet enough.
Even if he wanted to kill them all, wiping out all four martial halls in one night wasn't realistic.
No—he needed to kill one to warn the rest.
As tension filled the room, raised voices sounded from outside.
"Thousand-Household Xiang has ordered—no one enters!"
"Please report immediately! I have urgent news to deliver!"
"..."
Luo Dongquan stepped out to investigate and returned moments later, leaning down to whisper in Xiang Tingchun's ear. "A Flag Officer has arrived, sir. His name's Fang Ping. He says…"
As Xiang listened, a cold fury ignited in his eyes.
The murderous intent that had been simmering suddenly exploded. His voice grew sharp and domineering. He had found his target.
"Song Nanshan! You've gone too far!"
"Your Tailei Martial Hall disciples ambushed imperial soldiers in broad daylight—witnessed by hundreds! And you still claim you're not plotting rebellion?!"
"Die!"
Song Nanshan barely had time to register the words before Xiang Tingchun's sword flashed.
Steel sang.
His head flew.
"Pass down my order!" Xiang Tingchun roared, blood dripping from his blade. "Tailei Martial Hall has rebelled! Mobilize the troops—surround and annihilate them! Leave none alive!"
"You mad dog!"
The other three masters jumped to their feet, faces pale. "Xiang Tingchun, you're insane!"
"That's right—I'm a mad dog!"
Xiang Tingchun's eyes blazed red. "By tomorrow's sunset, I want to see the army's treasury full again! Otherwise, you can all die alongside this mad dog!"