Volume One: The King's Command Chapter Forty-One: The Five-Fathom Cliff Is Difficult to Cross

As soon as the old man carrying a hoe appeared, everyone—both people and horses—froze in place, unable to move a muscle. Liu Xiaoyi, following behind Cui Ying, could only groan inwardly at their predicament.

As the grave grew deeper, it became clear that the old man was digging a tomb. Regardless of their cultivation, everyone was buried under the yellow earth, not a sound escaping from the lot of them.

All the while, the old man muttered to himself as he worked, “Too much of the world’s spiritual energy has been seized. Some must be returned, lest the immortals take offense and mortals suffer... mortals suffer.”

Tang Qiu, beside him, kept shooting him desperate looks, but Liu Xiaoyi was oblivious. Only when Tang Qiu was hoisted onto the old man’s shoulder did their terrified eyes finally meet Liu Xiaoyi’s.

Ever since the old man’s appearance, Liu Xiaoyi had felt a sudden weight behind his horse, but couldn’t discern what it was. The old man strode to the horse, reached out, and, shockingly, hoisted up a living man dressed in night-black garb.

It was none other than Xie Dongting, one of the Eight Great Swordmasters under the Crown Prince, who had crossed swords with Liu Xiaoyi in Changle City. He had stealthily followed them all the way here, unnoticed by any, only to be seized alive by the old man.

“Tough luck for you. I’ll even give you a grave marker—just my good nature making things more troublesome,” the old man grumbled, pulling out a blank wooden plaque and a small knife. “What’s your name?”

Xie Dongting mumbled, “Boy! Run while you can!” As his mouth was freed, he flicked his tongue and spat a flying pebble, striking the old man square on the bridge of his nose. With a cry of pain, the spell holding Liu Xiaoyi broke. Spurring his horse, he bolted.

The pebble shattered the old man’s field, sending the surrounding soldiers into chaos. By the time they regained their senses, Liu Xiaoyi was already out of reach.

“The most important one got away? Unacceptable! Down, all of you!” the old man shouted in fury, clutching his nose. He slammed his hoe into the ground, unleashing a shockwave that toppled half the city, beasts and birds alike collapsing in grotesque poses, unmoving. The old man then spread his fan-sized feet and chased after the fleeing dust cloud.

Not far from the side of Sunken Boat City lay a patch of sandy highland. Years ago, several Daoists had taken up residence there, slowly transforming it into a wooded grove where they raised immortal cranes. During the rainy season, mist would swirl among the treetops, painting a celestial scene.

Locals often ventured into the mountains to gather herbs, always returning with bounty. Over time, a temple was built and incense burned; the place became known as White Crane Mountain.

Liu Xiaoyi, fleeing blindly, urged his horse toward the most prominent landmark and soon found himself in the forest, the whistling of air behind him betraying the old man’s pursuit, never far behind.

“What sort of immortal is this? Even those at the Solar Yang Realm aren’t so powerful!” The pressure made Liu Xiaoyi’s palms sweat. Yet his Flowing Sand, Chasing Light horse seemed almost clairvoyant, dashing down the rugged mountain paths at full speed, moving with such grace it felt as if they rode the clouds.

Deeper into the woods, the immortal cranes came into view, circling the mountaintop. On the verdant cliffs, they stretched their wings, calling out in piercing tones.

The old man, still trailing Liu Xiaoyi, grew increasingly disgruntled. How could a youth of only the fourth or fifth stage of the Earth Soul Realm elude him for so long? It was embarrassing. Determined, he picked up his pace, swinging his hoe to clear a straight path, and soon cornered Liu Xiaoyi at the edge of a precipice less than a thousand paces from the summit.

Liu Xiaoyi glanced at the cliff’s edge, barely half a yard away, and peered down into an unfathomable abyss. The opposite side was nearly fifty feet distant—impossible to leap without mastery of lightness skills. Even after several attempts, his Flowing Sand, Chasing Light horse dared not make the jump; its hooves stamped nervously at the brink, dislodging loose stones that tumbled for an eternity without sound.

The old man closed in, stopping ten feet behind, already breathing heavily. His cultivation focused on the soul, making his body less robust—he’d made it this far only due to the importance of his quarry.

Liu Xiaoyi drew his sword and leveled it at the old man. “Might I ask your honorable name, Elder? Why do you hound me so relentlessly?”

“The King’s Decree is on your person, isn’t it? None have plundered more of the world’s spiritual energy than the Dragon Vein King’s Decree!” The old man’s voice boomed, shaking the leaves. As he rallied his strength, invisible currents of force coiled around Liu Xiaoyi.

The technique that immobilized its target was a subtle manipulation of soul power, anchoring the body by locking the spirit—a defenseless victim would be seized in an instant. Liu Xiaoyi yearned to understand this art, but his limited knowledge left him helpless; his breath caught, and he was trapped once again.

Suddenly, a flute’s melody rose. Immortal cranes soared up from beneath the cliff. The Peach Blossom Sword floated before Liu Xiaoyi, splitting the air with a slash. The old man staggered, losing his footing and retreating half a step.

“How intriguing! So the King’s Decree has been forged into this sword. No wonder it’s eluded me all this time.”

The Peach Blossom Sword severed the soul-binding threads, freeing Liu Xiaoyi’s spirit. The old man hurled his hoe, colliding with the sword in a flurry that sent gales tearing through the forest and clouds swirling in reverse.

Forming a seal with one hand, the old man chanted. The hoe’s attacks grew fiercer, finally forcing a golden dragon spirit to manifest around the sword—but even the dragon’s might could not overcome the hoe’s fury.

Seeing the golden dragon spirit, the old man’s greed intensified. “A true King’s Sword! Even incomplete, it’s among the ten greatest swords in the world!”

Intent on seizing the treasure, his blows slackened, yet the hoe’s strikes made the dragon spirit wail and falter. Unable to bear it, Liu Xiaoyi summoned the sword into his hand.

“If you want the treasure, Elder, you’ll have to catch me!” With a determined cry, he struck the horse’s haunch with the flat of his blade. The Flowing Sand, Chasing Light horse reared and neighed, its voice echoing across White Crane Mountain.

Its four hooves pummeled the stone, and with a mighty leap, it cleared half the fifty-foot gap, still rising. The old man, sensing trouble, sent the hoe flying at the horse’s hind legs. Though the steed was extraordinary, it was still mortal flesh; the blow wracked its very soul, making its body convulse as it plummeted downward.

With only twenty feet to go, Liu Xiaoyi channeled the Swimming Dragon Technique, launching himself from the horse’s back and surging forward another fifteen feet. His outstretched hand was but a hair’s breadth from grasping a vine clinging to the cliff—yet he missed.

He fell, immortal cranes circling around him as he plunged toward the jagged rocks below. No one could survive such a fall.

The old man, no master of lightness either, watched man and horse tumble into the abyss, then hurried down the mountainside, eager to claim the King’s Sword.

Sweating profusely, he searched the base of the cliff again and again, but found no trace. In a rage, he smashed half the rocks with his hoe and scoured the area with soul-searching arts—still nothing.

“Who dares interfere? If ever I learn your name, I’ll see you cast beyond reincarnation—neither living nor dead!” he thundered, venting his fury before storming away in frustration.