Nightfall

Translator: Transn Editor: Transn

The courtyard’s wooden gate was shattered. Smoke rose from the broken wall. Sword had sliced the monk’s robes. A long time seemed to have passed, but, in fact, it was very short. Luo Kedi was retreating, with a hand covering his bloody throat. Those eighteen West-Hill Divine Guards, who had just arrived at the broken wall, raised their blades to strike at Ning Que, while shouting angrily.

West-Hill Divine Guards were guards directly under the hierarch. Their states were much higher than the ordinary cavalrymen of Divine Hall. If they were in some common cultivation sect, they would be regarded as extremely powerful men. Swords in their hands were long and straight with runes carved densely on their bodies. The power of those swords would grow with every slash, because of it, it was known as the Divine Blade.

Those eighteen Divine Blades fell upon Ning Que from all directions – like a furious storm. With Big Black Umbrella in hand, Ning Que could ward off these swords but not all of them.

Fortunately, besides the Big Black Umbrella, he still had a podao in hand. Therefore, he drew the podao back out of the hole in the Big Black Umbrella and swung it through the winds and storms of swords.

The Big Black Umbrella, podao and eighteen Divine Blades were hitting each other with pitter-patter sounds. Extremely loud and complicated sounds soon followed. Some were from cracking metals or sharp blades slashing in the sky, while others were flesh being stabbed by blades or snorting due to having to endure lots of pain.

Four of the Divine Blades were broken and three West-Hill Divine Guards had blood slits on their chests and abdomen. They were retreating quickly among the chaos. Ning Que’s hand, which was holding the black umbrella, had been hurt slightly and there were two long wounds on his left leg. The Divine Blade, engraved with talismans, was extremely sharp. Thus, even if he was very strong, he still could not block it thoroughly.

A broken tip of Divine Blade’s long blade suddenly flew into sky and fell towards one of the streets and alleys around the small courtyard. An Ascetic Monk of Xuankong Temple was struck by that tip on his shoulder. He turned pale and then fell to the ground.

There was also a broken blade zooming towards the middle-aged monk. He reached out two of his fingers and calmly grabbed the blade like picking flowers from the air. Then, he walked towards Ning Que. His robes had already been broken and his body was stained with blood. He appeared extremely miserable, but his face looked very calm.

What was shocking was that the two deep wounds on his back and groin were no longer bleeding. Although there were still slits, muscles on both sides of the wounds were squeezed together and twisted slowly – as if the wounds were healing. If not for his slightly pale face, no one could not tell he was injured at all.

Ning Que had thought that this monk would have some way to handle it, but he never thought that he could heal his wounds by squeezing his muscles. This was quite shocking but not impossible. However, several blood vessels in his groin were broken. How could he make those blood vessels re-grow?

What made him even more alarmed was that, as the middle-aged monk approached him, more than a hundred archers from the Yuelun Kingdom’s national army also entered these streets. He could clearly hear sounds of bowstrings being streched.

Ning Que’s pupils slightly narrowed. Since he cultivated the Great Spirit, he never felt afraid of any ordinary archers, let alone right now with Big Black Umbrella in his hand. However, he was worried about the person he was carrying on his back.

More than a dozen West-Hill Divine Guards assembled again. As the middle-aged monk walked over, archers around the streets gradually entered their shooting positions. The atmosphere suddenly became tense.

Ning Que had retreated several steps and stood in front of the half-broken wall. After coming out of the wall, he had been fighting at a high speed. In the eyes of others, he was just a black figure – dressed in a black uniform of the Academy. It was not until he stood in front of the broken wall without any motion that they saw him clearly.

There was a thin little girl on his back. They were tied tightly around their waists and thighs by ropes. In this manner, they would never be seperated, no matter how fast they run, and also guaranteed that his reactions and speed during battle wouldn’t be hindered.

Seeing this scene, Master Qi Mei, West-Hill Divine Guards, Ascetic Monks in the distance, and archers of Yuelun Kingdom had all guessed the true identity of the thin, weak girl. They could not help feeling extremely complicated. Some were sighing with emotion, some were scared, while others were shocked.

Ning Que was holding Big Black Umbrella in his left hand and podao in his right hand, he looked at the middle-aged monk and West-Hill Divine Guards. He maintained silence and so did Sangsang, who was carrying a black iron bow along with the other luggage tied around her waist. She rested her head on his shoulder. Although they were besieged on all sides, no one could not see any emotion on their faces.

The field was quiet.

Ning Que’s and Sansang’s calmness represented greatness, which was quite horrifying. They were looking at the picture in front of them: Master Qi Mei and West-Hill Divine Guards had all stopped their steps subconsciously – no one dared to shoot arrows.

The black uniform was slightly trembling and his chest under it kept undulating. Ning Que did not give out sounds of panting. But, in fact, he was extremely exhausted. It was a very short battle, but to him it seemed to have lasted the whole day. Especially his previous fight with Luo Kedi, which dragged on for more than ten huge blows had made him feel lacking in strength.

Luo Kedi’s last strike with the golden sword had heavily struck against the Big Black Umbrella. The umbrella’s handle had moved sharply and poked his chest. He felt pulsing pain in his chest. What was even more troublesome was that after being hit by the middle-aged monk with seven fingers and more than a dozen golden sword strikes, he had suffered internal injuries and his hand, which was holding the hilt, kept trembling slightly.

He relaxed the right hand that was holding the hilt and then clenched it tightly again. In a very short period of time, he repeated this action seven times so as to calm down and relieve his fatigued wrist. His movement was too fast for the hilt to leave his hand, so no one on the field of battle had noticed.

While repeating this movement, his thoughts raced. How could he solve the current predicament and the things that would happen later? How could he get rid of this middle-aged monk?

Luo Kedi was undoubtedly a horrible enemy, whose strength was even above his own. Fortunately, he had already suffered severe injuries. Even if he could survive, he certainly could no longer fight today.

But Ning Que was clear that it did not mean that his strength had surpassed Luo Kedi’s. He just made use of the hole in the Big Black Umbrella – a way no one could imagine – to defeat him. If one thought this fight over calmly, he would understand that this was just a tactical victory and did not represent an apt comparison of their strategic strength.

However, this middle-aged monk was more powerful and terrifying than Luo Kedi. Ning Que’s bodily movement was very quick after cultivating the Great Spirit. However, his previous attack had failed to cause any lasting damage. His quick movements did not help much either. What should he do if the middle-aged monk kept following him?