250 Second Year (1/2)
Chapter 250: Second Year
Translator: TransnEditor: Transn
Long Qinying was approaching seventy years old. Among the males in the Great Snowmountain, his longevity was considered rare already. His luck, however, was not quite as good: the body of his last grandson was placed in front of him, entailing that the chief of the Luoshen tribe would not have a successor.
He reached a hand out to close the eyes of his grandson before he stood up and used the same hand to grasp a long and broad greatsword. His hand was covered in wrinkles and its joints were showing, resembling a withered branch. Only those people who had touched or felt it before knew that it was still very powerful.
He walked outdoors from the low and dingy house. This was the coldest season of the year in the Great Snowmountain, such that the breath he exhaled would turn into ice. However, he felt dry and hot all over his body, and almost wanted to strip off his clothes and roll in the snow like he did when he was young.
Sunlight bounced off the snowy surface and caused him to squint his eyes. Inhaling a deep breath of the piercingly cold fresh air, he doubted that he could live more than a day without snow. He swept a glance through the faces of his few remaining tribesmen. He not only recognized every one of them, but also remembered their names and even the years which they were born in.
Standing sparsely in the snow were two hundred or so people, of which more than half were women and elderly people, less than fifty were young people who could lift a heavy sword, and only a handful were children.
This was the story of the decline of Luoshen Peak, which was the head of the Great Snowmountain's five peaks. Even if Long Qinying's final grandson was still alive and there were not groups of enemies shutting them in, they would nonetheless eventually perish in the desolate and barren valleys, with frozen blood vessels and no descendants to succeed their bloodline.
Long Qinying raised his heavy sword high and wanted to say a few sentences to boost the tribe's morale, but when he saw the expressions of silent perseverance in the eyes of his tribesmen, he knew there was no need to waste his breath. The sons of the Great Snowmountain were never good at words and innately only knew how to fight. Even if only one of them was left, he would fight to the death without needing to be motivated by pleasant words or promises of wealth.
”Weng...” Long Qinying raised his head and emitted from his chest a heavy humming noise which was continuous and increasingly high-pitched.
Starting with the able-bodied males and subsequently the women and the elderly, everyone mimicked the old chief by raising their heads and emitting the same noise. The Roar of the Benevolent and Forgiving Dragon reverberated across the valleys and lingered ceaselessly.
An even more powerful medley of noises was soon heard, and it quickly drowned out the chanting of the people of Luoshen Peak. It was made up of the roars of an uncountable number of beasts, and it sounded as if a powerful and large army was drawing near.
Long Qinying placed his heavy sword down and waved toward the crowd. Five children between the ages of six and ten, comprising of three boys and two girls, walked up to the old chief, each of them carrying a sword which was almost as long as their bodies. Their determined expressions were sufficient proof that they were of pure Luoshen blood.
Several hundreds of years ago, it was also five people who first entered the Great Snowmountain and established the Luoshen ancestry. Their children and grandchildren would fill up every livable valley.
”Anyone can die, but not them.” Long Qinying declared. This was an order as well as a wish and a prayer.
The roars from outside the valleys gradually subsided. A large group of swordsmen, whose bodies were without exception wrapped in hide, slowly approached the peak. Placed flat on their shoulders were huge heavy swords which gleamed under the sunlight. Like a giant moving iceberg, they swooped in to kill the remaining tribesmen of Luoshen Peak.
Long Qinyang cast off the fur cape he was wearing and led the charge toward the enemies. Behind him were fifty or so primary swordsmen, while further back were elders who could still lift a heavy sword. Though the elders' swords were already ridden with rust, they longed for the stain of fresh blood all the same. The women held short swords which were relatively much lighter. These short swords had been used to bleed the necks of the last tamed animals in Luoshen Peak, and were certainly capable of puncturing holes in the bodies of the present enemies as well.
The five children remained at the very back. Although they wished to charge toward the front, they were held back by the adults and could only look down from the mountain slope anxiously.
The enemy was comprised of three to four hundred swordsmen, every one of them a physically robust male. Their leader was a middle-aged man of more than forty years old who wore a black cloak made from pieces of hide. He had a large and powerful jaw and eyes which, like those of the residents of the Great Snowmountain, were always squinting. The heavy sword in his hand seemed to be as light as a feather.
The two groups of people halted their footsteps approximately fifty steps away from each other, with the Luoshen tribe on slightly higher terrain.
After so many years, the warfare among the tribes of the Great Snowmountain's five peaks was finally coming to an end. As the victor, the chief of Danduo Peak, Long Xiaoshi, had plenty to say. ”Lay down your swords, and your women and children under ten years old shall be allowed to live.”
”Live on as slaves of Danduo Peak?” Long Qinying preferred to commence the fighting immediately, but in the Great Snowmountain, there were a few rules which needed to be observed at all times.
”The descendants of the Five Dragons will only become swordsmen, and never slaves.”
”Is that so? Were those missing children carried away by wild beasts?”
”Regardless of who carried them away, it was definitely not me.”
Long Qinying turned his head back toward his silent tribesmen. He did not understand the point of this nonsensical exchange of words. Raising his heavy sword with both hands, he thereby declared war. ”Long Qinying of Luoshen Peak seeks battle.”
The old man took calm and steady steps toward the space between the two groups of swordsmen. His spirits instantly invigorated and the sword he was holding became much lighter.
Long Xiaoshi snorted grimly. He could have ordered his men to swarm upon the remaining strength of Luoshen Peak and spare no one, but instead, he decided to play by the rules so as to prove a point to those people who still doubted that he was worthy of being the overlord of the five peaks.
He would not enter the battlefield himself. After all, killing a moribund old man would bring him no honor whatsoever.
A twenty-something-year-old swordsman led the attack. He was so eager to gain the honor of killing the Luoshen tribe chief to the extent that nothing else mattered to him. If anyone reminded him to be careful, he would rage and turn hostile at that person. To him, the most embarrassing thing was to be unable to finish off a nearly seventy-year-old man within ten strokes.
”I am Danduo...”
”Come at me!”
The entire valley seemed to tremor when the old man bawled. The young swordsman's words abruptly ceased, and his face reddened involuntarily. Making a low groan, he charged forth with his sword in hand.
Long Qinying counted the opponent's steps, and when the time was about right, he took a powerful stride forward and sprang high into the air on his second stride. His heavy sword preempted his opponent's weapon and swung towards the young swordsman with such brutality that nobody could believe it was being exerted by a moribund old man.
The young swordsman parried the first blow, albeit his legs sank deeply into the snow in doing so. His body was still shaking when the second strike from the old man came swiftly at him. He parried once more, but this time fell on his bottom. Refusing to give up, he gnashed his teeth and held on tightly to his heavy sword with both hands.
Hot blood was flowing rapidly beneath Long Qinying's loose skin, and his heart felt like it was bursting out of him.
On his third stroke, he cleaved his opponent's sword and one side of his opponent's body. Red blood rapidly spread all over the white snow, resembling a bright flower in this drab valley.
His hot blood cooled down quicker than expected, such that he suddenly had difficulty even lifting up his heavy sword. But he could not back down or admit defeat, for behind him were every remaining tribesman of Luoshen Peak. He had to persist on even if he could only protect them for a little while longer.
He raised his heavy sword in the air once again. A trail of blood was meandering down the icy smooth blade.