Chapter 826
Subutai Dies in Battle
woohoo...
A fierce wind swept across Eagle's Beak Cliff, whipping up a sandstorm that blanketed the area as if it were the end of the world.
However, when the gale reached the central area, it was suddenly blocked and bound by some force, forming a vacuum area within a hundred feet of the cliff top, where only two people were present.
Ni Wenjun and Subutai.
At this moment, the two were no more than ten feet apart, facing each other.
Ten zhang is practically no distance for a martial artist at the fourth level of the Fusion God realm. They could cross that distance in an instant, exchange hundreds or thousands of blows, and fight to the death. But neither of them moved; they simply stood there quietly, locking onto each other with their auras from afar.
Subutai slowly drew his sword, the sound of it being drawn clear in the deathly silence, like ice cracking or a withered branch breaking.
The curved sword that had been with him for thirty years no longer had the usual gleam; instead, it was a dark, bluish-gray, covered with fine patterns, like wolf hair or wind marks. This was a characteristic of the highest level of the Azure Wolf Technique—the weapon was imbued with spiritual energy.
"This sword is named 'Azure Wolf.' It has been drinking blood with me for thirty years, and has slain thirty-seven thousand enemy heads." Subutai's voice was calm, yet it carried a power that pierced the heart. "Today, it will drink the blood of the fourth Molten God Realm expert."
Ni Wenjun did not answer, but slowly raised his hand and clenched his fist.
His hands were ordinary, with large knuckles and calluses, like those of an old farmer or a stonemason, but never like fists capable of moving mountains and filling seas. But when he clenched his fist, his hands changed.
Beneath the skin, veins rippled like dragons, and the joints crackled and popped, as if it were not flesh and blood, but steel being forged, tempered, and shaped.
“Ni Wenjun, fist.” He only said three words.
As soon as the words were spoken, the person moved.
Without warning or any preparation, Ni Wenjun simply vanished from the spot.
It wasn't fast, it was abrupt, as if he hadn't been there at all, and only now appeared in front of Subutai.
The right fist came out straight out, without any fancy moves, just the simplest straight punch. But at the moment the fist was thrown, the air was compressed, torn apart, and ignited. A visible white air wave appeared in front of the fist, like the tail of a comet, and slammed into Subutai's face.
A hint of seriousness flashed in Subutai's eyes.
What a great punch! Simple, direct, and violent, it concentrates power, speed, and momentum into one point—a return to simplicity.
He dared not be negligent. He slashed his curved blade diagonally, the blade drawing a mysterious arc. It did not strike the fist, nor the person, but rather the subtle connection between the fist and heaven and earth.
"clang--!"
The clash of fists and knives produced no metallic clanging sound, but rather a thunderous roar, as if the heavens and earth were collapsing.
Centered on the two, a shockwave visible to the naked eye spread out, and Eagle Beak Cliff beneath their feet, that cliff that had stood for thousands of years, collapsed as if struck by an invisible giant hammer.
Hundreds of thousands of pounds of boulders rolled down, and dust billowed into the sky, but the two people stood suspended in mid-air, with the shattered mountain below and the broken clouds above.
The first move is to evenly match the opponent.
No, Ni Wenjun had a slight advantage. Because he was using a fist, while Subutai was using a knife. A fist against a knife should have been disadvantageous, but at this moment, Subutai's hand holding the knife was slightly numb, and the web of his hand was split open, oozing blood. Ni Wenjun's fist, on the other hand, was completely unharmed.
"What a hard fist," Subutai exclaimed, his fighting spirit growing even stronger.
“Your knife is not bad either,” Ni Wenjun said calmly, before moving again.
This time, he didn't charge straight ahead. Instead, he used some mysterious footwork, leaving afterimages in the void. With each step, a phantom of a blue lotus condensed beneath his feet, each of its nine petals radiating light. This was the unique movement technique of the Nine-Story Tower Skill—Nine Steps to Heaven. Legend has it that when mastered to its peak, one could ascend to the heavens in nine steps and shatter the void.
Subutai focused intently, his curved blade drawing circles in front of him. These circles were not random; each one subtly aligned with the Dao, perfectly round and endless. This was the defensive stance of the Azure Wolf Technique—Moon Wheel Protection. On a full moon night, the Wolf King howls at the moon, inhaling and exhaling its light. This move was derived from the Wolf King's howl, combining defense with offense, perfectly harmonious.
Ni Wenjun suddenly appeared to Subutai's left, throwing a punch at his temple. Subutai spun his blade, the edge slicing towards his fist and wrist. Ni Wenjun's punch remained unchanged, only his wrist slightly rotated, his fist brushing against the blade, creating a trail of sparks, while another punch shot out from an unbelievable angle, aiming straight for his heart.
"Clang clang clang clang clang—!"
In the blink of an eye, the two had exchanged a hundred blows.
Fists flashed like mountains, and blades gleamed like snow, weaving a web of death in the air. There was no fixed battlefield; their figures flashed constantly above the crumbling Eagle's Beak Cliff, sometimes to the east, sometimes to the west, sometimes soaring into the clouds, sometimes swooping down to the earth.
Each collision caused the heavens and earth to tremble, the wind to howl, and thunder to explode.
Below, hundreds of thousands of troops had already retreated more than ten miles away, but they could still feel the earth-shattering pressure.
Many soldiers knelt on the ground, not in worship, but because they were too overwhelmed by the terrifying pressure to stand up straight.
The warhorses collapsed, foaming at the mouth, some even dying of fright. Only generals at the Wolf Smoke Realm and above could barely stand, but even they were deathly pale and trembling all over.
Fu Youde stared intently at the battle in the sky, his fingernails digging into his palms, drawing blood without him even noticing.
Is this the power of a fourth-stage Fusion God? He considered himself a master, but before such power, he was like an ant looking up at a dragon. In the world of martial arts, without a powerful opponent of equal strength to counterbalance him, Su Butai alone was enough to turn the tide of battle.
"boom--!"
After another collision, the two finally separated, standing hundreds of feet apart in mid-air.
Ni Wenjun's blue robe was torn in several places, and a deep knife wound on his left shoulder revealed the bone, with blood staining half of his body. But he remained calm, as if he were not the one who was injured. Subutai was in no better shape; a fist-shaped dent was on his chest, at least three ribs were broken, blood seeped from the corner of his mouth, and his hand holding the knife trembled slightly.
"That was exhilarating!" Subutai grinned, his mouth full of blood. "It's been twenty years since I stepped into the fourth stage of the Fusion God realm. I haven't had such a satisfying battle since. Ni Wenjun, you're very good, even better than I imagined."
Ni Wenjun also smiled slightly: "You're not bad either. The Azure Wolf Technique lives up to its name."
“Warm-up complete.” Subutai slowly raised his scimitar, the blade beginning to glow, not reflecting sunlight, but radiating a bluish-gray light from within, like moonlight, like the eyes of a wolf. “Now, let’s get serious.”
Ni Wenjun nodded, his hands forming a mudra in front of his chest. With his movement, his aura surged, and a faint blue light flowed beneath his skin, like glass or jade. The eighth level of the Nine-Layered Tower Technique—Glassy Jade Body.
Subutai also moved. He roared to the sky, his howl like a wolf's—desolate, arrogant, and domineering. With the howl, wisps of blood energy seeped from his pores, condensing in the air and transforming into a gigantic, bluish-gray wolf phantom, ten zhang tall and twenty zhang long, with fangs like swords and eyes like blood moons. The eighth level of the Azure Wolf Technique—Azure Wolf Dharma Form.
The two moved at the same time.
Ni Wenjun took a step forward, and a blue lotus bloomed beneath his feet. His figure shot out like a cannonball, his right fist pulling back, and a layer of tangible blue light condensed on the tip of his fist. The light continuously compressed and condensed, finally transforming into a single, dazzling starlight. Nine-Story Tower Ultimate Technique - Breaking Army.
Su Butai cleaved through the void with his curved blade, the blade drawing a perfect arc. Wherever the blade passed, space was torn apart, leaving a lingering black mark. The phantom of the giant wolf behind him howled to the sky, merging with his blade's momentum to transform into a blade of light that ripped through heaven and earth. The ultimate technique of the Azure Wolf Art—Heavenly Wolf Slash.
Fist and sword clashed in the void, hundreds of feet high.
There was no sound. Or rather, the sound was too loud, exceeding the limits of human hearing, and thus became silence. Only light, endless light, erupted from the point of impact, like hundreds of suns exploding simultaneously. The soldiers watching nearby, whether Han soldiers or remnants of the Golden Horde, screamed in agony, their eyes bleeding, temporarily blinded.
Then comes the shockwave.
Centered on the point of impact, a circular shockwave spread outwards, causing landslides, tree falls, and rocks to fly wherever it passed.
Ten miles away, in the Han army camp, tents were torn off like pieces of paper, and supply wagons weighing a thousand pounds rolled like balls. Warhorses neighed, and soldiers were blown away like straw, landing either dead or wounded.
Ten breaths passed before the light gradually dimmed and the shockwave slowly subsided.
In the sky, Ni Wenjun and Subutai still stood suspended in mid-air, a hundred feet apart.
Both men were in a sorry state. Ni Wenjun's right fist was a bloody mess, revealing the white bone, and a knife wound ran from his shoulder to his abdomen, almost tearing him open.
Subutai was in an even worse state; his scimitar was broken into three pieces, with only the hilt remaining in his hand. His left arm was severed at the shoulder, and there was a transparent fist-sized hole in his abdomen through which he could see the sky behind him.
"Cough cough..." Subutai coughed up blood, and with each cough, fragments of internal organs gushed from his mouth. "Good...good punch..."
Ni Wenjun also spat out a mouthful of blood, his voice hoarse: "Your knife... is not bad either."
The two men locked eyes, their gazes now devoid of murderous intent, filled only with respect for their opponent. At their level, encountering a worthy adversary was both a blessing and a curse. The blessing lay in the opportunity to fight with all their might and test their martial arts; the curse lay in the inevitable death of one of them after the battle.
"Let's make one last move." Subutai threw away his broken sword, slowly raising his only remaining right hand, palm up, as if supporting something. "Let me show you the true power of the grassland wolf."
Ni Wenjun nodded, clasped his hands together in front of his chest as if worshipping Buddha or asking the heavens: "Please."
Subutai closed his eyes, then opened them again. This time, his eyes held no human emotion, only a pure, primal, wolfish wildness and desolation. Behind him, the phantom of the giant wolf reappeared, but this time it was more solid, more enormous, thirty feet tall, like a small mountain. Moreover, the phantom was changing, solidifying, and… coming to life.
“The eighth level of the Azure Wolf Technique…” Subutai’s voice seemed to come from ancient times, desolate and distant, “The Heavenly Wolf… True Form!”
As he uttered the last word, the giant wolf phantom behind him solidified completely, howling to the sky with a sound that reverberated for miles. It was not a phantom, but a real celestial wolf, its fur like steel needles, its fangs like giant swords, its four paws treading the air, and its eyes burning with azure flames. Subutai's figure slowly merged into the celestial wolf's body, man and wolf becoming one.
Martial Arts Illusion! This is the highest realm of a martial artist in the Fusion God Realm, where one condenses their life's cultivation, martial arts will, and spirit to create a martial arts illusion.
The moment the martial arts phantom appeared, his strength increased tenfold.
Ni Wenjun looked at the thirty-zhang-tall heavenly wolf, a solemn expression flashing in his eyes, but no fear. He also closed his eyes, slowly spreading his arms apart and embracing them in front of him as if holding up a giant building, as if supporting the heavens and the earth.
"The eighth level of the Nine-Story Tower Technique..." His voice, like a resounding bell, echoed throughout the heavens and earth, "Eighth... level!"
As he spoke, the phantom of a colossal building appeared behind him. The building was eight stories high, each floor solid and lifelike, with flying eaves, carved beams and painted rafters, depicting mountains and rivers, the sun, moon, stars, and all living beings. It represented his martial arts, his will, and his life.
The colossal building continued to rise, ten zhang, twenty zhang, thirty zhang... finally settling at forty-nine zhang, like a real mountain, standing between heaven and earth. Ni Wenjun's figure also merged into the building; man was the building, and the building was man.
Sirius versus the giant building.
The wildness of the grasslands contrasts with the profound history of the Central Plains.
Below, everyone forgot to breathe, forgot to think, and simply stared blankly at the two colossal figures in the sky. They were gods, demons, beings beyond the comprehension of mortals.
At this moment, war, victory, defeat, life and death all became insignificant. They were merely witnesses, witnessing a peak duel that would surely be recorded in history.
Sirius moved. Its four paws trod through the air as if on solid ground, its form transforming into a streak of azure lightning as it lunged towards the giant building. Wherever it passed, space shattered, and thunder followed, like an ancient ferocious beast reborn.
The colossal building also moved. It did not dodge, nor retreat, but simply pressed forward slowly, heavily, and irresistibly. On its surface, mountains and rivers appeared, the sun, moon, and stars revolved, and all living beings prayed, as if a complete world was bearing down upon it.
The wolf and the building collided with a deafening roar a thousand feet in the air.
This time, there was a sound. It was the sound of heaven and earth shattering, the sound of rules collapsing, the sound of all things wailing. At the point of impact, space shattered like a mirror, revealing the deep darkness behind it—the void, the chaos, the wound of the world.
The light erupted again, ten times, even a hundred times stronger than before. Below, centered on Eagle's Beak Cliff, within a radius of thirty li, the ground undulated like waves, mountains collapsed, rivers changed course, and forests turned to ash. The Han army camp ten li away vanished completely, leaving not even a speck of wood. Twenty li away, at the ruins of Daoma Pass, the remaining city walls were utterly reduced to dust.
This shockwave lasted for thirty breaths.
When the light finally dimmed and the smoke finally cleared, the sky returned to its clear state.
Both enormous figures disappeared.
Only two people were slowly falling from a height of thousands of feet.
Ni Wenjun landed first. He knelt on one knee, covered in blood, his blue robe torn to shreds, revealing his cracked, glass-like skin beneath. He lowered his head, coughing up large amounts of blood, each cough releasing fragments of his internal organs. But he was still alive, still able to move, still able to… stand up.
Su Butai landed hard. He fell straight down, crashing to the ground like a tattered sack, kicking up a cloud of dust. He lay on his back, the fist wound in his chest twice its original size, almost tearing his body in two. His left arm was broken, his right arm was twisted, and his legs were bent at bizarre angles. But his eyes were still open, staring at the sky, at the sky they had shattered.
Ni Wenjun struggled to his feet and walked step by step toward Subutai. Each step left a bloody footprint, each step was unsteady, but he finally reached Subutai's side and looked down at the number one expert of the grasslands.
Subutai looked at him, his eyes devoid of any fighting spirit or killing intent, only a calmness, like an autumn grassland, desolate and vast.
"I... lost." He spoke, his voice weak but clear.
Ni Wenjun remained silent and slowly nodded.
“But the grasslands… will not lose.” Subutai continued, a glint of light flashing in his eyes, like a final burst of energy before death. “My son… Naturu… will inherit my will… The wolves of the grasslands… will never be tamed…”
Ni Wenjun remained silent. He knew Subutai was right. Defeating an individual was easy, conquering a people was difficult. Today he had won this duel, but the war between the Han people and the steppe people was far from over.
“Tell… Zhang Dingbian…” Subutai’s voice grew weaker and weaker, “I respect him as… an opponent… but the grasslands… will never submit… Dadu, and the Living Buddha, you cannot take them down!”
As he uttered the last word, the light in his eyes completely died out. But a smile lingered on his lips, a smile of relief, a smile of returning home.
Subutai, the first commander of the Golden Horde and a fourth-level Molten God, died in battle.
Ni Wenjun stood there, motionless for a long time. He looked at Subutai's corpse, at this opponent with whom he had fought fiercely for a day, a battle that had shaken the heavens and earth, and felt neither joy nor sorrow. Only a faint, indescribable emotion remained—perhaps respect, perhaps grief, perhaps…loneliness.
The higher you climb, the colder it gets. From this day forward, the world will lose another opponent who could fight him with all his might.
In the distance, the sound of horses' hooves rang out. Zhang Dingbian, Fu Youde, Jin Yanzi, and others rode up, followed by a surging tide of Han troops.
Ni Wenjun did not turn around, but slowly raised his hand and performed the most solemn fist salute among martial artists to Subutai's corpse.
Then, he turned around and looked at Zhang Dingbian running towards him, his voice hoarse but clear:
"Subutai is dead, the obstacles to the Northern Expedition have been cleared, kill them all!" (End of Chapter)