Dragon Canon

Beams of light kept appearing and connecting to Wei Yuan, Hsu Wuji kept circling around him at high speed and launching surprise sword strikes from time to time, and the Avatar-stage warrior kept flickering and severing the beams one by one.

However, there was a slight delay between its disappearance and reappearance. It was enough for Hsu Wuji to spot an opening.

Although the warrior was an Avatar, he stood motionless like a statue. Wei Yuan was only using it to block Hsu Wuji’s advance and buy time for himself to replenish his Dao energy. He absolutely did not have the strength to launch a counterattack.

The assembled bigshots all had keen eyes. After the initial shock, they quickly realized that although the warrior possessed Avatar-stage cultivation, he was completely devoid of any life force. They reckoned that the discarded shell of a deceased Avatar-stage cultivator had somehow ended up in Wei Yuan’s hands and been refined into a mystic treasure-like object using a secret technique.

Although the Palace of Absolute Beginning had the shortest history among the immortal sects, it also boasted the greatest number of Dao paths, many of which were contradictory and straddling the line between orthodox and heretical. Therefore, it was hardly surprising that they would possess such methods.

The warrior in Wei Yuan’s possession was effectively an immobile Avatar-stage cultivator. Its mystic body was tough, and it had undergone refinement. It was not something an ordinary Dao Foundation stage cultivator could destroy.

Hsu Wuji had confirmed this by tentatively swinging his sword at it. He only managed to inflict a shallow gash that revealed a substance resembling gold and jade. Its exact composition was unknown, but it was certainly not flesh and blood.

However, given Wei yuan’s current level of Dao energy, commanding such a mystic artifact had to be extremely taxing. Its movements would inevitably be somewhat sluggish.

Hsu Wuji was an expert Lü Wenbai had recruited specifically to handle this autumn hunt. To participate in this event, he had even postponed his ascension to the Avatar-stage by a year. Naturally, he noticed this flaw. So, after several test strikes, just as the Avatar-stage warrior flashed forward to intercept him, Hsu Wuji suddenly shifted from an intangible state to a tangible state. His figure materialized as he dashed past the warrior, intending to launch a surprise attack on Wei Yuan.

It was at this moment the warrior who had remained as still as a statue until then suddenly swung his massive hand, landing a solid slap squarely across Hsu Wuji’s face!

This was a strike from an Avatar-stage cultivator, and Hsu Wuji was no Wei Yuan. The world spun, stars danced before his eyes, blood spurted from his nose, and his front teeth flew everywhere after he took the blow with his face.

Through his blurred vision, Hsu Wuji could see Wei Yuan appearing in front of him and raising the long spear with an immortal sword attached to it into the air. He hurriedly cried, “Wait! My uncle is—”

Before he could finish, Wei Yuan brought his spear down and cut off Hsu Wuji’s head in one stroke.

Hsu Wuji’s head rolled to a stop at the Avatar-stage warrior’s feet. He still had a glimmer of life in him, so he saw the warrior raising his hand and extending a middle finger at him.

What does this gesture mean? Hsu Wuji breathed his last with that puzzling question lingering in his mind.

The bigshots on the stage were all shrewd men. Although no one understood the specific meaning of the gesture that originated from a completely different world, they could guess that it was a derogatory gesture. It might even be a terribly vulgar one.

The warrior resumed his solemn stance after making the gesture, indicating that he was merely a statue and would not move.

Wei Yuan raised his hand in a sweep, and the Avatar-stage warrior vanished into thin air. He had already recalled it.

Only then did Wei Yuan have a moment to glance at Lü Wenbai, Military Commissioner of Yunxiang, standing on the platform and say, “It seems you don’t like following the rules, Lord Lu. As it happens, neither do I. This makes things much easier.”

Lü Wenbai’s expression was as ugly as it could get. He merely grunted in response and said nothing.

Seething with obvious resentment, King Wei turned to look at the grandstand beside him—the area reserved for King Cheng. Standing beside King Cheng was a stocky man who, despite his short stature, loomed like a towering mountain.

The man ignored King Wei’s gaze, offering not the slightest response. King Wei immediately grew impatient and looked at King Cheng instead. He called out, “Uncle....”

King Cheng raised his cup and sipped slowly, as if he hadn’t heard a thing.

King Wei, for all his flaws, did possess a certain degree of wisdom. Realizing that something was amiss, he fell silent.

At the moment, the King of Jin only had eyes for two people. One was an elderly coachman leaning back in his seat at the nearby carriage parking lot and smoking a pipe, the smoke and fire flickering on and off as he puffed. The other was a woman in red sitting beneath an ancient tree on the mountaintop across from him, holding a book and reading quietly.

The King of Jin withdrew his gaze and asked, “Dear Minister Wei, does that single spear strike you delivered against the Immovable Wisdom King’s golden body have a name?”

A single spear strike? Many officials were confused by the statement. It was obvious to anyone with eyes that Wei Yuan had delivered at least a hundred spear strikes during that fight, and the King of Jin’s cultivation was hardly weak. How could he have misjudged it?

Only those who knew the inside story of King Wei’s evening banquet could discern the teasing tone in the King of Jin’s words.

Wei Yuan’s mind raced, and he replied solemnly, “Your Holiness, I call it: Pear Blossoms Blooming Across Ten Thousand Trees.”

The King of Jin laughed heartily and said, “My dear minister, it seems you truly need only one strike to defeat your enemies!”

At the King of Jin’s laughter, the grandstands erupted in laughter as well. In an instant, both the ruler and ministers seemed to be filled with joy, and the atmosphere grew warm and harmonious.

However, at the edge of the grandstands, in the area reserved for third-rank civil officials, several ministers were whispering among themselves.

“Hmph, he calls that one strike? His nerve truly knows no bounds!”

“Heh, if he knew the line, ‘stars fall like rain,’ he could probably keep at it for two hours straight!”

“Barbarians are notoriously crude and uncultured. He likely doesn’t know there’s a spear technique named, ‘The Endless River Rolls On’. If he had that, he could’ve kept at it all night long!”

The crowd burst into laughter.

Wei Yuan’s ears twitched slightly as he committed the two moves to memory. They might come in handy someday.

Although Wei Yuan hadn’t seen anything, he guessed from the King of Jin’s somewhat abrupt reaction that someone from his sect had come to back him up.

At that moment, several attendants from King Wei’s residence and the military commissioner’s entourage walked onto the martial arena, intending to remove Shan Kai and Hsu Wuji’s bodies. However, Wei Yuan forced them back with a sweep of his spear, stared at King Wei from a distance, and declared, “A promise made before the king is absolute!”

King Wei was astonished. Then, his anger flared, and he said darkly, “There is such a thing as too much, Lord Wei!”

Wei Yuan merely repeated, “A promise made before the king is absolute.”

Liu Quangong’s slightly shrill voice rang out. “What are you lot standing there for? Hurry up and drag the bodies away to the hound camp!”

The palace eunuchs snapped out of their daze and immediately stepped forward to drag away the bodies of Shan Kai and Hsu Wuji.

Wei Yuan said, “Feeding them to the dogs is a bit of a hassle; just toss them into a mass grave.”

Liu Quangong immediately corrected himself, “Dump these two bodies in a mass grave and station guards there—no one is to give them a proper burial!”

After this battle, no one dared to challenge Wei Yuan again. They had all sensed the subtle shift in the King of Jin’s attitude, and since Wei Yuan possessed an Avatar-stage puppet, it would be suicidal to challenge him, making any further challenges pointless.

Avatar-stage puppets were extremely rare, and their prices were naturally sky-high. Out of everyone on the grandstands, only the Crown Prince possessed such a puppet, which he used to safeguard his life. In terms of value alone, an Avatar-stage puppet was far more valuable than a genuine Avatar-stage cultivator. After all, puppets obeyed orders absolutely, whereas living people always had their own ideas.

Without exaggeration, anyone possessing such a puppet would not need to risk their lives for another any longer.

After Wei Yuan exited the arena, the martial contest returned to its original course. Everyone resumed placing bets, and the atmosphere grew lively once more.

From time to time, King Wei or Lü Wenbai would throw Wei Yuan glances that were filled with hatred. Wei Yuan had wielded two formidable weapons—the Crimson Night Slayer of Immortals and an Avatar-stage puppet—yet he had waited until the last possible moment to pull them out one by one. His craftiness had directly cost them two powerful generals out of the blue. Had they known this earlier, they would never have sent their men into the arena to their deaths.

Of course, it was far too late for regrets at this point. All they could do was curse Wei Yuan silently in their hearts.

As the sun set behind the western mountains and the martial contest concluded, Wei Yuan led his entourage back to the posthouse for the night. Along the way, no official tried to approach him to offer their greeting. In fact, everyone gave him a wide berth as soon as they spotted him from a far distance. It was like he was the demon of pestilence himself.

Wei Yuan paid it no mind and returned to his quarters. Once the door was shut, he calmed his mind and resumed his contemplation of the sword.

The martial contest was just an appetizer. The real hunt began tomorrow. Many enticing prizes were offered such as gold, silver, mystic artifacts, natural treasures, official posts, noble titles, and even fiefdoms. Though few in number, they were more than enough to turn a humble person’s life around completely.

But as lavish as they were, they were not the main prize of the autumn hunt. No, the ultimate prize for winning the autumn hunt was a portion of Western Jin’s national fortune. Anyone who received it was sure to flourish like blooming flowers, burn with the intensity of a blazing fire, and achieve great deeds!

Wei Yuan knew this perfectly as he had already paid Zhao Tong to explain the key points to him in great detail. Thus, his plan was set: during tomorrow’s hunt, he absolutely must not dominate the battlefield as he had today. Instead he was going to bide his time, lie low, and do his utmost to finish last.

Sharing in a nation’s fortune wasn’t all upsides and no downsides. It was true that it could advance one’s career and cultivation and carry one to new heights, but it also meant that one’s destiny would become bound to that nation. If they wished to preserve their boons, they would have to overcome the nation’s hardships, turn the tides during critical moments, or even save it when all hope seemed lost. This was something the princes—the Crown Prince, King Wei, the future King Fu—or perhaps the members of the royal family—King Cheng and King Ying—should be concerned about, but never an unrelated man like Wei Yuan.

Wei Yuan was endowed with otherworldly fortune and the human fortune of the people living in his domain. Thus, he did not care to obtain Western Jin’s national fortune.

If everything went smoothly during tomorrow’s hunt, that would be the best, of course. But if anyone insisted on stepping on his toes, then he wouldn’t take it lying down either.

The night was deep, yet the people were far from quiet.

Countless camps of all sizes had already been set up across the vast autumn hunting grounds. Each camp contained only a few large tents, serving merely as shelter from the wind and rain. Several heavily armored soldiers, clad in full battle gear, were patrolling back and forth within the camp.

One corner of a tent was quietly lifted, revealing a pair of gray eyes. The figure watched until the two heavily armored soldiers had walked away, then turned and swiftly shook every person sleeping inside the tent awake one by one.

The tent was cramped with about a hundred people. After they were roused, they all sat up, assumed meditative positions, and began channeling their cultivation methods. There were members from both genders, and they were all dressed in civilian clothing. Each and every one of them had gray eyes and four fingers—they were all Liao of the Vast Sea.

The one who had roused them was a youngster. He was quick-witted, agile, and moved as silently as a cheetah. He resumed observing the situation outside the tent until the heavily armored soldiers returned once more. He waved his hand behind his back, and the Liao group immediately lay back down on the floor.

A heavily armored soldier pulled back the tent flap, scanned the interior, and found nothing amiss. He then lowered the flap and returned to his patrol.

Once he had moved far enough away, the Liao tribesmen inside the tent immediately resumed their cultivation. Finally, a burly man retched and spat out a dark red pill. The youngster immediately picked it up and put it away. One by one, the Liao tribesmen coughed up the pills, and their auras slowly began to improve. The youngster collected every single one of the pills.

After that, the youngster took off his old leather tunic, tore open the lining, and revealed a hand-drawn topographical map. It was covered with numerous markings.

He summoned several strong Liao tribesmen to his side and said in a low voice, “I’ve memorized the terrain in this entire area. Two hours before dawn, they’ll let us out of the camp and move about freely. During that time, we’ll split into two groups—each led by a leader—and search the surroundings for as many weapons and as much food as possible.

“This spot, near the edge of the hunting grounds and the only river in the vicinity, is highly likely to be where the humans have set up their military encampment. In time, most of the soldiers will leave to defend their king, so there shouldn’t be many defenders left in the camp. We’ll sneak in quietly and take out the guards. With luck, we should be able to seize some horses. We’ll then split up and flee northward....”

Speaking in a low, rapid voice, the youngster laid out plan after plan like a natural born hunter. None of the Liao tribesmen around him questioned his authority, simply listening in silence.

After he finished speaking, the youngster clenched his fist and declared with a dignified voice that should not belong to someone his age, “I am the reincarnation of the Great Khan Silver Moon, and now the Great Khan has awakened! We will surely return to the north, for only there do we have the vast skies in which to soar! When the warhorses are at their fattest, I promise to lead you back here to repay the evil humans for all the suffering they have inflicted upon us!”

Before dawn had broken, the sound of bugle horns echoed through the mountains, and squad after squad of heavily armored warriors withdrew from the camp, retreating along their predetermined routes. In the scattered encampments, countless Liao tribesmen rushed out of their tents and scattered in all directions in search for hidden weapons, armor, and provisions.

But amid the chaos, some of the Liao tribesmen seemed to have a clear objective. At times they scattered, at others they gathered, but always drawing closer to their predetermined targets.

By the time daybreak fully arrived, the kings, dukes, and ministers of Western Jin would enter the hunting grounds and officially raise the curtain on the great autumn hunt.

That’s right. The preys of Western Jin’s autumn hunt wasn’t beasts, but foreigners.