On the Path to the Great Dao

He Lianzheng’s face was grim, his fingers forming a sword seal in one hand while gripping the three-barreled musket with the other. Across from him, Chen Shi stood amid a temple floor slick with blood, corpses sprawled around them—eleven in total.

The only two left standing were Chen Shi and He Lianzheng.

Chen Shi slowly loosened his grip, letting Zhao Rui’s lifeless body slide down the bloodstained wall.

He Lianzheng maintained a calculated distance of roughly ten feet. It was a critical range: far enough to prepare for Chen Shi’s rapid attacks but close enough to counter any sudden charge.

Chen Shi noted He Lianzheng’s positioning, recalling how Zhuge Jian, the Water Buffalo County Inspector, had maintained a similar stance during their encounter. This was the mark of a veteran—someone who could estimate an opponent’s effective range and adjust accordingly.

From the corner, the bloated fortune-teller cackled, “I told you! He’ll kill you all! Every last one of you! He’s a demon—escaped from the underworld itself!”

Neither man paid the outburst any attention.

The tension between Chen Shi and He Lianzheng was palpable, both silently evaluating the other.

Suddenly, a group of Jin Yiwei stormed into the ruined temple, their expressions shifting to horror at the sight of the carnage. Before they could act, He Lianzheng barked, “Do not enter!”

Startled, they froze and withdrew their steps. Chen Shi inwardly sighed. If they had entered, He Lianzheng would have hesitated to use his techniques, giving Chen Shi the upper hand. But now, alone with He Lianzheng in this confined space, his chances of survival diminished significantly.

Both men subtly adjusted their footing, surveying the blood-soaked floor and scattered bodies for advantageous positions.

Suddenly, He Lianzheng roared and leapt forward, propelled by the wind of his activated Horse Charm Talisman. His massive frame surged ahead, the musket in his hand swinging toward Chen Shi’s head.

He Lianzheng’s speed, combined with his towering stature, matched Chen Shi’s own. The musket’s arc was devastating, stirring a gust of wind with its weight.

Chen Shi prepared to dodge but noticed a subtle motion in He Lianzheng’s left hand, which still formed a sword seal. Alarmed, Chen Shi abandoned his initial plan and instead raised his arm to block.

An invisible sword aura slashed down, cleaving the floor tiles where he would have moved. If he had dodged, the sword would have struck him.

Chen Shi braced himself as the musket’s weight crashed into his shoulder. The force rattled his bones, nearly dislocating his arm.

“Boom!”

The musket discharged, its explosive force blasting through the wall behind Chen Shi. Shards of brick and shrapnel struck his back, leaving bloody streaks. Though the shot missed, the thunderous sound left his ears ringing, momentarily robbing him of all hearing.

As Chen Shi grabbed at the musket, He Lianzheng released it without hesitation, letting Chen Shi seize the weapon.

The sense of imminent danger intensified. Chen Shi instinctively raised the musket as a shield just as an invisible sword aura sliced through it, severing the barrel.

Retreating, Chen Shi wielded the broken halves of the musket like clubs. Yet the relentless sword aura continued to carve them into fragments. Soon, Chen Shi’s limbs bore countless slashes, blood trickling from fresh wounds across his arms, legs, chest, and face.

He Lianzheng pursued with precision, sword auras swirling around him as he manipulated them with both hands. The Divine Embryo within his shrine mirrored his movements, synchronizing perfectly.

Chen Shi recognized the technique. Unlike the Ziwu Evil-Slaying Sword of the Heavenly Heart Righteous Qi Method, this method sacrificed raw power for finesse. The sword aura was shorter, limited to just over three feet, but its control and precision were unmatched—ideal for close-quarters combat against someone like Chen Shi.

Realizing his disadvantage, Chen Shi kicked a corpse toward He Lianzheng. The larger man sidestepped fluidly, his sword aura slicing through the air without touching the body.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Chen Shi vanished through a hole in the wall.

“He escaped!” the fortune-teller jeered gleefully.

Ignoring him, He Lianzheng charged outside. Following the sounds of fighting, he found Jin Yiwei corpses littering the path: one with ribs driven into his heart, another with a broken neck. Fury welled up within him as he pressed on.

Outside the village, he saw Jin Yiwei activating their Horse Charm Talismans, chasing after Chen Shi with inhuman speed. Yet Chen Shi, running unaided, was still faster than them.

“Stop the pursuit!” He Lianzheng ordered, his voice weary.

The Jin Yiwei hesitated, exchanging anxious glances before returning to him.

He Lianzheng sighed, shaking his head. “It’s over. We failed to protect the Zhao family. Chasing him won’t absolve us of our failure. Disperse—go your own ways.”

“But, sir!” a guard protested, his voice filled with rage. “That boy killed the six Zhao scions and many of our brothers. We must avenge them!”

He Lianzheng sneered. “How much does the Zhao family pay you?”

“Seven taels a month.”

“And for seven taels, is your life worth it?”

His words struck a chord, and one by one, the Jin Yiwei dispersed. Alone, He Lianzheng trudged onward, thoughts clouded with regret.

Then, a voice interrupted his solitude.

“Is it you, Talisman Master Chen Shi? You’ve been following me for some time now. Why not come out and face me?”

Chen Shi stepped from behind a tree, his expression calm.

He Lianzheng chuckled, offering a polite bow. “Impressive. You slew so many Jin Yiwei and Zhao family members and even escaped me. I admire your skill. Tell me—why are you following me?”

“Revenge,” Chen Shi replied coldly.

He Lianzheng frowned before relaxing into a smile. “We have no personal enmity. My actions were merely professional duty. Now that I’ve left the Zhao family’s employ, there’s no grudge between us. Let bygones be bygones.”

Chen Shi tossed an object at his feet. It rolled to a stop—a bloodstained piece of the musket.

“For him,” Chen Shi said.

He Lianzheng’s eyes widened as he recalled the farmer he had bludgeoned to death with the musket.

“Why risk your life for a mere villager? Was he family? A friend? Someone who helped you?”

“No,” Chen Shi replied. “I just met him.”

He Lianzheng sighed. “If that’s all, then take this.” He placed a silver ingot on the ground. “Give it to his family. A life is worth ten taels in the countryside. Fair enough, isn’t it?”

He turned to leave but found Chen Shi still following him.

The night deepened, the moon casting eerie light. From the shadows, floating human heads began to emerge—the Piao Lu, ghostly entities with grotesque grins and dangling tongues.

One crept behind He Lianzheng, its tongue forming a noose that tightened around his neck, lifting him off the ground.

As He Lianzheng struggled, Chen Shi struck. Using a Horse Charm Talisman, he moved with blinding speed, shattering He Lianzheng’s defenses with precise, brutal blows—breaking his throat, blinding him, and crushing his skull in a flurry of strikes.

Right Three, eliminated.

The Piao Lu cackled as they carried He Lianzheng’s corpse away, vanishing into the night.

Beneath the cold moonlight, Chen Shi stood alone, his vengeance complete. “Twelve men in the temple, all gone.”