Mythical Qin: I, Gao Yao, will never be a eunuch!

Chapter 1146 Fan Xian is injured, Uesugi Tiger VS Yan Xiaoyi!

A fierce glint flashed in Fan Xian's eyes. He lightly touched the ground with his toes, his body leaping into the air and somersaulting three zhang high. Five lassoes brushed past his feet, while his soft sword drew several cold streaks in the air.

"Chi chi chi——"

Blood spurted from the throats of all three cavalrymen simultaneously. The instant Fan Xian landed, he flicked his left hand, sending three poisoned hidden arrows flying towards the faces of the other two cavalrymen who had thrown the ropes. With screams, the two fell from their horses.

In a single encounter, five elite Northern Qi soldiers were killed.

But Fan Xian paid a price—forcibly gathering his qi caused the wound under his ribs to reopen, and blood instantly soaked half of his clothes. Even more fatally, in that instant in the air, he was exposed to Yan Xiaoyi's shooting range.

The sound of the bowstring vibrating was almost inaudible.

Fan Xian didn't even see the trajectory of the arrow; relying solely on his intuition honed through years of life-and-death battles, he forcefully sidestepped the moment it landed.

"puff--"

A jet-black iron arrow grazed his neck, taking away a small piece of flesh. The arrow continued its trajectory, embedding itself directly into the trunk of an ancient tree behind him, as thick as a person could hug, leaving only the fletching humming and vibrating outside.

Fan Xian staggered two steps, blood streaming from his neck. Had the arrow not missed by half an inch at the last moment, it would have pierced his throat.

"Excellent archery skills." Uesugi Tora said coldly, but it was unclear whether he was praising Yan Xiaoyi or mocking Fan Xian's disheveled appearance.

Yan Xiaoyi remained expressionless as he drew another arrow from his quiver and nocked it to his bow. This time, he did not rush to release it, but simply maintained the drawing posture, the arrow tip adjusting slightly with each of Fan Xian's movements.

This is an even more terrifying pressure. Being targeted by a ninth-rank archer means that every opening could be fatal.

Fan Xian leaned against a large tree, breathing heavily. He glanced around—the remaining cavalry had re-encircled him, and Shangshan Hu had finally moved, his halberd dragging behind him with one hand, the blade scraping the ground and carving a deep trench.

Shangguan Haitang remained standing quietly, as if everything before her had nothing to do with her.

"Am I really going to die here?" This thought flashed through Fan Xian's mind.

He thought of Wan'er, Ruoruo, his grandmother far away in Danzhou, and his colleagues in the Censorate who trusted him. There were still so many things left undone, so many people left unseen, so many accounts left unsettled…

Not reconciled.

A crazed fire ignited in Fan Xian's eyes. He slowly raised his right hand, his fingertips pressing on several hidden acupoints on his waist—this was a method taught by Fei Jie, which could stimulate potential in a short time, but at the cost of damaged meridians, a decline in power, and even the risk of death afterward.

But there's no time to worry about that now.

However, just as he was about to press the last acupoint, an old and hoarse voice rang out:

"stop."

Everyone paused for a moment.

The voice came from the target of this conflict, Sean.

This former king of the night in Northern Qi is now emaciated and ragged, but his eyes are still as sharp as an eagle's.

“Tiger,” Sean’s voice wasn’t loud, but it reached everyone’s ears clearly, “spare his life.”

Uesugi Tora frowned deeply: "Father, if this man is not eliminated today, he will cause endless trouble in the future."

"Precisely because he is so important, he must not be killed. Take him back!" Sean coughed violently a few times, the shackles rattling.

These words silenced Uesugi Tora.

Sean continued, "Besides, keeping him alive might be more useful than killing him." His cloudy gaze swept over Fan Xian. "Boy, let me ask you a question—do you know how your mother died?"

Fan Xian was startled.

This was the deepest mystery in his heart, the answer he had been searching for ever since he came into this world. Ye Qingmei, that woman of extraordinary talent and beauty, the stone tablet of the Overwatch Council standing in the capital, the legends passed down among a few...

"You know?" Fan Xian's voice was hoarse.

“I know some things.” Sean grinned, revealing his broken, yellow teeth. “But those things aren’t for you to hear right now. You just need to remember—to find out the truth, you have to live.”

These words, though cryptic, sent a whirlwind of thoughts through Fan Xian's mind. What was Sean implying? Was he stalling for time, or was there a real secret? If it was the latter, then he absolutely couldn't die here tonight.

Uesugi Tora clearly understood the deeper meaning in his adoptive father's words. He pondered for a moment, then slowly lowered the tip of his halberd: "In that case, I will spare your life. But you must return to Northern Qi with me—"

Before he finished speaking, something strange happened.

Yan Xiaoyi's arrow finally left the bowstring.

This arrow was faster than any before, as fast as lightning, as swift as a shooting star. It made no sound as it pierced the air—not truly silent, but because its speed exceeded the speed of sound!

The arrow wasn't aimed at Fan Xian, but at Xiao En!

Uesugi Tora's expression changed drastically. He had no time to turn and block, and could only roar as he swept his halberd in front of the arrow's trajectory. But Yan Xiaoyi's arrow had anticipated all his reactions. The arrow drew a strange arc in the air, bypassing the halberd's shadow and heading straight for Sean in the prison cart!

"Father!"

At the critical moment, Sean in the prison cart suddenly looked up. Although he was wearing a martial arts-banning shackle and couldn't release his true energy, the instincts of a peak ninth-rank martial artist were still there. He leaned back, and the iron arrow grazed his forehead, kicking up a clump of gray hair, before finally embedding itself in the tree trunk behind the prison cart, its fletching trembling violently.

Almost simultaneously, Uesugi Tora made his move.

The renowned general of Northern Qi was utterly enraged. He leaped off his horse, and while still in mid-air, his halberd transformed into a bolt of black lightning, striking directly at Yan Xiaoyi!

This strike was devoid of any fancy moves, relying solely on pure power and speed. Even before the halberd arrived, the wind from it sent withered leaves scattering across the ground, and the campfire flickering erratically in the fierce gusts.

Yan Xiaoyi's expression was solemn. He floated backward, his fingers plucking the bowstring three times in quick succession.

"Bang bang bang—"

Three arrows shot out in a triangular formation, each precisely striking the point of force application of the Breaking Formation Halberd. This was the Arrow God's unique "Breaking Move Arrow," designed to counter all weapon techniques.

"Clang clang clang!"

Three deafening clangs of metal clashing rang out. The first two arrows were shattered by the halberd's blade, and the third arrow finally deflected the trajectory of the halberd by half a foot.

That mere half-foot difference gave Yan Xiaoyi a chance to catch his breath. He lightly touched the ground with his toes, his figure shifting three zhang to the left like a ghost, barely avoiding the halberd's blade. The halberd struck the ground, creating a three-zhang-long trench with a deafening roar, sending soil and rocks flying everywhere.

"Excellent halberd technique." Yan Xiaoyi landed with slightly disordered breathing, but his eyes remained cold. "No wonder he was able to kill seventeen generals of Nanqing in battle."

Uesugi Tora didn't answer, dragging his halberd with one hand, and approached step by step. With each step, the ground trembled slightly, and the killing intent honed in the mountains of corpses and seas of blood seemed to have a tangible presence, making the surrounding air thick and sticky.

The duel between two ninth-rank masters kept everyone within a thirty-foot radius from approaching. The Northern Qi cavalry retreated in droves, and even Fan Xian, enduring his injuries, retreated behind a tree—the aftershocks of a battle of this caliber were enough to injure one's internal organs.

The second round erupted instantly.