Volume Four: Winds Sweep the Clouds, Four Continents Sink Chapter Eighteen: Tsunami

Atop the towering courtyard wall, Yin Zhigui wiped the tears from his face, brandished his longsword, and commanded the heavy crossbowmen of the Flying Dragon Army behind him to unleash a frenzied volley of siege bolts at the sinister vanguard forces below. The bolts, as thick as a grown man's arm, sliced through the water, trailing strings of bubbles as they hurtled toward the soldiers of the Dark Fiend clan.

The first row—a squad of five—were instantly impaled by the siege bolts, dragged backward by the immense force, tumbling several yards through the water before coming to a halt. The bolts not only pierced their tough hides but also ruptured the water membranes they had donned prior to entering the Dragon Palace, which allowed them to maneuver and breathe underwater. Dark purple blood streamed ceaselessly from their wounds, mingling with the seawater seeping in through the ruptures until it gradually submerged their nasal passages.

Ordinarily, a few penetrating wounds would pose little threat to the formidable bodies of the Dark Fiend clan. But here, in the Dragon Palace at the bottom of the sea, the water membranes that enabled them to breathe now became their doom: water poured in, unable to escape, filling them from within. Thus, the first wave of wounded Dark Fiend soldiers drowned, trapped by the very membranes meant to protect them.

Just as An Chenfeng landed, he witnessed the scene with chilling clarity. Instinctively, he realized this could be an effective means to defeat the enemy. So, slashing at the three Dark Fiend soldiers surrounding him, he seized the moment as they dodged to fire three quick shots from the small crossbow in his left hand. The bolts, shot with strings woven from sea serpent hide, were powerful and reusable even underwater.

The three bolts skimmed through the water, and as they struck the Dark Fiend soldier before An Chenfeng, three muffled thuds sounded. The bolts only pierced the thin water membrane, stopped by the clan’s hard skin.

An Chenfeng had no intention of killing a vanguard soldier with those bolts alone.

He meant to drown him.

Sure enough, the struck soldier glanced disdainfully at the three bolts embedded in his side, pulled them out, and instantly seawater gushed in through the holes—first flooding his feet, then his abdomen, chest, and finally his head.

Frantically, the soldier clawed at his face, trying to tear off the membrane, but though it was easily punctured by sharp weapons, it was otherwise remarkably tough. No matter how desperately he pulled, it would not tear.

After a brief struggle, the soldier went limp, unmoving.

His comrades, having witnessed it all, only realized the danger as their companion stopped moving. Panic-stricken, they swam frantically toward their own lines, forgetting that An Chenfeng’s crossbow was now empty.

Shan Shang, observing all this, frowned and said to Sha Shang at his side, “Why are we wasting our strength here? We came for the Desolate Cauldron! Why squander time on this battle?”

“But, big brother! Someone saw the vanguard officer captured by them! Without her to lead us, how can we hope to find that cauldron?” Sha Shang replied.

Shan Shang snorted, “With her abilities, no one could possibly hold her. Who knows what tricks she’s up to now!” After pondering, he realized that without retrieving their officer, he wasn’t confident they could seize the cauldron. So he ordered, “Go! Send men to tear down some steles or stone walls. I want to see how many crossbows they have left.”

A centurion nearby swiftly led a team to gather defensive stones.

Meanwhile, Lanling still leaned against the wall, watching the exhausted defenders. She seemed distracted, almost forgetting her mission in the Dragon Palace, until the blare of horns outside shook her from her daze.

She shook her head vigorously, straightened her disheveled hair, and her beautiful eyes, half-hidden behind her fringe, regained their steely resolve.

A streak of white, murderous energy shot up from the Duke An’s residence and landed before the massed Dark Fiend forces outside, sending up a curtain of water.

The surrounding soldiers, startled, were about to rush the intruder when the mist cleared and they recognized their vanguard officer.

Sha Shang grinned and called, “Vanguard, back from scouting the enemy camp?”

Lanling shot him a cold glance, ignored his words, and turned to Shan Shang. “How goes the assault?”

Shan Shang bowed. “Vanguard, the enemy used crossbows and siege bolts, causing us some losses. But now that you have returned, there is no need to press the attack.”

Tu Shang interjected, “The membranes you provided allow us to breathe and move freely underwater—it’s extraordinary. But they’re far too easily pierced by sharp weapons. Several brothers drowned after their membranes were punctured by bolts while trying to rescue you.”

Shan Shang glared at Tu Shang, then bowed again to Lanling. “Vanguard, casualties are inevitable in battle. The warriors of the Dark Fiend clan do not fear death—only dying in vain. Now that you have returned, what are your orders?”

Lanling nodded. “We are here for the Desolate Cauldron. Our next step is to enter the Dragon Palace’s underground treasury and take it. Follow me!”

With that, she vanished in a swirl of energy, leaving the Dark Fiend soldiers exchanging uncertain glances.

Shan Shang sighed, ordered the field cleared, and set off toward the Dragon Palace.

Sha Shang, still disgruntled, turned to Shan Shang as they walked. “Brother! I told you we shouldn’t have come with these mysterious folk! She doesn’t act like our vanguard at all—comes and goes as she pleases. Does she think we can all fly like the Xuanhuang?”

Shan Shang barked, “Enough! Have you forgotten the Emperor’s orders? We are to obey the vanguard in all things, and our sole aim is the Desolate Cauldron. If I hear you disrespect her again, I’ll kill you myself!”

Knowing his brother’s rare but terrible temper, Sha Shang fell silent.

Half an hour later, the Dark Fiend vanguard returned to the main hall of the Dragon Palace. The hall was deserted, littered with scattered vessels and debris, in utter disarray.

Shi Shang kicked aside a large urn. “What kind of place is this? Neither water nor land, not a soul in sight. I’m dying for a fight, but can’t find anyone!”

Tu Shang whispered, “Second Brother, our vanguard’s vanished again. Big Brother’s sure to be furious.”

Sha Shang made a face but said nothing. Tu Shang jeered, “Fourth Brother, what’s wrong? You’re usually the loudest—cat got your tongue?”

Sha Shang retorted, “Third Brother, don’t mock me. Didn’t you hear what Big Brother said? No more criticizing that woman. But this is ridiculous—what kind of leader disappears all the time?”

Even Shan Shang, their eldest, was growing restless. With the commander always missing, discipline would soon break down. So he ordered, “Each of you, take your men and search the palace for the vanguard and the entrance to the underground vault. Regroup here in half an hour.”

His brothers led their troops away, while Shan Shang left a squad behind and personally set out to search for Lanling.

When Lanling first entered the main hall, she immediately sensed something was wrong. The Dragon Palace was deathly silent.

Trusting her memory, she searched for the entrance to the underground vault. By Lanling’s reckoning, Lin Xiaoyun had surely already fled.

Half an hour later, in a remote, abandoned wing of the palace, she found the ancient entrance to the vault, marked by the passage of years. Lanling reached out and traced the line of characters Zhuo Hua had once carved upon the stone pillar:

Half a bowl of sunset clouds, a bowl of fish,
Yellow leaves drift with the wind, seeking autumn mud,
Sunset lingers where flying clouds pass,
Neither warming the world, nor warming the heart.

She brushed away a tear and strode resolutely into the vault.

The passageway was lit by luminous pearls, evidence of recent entry. Clenching her fists, she summoned two blades of energy and advanced, steadying her breath.

After about the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, Lanling heard the chaotic clamour of voices and the incessant sound of hammers ahead. Darting behind a massive stone pillar, she peered out to see a bustling construction scene: countless craftsmen swarmed across the underground plaza, scaffolding rising layer upon layer over a huge stone gate. On either side of the plaza, most of the statues of the Seven Sages and Seven Saints had already been demolished.

With a thunderous crash, another statue toppled. Lanling recognized it at once—her master had told her this was the only woman among the Seven Sages, the greatest martial artist of her age, the youngest grandmaster: Yuqing Shu.

Lanling had idolized her since childhood, aspiring to be like her—a peerless saintess, expanding her clan’s glory, punishing evil, and finally transcending the mortal realm to be venerated by generations of the Xuanhuang.

And now, before her eyes, Yuqing Shu’s statue was felled.

Lanling’s fury threatened to burn through the seabed itself. She cared nothing for who had ordered the desecration, or whether the workers even knew whom they destroyed. The opinions of the dead had never concerned her.

She struck with both palms, unleashing a surging wave that crashed over the plaza, hurling massive stone columns and debris at the laborers perched on the scaffolding. In that instant, stone, timber, severed limbs, fish, shrimp, and crabs were churned together in the torrent. Lanling rained down blow after ferocious blow, pouring all her energy into every strike.

The wave roared up from the depths of Kunpeng Sea, setting off a mighty current that swelled into a tsunami, turning the entire sea to chaos and even reaching the coasts of Beilun Continent and the Central Divine Continent.

Yet, could any of this quell Lanling’s wrath?