Chapter Fifty-One: Soaring with the Sword, Breaking Through the City Gates

Han Chong suddenly sensed something new within his lower abdomen; upon inner inspection, he found a jade-green sword pellet there. He opened his mouth and spat it out—it shone like a luminous orb of verdant light, as if it had accompanied him through past and present lives, its joyful presence circling and dancing around him.

“What a treasure! Transform into a sword!”

He reached out and grasped it in his palm, infusing it with energy; immediately, the sword pellet morphed into a hilt, the azure blade extending forth, seven feet in length, shrouded in a misty glow, reminiscent of the demon-slaying sword energy he had unleashed before.

The cave entrance was still closed, with dozens of monsters lingering within the tiger’s den. Upon seeing their king, the Black Tiger Demon Lord, fall, terror seized them, and they tried desperately to flee and hide. Yet Han Chong strode forward, sword in hand, and they bared their fangs, prepared for a desperate struggle.

For years, the monsters of Tiger Fang Mountain had preyed upon the people of three counties. If they were not exterminated now, another Black Tiger Demon Lord might arise in the future.

He raised his sword and swept it through the air, releasing a beam of demon-slaying energy that was even sharper and fiercer than before, surely due to the blessing of the Pure Bright Sword.

With a long cry, Han Chong plunged into the horde, sometimes cutting them down with the sword itself, sometimes dispatching them with sword energy—one tangible, one intangible, perfectly complementing each other.

As the Bloodshadow Serpent absorbed and returned the Black Tiger Demon Lord’s vital essence, Han Chong’s own energy surged ever higher. The monsters felt as if they were being crushed by a lone swordsman, their will to fight shattered, scattering in panic.

Suddenly, Han Chong felt every pore in his body close tightly, and all his martial energy surged back into his core, gathering as one and then exploding outward with a thunderous roar.

His true energy dissipated into nothingness. As he hesitated, a thread of milky-white primal energy sprouted forth like a tender shoot, replacing what had been lost.

Primal innate energy! Though its quantity was modest, the power it brought was undeniable, standing equal to the refined energy in his body.

His blood and vigor boiled, his strength and speed doubled, seemingly inexhaustible.

Han Chong became a streak of white light; though more than a dozen lesser demons had fled toward the cave entrance, he overtook them in moments.

Within the time it took to drink a cup of tea, Han Chong swept through the horde and cleared them all away!

Finally, he reached the cave entrance. Gathering his innate energy in his arm and wielding the Pure Bright Sword, he cleaved the heavy stone door open in three strokes, bringing it crashing down. With a swift movement, he stepped outside the cave.

To be a monster was not inherently wrong, but the Black Tiger Demon Lord, ranked among the Four Lords of Resentment in Peijun Prefecture, had clearly colluded with others. The lesser demons under his command deserved their fate as accomplices.

Yet Han Chong dug a great pit, cast all the demon corpses within, burned them, and covered them with earth—dust to dust, ashes to ashes.

No treasures were found within the Black Tiger’s cave; they had likely been offered up already. Peijun Prefecture was finally cleansed.

But Han Chong’s gaze shifted north, toward Yunzhou Prefecture, where a greater danger loomed like dark clouds, waiting to devour all that would stand in its way.

Han Chong rested for the night. At dawn the next day, a streak of azure sword light shot skyward, piercing a hundred feet into the air, speeding toward Peijun Prefecture, leaving a white trail in its wake.

Sword-riding flight!

This was the immortal art Han Chong had long dreamed of. Until now, successive cases had demanded the use of Earthshade secret techniques, and he had lacked a suitable spiritual sword.

At last, he had fulfilled his wish and mastered the art of sword-riding.

Soaring atop his blade, mountains, villages, and towns flashed away beneath him, wind howling past. By noon, he could traverse a thousand miles, swift and exhilarating.

That evening, lowering his sword’s glow, Han Chong landed within the government compound.

“Who goes there?” Two guards on duty sprang out, swords drawn, challenging him.

“It’s me, Han Chong.”

“Oh, Captain Han, you’ve returned! At noon, the provincial office sent word urgently summoning you.” A slightly stout, black-clad officer hurriedly produced a letter from his jacket and handed it over.

“So urgent?” Han Chong glanced at it—it was from Captain Ning, stating under orders from the General of the Vanguard that Han Chong must report to the provincial office within three days; nothing else was mentioned.

“Very well, I understand. You two keep watch over the compound; tomorrow I’ll depart. Remember, if you encounter powerful monsters, do not act recklessly—come to the provincial office and seek me at once.”

“Yes, sir!”

Han Chong exited along the wall, heading to the division office to find Mingzhen.

“Master Han, what’s the matter?” Mingzhen was quietly meditating in his room; upon hearing movement in the courtyard, he opened the door.

“The provincial office has summoned me immediately. Little master, would you care to accompany me?”

“Of course, I am willing.”

Han Chong smiled, took Mingzhen’s hand, and mounted the flying sword, soaring into the clouds. The monk was slightly startled, reciting Amitabha ceaselessly as, within a day, the two arrived outside Yunzhou City.

Yunzhou was situated between three mountains and two rivers, surrounded by defensible passes. Yet all four gates of the city were tightly closed, with townsfolk barred outside.

Han Chong and Mingzhen landed at the south gate, arriving by the hour of the dragon. They walked to the city walls, passing many ragged villagers who slept on wild grass at night, surviving on roots and bark, with many dead of starvation.

With a creak, the city gate’s drawbridge slowly descended, and the crowd rose, surging toward the entrance.

Yet a hundred soldiers had erected wooden barricades at the gate, blocking the people. A mustached officer stepped forward and called out.

“Quiet! The Prefect’s orders: due to recent unrest in Yunzhou’s counties, only those who pay the good citizen fee may enter. Today’s fee is one tael of silver; anyone refusing to pay or inciting trouble will be executed.”

His words stirred a storm; thousands of townsfolk wailed and protested, raising sticks and broken bowls.

Han Chong understood: yesterday’s fee was half a tael. The people were starving, with no money, and now the fee had doubled—enough to feed a family for half a year.

Outrageous! During a time of civil unrest, the Prefect of Yunzhou not only failed to comfort the people, but imposed such an extortionate fee, driving them to desperation—no wonder there were uprisings in every county.

Even if they paid and entered the city, they would only sleep in the streets and starve to death.

“Brother Han, what now? We can’t just watch these officials oppress the people.” Mingzhen looked up at Han Chong.

“Don’t worry—I have a way,” Han Chong answered in a deep voice.

As the townsfolk grew hopeless, unwilling to leave, suddenly the wooden barricades flew into the air and landed in the moat, the gate wide open.

“Damn it! What’s happening?” the mustached officer shouted in anger.

Someone in the crowd cried, “Villagers, charge!” Thousands surged toward the city gate.

“Stop them! Anyone forcing entry will be executed!”

The soldiers drew their swords, ready to strike at the Prefect’s command, but suddenly their weapons vanished from their hands.

Mingzhen watched as Han Chong’s hands glowed white, and dozens of long swords appeared out of thin air, which he then threw to the ground.

Seeing the soldiers unarmed, the townsfolk lost their fear, rushing wildly into the city.

Somehow, the mustached officer felt something trip him in the crowd; despite his status as a second-rate martial expert, he was trampled to death by the surging masses.