Chapter Twenty-Three: Seclusion

Xu Yaozu was carried out of the enemy camp by the Fierce Beast, breaking through the encirclement with surprising ease.

He watched the Fierce Beast walking ahead, completely off guard.

He thought to himself, Fierce Beast, oh Fierce Beast, you wretch! Today, if you die by my hand, you’ll have nothing to regret. And once you're dead, I won't have to fetch reinforcements. When the time comes, I'll double back, and Yan will break out from within the city. With a pincer attack from inside and out, there’s no way your demon soldiers won’t be defeated!

At that thought, he raised his Zaoyang spear high and smashed it down toward the Fierce Beast’s head!

The blow came in the blink of an eye—who could possibly evade it?

But the Fierce Beast was no ordinary foe! As he walked ahead, he suddenly heard the wind whistling behind him. Startled, he shuddered: What’s this? Where did that come from?

His head instinctively ducked.

A loud "crack!" rang out—his helmet was sent flying a dozen yards away!

The Fierce Beast’s ears rang, his head throbbed painfully, and dizziness overcame him.

Xu Yaozu missed his mark and cursed his luck. He knew the opportunity would not come again. If he didn’t flee now, he’d be in grave danger himself.

Without hesitation, he raised his spear, mounted it, and vanished in the blink of an eye.

It took the Fierce Beast quite a while to recover. By then, Xu Yaozu had disappeared without a trace.

Enraged, the Fierce Beast stomped and shouted, cursing, "Xu, you old wretch! Next time I see you, I’ll tear out your tendons and strip off your skin!"

He raged for half an hour, but who cared?

Helpless, he returned to his command tent, seething.

For two days, he did not leave his camp. No one dared approach him—who would seek trouble for themselves?

Meanwhile, Ye Feng, Murong Yan, and the others had no news of Xu Yaozu. They did not know whether he was alive or dead, or if he had broken through the encirclement.

They could only ration what little food remained among the soldiers and plan for a prolonged siege.

And so, more than a month passed in the blink of an eye. Winter arrived, and the city’s food supplies were nearly gone. The people survived by digging up wild vegetables.

One day, Ye Feng led a patrol through the city, gazing at the gaunt, sallow faces of the townsfolk, his heart heavy with sorrow.

He had raised the banner of rebellion alongside Murong Yan to save the people from disaster. Yet now, instead of rescuing them, they were besieged by demon soldiers, and the people hovered on the brink of death. This was never his original intention.

Suddenly, a bitter wind blew against him, howling in his ears, cutting like a blade and biting deep into his flesh.

Ye Feng quickly wrapped his cloak tighter to ward off the chill.

But while clothing could shield his body, what could warm the coldness in his heart? Ahead, he saw an old man shivering in the cold. Ye Feng hurried over, took off his cloak, and draped it around the man’s shoulders.

Though his own body felt cold, his heart grew a little warmer.

That night, Ye Feng lay tossing and turning, unable to sleep.

Are we rebels truly just waiting for death? No! Having taken up the burden of saving the people, we must not shrink back!

To repel the demon soldiers, the first step is to defeat their demon commander, the Fierce Beast.

But the Fierce Beast, with his many arms and weapons, is swift and deadly—who could possibly withstand him?

If only I could master the fourth level of the Demon-Slaying Art, the art of division! With that, even if you have many arms, I have the power to split myself into several forms. If I, Ye Feng, could split into four, would I fear you in battle?

Yes! I must train. No matter how hard or bitter, I must break through to the fourth level, use my mind to overcome his demon magic!

Ye Feng leapt from his bed, instructing his guards not to disturb him unless it was urgent.

He sat cross-legged, calmed his mind, and began to train day and night without rest.

For several days, Ye Feng did not leave his room.

Outside, the flames of war raged.

The Fierce Beast had besieged the city for over five months, and, estimating that the city’s supplies were depleted, he launched his assault.

Each day, the demon soldiers attacked with full force, putting immense pressure on the defenders.

Starving and weakened, how could the soldiers have the strength to fight? Yet, for the sake of their home, they gnawed on wild vegetable cakes, fired arrows, and hurled stones and logs, battling bloodily with the demon soldiers.

First, their arrows ran out; then, even logs and stones were exhausted. In desperation, they tore down their own houses, using bricks and beams as weapons.

The citizens, both old and young, banded together, dragging and carrying supplies as best they could.

More and more demon soldiers fell, their bodies piling high at the foot of the wall, bringing them ever closer to the parapet.

The demon soldiers behind climbed over the corpses of their fallen comrades, clawing their way up to the ramparts.

Countless rebel soldiers lost their lives—some from hunger, some in battle, some dragging demons down with them in a final embrace as they leapt from the city walls.

The ground was littered with corpses, and neither side had the strength to bury them.

The stench of death hung over the battlefield.

At this critical moment, Ye Feng’s seclusion for training made Murong Yan frantic with worry.

Time and again, she went to seek his advice, but found no trace of him.

With the situation growing more desperate, she could wait no longer. Drawing her sword, she marched onto the battlefield herself.

Atop the city wall, she saw the Fierce Beast waving his command flag, directing his demon soldiers in wave after wave of attacks.

They surged to the base of the wall, raising ladders while wielding shields and spears.

A hail of arrows shot up from below, striking defenders atop the wall. Several rebel soldiers, barely raising their heads, were struck and fell to their deaths.

Seizing the moment, the demon soldiers scrambled up the ladders and onto the battlements, engaging the rebels in close combat.

Murong Yan brandished her sword, calling out, “Brothers! The demon soldiers are upon us! Our families stand behind us—swear to defend them with our lives! Kill!”

With a flash of her green sword, several demon soldiers fell. She struck out with both palms, sending two more flying, blood gushing from their mouths as they died.

Inspired, the gaunt, hollow-eyed rebel soldiers cried out, “Kill!”

From somewhere, they found the strength to swing their blades, felling many demon soldiers in a single instant.

The demon soldiers, momentarily cowed by their ferocity, retreated a step—then, regaining their courage, surged forward to fight again.

Some rebels, their blades broken, hurled bricks at their foes. Some, weaponless, grappled with the demons, biting and clawing. Others seized their foes and leapt from the walls, perishing together.

But the demon soldiers were as numerous as the sea—no matter how many were slain, more took their place.

One by one, the rebels fell. Their numbers dwindled, but still they fought bravely on.

Murong Yan was drenched in blood from head to toe, a figure of crimson, but refused to retreat a single step.

A dozen or more demon soldiers encircled her. Some shouted, “Surrender! You’re defeated! Don’t throw your lives away!”

Others jeered, “Little wench, throw down your sword and we’ll spare your life!”

Still others mocked, “Girl, why be stubborn? Surrender and become the General’s concubine—wouldn’t that be grand?”

Exhausted, her mental energy spent, Murong Yan, sword in hand, cast off all maidenly restraint and spat back, “Nonsense! If you have the guts, kill me!”

With a swing of her arm, blood spattered as she felled another demon.

But, having overexerted herself, she nearly fell, dropping to one knee as she gasped for breath.

Seeing her falter, the demon soldiers advanced, spears leveled at her.

At that perilous moment, a series of anguished cries broke out—the demon soldiers collapsed in heaps.

The survivors scattered in terror.

A pale, beardless man appeared—it was Xu Zhihui!

He caught Murong Yan as she staggered, asking anxiously, “Sister, are you alright?”

Gritting her teeth, Murong Yan replied, “I’m fine! I can still kill a few more demons!”

Xu Zhihui saw that the number of demon soldiers left on the ramparts was dwindling; most had already stormed into the city.

He urged softly, “Enough killing! We must go—now!”

He tried to help Murong Yan away.

She pushed him aside, declaring, “Go yourself! Today, I, Murong Yan, will perish with Black Earth City!”

Xu Zhihui chided her, “There’s no use in dying needlessly. We must live to fight another day!”

He tried again to help her escape.

Again, Murong Yan shoved him off, shouting, “Let go! If you want to go, go alone! How could I face the souls of our dead if I fled now?”

Seeing he could not persuade her, Xu Zhihui raised his sword and said, “Very well! If that’s your decision, I’ll fight by your side. Lead the way, and we’ll face the demon soldiers together!”

“Good! Kill!”

Eyes blazing, Murong Yan charged back into the city with her sword.

She hadn’t gone far when a sharp pain struck the back of her head—she fell unconscious.

Xu Zhihui had struck her to save her, then carried her into a quiet alley.

By this time, the city gates had been breached. Fierce Beast rode at the head of his soldiers, storming into the city.

On every street, the townsfolk—young and old—took up hoes and poles to fight the demon soldiers.

The city was engulfed in flames; cries and screams, shouts and curses echoed everywhere.

In the chaos, blood flowed, chickens flew, and dogs barked in terror.

Though the townsfolk fought bravely, how could they withstand the trained demon soldiers?

Driven back again and again, soon the outer city was lost, and several barracks fell to the enemy.

Fierce Beast led the charge into Ye Feng’s camp, but found it deserted. Dismounting, he strode straight to the main tent.

At the closed entrance, he kicked the door open with a resounding crash and stormed inside.

No sooner had he entered than a black shadow flashed before him, followed by a chilling wind rushing toward his face.

Fierce Beast dodged aside, shouting, “Who’s there?!”

Another shadow flashed, two more blasts of cold wind aimed at his forehead and chest.

Alarmed, Fierce Beast leapt back.

Steadying himself, he shouted, “Coward! Hiding in the shadows—what kind of hero are you? Come out and face me!”

A furious voice replied, “Fierce Beast!”

From the depths of the tent emerged two identical Ye Fengs—one wielding twin hammers, the other twin whips.

“You seized Black Earth City and slaughtered our people. Today, you will pay with your life!” they cried in unison.

With that, both Ye Fengs leapt forward to do battle with the Fierce Beast!

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