Where Immortals Once Walked-Chapter 154: Forsaken

Surrounded on all sides by a thousand blades, Pei Xinyong suddenly found himself cornered.

Lu Yao was after his life.

At a time like this, begging for mercy was useless. He knew full well that unless Lu Yao cut him down on the spot, the other party would have no way to deal with the forces that were upon him.

Wu Shaoyi had warned him to guard against Lu Yao’s sudden betrayal, but Pei Xinyong had still ended up underestimating his foe, and now it was too late for regret.

Regardless, there was no time to be wallowing in self-reproach. Another one of his guards collapsed with a scream, skewered by a dozen spears.

They were packed in tight, getting thrusted at by spears unceasingly. In such a melee, finesse was meaningless. They would all eventually be reduced to human kebabs.

Pei Xinyong locked eyes with Lu Yao. A flicker of rage crossed his gaze. Then, with a sudden motion, he pulled a bronze figurine from his robes. Biting the tip of his tongue, he spat blood over it and hurled it into the enemy ranks with a roar, “Grow!”

The figurine was no larger than his middle finger. It appeared to be nothing more than a rough little bronze doll pitted with dents and crude patches, the sort of trinket one might discard on the roadside without a second glance.

One of Lu Yao’s men reflexively batted it aside with his blade. Lu Yao, sharper-eyed, barked, “Move away!”

But it was too late.

The figurine swelled in midair. Although it was barely ten centimeters when it was tossed, it now loomed overhead massively.

And when it struck the ground, the earth shook.

Boom!

What landed was no toy but a towering bronze armored heavenly soldier that was nearly thirteen meters tall. Its entire body gleamed with heavy armor, its limbs solid metal through and through. Even pikes and sabers screeched uselessly against it.[1]

Lu Yao’s face drained of color. “The Divine Master’s bronze armored heavenly soldier! He actually gave it to you!”

The armored heavenly soldier swept a leg like a pendulum and followed with a pair of hammering fists. Brigands were sent flying like rag dolls, and a few unlucky souls were knocked clean off the cliffside road, their screams fading into the ravine below.

With this monstrous ally holding the line, Pei Xinyong’s men finally had room to breathe. The armored heavenly soldier might be slow, but its blows landed with bone-crushing weight, and its body shrugged off every blade and spear. In such cramped terrain, it was nearly unstoppable.

Suddenly, Pei Xinyong felt a chill of warning and staggered back a step.

Where he had stood a heartbeat earlier, jagged stone spikes erupted from the ground, a meter and a half high and wickedly sharp. One of his guards was not so lucky. Getting skewered through the thigh, he collapsed shrieking.

Pei Xinyong’s eyes narrowed. He pointed at the enemy ranks, and the armored heavenly soldier obeyed, plucking a figure out of the mob and flinging him skyward.

The man fell screaming into the abyss. He had been Lu Yao’s spellcaster, the one behind those stone spikes.

The brigand formation wavered. With the armored heavenly soldier battering a gap through their line, Pei Xinyong’s remaining guards threw themselves forward, fighting tooth and nail to reach him.

Seeing the assault unravel, Lu Yao’s expression twisted. He clenched his teeth and drew the Ghost-Eye Bow. He could no longer afford to wait for his subordinates to do the work for him; he had to make a move himself.

He nocked an arrow, muttering under his breath, “Don’t miss, two years of lifespan!”

The carved eye set in the bow snapped open, its unearthly gaze locking on Pei Xinyong.

Just then, Pei Xinyong had finished crushing an opponent when his forehead prickled, as though some terrible gaze had fixed upon him. He glanced up just in time to see the ghostly eye widen and a streak of light pierce the air.

The Ghost-Eye Bow!

His scalp went numb, and cold sweat broke out across his body. With no time to think, he hurled himself aside.

The arrow screamed past, shooting straight into the armored heavenly soldier’s raised arm.

With a dull boom, the armored heavenly soldier’s forearm exploded, scattering shards of metal that blinded several men on the spot.

However, the arrow itself had only been knocked askew.

Still, that did not matter much. The arrow practically carried its own will. With a sharp curve, it righted its course and came streaking back toward Pei Xinyong.

One of his loyal guards hurled himself forward, offering his body as a shield. A crimson mist erupted from his back as the arrow punched straight through him. However, even that was not enough to stop it. It drove on, relentless, still fixed on its ultimate target.

Pei Xinyong knew this weapon well. The Ghost-Eye Bow had once belonged to Hong Xiangqian, and its signature was infamous. The first strike hit hardest, the second was weaker, and the third was the weakest of all. But watching the arrow come for him now—its momentum barely faltering after two direct hits—he had no time to seek cover.

Instead, he poured all his strength into his right arm and swung his mace in a desperate arc.

The timing was perfection itself, though it was also filled with peril. With a resounding clang, the third strike of the arrow struck the mace’s broad face.

Had he been even a breath late, it would have pierced his brow.

The impact tore the weapon from his hand, smashing into his own shoulder as it flew back, sending him staggering back three full paces. His palm split at the web, and it was especially bloody where he had held the mace.

Finally, the arrow was gone. The three-shot flurry had run its course. Still, the damage that it had dealt him was severe. His collarbone had snapped, his left arm was ruined, and he had lost grip of his mace.

Right after making that shot, Lu Yao had flung the bow aside. Now he came on with axe raised, charging straight for the kill.

A stagger from the earlier blow had saved Pei Xinyong. He managed to slip past Lu Yao’s first sweeping slash by sheer mischance.

The two men crashed together once more, glaring through ragged breaths: one bloodied, the other spent.

“You’re the murderer who slew the Divine Master!” Pei Xinyong snarled through clenched teeth, hammering back with his good arm even as pain seared his body. “Men of Wu, hear me well! General Wu is still alive!” He had been too frantic before, forgetting the one truth that could shake his enemy’s ranks.

Sure enough, turmoil rippled through the brigands.

More than three hundred of Lu Yao’s men had once served under Wu Shaoyi. Hearing this, they faltered, their blades no longer cutting with the same certainty.

“He’s lying! Don’t lose focus!” Lu Yao roared, desperate to rally them. Inwardly, he cursed himself. Why didn’t I return to Desheng Town to gather my core troops first, instead of rushing blindly after that dog official surnamed He? Loyalists are the true foundation. These turncoats are never to be trusted.

Just then, a chill raced down his spine. Danger!

A veteran’s instinct drove him flat against the ground.

Something whistled past his back, close enough to scrape his armor, and streaked away into the melee. Had he been a heartbeat slower, his heart would have been carved out.

He barely lifted his head before the thing arced back in a dazzling curve aimed right at his face.

The killing intent was so sharp it seemed to stab straight between his brow. He had no time even to blink.

A boomerang?

Lu Yao shoved aside all thought, swinging his axe in pure reflex.

Clang!

Steel rang against steel, and to his shock, a chip the size of a fingertip broke from his axe head’s edge.

Only then did he see what he had deflected. It was not a boomerang at all, but a broken blade. No, it was a broken saber.

Who threw it?

But in fending it off, he had left his chest wide open.

Pei Xinyong seized the chance. His mace came crashing down, slamming into Lu Yao’s left breast.

The dull thud echoed across the mountainside; every man within ten meters heard it clearly.

Lu Yao spewed blood and toppled from his horse.

Pei Xinyong’s furious strike caved his chest inward, snapping two ribs and driving them deep into the other party’s heart.

The heart was the source of blood and qi. Lu Yao tried to get up, but his strength drained away as though into a bottomless pit.

Fortunately, his guards rushed in, fighting with their lives to shield him.

If he could just break north and rejoin the main road, Lu Yao might still slip westward and be able to link up with his men in Desheng Town.

But then, from not far off, a horn blast cut through the din. Out of the heavy fog surged another troop, their voices thundering, “Traitor Lu, prepare for death!”

Both brigand forces froze mid-clash.

Another faction? In this chaos?

But since the newcomers were shouting for “Traitor Lu,” Pei Xinyong’s men instinctively fell back a few paces, wary of friendly fire.

From among the fresh arrivals, Lian Deng spurred forward, shouting at the top of his lungs, “General Wu is still alive! Brothers under Wu, rally to me!”

He had been with Wu Shaoyi for over six years, one of his old veterans, and every man of Wu in the brigand ranks knew his face. When Pei Xinyong had cried the same claim earlier, they had only half-believed it. But now, seeing Lian Deng with their own eyes, seven or even eight parts of doubt melted away.

In an instant, a great many of Lu Yao’s men lost their fighting spirit. One after another, they abandoned the melee and ran to join him.

Flat on the ground, Lu Yao nearly coughed blood a second time from sheer rage. But survival mattered more than fury. He fumbled a talisman from his breast, crammed it into his mouth, and swallowed without even chewing.

Most talismans were yellow paper with cinnabar script. This one was black paper inked in red.

Even Pei Xinyong was stunned. Reinforcements had indeed come, but were these really Wu Shaoyi’s troops? The armor they wore was clearly that of state troops.

And yet there stood Lian Deng among them.

The battlefield was such a tangle that even a veteran general like Pei Xinyong reeled in confusion. Still, his instincts held fast. He gave the order, “Raise the blue banners! Slay Traitor Lu!”

For years, Pei Xinyong’s army had drilled this habit into their bones: whenever the blue banners were raised, they would tighten formation around them, making themselves distinct from all others.

At once, more than a dozen banners rose high. Pei Xinyong’s men shrank back into their squads, a clear line drawn between them and Lu Yao’s men.

The newly arrived soldiers rallied with vigor, striking straight for Lu Yao’s lines.

Meanwhile, Lu Yao had been dragged back by his guards. But after only two steps, he convulsed, spat up another mouthful of blood, and collapsed. This time, the blood was black, laced with chunks of viscera.

His eyes widened in disbelief.

Why didn’t the talisman work?

A sudden gust swept across the valley. The fog that had blanketed the battlefield thinned, then vanished altogether. Its spell had run its course.

And with Lu Yao sprawled in plain view, his followers saw everything clearly.

Someone began shouting, voice cracking with panic, “Lu Yao is dead! Lu Yao is dead!”

Morale shattered like glass. Already pressed hard, many brigands turned and fled the moment they heard the words, no longer daring to resist. With Pei Xinyong’s forces and the state troops pressing from both sides, the rout was complete.

Lu Yao’s diehard followers still tried to haul him onto a horse and escape. But such fugitives were walking trophies, and the state troops hounded them without mercy. Before long, the last cluster was cut to pieces.

The jolting roused Lu Yao faintly. His face was pale as paper, his eyelids too heavy to lift.

He had fought Wu Shaoyi, battled Pei Xinyong, chased and ambushed their reinforcements, and each fight had left him more bloodied and exhausted. And now Pei Xinyong’s crushing blow had shattered what remained. Old wounds, new wounds, all of them roared together. His body could no longer bear it.

Commandant Zhao of the Hebei local militia garrison strode up, bellowing, “So you’re the Man-Eating Demon King, Lu Yao?”

Lu Yao did not spare him a glance. He fixed his fading eyes on Pei Xinyong and sneered through bloodied lips as he said, “In the end, you ran to these state dogs. In the end, you betrayed the Divine Master.”

His mouth spilled gore, his words dripping venom. Pei Xinyong’s face went iron-blue.

How could it have come to this? How could it end like this?

Lu Yao struggled to speak again, but Commandant Zhao was already upon him. The officer’s blade flashed down in a single, ruthless stroke, without a word more.

A gaping wound split Lu Yao’s throat. Blood sprayed in a scarlet arc. His eyes bulged wide, glaring still.

He died unyielding, unwilling.

1. Yeah, I think rather than being “bronze-armored,” this thing is more of an armored soldier completely made of bronze, hence the lack of a dash. ☜