Chapter Forty-Seven: Champions Clash

Both sides, friend and foe alike, could hardly believe their eyes as Feng Xiaobao emerged victorious. For a moment, the entire battlefield was plunged into silence.

After all, he was only a youth, and though his mind was as sharp as any adult’s, standing in the spotlight after such a victory left him dizzy with excitement. He was intoxicated by his own triumph, his head spinning as he basked in the attention. Wanting to display his prowess but at a loss for grand words, he finally blurted out a phrase he would regret for the rest of his life: “The Twin-bladed Tian Anding has been claimed by Feng Xiaobao of Luoyang!”

He raised his fist and shouted, his clear and ringing voice echoing over the field: “The Twin-bladed Tian Anding has been claimed by Feng Xiaobao of Luoyang!”

“Claimed?!”

The borrowed phrase from a distant island nation’s modern slang left the crowd dumbstruck for a moment, then they mused, “Heh, to campaign against a bandit and take his life—‘claimed’ is just about right!”

The term stuck in everyone’s minds. As Feng Xiaobao’s fame grew, “claim” was invoked again and again, becoming the era’s phrase of the strong—while the very one who coined it never mentioned it again!

No sooner had he spoken than three seconds later, he dashed toward Tian Anding’s corpse—not a corpse to him, but a mound of eight hundred strings of copper coins, his heart set on that fortune.

How could Qiu Shenyang not see through his intentions? He lunged after Feng Xiaobao, barking, “Kid, don’t you run!”

Run? Why would I need to run? I have brothers!

Feng Xiaobao truly felt the benefit of having comrades, for Yang Chengxian and Cheng Boxi arrived to intercept Qiu Shenyang before he could catch him.

It was two against one; no one objected. Qiu Shenyang was a renowned fighter, and for two young men to take him on hardly seemed unfair.

Yet as the fight broke out, Qiu Shenyang realized it was more than unfair.

Cheng Boxi unleashed his “Three Axe Blows”—one aimed at the head, one at the jaw, and one at the ear. In reality, these were downward chops, horizontal sweeps, upward hooks, and stabbing thrusts, the very essence of axe technique. The key was Cheng Boxi’s proficiency; he wielded the axe without a moment’s hesitation, making him truly dangerous.

While Cheng Boxi’s attacks were bold and conspicuous, drawing all the attention, Yang Chengxian was sly and sinister, always stabbing at Qiu Shenyang’s vitals. Their coordination was seamless—one would aim for the head as the other stabbed at the feet, one attacking left as the other pressed on the right. They moved with perfect harmony.

Qiu Shenyang was startled by the two youths. If not for his twin axes, able to fend off attacks from both directions, he would have been overwhelmed using only a single weapon.

Still, a man is no dual-core machine, able to operate two weapons with perfect coordination. Qiu Shenyang found himself hamstrung—every time he pressed one, the other would defend fiercely while the second attacked relentlessly. The constant attack and defense left him unable to advance or retreat smoothly. Their weapons were longer than his; if he focused solely on defense, he’d meet Tian Anding’s grim fate.

True, the two lads were far from being as monstrous as Feng Xiaobao, who combined brute strength with uncanny agility; Feng’s strength could crush an opponent’s offense, his speed left them chasing shadows. The two youths were no match for Qiu Shenyang one-on-one, but together, they forced him into a losing battle.

Outrageous! Qiu Shenyang fumed, launching a furious assault. His moves were as cunning as a specter’s, but his adversaries remained calm and composed—after all, with a brother at your side, even a mistake can be covered.

They fought with camaraderie and skill, and Qiu Shenyang could not gain the upper hand. For all his fame, he found himself stymied by two mere boys—could they be inseparable friends?

“Since ancient times, heroes have been born young!” Everyone echoed the words of Xiathe Gale, the bandit chief of Mount Xindu. “Since ancient times, heroes have been born young!”

The rise of the young meant hardship for their elders. Look how bitterly Qiu Shenyang struggled.

Against a top-tier brute like Qiu Shenyang, Yang Chengxian and Cheng Boxi still found it easier than facing Feng Xiaobao. They had learned the hard way in single combat with Feng, unable to match his strength or speed. When they tried one tactic, he’d counter with another. Under the tutelage of the seasoned General Yang Deqing, they had trained in combined attacks—one attacking, one defending, or both pressing at once—enabling them to contend with Feng at all.

Sparring with Feng Xiaobao honed their teamwork to perfection, and now, against Qiu Shenyang, they found it easier than ever.

…

Xia the Gale frowned as he watched. Hong Xiaoshui had been captured, Zhang Yongping held to a draw, Tian Anding slain, and now Qiu Shenyang was being held back by two brats, unable to gain ground.

The tide of battle was turning against them.

He looked around: only he and the mighty “God of Strength” Tian Shi remained on his side, while the other party was teeming with eager heroes, all desperate to make a name for themselves atop their fallen foes.

Perhaps this battle was reckless after all.

When bandits and knights-errant fight, bandits have no chance of victory, and the knights-errant suffer heavy losses—the only one to benefit is the imperial court.

He had grown overconfident, believing their seven top fighters to be unmatched. And indeed, just with Three-handed Hong Xiaoshui, they had thrown the knights into chaos. But who could have foreseen the emergence of Feng Xiaobao, slaying Tian Anding, capturing Hong Xiaoshui, and two brothers holding Qiu Shenyang at bay? The world of heroes never lacks for fresh talent; he could almost see the next generation rising by climbing over their shoulders.

Seeing Qiu Shenyang bogged down, Xia the Gale sighed and ordered the drums to signal retreat—a clear admission of defeat.

Yang Chengxian and Cheng Boxi, though unwilling, were not Feng Xiaobao’s equal. Qiu Shenyang feinted, broke away, and retreated to his own ranks.

The mighty “God of Strength” Tian Shi clapped Qiu Shenyang on the shoulder, saying, “Brother, let me avenge you!”

Wielding a spiked mace, he leaped forward and roared, “I am Tian Shi, the God of Strength of Mount Xindu! Who dares face me in combat?”

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He was a giant of a man, nearly two meters tall, broad of shoulder and thick of waist, like a small mountain barring the way.

Among the heroes, Tian Du of Chang’an, himself broad-shouldered and stocky, was thrilled at the challenge: “Let me, Tian Du, take him on!”

His weapon was the fearsome horse-cutting saber.

The crowd gave way, allowing him to face Tian Shi.

Spirits rose as everyone watched the saber clash with the spiked mace—a spectacle indeed.

Both men were powerhouses, warriors of brute force. Their battle was thunderous, the clang of weapons making hearts race and spectators’ blood run cold.

The saber was savage—one blow could sever flesh from bone.

The spiked mace was devastating—one strike reduced flesh to pulp.

Neither dared be careless. They fought with all their might, sparks flying from their weapons like a blacksmith’s forge.

“Good!” Feng Xiaobao couldn’t help but exclaim in English, so thrilling was the contest.

In the thick of battle, a flash of crimson burst forth—one of the two fell!

Everyone stared: Tian Du’s head was gone, crushed like a watermelon by Tian Shi’s mace, so thoroughly that not even a trophy could be taken.

Tian Shi raised his fist and, mimicking Feng Xiaobao, shouted, “Tian Du has been claimed by Tian Shi of Mount Xindu!”

Such a “claim” indeed! Wu Wo, a fellow hero and friend of Tian Du, rushed out for vengeance.

“Who are you?” Tian Shi demanded.

“Wu Wo of Chang’an! I’ve come for your head!” Wu Wo replied fiercely. “Don’t you forget it!”

He wielded a crescent-moon blade, which in his hands danced like falling snow, a flurry of blows that rained down upon Tian Shi.

He refused to fight head-on; the moment their weapons met, Wu Wo would slip aside. The spiked mace was formidable, but Wu Wo relied on agility, searching for openings to strike.

Tian Shi, for all his ox-like strength, found it useless if he couldn’t land a blow.

Seeing Wu Wo gaining the upper hand, the crowd nodded: “As brine curdles tofu, there’s always something to counter anything.”

Just as the heroes thought victory was theirs, Tian Shi swung his mace, Wu Wo dodged and countered, his blade flashing like lightning. Tian Shi, unable to recover in time, twisted his body and blocked with the shaft, parrying the attack.

Wu Wo saw his chance and pressed the assault, but Tian Shi suddenly produced a small copper throwing hammer and hurled it unseen.

Focused on offense, Wu Wo never expected such a brute to use hidden weapons. Caught off guard, he took the hammer to the forehead.

Stars exploded before his eyes!

His brow caved in, his strength gone, and Tian Shi’s next blow finished him—his head smashed to pulp, just as Tian Du’s had been. The crowd was struck dumb.

“Hahaha! Wu Wo of Chang’an has been claimed by Tian Shi of Mount Xindu!” Tian Shi bellowed, brandishing his weapon. “Who else dares come to their death?”

…

Another hero from Chang’an, Tang Tianning—the same man who had earlier quarreled with Feng Xiaobao—was adept at weighing risks. Seeing Tian Shi fight two opponents in a row, he guessed the giant must be tiring and seized his opportunity. “Let me, Tang Tianning, take your dog’s life!” he shouted.

The two clashed. Tian Shi’s mace had lost none of its power, each swing whistling through the air, while Tang Tianning’s spear conjured a thousand illusory shadows, all sweeping toward Tian Shi.

Tang Tianning’s spearwork was well-trained—sometimes the point flickered in countless feints, impossible to follow, other times it became a single deadly thrust, swift as lightning.

Yet no matter what he tried, Tian Shi always managed to find the real spear amid the illusions and block it.

They exchanged heavy blows, and Tang Tianning was forced back three steps.

Though Tang’s technique was exquisite, Tian Shi’s experience and keen eye allowed him to counter subtlety with brute force. Tang miscalculated, thinking his foe exhausted, not realizing he himself was expending more energy. After fifty exchanges, Tian Shi launched a powerful strike; Tang Tianning used the force to retreat gracefully, but the crowd’s hopes sank.

Sure enough, Tang feinted, broke away from the fight, and, saying not a word, slunk back into the crowd in shame!

He had no choice but to run, his hands and feet trembling—any further, and he’d be finished.

“Hahaha! Some hero you are—a cowardly cur!”

“Three against one and you still couldn’t win? Brothers of Chang’an and Luoyang, you’d best train another thirty years!”

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“If you’ve got the guts, don’t run! Quick feet saved you, else you’d have been ‘claimed’ too!”

Three consecutive victories erased the gloom of earlier defeat. The bandits burst into jeering laughter.

…

The heroes of the knights-errant sucked in a cold breath.

Tests of strength, agility, and skillful technique had all failed to bring Tian Shi down—who could they possibly send next?

“I’ll go kill him!” someone shouted.

All heads turned; it was Feng Xiaobao, once again volunteering for battle.

“Good!” Commander Xu Wenfeng, an imperial officer with secret orders to “reap” both heroes and bandits but to spare certain promising youths like Feng Xiaobao, asked with concern, “Are you sure?”

“I’ll take his dog’s life!” Feng Xiaobao replied with confidence.

He stepped forward wielding a great battle axe borrowed from another hero—a massive weapon, half the size of a table, unwieldy and more for show than battle, its owner possessing only a few rudimentary moves and never daring to actually use it.

But in Feng Xiaobao’s hands, a few swings were enough to reveal his mastery. The experts watching marveled—here was a true genius, a natural with any weapon.

Xia the Gale’s heart sank at the sight; he sensed disaster looming.

…

Feng Xiaobao entered the field, unhurried, and said calmly, “You’ve fought three battles already. Rest a moment.”

“No need! I can kill you all the same!” Tian Shi roared.

“Very well. Let us fight!” Feng Xiaobao brandished the axe.

“Come, come!”

The great axe and spiked mace collided with a thunderous crash, a shockwave sending dust billowing in every direction.

Both men stepped back—a perfect match in strength!

Each clash was a contest of pure force, sparks flying and deafening booms resounding. The raw power of their duel overwhelmed all who watched.

Feng Xiaobao, eschewing agility, met Tian Shi strength for strength—exactly what Tian Shi wanted. Sometimes he raised the axe high for a mighty chop, sometimes he swept wide; but Feng Xiaobao gave not an inch, matching every move.

This was far more thrilling than Tian Shi’s earlier fight with Tian Du. Yang Chengxian and Cheng Boxi led the applause, and soon everyone was cheering for their respective champions.

After thirty exchanges, Tian Shi’s movements began to slow, his breath coming in gasps, his face flushed crimson.

Feng Xiaobao, in contrast, stood steady as ever, his strength undiminished.

With a resounding clang, Feng Xiaobao landed a mighty blow, sending Tian Shi flying two yards and sprawling on his back!

“Not good!” Xia the Gale hastened to order Ghost Axe to his aid, but Feng Xiaobao simply lowered his weapon, making no move to pursue.

He explained with affected modesty, “You’ve fought three bouts already. It would be dishonorable for me to win. Go on.”

Tian Shi, stunned, scrambled up, saluted Feng Xiaobao, and hurried back to his ranks.

Tian Shi had escaped death by a hair’s breadth. Those who knew Feng Xiaobao’s reputation for agility realized that, had he chosen, Tian Shi would never have escaped.

By sparing Tian Shi, Feng Xiaobao’s magnanimity soared—both sides praised his spirit, though Yang Chengxian and Cheng Boxi stifled laughter: “If there had been no one around, Tian Shi, you’d be finished!”

Those closest to Feng Xiaobao knew him best. He was notorious for striking when his opponent was down and, if the three brothers were together and caught Tian Shi alone, not only could Feng handle him, he’d call Yang Chengxian and Cheng Boxi to help!

To kill a chicken with an ox-cleaver, to overwhelm the few with many—these were Feng Xiaobao’s favorite tactics… and exactly what General Yang Deqing often taught, a creed Feng Xiaobao lived by.

With Tian Shi bested, Feng Xiaobao’s spirits soared. He pointed and shouted, “Xia the Gale, come out and fight!”