Chapter 32: Demonic Shadow and Rakshasa (2/2)
Hesitating somewhat, Zhang Xiong first gazed at the battle. He then responded, “Your Imperial Highness, the central army personally commanded by General Qin Yong should be twenty li away.”
Overjoyed, Li Zhi replied, “Quickly summon General Qin over. After we have annihilated this rebel army, we’ll join together and march towards the town of Pingyuan.”
Zhang Xiong promptly went to pass the order. Another group of fireworks shot into the air.
In just under an hour, after Wen Ziyan’s troops had attempted to break the assault several times, but were blocked by the loyalists risking life and limb. Under the assistance of the Prince of Yong’s subordinate experts and the brave warriors of his army, Xiahou Yuanfeng was able to counter the Fengyi Sect’s spearhead though with difficulty. During this period, they were truly able to experience the formidability of the Fengyi Sect. Before, although they were previously extremely afraid of the Fengyi Sect’s tyranny, they now viewed these women with contempt. But the gorgeous, and yet heartless and ruthless swordsmanship of Wen Ziyan and company caused all of them to hover on the boundary between life and death.
Although Li Zhi was worried sick, there was something that filled him with joy. The men that he had dispatched to rescue his rearguard had discovered that Pei Yun was still alive. Although the conditions of his injuries were grave, the secret cultivation methods of the Shaolin Temple were extremely wondrous, surprisingly able to preserve Pei Yun’s life.
After a spell, although the Fengyi Sect had suffered heavy casualties, Wen Ziyan was still on the verge of escaping. In the distance, smoke and dust could be seen. At the head of reinforcements, Qin Yong arrived. At this moment, Wen Ziyan was finally able to take the lead and charge out of the blockade.
Helpless, Xiahou Yuanfeng shook his head. After fighting bitterly for half a day, he was powerless to do anything. He could not back down if he wished to not die at Wen Ziyan’s hands. All this was completely outside of his expectations. Although Xiahou Yuanfeng was fond of currying favor on both sides, he was most skilled at distinguishing between situations. When the Prince of Yong had escaped, Xiahou Yuanfeng knew that the situation was already out of the Fengyi Sect’s control. As a result, under Jiang Zhe’s coercion and his disappointment with the Fengyi Sect, he had quickly decided to support the Prince of Yong. He mocked himself—although the Prince of Yong was difficult to serve, requiring the use of actual meritorious service to obtain rank and his confidence, it was better than being dependent on another's whim to live.5 Since he had switched his support to the Prince of Yong, then the most important thing he needed to do now was to contribute as soon as possible. Fortunately, the Heavens had blessed him, allowing him to be the first to find the Prince of Yong. The greatest achievement one could contribute was to rescue someone in danger. Xiahou Yuanfeng was naturally overjoyed at the turn of events. As for the annihilation of Wen Ziyan and her allies, it was originally another opportune contribution that the Heavens had given him. But right now, he had discovered that Wen Ziyan and the Fengyi Sect’s swordswomen were extremely formidable.
At this point, Xiahou Yuanfeng finally paid attention to the distant reinforcements. He had no intention of bickering over the contributions in annihilating Wen Ziyan’s troops. After all, he knew that the Prince of Yong had already seen his contributions in rescuing the prince and grinding down the Fengyi Sect’s strength. As a result, he only gave the order to ensure that the traitorous imperial guardsmen did not escape. After all, wiping them out was no small contribution in and of itself.
From the ranks of the arriving reinforcements, a pitch-black horse broke forward from the formation, heading directly for Wen Ziyan. A heaven-soaring killing intent was being exuded from the young man in martial attire mounted upon this horse. Seeing the arriving reinforcements, Wen Ziyan reined in her horse. She closed her eyes. After a few moments, she reopened them. Her hopeful eyes had seemed to fall into the abyss of despair and were now dull and calm. The Fengyi Sect swordswomen, whose snow-white clothes had been dyed crimson by the blood, all silently checked the weapons in their hands. The previous two days, only a few of these swordswomen had perished. In this last engagement, most of them had fallen. Their supply of arrows was exhausted. Their clothes were ragged, revealing the black, light armor underneath. The edges of their treasured swords, capable of dicing any metal and cutting jade, were blunt and stained dark. However, there wasn’t a hint of terror or weakness on their faces.
Wen Ziyan waved her hand, signaling for the swordswomen to stay still, while she personally rode forward, welcoming the lone person that was charging straight for her. Prior to this, the traitorous imperial guardsmen had all lost the will to fight. Xiahou Yuanfeng guided his horse to the Prince of Yong’s side. Just as he was about to report in, he saw that Li Zhi’s gaze was fixated ahead. There, were no soldiers within a hundred paces, only Wen Ziyan and Li Shun battling. Xiahou Yuanfeng smiled faintly and did not speak, ignoring the warning glances from the Prince of Yong’s personal guards. Currently, other than the moans of the dying and the neighing of the masterless horses, there were no other sounds. It seemed that everyone had stopped moving, attentively watching the two top experts with similar reputations fight—the Demonic Shadow, Li Shun, and the Bloody Handed Rakshasa, Wen Ziyan.
Everyone had the same thoughts in their minds: allow this kind of enemy deserving of respect to die in a duel against an evenly matched6 opponent. Everyone knew that if Wen Ziyan were to be defeated, then these Fengyi Sect swordswomen would lose their ability to resist. But if Li Shun were to lose, then there was no one on the Prince of Yong’s side capable of rescuing the situation. It was likely that even if they were able to kill Wen Ziyan, she and her Fengyi Sect swordswomen would be able to heavily damage the morale of the Prince of Yong’s troops.
Slightly earlier, Wen Ziyan smiled slightly, dismounting from her horse. With affection, she patted her horse’s neck before driving it away. She gazed at Li Shun. Li Shun’s original clothes had already been torn into shreds during the escape. As a result, he wore a military uniform, although he did not don armor. His gaze fell upon Wen Ziyan, revealing a look of respect and deep-seated hatred. Seeing Wen Ziyan’s actions, he also lightly stepped off of his horse and drove it away. Under the autumn breeze, they stood opposing each other, the surging killing intent rocketing to the heavens.
While everyone was shaken by the killing intent, the two moved, their figures tangling. A dazzling glint of steel twinkled through the air. Li Shun twirled a jade hairpin in his hands. In the wake of his multitudinous, ever-changing style, Li Shun’s attacks created ear-piercing, popping sounds. The more the two fought, the more committed they became. All the spectators could no longer clearly see the movements of the two dueling. This astonishing duel did not last long. Wen Ziyan was already exhausted.7 As a result, she did not conserve any of her internal or physical energy, seeking to win in the shortest amount of time possible. As Li Shun had always had a proud temperament and wanted to gauge the fighting abilities of the other disciples of the Fengyi Sect, he did not try to use guerrilla tactics against Wen Ziyan. The two used all of their strength to fight. After several dozen exchanges, victory and defeat were decided. Like a puppet with its string cut,8 Wen Ziyan’s body collapsed. Although he had few small wounds on his body, Li Shun was glowing with health and vigor. After going all out during his duel with Wen Ziyan, he was confident that he could deal with all of the other experts in the Fengyi Sect aside from the Fengyi Sect Master.
At this moment, Wen Ziyuan slowly sat up. Although blood flowed freely from her body, she did not seem to notice. Unsteadily, she got to her feet. Her eyes haltingly and unhurriedly glanced over her surroundings before falling upon Li Shun. After whispering something, she raised her sword up high and shouted, “To the victor go the spoils! Li Shun! I’ll be waiting for you in the underworld!” Finished speaking, she slit her throat. A generational female heroine, who was not in the least bit inferior to men,9 thus died, buried in the loess of northwestern China.
At this moment, Qin Yong signaled with his hand. Several thousand archers notched arrows to their bows. Qin Yong gazed at the Prince of Yong and saluted, waiting for his order.
The swordswomen exchanged looks of dismay. Although through the bitter training and the flawed cultivation methods they had lost their normal emotions, but in the face of these circumstances, they recognized that they definitely would not have any hope of survival. The distinct shadow of death had enveloped them all. As a result, Wen Ziyan, who they all respected and obeyed, became their object of imitation. All of them simultaneously looked forward, raised their swords, and committed suicide. Afterwards, their bodies dropped from their horses.
The fall of the Fengyi Sect had begun …
Footnotes:
差强人意, chaqiangrenyi – idiom, lit. barely passable
人仰马翻, renyangmafan – idiom, lit. men and horses thrown off their feet; fig. to suffer a crushing defeat
狭路相逢, xialuxiangfeng – idiom, lit. to meet face to face on a narrow path; fig. enemies or rivals meet face to face
虽死犹荣, suisiyourong – idiom, lit. although dead, also honored; fig. died a glorious death
仰人鼻息, yangrenbixi – idiom, lit. relying on others for the air one breathes; fig. to be dependent on another’s whim to survive
旗鼓相当, qiguxiangdang – idiom, lit. two armies have equivalent banners and drums; fig. evenly matched, roughly comparable
筋疲力尽, jinpilijin – idiom, lit. body weary, strength exhausted; fig. extremely tired, spent
断线风筝, duanxianfengzheng – idiom, lit. a kite with cut string; fig. gone beyond recall
不让须眉, burangxumei – idiom, lit. not conceding to men (beard and eyebrows); fig. to compare favorably with men in terms of ability, bravery, etc.