As waves of black-clad assassins surged forward, mingled with masked figures dressed in colorful robes, the Third Young Master frowned deeply.
"There must be… what, at least a thousand of them?" he muttered uncertainly.
"Eight hundred and fifty-one," Qin Feng replied flatly, eyes sweeping the crowd. "Including their leaders."
"Hahaha!" Qin Lei let out a wild laugh, eyes gleaming. "I just cut down two hundred and nine of the bastards. Now another batch comes charging in? Excellent! My Thunderblade's thirst for blood won't go unsatisfied tonight!"
"Second Young Master, don't be careless," Qiao Wei warned. "If I'm not mistaken, the ones wielding those three-foot-seven-inch blades are the '366 Northern Sabers'—elite killers trained by the Demon Sect. Alone, none of them would last a breath against you. But in formation, their strength multiplies sixfold."
Uncle Li added, "And those with all sorts of mismatched weapons—long, short, curved—that's the '108 Misty Rain of Jiangnan.' Individually, they pose little threat. But as a formation, they're deadly. Both groups are vastly superior to the Demon Sect's average disciples."
"And those masked ones in opera-like costumes—can either of you tell who they are?" Qin Feng asked.
Qiao Wei and Uncle Li exchanged glances and shook their heads. "They don't seem to belong to the Demon Sect," Qiao said.
Uncle Li studied the footwork of the colorful figures for a moment, then frowned. "Their movements are… unorthodox. The techniques seem sinister, but not from any Demon Sect manuals I know."
Indeed, those were the secret assassins trained by the mysterious "Young Master Yu," known only as the Celestial Stars. They had never appeared in the martial world—until now. Among them, seven masked figures in seven-colored robes led the way. They were the Seven Stars of the Northern Dipper, each a top-tier martial expert. Their techniques were internal secrets of the imperial palace—neither Qiao Wei nor Uncle Li could recognize them.
While the brothers spoke, the battlefield had already shifted. The massive force of eight hundred plus—led by the sinister "Wind Blade Frost Sword" Gu Changkong, the four Sins of Damnation, and the Seven Stars—took their positions.
The 366 Northern Sabers formed one array, the 108 Misty Rain another, and the Celestial Stars stood alone as a third. Together, they formed a triad of formations, encircling the Qin brothers in a deadly triangle.
Gu Changkong, still masked in pale green, stood ten paces from Qin Feng, flanked by the four masked enforcers. A grim smile twisted across his face.
"Starlight Sword Saint," he said, voice oily and cold, "we meet again."
Qin Feng snorted. "With Ximen Wudi absent, you dare show yourself before me?"
Gu Changkong only laughed—an eerie, humorless sound. Beside him, the Sins of Damnation—identical in voice and movement—spoke in unison. "We've long heard of the Sword Saint's divine skills. We four brothers have long desired to test your blade. Today, we are most fortunate."
Their voices were indistinguishable—like one mind speaking from four mouths.
Qiao Wei explained in a low voice, "These four are quadruplet brothers—Yuan Zui, Yuan E, Yuan Da, and Yuan Ji. Together they are called the Sins of Damnation. It's said their hearts and minds are one. Their power is fused. They always fight together, and their synergy is unmatched."
Qin Feng nodded slowly. "Good. Better all four at once—I won't have to kill you one by one."
But the Sins merely chuckled, "You misunderstand, Young Lord Qin. To reach us, you must first break through our formations."
With that, the four retreated behind the ranks of the 108 Misty Rain, smirking like men at a theater show.
Qin Feng drew a deep breath. "Then I'll deal with the 108 Misty Rain myself. Second Brother, Third—what say you?"
Qin Lei laughed heartily. "I want to see if three hundred sixty-six blades can block the thunder of my blade!"
The Third Young Master rubbed his nose and grinned. "With you two charging ahead so heroically, how could I, the youngest, hang back? Leave the opera troupe to me!"
The three brothers shared a glance, then burst into bold laughter, their voices shaking the heavens.
"Three Young Lords!" Liu Duanhun stepped forward, worried. "You're each facing hundreds—this may be reckless—"
"Save your breath, Elder Liu!" the Third interrupted, flashing a confident smile. "We are sons of Qin Xiaoyao, the man whose hands cover the sky!"
"With one hand, he covered the heavens; with two, he lifted the world!" Qin Lei bellowed, striding toward the saber formation with his massive blade on his shoulder.
Qin Feng simply smirked, hands behind his back, and stepped toward the misty array.
Qiao Wei and Uncle Li exchanged a look, warmth in their eyes. With brothers like these, how could the martial world be dull?
With enemies like the Qin brothers, how could the Demon Sect ever rest easy?
Iron Xuanxuan stared at the Third Young Master's back, muttering, "Since when did that slippery schemer start showing backbone? Used to be all trickery and poison…"
Her brother Iron Jian whispered, "Don't forget—there are so many beautiful girls watching. Even cowards grow brave when admiration's on the line."
She turned and glanced at the gathered maidens—all eyes fixed on the Third. Du Xiaoyan, in particular, looked utterly enchanted.
"Hmph. Silly girls." Xuanxuan folded her arms, looking toward Qin Lei. "Lei is the real man among them. They wouldn't know good taste if it bit them." Yet as she spoke, her eyes kept drifting back toward the Third.
On the dais, "Duke Gongfu" looked on with awe. "Now that is courage! Blood-stirred men flush red in the face. Those of bone—pale. Of vein—blue. But men of true spirit? They remain unchanged in the face of death. The Qin brothers—true heroes!"
Dugu Hongjian snorted, "Or perhaps fools. Facing formations of hundreds—each man alone? That's suicide! And Qin Feng? Charging unarmed into the 108 Misty Rain? He's mad!"
"Duke Gongfu" chuckled. "Do you not know the tale of the Heaven Sword?"
"The Heaven Sword?" Dugu blinked. "That old myth? That a sword aligned with Heaven's Will? Don't tell me you believe he reached that level?"
The duke only smiled, "Ambition knows no age…"
For if martial mastery were bound by years, the world's greatest fighters would all be ancient men, long bald from wisdom, dying of old age the moment they mastered their art—becoming truly 'ultimate masters' in the most literal sense.
By then, the three brothers had reached their respective battlefields.
Qin Feng stood just five feet from the front line of the Misty Rain formation.
"If you don't strike now," he said quietly, "you'll never get another chance."
The 108 didn't move. Their formation was whole, their energy fused as one. Qin Feng hadn't yet stepped into their kill zone—so they waited.
They weren't afraid. Their energy flowed like current through a massive circuit—every man a live wire, each connected to the next. No stronger, no weaker. Any one of them could unleash the power of all. A perfect whole.
This was not a group. This was a weapon.
Qin Feng could feel the force locking onto him, immense, like a mountain waiting to fall.
But he didn't rely on brute strength.
He was more than a swordsman.
He was the Heaven Sword.
His strength came not from muscle, but from the world itself. His sword was part of all things—omnipresent.
And if the Misty Rain formation had become more than human…
So had he.