Seeking Truth with a Sword-Chapter 693 - 623 Puppet

"Don’t..."

A faint voice came from afar, and Li Ang subconsciously raised his head to look at the sky, towards the direction of the Mountain Master.

He couldn’t let Mo Si be exposed to the world.

High above, after Jun Qianzi had released a Divine Talisman, the other Zhao Ming members also unleashed their techniques, attacking the Mountain Master. Explosions, roars, Flying Swords, and flames filled the air. The clouds sometimes froze, sometimes burned, sometimes shattered, and sometimes were flattened. The sky seemed like a naughty child’s drawing board, sketching out all sorts of bizarre scenes.

A ghostly figure flitted over, positioning itself in front of Li Ang to prevent him from leaving the city. Ya Jiu, or rather Ya Jiu’s Puppet, stared blankly at Li Ang with hollow eyes and rasped, "Long time no see."

Old acquaintances meeting again, now on opposing sides—there was nothing to discuss.

Li Ang activated his Qi Sea, released his Telekinesis, and grabbed the puppet’s neck. With a hard twist, he snapped its head clean off. Blood spurted out as the puppet collapsed. From a nearby building, however, a peasant woman emerged. A steel needle was inserted into her neck, yet she calmly looked at Li Ang and said, "You’ve reached the Cloud Patrol Middle Realm? Not bad, but still not enough."

The peasant woman clapped her hands. From the underground tunnels beneath the buildings on both sides of the street, a number of Cultivators stepped out. They all wore collars, and the Blast Talismans within these collars clearly indicated their status as slaves.

"Kill him, and you will earn your freedom," Ya Jiu said through the puppet.

The slaves’ eyes lit up. They had been digging tunnels deep underground for several years and only now, in this very moment, did they finally understand what they had been doing. These Cultivators were either from other countries, indifferent to the lives of Yu Country’s citizens, or they were morally ambiguous evil cultivators seeking only power and freedom. Even knowing they were causing a flooding disaster, they didn’t care; their only thought was Zhao Ming fulfilling the promise to let them leave.

A group of slaves stared intently at Li Ang. The sound of swishing Flying Swords from high above, like a starter pistol, signaled the attack as all the Cultivators encircled him. 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝚠𝕖𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝕖𝚕.𝚌𝗼𝗺

Li Ang pulled out the Radiant Crossbow, loaded a Wind Talisman into the slot, and pulled the trigger.

WHOOSH!

A wild wind erupted, and Li Ang, propelled by the gust, sped forward. Hundreds of Heart Thoughts operated simultaneously, calculating everything around him: wind direction, wind speed, the crowd’s position and distance, the number of Telekinesis Control Devices, angles of activation...

His fingers moved, controlling two rows of Mind Nails that flew close to a wall, embedding themselves into a Cultivator’s skull. The man’s skull shattered, brains splattered, and the battle erupted in an instant.

The Mind Needles moved like agile birds, easily piercing through city walls and bodies. Mind Threads drilled and moved about, at times weaving nets to intercept Flying Swords, and at other times becoming nooses to strangle targets. Various talismans, in coordination with the light crossbow, helped Li Ang escape deadly situations numerous times, like a bird darting through gaps in a net.

But there were too many enemies.

For today’s ambush, Zhao Ming had spent over a decade gathering hundreds of slaves, including Puppets made from Xingzhou Town Commandery soldiers. The slaves, each harboring their own agendas, saw Li Ang unleash combat power beyond his realm. They chose to linger at the edge of the battlefield, observing the situation. The Puppets, however, pressed forward fearlessly and relentlessly, steadily reducing Li Ang’s room to maneuver.

「...」

Half a quarter of an hour had passed. The once bustling streets of Xingzhou were now a chaotic ruin. Buildings had completely collapsed, the street surfaces were in shambles, immense fires blazed in the workshop, and the ground was smeared with filthy blood and flesh.

Li Ang stood his ground, gasping heavily for air. Operating a hundred Heart Thoughts at full capacity had severely strained his brain. The blood vessels on his forehead had burst, and fresh blood seeped out, trickling down his nose and across his cheeks, resembling the edges of a half-mask. At his feet lay dozens of corpses, their faces mangled beyond recognition, their flesh a bloody mess.

Ya Jiu’s farmer Puppet stood on the roof, hands clasped behind her back, leisurely sizing up Li Ang. "You are indeed much more capable than I had anticipated," she said calmly. "Perhaps Ghost Shovel really did die at your hands. I give you one last chance: swear allegiance to Zhao Ming."

Li Ang did not respond. He looked up at the sky, where the battle between Zhao Ming’s forces and the Mountain Master still raged, a brilliant array of radiant lights dazzling the eye.

A single grain of sand from an era, when it falls upon an individual, becomes a mountain. Although Li Ang disliked the person who first said it, the words certainly applied to some situations. Like this one.

High in the sky, the Mountain Master’s Sword Qi collided with Jun Qianzi’s Burning Sky Talisman. A flame stretched for a thousand meters, and the erupting fireball coalesced, smashing into the ground and striking a fleeing Xingzhou family.

CLANG!

Another loud crash echoed. The Mountain Master swung his sword, deflecting a sneak attack from Feilian and others. The shockwave from the clashing weapons spread out, severing a bridge. Xingzhou citizens crossing the bridge tumbled into the wide river like peas, instantly submerged and lost from sight.

Similar scenes played out repeatedly. Downstream of the Yellow River, in a section beyond the reach of the Mountain Master’s talisman power, large-scale breaches had already occurred. Murky river water flooded farmland, destroyed houses, and the bodies of drowned livestock and humans bobbed on the surface. This was still the result of the Mountain Master’s strenuous efforts to control the water’s momentum and forcibly intercept the massive flow at Xingzhou. If the floodwaters had gone uncontrolled, the entire lower reaches of the Yellow River would have turned into a thousand-mile swampland.

HUFF...

Li Ang slowly exhaled a ragged breath. His gaze swept coldly over the faces of the slaves and Puppets as he muttered something under his breath.

"What is he saying?" Ya Jiu frowned, a strong sense of unease rising within her. She sharply commanded, "Stop him!"

Without needing Ya Jiu’s reminder, the slaves, equally uneasy, had already rushed forward.

SLAP!

Li Ang’s palms slammed together violently, facing the ground, as if summoning something.

Deep cracks split the earth. A robust, charred arm emerged from the soil, slamming heavily down. The Ink Silk Clone, finally constructed under the influence of the Chaotic Wind, slowly clambered out.

It stood over three meters tall. Its humanoid body was incredibly burly and robust, covered in ancient armor from the Three Kingdoms Period. A yaksha mask covered its face, and a three-pronged, purple-gold, topknot crown adorned its head. The Fangtian Halberd in its hand slanted downwards, its tip striking the ground and kicking up a cloud of dust.

There were too many witnesses present; Li Ang couldn’t directly enhance himself with Ink Silk. Instead, he could create a diversion, pretending to have summoned an ancient warrior.

"Lu... Lu Bu?"

The image of Lu Bu had long been ingrained in the hearts of Yu Country’s citizens through plays. The Cultivators were dumbstruck, doubting their own eyes.

"Go, Lu Fengxian, kill them all," Li Ang commanded. His voice was severe, unable to conceal his weakness. This weakness wasn’t entirely feigned; the Chaotic Wind suppressed the recovery speed of a Cultivator’s Qi Sea, causing discomfort akin to oxygen deprivation.

"Yes."

The Ink Silk Clone spoke hoarsely. It slowly lifted its head, the blade of the Fangtian Halberd grazing the ground as it traced a semicircle. "The halberd’s edge is not yet cold, more souls to claim beneath my steed. Come, meet your death!"