novelhk Chapter 15: Unrivaled, Number One Under Heaven
Chapter 15: Unrivaled, Number One Under Heaven
The military order swept through the entire army, carrying a final, almost frenzied resolve. In the center of the battlefield, corpses had formed a gentle mound, upon which Zhou Yi stood, seemingly oblivious to the movements of the surrounding troops. He simply raised his sword once more—dark red bloodstains had covered the original iron color, leaving only the blade reflecting an almost eerie, damp, cold light in the setting sun. He swung the sword, bringing it down, the movement as swift and clean as a farmer reaping wheat; lives fell in droves before his blade, emitting dull thuds.
His steps had indeed remained largely still for quite some time. The Li Yang army, with unprecedented frenzy, used their own flesh and blood as bricks, relentlessly piling up a wall of death around him, constantly collapsing and rebuilding, temporarily "trapping" this god of death within a radius of several dozen feet. But the price of this "trapping" was horrifying. The slaughter had entered a more suffocating, mechanical rhythm: there were no dazzling displays of clashing qi, no earth-shattering names of techniques, only the most primitive and efficient slashing and piercing. Each fan-shaped sweep of the blade sprayed a shower of warm blood; occasionally, the "iron sword" carried on his back would vibrate slightly, silently unleashing sword energy, like an invisible scythe of death sweeping horizontally, clearing a small, brief blank space paved with shattered limbs and broken armor. Immediately, that blank space was again submerged by the soldiers behind him, their faces contorted with fear, driven by the gleaming blades of the supervising troops.
At this moment, the roles of offense and defense have completely reversed. Where is the large army besieging one person? It is clearly Li Yang using the bodies of living people to wear down the sharpness of that inhuman being.
Time flowed thickly in this despairing torment. From the still-disturbed morning mist to the blazing sun, and from midday to sunset. The drums had long since grown hoarse, the battle cries had become mechanical, the screams of agony had gradually faded, leaving only the dull thud of weapons piercing flesh, the resounding crash of heavy armor falling, and the pervasive, thick stench of blood, weaving together a truly real battlefield of carnage. Blood soaked the earth, forming dark red mud, each step stirring up a sticky slurry.
Gu Jiantang stood atop the city wall, his shadow cast a tragic golden-red by the elongated rays of the setting sun. The anger on his face, the frustration of a frustrated general, the resentment of a protracted siege—like the rough edges of a rock face repeatedly washed by blood, gradually softened, eventually settling into a bottomless abyss of weariness. His gaze, like a nail, was fixed on the core of the mountain of corpses and sea of blood below, watching the figure still swinging his sword with unwavering rhythm, watching his own elite troops melt away like snowflakes thrown into a furnace. And the opponent's movements, from beginning to end, showed not even the slightest tremor or hesitation.
If Gu Jiantang still can't see through this by now, then he's truly as stupid as a pig.
It wasn't a breakout, it wasn't a decapitation strike, it wasn't even a decisive defeat.
This was a one-sided massacre.
Using Gu Jiantang as bait, a cold-blooded massacre was launched against an army of 150,000.
As far as the eye could see, corpses littered the ground, banners lay fallen like withered grass, and the once orderly and imposing military formation was now a tattered mess. Dark red streams of blood meandered glaringly in the setting sun, as if the earth had been ripped open with countless weeping wounds.
The army... has already been slaughtered by more than half.
If it weren't for Gu Jiantang's strict military discipline and the deep-rooted authority he held, and if it weren't for the ironclad rule of "those who desert in battle will be executed" and the swords of the supervising team behind him, this army would probably have completely collapsed when it suffered 30% casualties. Now, it is merely clinging on by the last bit of inertia and a numb obedience to the commander's orders, caught between despair and the ironclad rule.
With every breath, more young men fall.
With each passing moment, the invisible noose tightened even more.
The defeat is set.
These four words, cold and heavy, like a tombstone, crashed down on his heart, leaving no room for retreat.
Not long ago, in front of the Southern Tang palace, he had jokingly mocked the martial arts practitioners, saying they were like mantises trying to stop a chariot when facing a large army. Those words, now transformed into the most biting satire, poured back into his throat.
Gu Jiantang was wrong.
Completely wrong, utterly absurd.
Military strategies and tactics, battle formations and mighty armies—all are as fragile and laughable as sandcastles before this power that transcends the mundane. All the experience and pride he had accumulated throughout his life on the battlefield were crushed by the bloody reality before him.
It turns out that I was the frog in the well, looking at the sky from the bottom of the well and making unwarranted comments about the vast ocean.
In this world, there are indeed people who can single-handedly confront and defeat the soldiers of an entire nation.
The chilling aura, like a bone-deep infection, locked him in place, leaving him nowhere to hide. The last glimmer of hope in Gu Jiantang's heart—that he might be able to escape in the chaos—was finally extinguished. He felt an absurd emptiness, as if his life's achievements and illustrious reputation had all vanished like a mirage. What followed was a faint, almost resigned sense of relief. To be defeated by such a figure, to die on such a battlefield—it seemed… not so disgraceful of his lifelong reputation as Gu Jiantang?
just.
Gu Jiantang's gaze swept over the battlefield below the city, now a living hell, and over the young men still being mercilessly slaughtered. The crimson blood reflected in his deep brown pupils, settling into boundless sorrow.
After this battle, Gu Jiantang, along with the remains of these 150,000 brave soldiers of Liyang, will be firmly nailed to the pillar of shame in history, becoming the most colorful and humiliating joke for future military strategists—"Liyang General Gu Jiantang, commanding 150,000 elite troops, was defeated by one man, resulting in his death and the annihilation of his army."
How ridiculous!
How tragic!
Gu Jiantang slowly raised his hand, his movements somewhat hesitant. He unfastened the famous sword "Nanhua," which had accompanied him for half his life and had drunk the blood of enemy chieftains, from his waist. The patterns on the scabbard had long been worn smooth by his touch. He gently brushed it with his fingertips, as if bidding farewell to an old friend, and then handed it to the adjutant beside him, whose eyes were red-rimmed, whose body trembled slightly, and whose fists were clenched so tightly that they seemed to be crushing his knuckles.
He turned around and glanced at his guards and generals who had followed him for many years. Although their faces were pale and their armor was stained with blood, they still tried their best to keep their backs straight.
"Pass on my final military order." His voice was unusually calm, as calm as the still sea before a storm, yet it chilled the hearts of those who heard it. "The entire army... sound the retreat."
"General Gu! Absolutely not!" The old general, with his gray hair and beard, and a face marred by scars, lunged forward, his voice hoarse as if a broken gong had been forcibly pulled, his eyes bloodshot and bulging as if they were about to burst. "Sounding the retreat now will cause the army's morale to collapse instantly, and the rout will be like a river bursting its banks, with no chance of recovery! How is this any different from... how is this any different from ordering the entire army to their deaths! General Gu, please reconsider!!!"
Who doesn't know? Who isn't aware? The entire army is like a bowstring stretched to its limit, held together only by an unyielding spirit of courage and an unquestionable command from its commander. The order to retreat would be the bowstring snapping, leading to utter destruction.
Gu Jiantang slowly turned around, his gaze sweeping over the generals who had followed him for many years, their armor now stained with blood and their faces filled with sorrow. His eyes were complex and difficult to describe—there was the guilt of being a commander, the pain of witnessing the army's collapse, the desolation of reaching the end of the road, and the calm before death.
"No need." His voice was soft, yet it drowned out the faint sounds of fighting and wailing coming from outside the city. He looked at the battlefield, bathed in the setting sun and resembling a furnace of hell, and shook his head.
"There's no need... to let them die here with me, a defeated general." His Adam's apple bobbed, and his voice was slightly hoarse. "Throughout my life, I, Gu Jiantang, have driven them to conquer cities and territories, bestowing upon them fame and fortune, but also causing countless of them to be buried in foreign lands... Today, I will use my head to repay this debt."
"Everyone... run for your lives..."
"Commander Gu—! No! Absolutely not!!" A young general, his face covered in blood and his armor tattered, knelt heavily on the ground with a thud, his forehead striking the cold city bricks with a dull thud. He cried out hoarsely, almost weeping blood, "This humble general is willing to lead all the brothers of the personal guard to cover the rear with our lives! I beg Commander Gu to leave quickly! As long as you are here, the spirit of the army will live on! As long as the green hills stand, there will always be a time to rise again! I beg Commander Gu—!" The other generals also knelt down one after another, some choking with sobs, their knuckles white as they gripped the hilts of their swords tightly, their eyes burning with a death-defying flame as intense as their grief and indignation.
"There's no way out." Gu Jiantang's lips curled into an almost self-deprecating smile. "His aura has already locked me in place. Come to think of it... given the capabilities he's displayed, how could he possibly let me escape? There's nowhere to hide, no matter where I am."
"He could have killed me long ago, but he hesitated to do so... Don't you understand? I am still alive only because of the sacrifices of my men. Keeping me alive means keeping this banner, so that I can continue to lure these 150,000 men, one after another, into this bottomless grinder of flesh and blood."
His chest heaved violently, his whiskers and hair stood on end, like a wounded lion letting out its final roar:
"What a ruthless scheme! What a murderous intent! What... ruthless methods!"
"But I, Gu Jiantang—"
He took a deep breath, as if trying to take in the air filled with rust, death, and the last rays of the setting sun, along with the entire shattered landscape, into his chest, which was about to stop beating.
"I'll make sure he doesn't get his way!!"
"All troops, listen to my command!!! Sound the retreat immediately!!!"
Without giving anyone a chance to offer advice, he abruptly waved his hand, severing all the sorrow and bewilderment that filled the air.
His gaze returned to the outside of the city, to the figure that seemed to have stood there since time immemorial, blending into the blood-red twilight. He bent down, no longer looking at "Nanhua," the symbol of the commander, but instead taking from a silent, tearful personal guard beside him an old, dark spear with a tassel as red as congealed blood.
He stepped onto the cold, rough edge of the battlements. The setting sun, like blood, spilled across his heavy mountain armor, reflecting a tragic light.
"Li Yang Gu Jiantang—!!!"
He exhaled and spoke, the sound like a thunderclap from a clear sky, temporarily drowning out all the noise on the battlefield, clearly sweeping in all directions, and surely reaching the ears of that figure.
"Please—enlighten me!!!"
Before he finished speaking, he had already leaped down from the city wall, which was several meters high. His heavy armor and cloak drew a heavy and resolute arc in the afterglow of the setting sun.
Almost simultaneously, the bugle calls and drumbeats of retreat sounded mournfully, like a death knell tolling for this rout. The instinct for survival instantly crushed the last vestiges of discipline and fighting spirit; the army utterly collapsed, abandoning their armor and weapons, pushing and trampling each other, leaving behind only scattered banners, broken weapons, and layers upon layers of rapidly cooling corpses. The defeat was like a mountain collapsing.
Gu Jiantang's figure landed steadily against the tide of soldiers who had begun to collapse and were fleeing in all directions like a flood. He splashed up a cloud of blood and mud. Behind him, the city gates opened, and the last few thousand heavy cavalrymen, silent as iron and with their armor clanging, surged out like a steel torrent emerging from the underworld, forming a desperate wedge formation behind him.
There were no shouts, no battle cries, only the muffled thud of iron hooves crushing blood and mud, and the intense, desperate, and fierce aura of fighting to the death. This last, isolated army thrust itself into the very heart of that mountain of corpses and sea of blood, into that god of slaughter.
"It's none of their business!"
Ten feet away from Zhou Yi, Gu Jiantang reined in his horse, pointed his spear, and spoke with each word as firm and resounding as iron stones falling to the ground. His gaze pierced through the pervasive crimson blood mist and stared directly into Zhou Yi's unfathomable eyes, which seemed like an ancient, icy pool.
"The fall of the Southern Tang Dynasty and the massacre of Jinling—all the blame rests on me, Gu Jiantang! The soldiers were merely following orders; wherever the blade pointed was where they were to die. What crime have they committed?! If you insist on seeking retribution—"
His aura suddenly surged to its peak, embodying the last dignity and death-defying resolve of a military commander, subtly connecting with the resolute spirit of the two thousand cavalry behind him, creating a small, tragic aura in the blood-red twilight:
"I am Gu Jiantang, the Grand Marshal of Liyang!!"
"Then please—take my head!!!"
"I offer my life to atone for what I have lost! I only beg you... to spare my life and spare me from further bloodshed!!"
That tireless figure, who seemed to be a perpetual motion machine continuously wielding his knife, oblivious to the surrounding collapse and scattering, finally stopped completely for the first time.
However, I was not moved, nor touched by their willingness to die.
But...
"Li Yang Gu Jiantang?"
The icy voice, more chilling than the battlefield wind, came through clearly, each word like an icicle chiseling at Gu Jiantang's last hope, the voice carrying a sinister, boiling killing intent!
"...After slaughtering the city and leaving corpses strewn across the fields, you actually have the nerve to advise me to stop committing atrocities?!"
"ridiculous!"
"Die!!!"
With a furious shout, he took a step forward, causing the entire battlefield, no, the entire world, to tremble violently!
The earth shook and the sky trembled!
In the snowy world of martial arts, those who reach the Celestial Realm can sense the heavens and earth, borrow the laws of nature, and summon wind and rain—they are no longer ordinary beings. Those at the Land Immortal Realm are even closer to resonating with the heavens and earth, their every action subtly aligning with the Dao. However, at this moment, any so-called connection between heaven and man, any borrowing of the laws of heaven and earth, appears insignificant and pale before this simple step, like a firefly compared to the bright moon.
It wasn't borrowing the law, but... coercion! With a single step, an overwhelming aura erupted, seemingly dragging up the entire surrounding world—the heavy twilight, the viscous air, the blood-soaked earth, and even the terrified souls of the fleeing soldiers—transforming them into invisible blade energy that crashed down upon Gu Jiantang and his cavalry!
Gu Jiantang felt that the moment the other party raised his hand, everything in front of him—the sky, the earth, the bloody air, the setting sun—suddenly twisted and compressed, transforming into an immense, irresistible force that pressed down on him! The tragic aura he had built up with his life's cultivation, his life's pride, and the will to die of his two thousand riders was like a flickering candle in a storm before this truly overwhelming force, as if the heavens and earth were collapsing. Even struggling seemed futile; it was extinguished at the first touch, silently dissipating, as if it had never existed.
next moment.
Human figures, the mournful neighing of warhorses, a forest of spears and halberds, heavy iron armor, and a will to die... everything that stood in the way of this invisible blade aura, whether tangible matter or intangible force, was annihilated.
Everything instantly collapsed, shattered, and annihilated!
It transformed into a flurry of fine, crimson dust, mixed with steel fragments, slowly drifting down in the blood-red afterglow of the setting sun.
Not even a decent scream or the mournful sound of metal breaking could be heard.
Quiet.
A deathly silence suddenly enveloped the battlefield, which had just been filled with the clamor of a rout.
Only the wind swept across the wilderness, carrying the wailing of countless corpses, and the crimson mist that drifted down from the sky, carrying the metallic scent of blood.
Later historians recorded this in various ways, but the core content remained the same:
General Gu Jiantang, one of the four great generals of the Spring and Autumn Period, personally led 150,000 elite troops to confront the nameless swordsman of Southern Tang, who was ranked first in the contemporary martial arts rankings, outside Jinling City of Southern Tang. In this battle, the army was routed, with less than one-tenth of its troops surviving. Commander-in-chief Gu Jiantang and his last remaining elite troops died on the battlefield, their bodies never to be found.
Three days after this battle, within the territory of Southern Tang, starting from outside Jinling City, corpses lay scattered for a hundred miles, and the routed soldiers who fled Yang disappeared without a trace.
Today, Gu Jiantang has been defeated and killed. The news has swept across the world like a hurricane, leaving the martial arts world silent and the imperial court speechless.
In the past, Huang Sanjia's martial arts ranking placed the unknown "Nameless Swordsman of Southern Tang" at the top, surpassing even the universally acknowledged masters like Qi Xuanzhen and Li Chungang. The martial arts world was in an uproar, filled with skepticism and ridicule. Most believed this was Huang Sanjia's only miscalculation, despite his supposedly all-knowing abilities. After this battle, all the noise vanished overnight. No one dared question the ranking's authority, and no one dared to show the slightest disrespect for the top spot. From that moment on, the title of number one in martial arts rankings was truly deserved.
In the imperial court, panic intensified. Emperor Zhao Lisheng of Liyang feared that he would wake up one day to find his head missing. That very night, he abandoned his comfortable palace and hastily moved into the Imperial Observatory, which was heavily guarded by arrays and filled with experts. He issued an urgent imperial edict overnight, risking the very foundation of the nation. He ruthlessly transferred 10,000 Great Snow Dragon Cavalry under Xu Xiao's command from the front line of besieging Western Chu, which was crucial to the fate of the country, not to the capital, but to immediately march south.
Accompanying the army were Han Diaosi, a powerful eunuch from the imperial palace who was skilled in using his finger to kill celestial phenomena; Yang Taisui, a sickly tiger with unfathomable cultivation who was well-versed in both Buddhism and Taoism; and Liu Haoshi, a Celestial Phenomenon Realm expert secretly supported by the Li Yang royal family. The joint deployment of these three great experts with Celestial Phenomenon Realm combat power was unprecedented.
Ten thousand Snow Dragon Cavalrymen galloped through the night, arriving at Longhu Mountain before dawn. Just an incense stick's time later, aside from Zhao Huangchao, Zhao Xuansu, and the missing Qi Xuanzhen, almost all the elite Taoist priests the Celestial Master's Mansion could mobilize, the hidden mountain-protecting forces of past generations, and the precious talismans and magical artifacts… were uprooted and silently followed this army, a mix of Northern Liang cavalry and imperial experts, rapidly heading north towards Tai'an City.
Meanwhile, outside Tai'an City, the capital of the Liyang Dynasty, the most elite 30,000 heavily armored infantrymen, the "Iron Wall Battalion," dedicated to defense, the 50,000 best-equipped soldiers of the "Shence Army," directly under the emperor, and the "Iron Pagoda" heavy cavalry, hailed as the pinnacle of Liyang's heavy cavalry, with only 10,000 units and each costing a fortune, were all mobilized to the capital region, canceling all rest and training. They were deployed in layers, forming a defensive perimeter, protecting Tai'an City like an iron barrel.
On the city walls, ballistae and crossbows stood like a forest, and specially made crossbow bolts engraved with armor-piercing and soul-suppressing runes were piled up like mountains; Taoist talismans and Buddhist incantations were secretly laid in the gaps between the bricks and stones; the warning, protection and illusion array set up by the Imperial Observatory and various sorcerers shone brightly day and night.
Aside from needing to besiege the last remnants of Western Chu and deter the Northern Barbarians from advancing south, the Li Yang Dynasty mobilized all the resources of the nation, both in the imperial court and in the martial arts world, all for the sake of that one person who might arrive.
An unnamed swordsman from the Southern Tang Dynasty.
His name and his power shook the world. Once he drew his sword, who in the world would not know him?
Outside Tai'an City, there are countless soldiers and experts.
All eyes in the world are focused on this moment, and everyone is anticipating an unprecedented showdown of the best.
Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.
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