Chapter 165: Still Victorious

Seeing that the enemy's main force was about to advance, I called out to everyone.

"Listen, all who are still alive: everyone except me, return to the sect and hold your ground at all costs!"

Following my command, both groups retreated toward the main gate of Tianyang Mountain, ignoring each other entirely. Chen Chen was the last one to follow; before leaving, he looked back and said, "Be careful!"

I would not let them down. I steadied myself and focused all the spiritual energy within me.

"Kid, aren't you going to run?" one of them asked. I ignored him and launched a counterattack.

First, I summoned the Snow Blade to its peak state. Gripping it in my right hand, I slowly manifested a Bagua Arhat Array with my left. The array clung firmly to my hand, and I began the counter-offensive. With a powerful leap, I threw myself into the middle of the three. Because the Bagua Arhat Array was so potent, I used the Snow Blade to execute my sword techniques while relying on the array to absorb incoming damage.

For a moment, my fighting spirit soared, and I managed to hold my own against the three of them. The Snow Blade danced through the heavy snow, and as I drifted into a state of self-forgetfulness, my Wing Shadow Sword Art manifested instinctively. My only thought was to buy time for everyone else; I had cast all concerns for my own safety aside.

The spiritual energy in my body was being steadily consumed. Whenever the Bagua Arhat Array on my left hand was shattered, I immediately summoned another. Relying on my extensive combat experience and unparalleled reflexes, I managed to keep them at bay. I sustained several wounds, but in the biting wind and snow, I felt no pain—it was almost comforting.

Of the three opponents, only the leader used a whip; the others wielded identical long sabers. It made sense—they were renowned for their corpse-control arts, and close-quarters combat was likely not their forte. The sabers were probably just standard-issue. Yet, even if close combat wasn't their specialty, they were fierce and clearly well-trained in swordsmanship. Fortunately, my Wing Shadow Sword Art stood its ground, allowing me to deliver powerful counterattacks even under their combined assault.

"Kid, you're a menace. I must kill you today," the leader said, snapping his whip with increased intensity. The weapon was two or three meters long, controlled with terrifying ease. Its snake-like pattern made it look like a living viper. The strikes were insidious and venomous, forcing me to remain vigilant against his reach.

But one cannot walk by the river without getting their shoes wet. The whip caught my thigh, and with a sharp tug, he sent me crashing to the ground. The two men with sabers seized the opportunity, each plunging their blade into one of my shoulders.

I roared, kicked off the ground to stand, and yanked the whip tethered to my leg, forcing the leader to release his grip. Gasping for breath, I clutched my wounds and frantically channeled my spiritual energy to heal, but I had only enough to treat half the damage. Still, it was enough to stop the bleeding. Because of my shoulder injuries, the glow of the Snow Blade dimmed.

Seeing I was faltering, the enemies pressed their advantage with renewed vigor, desperate to finish me off. My remaining spiritual energy was scarce; if I couldn't hold them back, I would have no choice but to retreat. But feeling I could endure a little longer, I steeled myself and shouted, "As long as I'm alive, none of you are getting inside!"

I gripped the Snow Blade tightly. Sensing my will, it flared with light once more.

"Come!" I bellowed, dropping into a defensive stance.

They didn't hold back, swinging their weapons wildly. I no longer harbored hopes of killing them; I only prayed to hold on for just a little longer. I risked a glance at the sky; the overcast, snowy weather obscured the sun, but I sensed it was roughly midday. Seeing my stubborn resilience, they unleashed their trump card: the "Corpse-Control Art."

Instantly, three sinister, ethereal spirits wielding short blades emerged, floating in the air. As the three men sat down and began chanting, the spirits began to move.

I had a special technique for dealing with spirits: the Thunder-Burst Art. This Taoist spell was devastating against spectral entities; one hit meant their total annihilation. I began charging the technique in my left hand but held off on unleashing it. As the three spirits flew toward me at high speed, I performed a backflip and hurled the Thunder-Burst energy. The high-difficulty maneuver sent a searing pain through my shoulders, but I gritted my teeth. One of the spirits was struck, its body torn apart, effectively neutralizing it.

The Xia family member controlling it cursed, formed a seal, and immediately summoned another identical spirit. Continuously using the Thunder-Burst Art was not sustainable; I needed to keep my distance and rely on my blade. I firmly believed that spirits could never match the experience of a living person—no matter how skilled the controller, there would always be a margin of error.

As I suspected, the spirits were far weaker than the men themselves, yet against my wounded self, they were still a handful. I parried their mindless attacks while searching for a way to buy more time. If I kept fighting defensively, I would collapse from exhaustion long before the main force returned. But there was no time to dwell on that; I prayed for one more chance, for luck to smile upon me again.

The Snow Blade was dimming again, barely holding its form. I channeled my final reserves of energy, and the blade flared, emitting a low whine as if cheering me on. My body felt leaden; I could only manage mechanical blocks. Soon, more wounds were opened on my body, and the "White Flowing Flower" energy within me ceased its healing. I had become a spent force.

The blades continued to pierce me, yet I felt no pain. Suddenly, the three men stopped their assault, as if reluctant to let me die just yet.

"Kid, I respect you as a hero. I'll give you a dignified death," the leader said, stepping toward me. I spat a mouthful of blood at him. My arrogance was born from a sudden reaction in the White Flowing Flower within me. Within moments, it flooded my body with fresh spiritual energy, saturating me once more.

I stalled for time, frantically repairing my body. The injuries were extensive, consuming much of my energy just to heal. The leader looked surprised; I seized the moment to kick him aside and scramble to my feet.

"How about that? I'm not dead yet," I taunted. The three men's expressions darkened; I had successfully infuriated them.

"Fine. Since you're so stubborn, we'll kill you. You two, go support the main gate. I'll deal with this brat myself."

The man, clearly a Third-Grade Spirit Lotus cultivator, was their leader. The others left for the gate without looking back. I summoned the Snow Blade again; it sensed my energy, chilling the air around us. Amidst the swirling snow, we both readied our weapons. He didn't summon spirits this time, drawing only his long whip.

I watched him calmly. He beckoned with his finger, and I charged. Our weapons collided, sending both of us stumbling back several meters. I didn't hesitate to press the attack; the range of his weapon made it difficult, but I stayed relaxed. Tension leads to mistakes; relaxation allows for instinctual reaction.

As I closed in, I triggered a Five-Thunder Art. With a thought, one of the five bolts of lightning struck toward him. He was fast—his cultivation surpassed mine—and he dodged with a roll. But I had used the opening to slash the Snow Blade across his face. He retreated, blocking with his whip, but I twisted in mid-air and lunged again. I landed a strike, though it was only a shallow wound.

I followed up by unleashing the remaining four lightning bolts. A boom shook the ground, but when the smoke cleared, I was shocked to see he was unscathed.

I realized then that he had summoned four spirits to intercept the blast. We traded blows for several rounds, neither gaining the upper hand. But the gap in our strength was clear; his whip kept me at bay, preventing me from closing the distance. I was forced into a purely defensive role.

When his whip lashed my leg again, I used my previous experience: I performed a roll, stabbed my blade into the ground to anchor myself, and stood up. With one hand, I channeled my energy and severed his whip with a single strike.

He recoiled, staring at the shortened weapon in disbelief. "My Spirit Snake Whip!"

His disappointment turned to pure hatred. I knew the situation had turned dire; if I couldn't beat him before, it would be even harder now. He drew a long saber.

"I'll have your head!" he roared, charging at me. I gripped the Snow Blade and said softly, "Many have tried."

I naturally slipped into the flow of the Wing Shadow Sword Art. He had relied on his whip for range, but now, in close combat, I held the advantage. He was skilled with the blade, but as I unleashed the full potential of my art, he began to falter. The Wing Shadow Sword Art was lethal; practiced to perfection, it could slay those of a higher realm.

He was clever—knowing his standard blade couldn't withstand the Snow Blade, he coated his weapon in spiritual energy to prevent it from shattering.

I entered the third chapter of the Wing Shadow Sword Art. By the sixth form, the signature phantom blade images appeared. He had never seen such a technique and nearly lost his grip on his sword. Still, his higher cultivation allowed him to barely hold on.

"Your Xia family has committed too many sins! You deserve to die!" I declared. He laughed maniacally, as if he had nothing left to lose. As I executed the final move, my strike shattered his saber in two. The force didn't stop there; despite his desperate attempt to dodge, I severed his arm.

He retreated, howling in pain, and frantically poured handfuls of medicinal powder from his ring onto the stump to stop the bleeding. His life was saved, but he was crippled.

"Why... why do you ruin everything!" he screamed, pointing at me as if I were the villain.

I ignored him and charged again. Just as I reached him, he began to laugh like a madman. He tore open his robes, revealing dozens of talismans pasted to his chest. They began to glow, then detonated.

A suicide attack!

I was moving too fast to change direction and could only shield myself with my blade. With a deafening blast, I was thrown back and blacked out.

I couldn't afford to lose consciousness—Tianyang Mountain depended on me. Fortunately, I regained my senses after a few minutes. I rubbed my aching temples, retrieved the Snow Blade from the ground, and checked it—it was undamaged. I looked toward the site of the explosion. A crater had been blasted into the stone path, and nothing remained of the man.

Nearby, I found his ring, likely blown off in the blast. I had few injuries; my bloodline must have shielded me from the worst of the impact. Aside from my shredded clothes, I was fine. I thought of my Second Uncle, who always mended my clothes until they looked brand new. I truly wondered what kind of man he really was.