Chen Ping’an continued to carve his way south, alone, unleashing torrents of spells and spiritual artifacts, creating a veritable downpour wherever he went.

Finally, Chen Ping’an encountered a tough opponent: a diminutive man clad in bright red chainmail, adorned with a phoenix-winged, violet-gold crown and two extraordinarily long pheasant tail feathers. His attire resembled the flamboyant costumes seen on local opera stages in the Great Balance World.

Anyone bold enough to flaunt such a conspicuous appearance on the Sword Qi Great Wall battlefield must possess not only a fearlessness of death but also the qualifications to back it up. This demon race cultivator possessed remarkable speed, akin to a teleportation talisman. In an instant, he traversed several miles, arriving beside Chen Ping’an. With a single punch, he shattered the dense fist aura protecting Chen Ping’an and struck him in the temple, sending him hurtling dozens of yards.

Chen Ping’an slammed a palm against the ground, gracefully spun around, and regained his footing. His opponent, however, was like a shadow, instantly exchanging blows with Chen Ping’an.

Both combatants slid backward, gouging furrows deep enough to reach the knees into the earth. The demon cultivator shook his striking hand, plucked a feather from his crown with two fingers, and spoke in the dialect of the Sword Qi Great Wall, “You’re the new Hidden Official? A distant travel martial artist? Your fists are not light. No wonder you lost three matches to Cao Ci before winning three against Yu Juanfu.”

He raised his right hand, signaling the encircling demon army to retreat, leaving the battlefield to himself and the young Hidden Official of the Sword Qi Great Wall.

Chen Ping’an wiped the blood from his lips with his thumb and rubbed his temple with his palm. The force was truly considerable. His opponent must be a peak mountain realm cultivator. Demon race martial artists, blessed with naturally robust physiques, were rarely mere paper tigers. But a ninth realm martial artist, bearing martial luck, shouldn’t be so eager to court death. His attire, his strikes – all were too carefree.

Understanding dawned on Chen Ping’an. He replied, uncharacteristically engaging in conversation on the battlefield, “Are you the strongest eighth realm martial artist of the Barbarian World? Seeking an opportunity to break through and obtain martial luck?”

The diminutive man released the feather, sending it bouncing upwards. He nodded and smiled, “What do you say? Shall we exchange blows? I know you won’t believe me if I say no one will interfere, and I probably can’t control those sneaky sword cultivator death squads. But no matter, as long as you agree, anyone who interferes with my strikes, including you, will be my enemy and will be slain.”

Chen Ping’an pointed towards the Sword Qi Great Wall and said, “There’s a ninth realm master inside the city who taught me fist techniques. You can go and test your skills with him.”

The diminutive man’s expression darkened. He had offered a sincere proposition, but this now-famous young Hidden Official was proving uncooperative.

Chen Ping’an continued, “I’ll indulge you with a few last words. A martial artist, no matter who he loses to, even if it’s Cao Ci, gains no glory in defeat. Losing is losing. This shows that the so-called strongest distant travel martial artist of the Barbarian World, regardless of his strength, lacks the heart and magnanimity of a true martial artist. If you attain the title of ‘strongest’ and ascend to the ninth realm, it would be a laughingstock.”

Their conversation was ultimately pointless.

Both were engaged in considerable calculation. The diminutive man feigned magnanimity, seeking to use the young Hidden Official as a stepping stone for his martial path. Once he broke through, he would not only receive the martial luck of the Barbarian World but also seize a portion of the Sword Qi Great Wall’s martial foundation.

As for Chen Ping’an, he was secretly searching for the Barbarian World’s foremost Sword Immortal, the ‘Hundred Sword Immortal’. During the two golden river incidents caused by the Three Teachings Sages, Chen Ping’an had clashed with him twice. Their engagements seemed restrained, neither side using their full power, but the subtle interactions were interconnected. Whoever faltered first in any aspect would die, and their death would be anticlimactic, leaving low-realm sword cultivators puzzled.

The diminutive man seemed to lose interest in intrigue and lightly kicked the sand on the ground with his boot. “We’ve finished our chat standing. Soon, I’ll give you the chance to speak lying down. By the way, I am called Hou Kuimen.”

Chen Ping’an placed one hand behind his back, turned his head slightly, and pointed to his temple, inviting another punch.

Suddenly, an idea occurred to him. He could try something.

But before trying, he needed the opponent to try first.

Hou Kuimen naturally wouldn’t hold back.

After delivering the punch, Hou Kuimen hesitated, refraining from pressing his advantage. He simply stood and watched the young man he had just struck.

The young man, who hadn’t dodged or retaliated, stopped himself with a heavy step and looked at Hou Kuimen with a hint of mockery in his expression.

Hou Kuimen had been wary of a trap and had held back some of his strength.

A young Hidden Official known for his cunning among the sixty military tents wouldn’t be foolish enough to stand and be killed.

So, after his successful punch, he felt a pang of regret. If this strike hadn’t been a test but had been delivered with full force, would the young man still be standing?

But why had the opponent simply endured his punch?

Chen Ping’an pointed to his chest. “Another punch.”

Hou Kuimen raised his arms, pinching a feather between two fingers on each hand. His attire – the bright red chainmail, the violet-gold crown, and the two shimmering feathers – was no ordinary mountain treasure. It was a complete set of ancient military armor, transformed after refining. A half-immortal artifact of considerable quality, both offensive and defensive, named Sword Cage. It could temporarily trap a Sword Immortal’s flying sword. A Sword Immortal without their natal sword would be forced to engage in a contest of physical prowess with Hou Kuimen.

Hou Kuimen released the feathers, flashed forward, and stood before the death-seeking martial artist, delivering a punch. The young Hidden Official was sent flying.

Chen Ping’an got up, spat out a mouthful of blood, glanced at Hou Kuimen, and cursed under his breath in his hometown dialect.

He had originally intended to use this peak eighth realm martial artist to help him break through his seventh realm bottleneck, but Hou Kuimen’s two punches had been hesitant and restrained. To Chen Ping’an, accustomed to Li Er’s fist strength on Lion Peak in the Northern Ju Reed Continent, it felt like being scratched by a woman.

Now, on the Sword Qi Great Wall, a common saying was circulating: watching the young Hidden Official strike others or be struck was a delightful experience.

Hou Kuimen’s expression was complex.

Chen Ping’an asked in the Barbarian World’s refined language, “Do you intend to kill the Hidden Official for merit, or do you seek to improve yourself through martial exchange?!”
Hou Kuimen took a deep breath, lightly tapped his fists together, and said in a deep voice, “This is the final punch. If you don’t die, I’ll consider it my loss. Chen Ping’an, I know you have your own aspirations as well. It doesn’t matter. Let’s see whose fist technique is superior! You can just counter this punch.”

Chen Ping’an frowned slightly.

Faintly, Hou Kuimen’s majestic fist intent condensed a hazy aura around him, resembling a sage presiding over a small world.

Back in Shujian Lake, when he traveled with Zhang Ye of Qingxia Island, Chen Ping’an had already noticed that he could vaguely discern such signs.

Chen Ping’an shook his sleeves, rolling them up and gently spreading them out.

In an instant.

On the battlefield where the young Hidden Official and Hou Kuimen were located, dust and sand flew, obscuring the sky.

The dust and sand were mixed with dense fist intent that burst out in all directions, scattered like thousands of tiny flying swords.

A moment later, the earth trembled, and the sand scattered. Hou Kuimen was seen clutching his neck tightly with one hand, blood seeping through his fingers, while the other hand clenched a fist, looking around.

Finally, Hou Kuimen saw behind a demon cultivator, the young Hidden Official with a short knife plunged into the back of the sword cultivator’s assassin, and then gently swiping the neck with a short knife in his right hand.

Hou Kuimen was unable to speak smoothly, saying vaguely, “Chen Ping’an, as the Hidden Official, I have personally experienced your abilities, but as a pure martial artist, it is truly disappointing, too disappointing.”

It turned out that during the earlier exchange, the young Hidden Official endured Hou Kuimen’s punch but drew a knife from his sleeve, directly stabbing upwards into the latter’s neck. Not only that, but the left hand slapped the hilt, and if Hou Kuimen hadn’t stepped heavily on the ground, raised his figure, and then retreated a few steps, his lips and tongue would have been shattered by the blade, and the tip of the knife would have pierced his head on the spot.

If it were a pure martial artist of Haoran Heaven, without the support of a naturally resilient body, he would not have been able to utter a single word after suffering such a severe injury.

Chen Ping’an gently pushed away the corpse of the sword cultivator assassin in front of him, condensing his voice into a line, and smiled at Hou Kuimen, “In your three punches, which one conformed to the identity of a pure martial artist? If your first punch was pure enough, I wouldn’t have minded exchanging three punches with you. Maybe we could have both broken through, and then it would have been truly a matter of who lived and who died, depending only on the superiority of our fists.”

When Chen Ping’an appeared, a large area of the battlefield cleared itself again.

The young Hidden Official, with short knives held upside down in both hands, loosened them gently and then gripped them again.

This was a small habit learned from Yu Lu.

As for the posture of holding the knife, it was derived from a way of carrying a knife seen at the Jianshui Mountain Villa in Shushui Kingdom. In fact, in the Jianghu world, assassins and swordsmen also did this, but in Chen Ping’an’s eyes, it lacked meaning and was just a stiff pose.

Hou Kuimen only knew the young Hidden Official, but he was not clear about Chen Ping’an’s fighting habits.

When he began to procrastinate, he must be seeking some kind of follow-up.

Otherwise, all words would only be spoken after life and death were decided.

Hou Kuimen did not retreat, but his fist intent increased instead. Very good.

Chen Ping’an put the pair of daggers obtained from the assassins of the Northern Ju Reed Continent’s Gelu Mountain into his sleeves, standing still.

Hou Kuimen didn’t know what secret technique he used, but the blood near his neck stopped flowing, his arms drooped, and he was also motionless.

This was the state of mind that a true martial artist’s exchange should have.

After that, wherever the two figures went, a large number of bystanders would be affected.

The two pure martial artists, each at a bottleneck in their martial arts, were like two flying swords of sword immortals, wantonly cutting through the battlefield, leaving behind a field of broken limbs and bones.

Hou Kuimen’s punches became more and more “light,” but his fist intent became heavier and heavier.

Every punch had the aura of a ninth-realm martial artist, which was a great opportunity for a breakthrough.

For some reason, the young Hidden Official, who was already recognized as a sword cultivator, never unleashed his flying sword, and didn’t even use any of the long swords in the sword box on his back.

Far away on the battlefield, a “middle-aged man” who was a comrade of the young Hidden Official, seemingly swept along by the demon army, was surging towards the Sword Qi Great Wall. He had been paying attention to the fight between Chen Ping’an and Hou Kuimen, and had roughly seen some clues. He was hesitating whether to disrupt Chen Ping’an’s plan.

But when his gaze swept over a few directions, not close, and after weighing it, he gave up on making a move. He wouldn’t compete for battle merits with the Jiashen Camp, which produced so many geniuses.

Hou Kuimen was covered in a blur of blood and flesh. A dignified eighth-realm peak martial artist, wearing heavy treasures, was reduced to this state in an exchange with a younger martial artist who was clearly one realm lower than him, which was unbelievable.

Hou Kuimen, his face covered in blood, suddenly stopped, lowered his head and chuckled, feeling great joy. He raised his head and stared at the young man who had also suddenly stopped punching.

Hou Kuimen seemed to be saying, “When I reach the ninth realm, with martial luck on my side, I’ll come and beat you, this unreasonable Golden Body Realm bottleneck. It will be my turn to be unreasonable. Can you still succeed with your chaotic calculations? Can you still leave this battlefield alive? If you have the ability, Chen Ping’an, break through too?!”

In this exchange, even though his realm was higher, he had fallen behind. The problem wasn’t that Hou Kuimen’s physique wasn’t strong enough, or that his fists were too light, but that Chen Ping’an seemed to foresee his every move.

At this moment, seeing Chen Ping’an’s appearance as if facing a great enemy, which didn’t seem fake, Hou Kuimen felt happy. He had practiced boxing all his life, breaking through every time, but it had never been so enjoyable. Chen Ping’an, you helped me break through today, and I will leave you a whole corpse later, provided that the young man’s physique can withstand being torn apart by the punches I deliver after I reach the ninth realm!

Strands of martial luck from the Wildlands descended from the sky, arriving on the battlefield and pouring madly into Hou Kuimen.

Chen Ping’an smiled knowingly. It had finally come.

Hou Kuimen’s fists were too light to break through his own bottleneck. At most, they could help him refine a few key muscles and bones, adding a finishing touch.

Because he was worried about affecting the subsequent battle, many ninth-realm force punches went straight for the key Qi reservoirs. Once they landed on his body, Chen Ping’an wasn’t afraid of being injured, but he was afraid that the fist intent would turn the small world in his body upside down. Therefore, Chen Ping’an couldn’t bear them all. He had to unload most of them. Hou Kuimen enjoyed punching, but Chen Ping’an didn’t enjoy facing them at all.

It didn’t matter. Chen Ping’an had experience in repelling martial luck. He had done it more than once in the Old Dragon City.

Besides, Chen Ping’an had endured heavenly tribulations twice, once in Suijia City in the Northern Ju Reed Continent, and once here at the Sword Qi Great Wall when facing Ren Lizhen.
With a light tap of his toes, Chen Pingan soared into the sky, heading straight upwards. He did not throw a punch, but rather continued to ascend, as if determined to reach the highest point of the heavens. Although he did not strike, he used a boxing intent akin to the rising mist over a vast marsh, facing the streaks of white rainbow martial luck from the desolate lands.

The “middle-aged man” stopped and looked up, muttering to himself, “Martial luck can be snatched? Can business be done like this?”

For the young Hidden Official had used some strange method to directly pull all the streaks of martial luck white rainbows, lifting them into the air together, making the young man seem like a white rainbow ascending to immortality.

Martial luck in the world was an extremely ethereal existence. Otherwise, even the Central Plains Literary Temple of the Great Domain of Culture could not stop or intercept it, and could only let it flow among the talented martial artists of the Nine Continents.

In the desolate lands, even Mount Tuoyue could not control this matter.

The most awkward situation was naturally that of Hou Kuimen, who had martial luck arrive but not touch him.

Hou Kuimen slightly bent his knees and also headed into the sky, chasing after the figure of Chen Pingan, now as small as a mustard seed, hoping to get as close to the martial luck as possible.

The “middle-aged man,” who considered himself a swordsman, still did not launch a sneak attack on Chen Pingan. It wasn’t out of any sense of rules or morality; in the slaughter of the battlefield, his approach was the same as Chen Pingan’s. Each time he made a move, even each time he exchanged injuries with his opponent, it was like making a meticulous transaction.

This young swordsman, who surpassed all the geniuses on the Hundred Swords Immortal Register, including Li Zhen and Zhuqie, had sensed a trace of the true meaning of the Great Dao.

Attacking now, even if successful, would only result in more loss than gain for his Great Dao. For in this life, he would attract the invisible suppression of the martial luck of heaven and earth everywhere.

If he were a pure martial artist, using this to temper his martial arts would be a good thing. Unfortunately, he was ultimately a sword cultivator.

No!

Chen Pingan’s whole boxing intent and motive were fake.

He suddenly stretched out his right hand, and directly controlled a long sword from a nearby demon sword cultivator. With a gentle shake, he shattered it into a dozen pieces of the sword body. At the same time, he twisted his left wrist, forcefully shattering several meridians in his palm with his own sword energy. After blood seeped out, he smeared it on the sword fragments. Using one of the many trump cards he had, the young swordsman waved his sleeve, shooting the fragments towards the high sky, straight towards Hou Kuimen.

Almost at the same time, Hou Kuimen saw a blur before his eyes. The figure a hundred feet away used a Shrinking Earth Talisman first, and then used the refined flying swords Pine Needle and Cough Thunder as traction.

Holding a blade in both hands, one blade stabbed into Hou Kuimen’s cheek, piercing through the entire face, and the other blade pierced into Hou Kuimen’s heart. After succeeding with one strike, he used the Shrinking Earth Talisman, his figure disappearing instantly.

The next moment, the sword fragments hovered around Hou Kuimen, like a miniature sword formation, protecting this martial artist demon who was temporarily difficult to determine as being in the eighth or ninth realm.

If it weren’t for their arrival, Chen Pingan would have been able to directly cut off half of Hou Kuimen’s head.

Hou Kuimen gritted his teeth. After suffering two blade strikes, his “ascending” figure paused slightly, and then continued to fly towards the high sky. The martial luck was once again dragged higher by the young Hidden Official.

After confirming that Hou Kuimen’s life was not in danger, the long sword fragments flashed away and returned to the “middle-aged man”.

The two pure martial artists successively crashed through two layers of vast clouds.

One layer was only slightly higher than the Sword Qi Great Wall city wall, and the higher cloud sea was far above the city wall.

Suddenly hovering above the sea of clouds, Chen Pingan frowned once more. But this time, it wasn’t about acting with Hou Kuimen, a mix of truth and falsehood.

But he had truly sensed a hint of a strange conspiracy.

The martial luck higher up was undoubtedly real.

Although Hou Kuimen didn’t know why the young Hidden Official had stopped, after breaking through the sea of clouds, he still relied on his Wind Riding Realm to approach the streaks of martial luck that moved like dragons.

Chen Pingan pondered for a moment, and directly abandoned all previous plans, plunging into the sea of clouds and returning to the earth.

Hou Kuimen was about to generously accept the martial luck that should have belonged to him. Above the sea of clouds, the great sun shone, and Hou Kuimen looked like a god.

But in an instant, Hou Kuimen’s eyes turned pitch black. After struggling for a moment, he began to follow Chen Pingan, pulling the martial luck down to the earth as well.

Martial luck crashed into Hou Kuimen’s body. Hou Kuimen, who had reached the ninth realm, darted towards Chen Pingan.

Chen Pingan changed his retreat trajectory three times, but still couldn’t avoid it.

On the earth, an astonishing pit was smashed out, resembling the explosion of a sword immortal’s natal flying sword.

Ninth-realm martial artist Hou Kuimen, along with his martial luck, was completely crushed.

The Jiashen camp, five sword immortal embryos from the desolate lands, no longer concealed their whereabouts and appeared together on the edge of the pit, each occupying a corner.

Zhuqie, Li Zhen, Yusi, Liubai, and Tan.

The middle-aged man sighed, concealed his figure, and left.

Was it actually a great demon of the king’s seat, using his natal divine power to possess Hou Kuimen, who was about to break through, directly sacrificing a guaranteed ninth-realm martial artist in exchange for seriously injuring the young Hidden Official Chen Pingan?

Zhuqie said, “Be careful, it’s a trap.”

A smiling voice resounded in everyone’s minds at the same time, “How could it be.”