Tome of Troubled Times-Chapter 722: Bloody Battle in Miaojiang

Clang, clang, clang!

Yue Hongling’s sword danced like a dragon, weaving through the Black Hmong King’s hulking figure as she repeatedly probed for the location of its soul fire.

Blood was already trickling from the corner of her lips. Even a casual punch from the other party, if she failed to fully dodge, left her shaken. Simply blocking the blow resulted in internal injuries, and any collision with the rocky surroundings made her feel as if her bones were shattering.

What frustrated her most was that, despite risking everything to locate its soul fire for a decisive strike, she still could not find it.

The Black Hmong King was different from any corpse puppet she had encountered before.

Could it be that it doesn’t possess a soul fire at all? But if that’s the case, how’s it moving around on its own?

Adding to her confusion, the Black Hmong King was noticeably slower and no longer showed any desire to charge toward Taoyuan Town. The signs were clear—the one controlling it had completely withdrawn their focus from this battlefield, likely pouring all their energy into another fight.

She believed that there was a ninety percent chance that the opponent for that fight was none other than Zhao Changhe.

The intensity of Zhao Changhe’s battle had weakened the control over the Black Hmong King. If she could not resolve this now, she would be unworthy of calling herself a swordswoman.

Boom!

Another earth-shattering punch came crashing down, but Yue Hongling suddenly twisted her body and managed to make it so that the punch just brushed past her ribs. Even so, the strong wind still brought blood to her ribs, but she did not even frown. Her arm quickly clamped the Black Hmong King’s iron wrist.

The Black Hmong King’s chaotic consciousness could not help but be stunned for a moment.

What is this small girl doing?

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Even if she’s figured out that the soul fire is within my arm, how would she pinpoint its exact location? To break through my thick flesh, she would have to concentrate all her strength on a single point, and with the way she’s positioned right now, that’s impossible.

The Black Hmong King had no intention of entertaining any more thoughts. His massive arm swung, lifting her high into the air, ready to smash her into pulp.

But Yue Hongling’s left hand had already swiftly pulled out a small mirror. As she was hoisted up, she aligned the mirror with his arm, casting its reflection.

The Qinghe Mirror revealed all manner of evil—its polished surface showed a faint flicker of soul fire within the bend of his elbow.

“There!”

Bang!

The Black Hmong King slammed Yue Hongling into the ground with earth-shaking force, smashing the rocky surface and leaving a massive crater. However, just as she was about to hit the ground, her divine sword slipped out of her hand, automatically moving toward a predetermined point.

The Black Hmong King’s chaotic consciousness seemed to express confusion. It did not anticipate the sword to be anything but an ordinary weapon. Yet, as it turned out, it was a divine weapon, one with a nascent sword spirit. While it could not yet perform complex maneuvers, when given a single clear target, it could channel all its power into a strike without error.

Yue Hongling poured all her energy into the sword, its tip radiating an impossibly brilliant light. The sheer power emanating from it startled the Black Hmong King, who instinctively tried to block with his other hand—but it was already too late.

The divine sword streaked through the air, piercing through the crook of the Black Hmong King’s elbow at the exact moment Yue Hongling was slammed into the ground.

It was still afternoon, with no setting sun in the sky, yet the soul fire blazed like a fiery sun.

The sword pierced through the steel-like barrier, extinguishing the blazing soul fire with the brilliance of a setting sun.

Sunset Divine Sword!

The Black Hmong King lowered his gaze to the divine sword embedded in his elbow, then shifted his eyes toward Yue Hongling, lying bloodied and battered in the crater below. The light in his eyes, thought to be gone forever, flickered once more in a moment of clarity.

He let out a low, grating sound from his iron-like throat. “You... are remarkable. Which Ranking of Heaven master are you from these later years?”

Yue Hongling propped herself up slowly, her body trembling as she stood. She clasped her hands in the traditional martial salute and replied, “A humble junior, Yue Hongling, listed on the Ranking of Earth. It is an honor to meet you, Senior Black Hmong King.”

“Ranking of Earth?” the Black Hmong King repeated, his voice tinged with disbelief. “If you’re on the Ranking of Earth, then who in this world deserves to be on the Ranking of Heaven?”

Yue Hongling remained silent.

The sound of approaching footsteps interrupted the stillness. White Hmong soldiers, sensing the battle was subsiding, began cautiously making their way toward the scene.

Neither Yue Hongling nor the Black Hmong King paid them any attention. He continued, his tone quiet but probing. “Where is Xia Longyuan?”

“Dead,” Yue Hongling replied calmly.

“Dead?” The Black Hmong King repeated the word as if testing its weight. His voice grew heavier, tinged with dark irony. “Then why have I risen?”

“You were never meant to rise,” Yue Hongling said softly. “A hero of your era, reduced to a puppet controlled by others. It’s honestly tragic, even laughable.”

The Black Hmong King offered no response. He turned his head slowly, his gaze falling upon the approaching White Hmong soldiers. “White Hmong... Did you stop me to protect them?”

“Yes,” Yue Hongling replied.

“And yet,” he continued with a dry chuckle, “they don’t even realize they’ve been saved. Instead, it looks like they have come with the intent to kill you.”

“...Perhaps,” Yue Hongling said after a pause, “but I do what I must, regardless of their understanding. It has nothing to do with you, senior.”

The Black Hmong King let out a hollow laugh, the sound low and grating. “As you say. But to disturb my peace, to use my remains—how could it have nothing to do with me? If nothing else, I should at least throw their plans into chaos.”

Yue Hongling’s heart stirred at his words.

The Black Hmong King continued slowly, “The true goal of the one controlling me... is not these corpse puppets, nor the skeletal remains. I believe that what they seek is to use the blood of the Spirit Tribe to awaken the land itself.”

As his words faded, the divine sword embedded in his elbow emitted a faint ring and dislodged itself, landing neatly before Yue Hongling.

She reached out, retrieving the sword. When she looked back at him, the Black Hmong King had gone completely still, devoid of life or motion.

Awaken the land?

What does that mean?

Yue Hongling didn’t have the strength to ponder the cryptic words about “awakening the land.” She was battered, her body wracked with pain, and her heart weighed heavily with concern for Zhao Changhe. The conversation with the Black Hmong King had been as much about stalling for recovery as anything else. But even now, her body felt weak and sluggish, every movement a reminder of her injuries.

She turned her gaze toward the approaching White Hmong soldiers, now just within bow range. A commanding officer barked angrily, “Yue Hongling, what have you done to Tribal Chief Dao?”

Yue Hongling raised her sword, pointing it directly at them. Thousands of soldiers, staring at the sharp gleam of her divine sword, froze in place, their advance halting as one.

“Dao Qingfeng’s lust for power blinded him to reason. He fell victim to deception, foolishly summoning ancient corpses and nearly plunging Miaojiang into catastrophe. He paid the price and now lies in ruin, his bones reduced to nothing. Do you wish to hold me accountable?” Her voice was cold and unyielding. “If so, consider him slain by my hand. Is there anyone here who would avenge him?”

The western wind howled, making her tattered clothing and ponytail sway, a few loose strands brushing across her steely eyes.

One woman, sword in hand, faced an army of thousands. Yet not a single soldier dared to take a step forward.

After all, this was the person who had just slain the resurrected Black Hmong King, a warrior of the Ranking of Heaven. No matter how bloodied or injured she appeared, her indomitable aura was seared into the hearts of the White Hmong soldiers, like the presence of a god.

A long, shrill whinny broke the silence as Snow-Treading Crow galloped through the wind, coming to a halt beside Yue Hongling.

Glancing back, Yue Hongling’s expression softened into one of joy. She swiftly mounted the horse and commanded, “Let’s go. Changhe needs us!”

The army collectively turned to watch her departure, as still as statues.

It was not until long after she had vanished into the distance that someone murmured in awe, “A true celestial...”

Meanwhile, Snow-Treading Crow, carrying the woman the White Hmong soldiers revered as a celestial, sighed inwardly. Sure, you look cool now. But in this state, bleeding all over, are you really fit to fight? Help Changhe? It would already be great if you don’t end up dragging him down...

That said, the horse now understood why Yue Hongling always wore red. It masked the blood well.

Its thoughts raced as the pair approached the Spirit Tribe fortress in Taoyuan Town. Below, soldiers gaped at the sight of a lone rider on a flying horse speeding toward them.

“Stop! Identify yourself!” Countless spears were raised, their gleaming tips forming a dense thicket of steel.

“Out of my way!” Yue Hongling’s sword flickered with energy as she unleashed a slash. The nearest line of spears was sliced in half, clattering uselessly to the ground. The stunned soldiers instinctively stepped back, clearing a path.

Leaping off Snow-Treading Crow, Yue Hongling strode forward, her voice ringing with authority, “I am Yue Hongling. I have urgent business with your queen. Get out of my way! There’s no time!”

The name Yue Hongling was legendary among the Xia army and not forgotten by the Spirit Tribe either. The last time the two envoys visited the tribe, one of them was this fearsome swordswoman.

Seeing her now, bloodied but radiating an overwhelming aura of killing intent, no one dared to stop her. The soldiers parted like waves before a ship, allowing her to stride unimpeded into the secret cavern where Sisi awaited.

Snow-Treading Crow let out a relieved snort, circling above a few times before finding a safe place to hide.

So she can still fight. Alright, nothing to worry about then. That Supreme Sword Body really is something.

As the horse settled in, it mused wryly to itself. Honestly, she and my master are a perfect match. In every sense, in every way. But... isn’t my mistress supposed to be the Cui Clan’s young lady? How troublesome...