Chapter Twenty-Nine: Lesser Yang, Lesser Yin

Although his internal energy surged like the vast sea, his physique was peerless, and his spirit fathomless, though he had comprehended myriad martial arts, Jiang Ming still felt he lacked a true killing technique. Thus, he began to delve into the mysteries himself.

He first contemplated the way of the blade, using the templates of Furious Thunder Nine Slashes, Furious Thunder Ninefold Slash, and the many saber arts he had collected. At last, he grasped a single stroke: Thunderflash.

A furious thunder raged, a blinding flash that shook the heavens.

When he unleashed that blade, it was as though the God of Thunder descended; his boundless energy transformed into an unstoppable saber aura. This stroke radiated a peerless sharpness, the demeanor of the invincible.

With it, he shattered the combined killing move of Xiao Yuanhai and Xiao Yuanrang on the spot.

The sword splintered, the tip of the blade fell, tearing through Xiao Yuanhai’s protective force, slashing open his chest, and sending him flying, blood scattering across the sky.

A miserable cry escaped Xiao Yuanhai. Before he could circulate his arts to suppress the saber energy within him, his viscera were shredded by the razor-sharp aura.

His life was utterly extinguished.

Jiang Ming felt a touch of weakness, but the energy in his dantian surged forth in a torrent, and the weakness vanished instantly—restoring him to his peak.

With his foundation, he could wage war for three days and nights without so much as panting.

At that moment, silence fell all around.

Xiao Yuanrang was dumbstruck.

Liang Dashan and his companion also froze in place.

That was a finishing move—a lethal strike.

The two had unleashed it together, and it was more than enough to threaten a grandmaster. Yet it was broken? And even countered with death?

Impossible!

That was their first thought.

What followed was endless terror.

“Dragon-Suppressing Fist!” Jiang Ming gave them no time to be stunned. He struck at once, his left fist sending Xiao Yuanrang flying.

His chest collapsed, blood gushed out in torrents.

Clearly, he was grievously wounded.

“Die!” Jiang Ming turned, killing intent surging toward the Liang brothers.

Saber light cascaded like a waterfall, rushing like the tide.

Before, all four together were suppressed by him—how could they resist now that he fought unrestrained?

In barely a moment, Xiao Yuanrang was nearly slain on the spot, Liang Dahai was cut down, and Liang Dashan, with one arm severed, knelt on one knee, coughing blood.

He raised his blade high, ready to kill Liang Dashan, when suddenly a voice cried out, “Stop! Stop!”

Next, a middle-aged man hurried over, halted before Liang Dashan, and knelt to Jiang Ming.

“I am Liang Han, current head of the Liang family. I beg Young Master Jiang for mercy.” Liang Han bowed deeply, then quickly added, “Our Liang family is willing to offer three hundred thousand taels of silver!”

“How interesting!” Jiang Ming smiled. “If you were in my place, would you let your enemies survive? If you don’t cut the grass by the root, when the spring wind blows, it lives again.”

Liang Han opened his mouth, a bitter look on his face.

“You truly mean to annihilate us?” Liang Dashan said with difficulty. “The crime should not fall upon wives and children, upon the family.”

“How many families has the Liang family destroyed? And now you plead for your own? What a joke!” Jiang Ming’s voice was cold.

His aura remained as vast as the sea, his black blade exhaling murderous intent.

A savage look flickered across Liang Dashan’s face, but seeing Liang Han and the terrified Liang clansmen in the distance, he revealed a trace of sorrow, and addressed Jiang Ming: “Three hundred thousand in silver drafts, three stalks of thousand-year ginseng, our family’s treasured arts, and…and…”

Seeing Jiang Ming’s cold, unmoved expression, he gritted his teeth at last. “The Lesser Yin Sutra.”

“The Lesser Yin Sutra?” Jiang Ming’s expression shifted ever so slightly.

The Nine Yang Scripture was split into several parts, as was the Nine Yin Divine Skill. He’d once heard from Lu Yuan that the Lesser Yin Sutra was among them—he hadn’t expected it to be in the Liang family’s possession.

“And you must cripple your cultivation,” Jiang Ming said coldly.

“Very well!” Liang Dashan agreed. “Once the handover is complete, give me three days’ time. Not only will I cripple my cultivation, I’ll end my life at Kaoshan City! But you must spare the Liang clan.”

Jiang Ming nodded. Liang Han produced a sutra from his robe and handed it over. “This is the Lesser Yin Sutra. The rest I’ll have brought at once.”

“Interesting!” Jiang Ming accepted it with a smile. Clearly, this Liang family head was wise enough to consider defeat before victory, preparing a path for his clan’s survival and legacy should they lose.

A stir ran through the distant crowd.

The Lesser Yin Sutra! A legendary martial art.

Who would have thought that the Liang family, always suppressed by the Xiao clan, would possess such a treasure? But then again, with the Lesser Yin Sutra, they’d produced two grandmasters, yet were still nearly exterminated—one could only marvel.

Jiang Ming felt a burning gaze upon him, but paid it no heed. He quickly flipped through the sutra, committing its contents to memory.

In his mind, the fire of wisdom blazed, swiftly analyzing and distilling its essence. In only moments, he grasped several key mysteries within.

A waning moon seemed to flicker in his eyes.

At that moment, the ground trembled as a group approached—at their head were Chang Qing and Lu Yuan, as well as several masked, slender figures dressed in black.

They were all spattered with blood.

“Commander, we greet you!” Reaching him, Chang Qing knelt on one knee.

“Commander!” The hundreds behind him all knelt in salute.

Jiang Ming looked them over and saw that a third of the Heavenly Martial Army had fallen. Fortunately, most of the veterans remained.

“You owe me a great favor,” Lu Yuan said, glancing at a masked woman at his side, but did not introduce her immediately; instead, he gave Jiang Ming a meaningful look.

“Thank you,” Jiang Ming replied with a smile, then said, “Commander Chang, have your men rest nearby.”

“Yes, sir.” Chang Qing withdrew with his troops.

Only then did Jiang Ming approach the grievously wounded Xiao Yuanrang. “Will you see your clan destroyed, or will you offer up something to ensure its survival?”

Xiao Yuanrang’s face was twisted with hatred, his eyes burning with murderous intent.

His younger brother was dead.

His son was dead.

His grandson was dead.

Eighty percent of the family’s elite had perished; the Black Iron Army was finished.

What was left of the Xiao family?

Survival?

Heh!

If he died, the Xiao clan would surely be finished. They had too many enemies—even the once-close Liang family would not spare them, but would cut them down to the root.

And then there were the Six Gates, and all manner of powers within Kaoshan City.

He knew exactly what awaited.

“Grandfather!” A youth staggered over, clutching Xiao Yuanrang’s legs, weeping bitterly. “Grandfather, the Xiao family cannot die! My son—your great-grandson—was just born. Are you going to let him die too?”

Xiao Yuanrang raised his hand, his expression ferocious.

The youth froze, his face draining of color.

“With trash like you, how can the Xiao family endure?” Xiao Yuanrang’s voice was grief-stricken. He fixed Jiang Ming with a determined gaze.

At last, he sighed deeply, locking eyes with Jiang Ming. “What will it take for you to spare the Xiao clan?”

“Five hundred thousand in silver drafts, five stalks of thousand-year ginseng, your family’s treasured martial arts, your life, and…” Jiang Ming’s voice was indifferent. “The Lesser Yang Sutra. And don’t try to claim the Xiao family doesn’t have it. Rumor has it the Lesser Yang Sutra appeared in Kaoshan City—you sought to frame White Cloud Stronghold with it. As the city’s greatest power, it must be in your possession.”

“You truly mean to annihilate us!” Xiao Yuanrang’s pupils shrank, his face twisting once more. “If I don’t reveal the Lesser Yang Sutra, the Xiao clan has a sliver of hope. But now, there’s none left!”

“Grandfather, why? We can meet all these demands!” the young man beside him pleaded in panic.

“Fool! Even if we hand over the Lesser Yang Sutra, the world’s strongest will descend upon us. Without a grandmaster to protect us, with all our transcendents dead, how can the Xiao family survive? We’ll be torn to pieces, nothing left but bones to gnaw!” Xiao Yuanrang roared, then shouted, “Zhang Tong! I know you’re watching in the shadows—show yourself!”