The Strife of Chaos Chapter Seventy-Five: Clash of Tigers and Wolves

After the two armies clashed at close quarters, the Mongol side, despite fighting valiantly, gradually began to falter. At that moment, Yang Ruiyun suddenly sensed a powerful martial force surging toward him. Instinctively, he raised his spear in defense; the force of the blade sent a jarring numbness through his hands.

Looking up, he saw that it was Lieteng. Lieteng, having failed in his initial strike, withdrew his blade and widened the distance between them.

Yang Ruiyun quickly recognized him as the leader of the grassland cavalry from before. Without hesitation, he raised his spear, ready to strike Lieteng down. However, Lieteng had no intention of fleeing. In one fluid motion, he drew an arrow, turned, nocked, and released it. The arrow shot forth with a speed beyond the eye, racing for Yang Ruiyun.

But Yang Ruiyun was no slower. In the same instant, he hurled his spear with a force that matched Lieteng’s. Arrow and spear crossed paths in midair, each hurtling toward its separate target.

Though Yang Ruiyun managed to throw his spear, he found it impossible to evade Lieteng’s full-force arrow in time. Twisting his body as much as he could to avoid a fatal hit, he was still struck—the arrow pierced straight through his left arm.

Lieteng, however, fared no better. He hadn’t expected Yang Ruiyun to retaliate so swiftly. The spear was not aimed at Lieteng himself, but at his warhorse. Struck, the horse’s legs buckled and it collapsed, sending Lieteng crashing to the ground.

Biting back the pain in his arm, Yang Ruiyun spurred his horse forward and drew a longsword, pressing it against Lieteng’s neck before he could rise.

“Surrender. Your prince is already in our hands.”

The surrounding Mongol soldiers, seeing their prince captured, hesitated, uncertain what to do.

Noticing his soldiers begin to lower their weapons, Lieteng shouted, “Don’t mind me! Keep fighting! We grassland people—ugh!”

Before he could finish, Yang Ruiyun kicked him flat onto the ground.

“Our army has already surrounded you from behind. Your resistance is futile. Lay down your arms, and you might yet live.” As he spoke, Yang Ruiyun kicked Lieteng again in the abdomen, sending him rolling back into the Mongol ranks.

The nearby soldiers hurried to help Lieteng to his feet, his expression a mix of emotions.

“Is what he said true?” Lieteng whispered to a soldier beside him.

The soldier gave no reply, but Lieteng could hear the sound of metal armor scraping behind him—a noise Mongol leather armor would never make.

Pushing aside the supporting soldiers, Lieteng stood on his own, glaring fiercely at Yang Ruiyun. “So, you want to take us all alive, is that it?”

After retrieving the spear from the fallen horse, Yang Ruiyun looked at Lieteng and said in a low voice, “I challenge you to a martial duel.”

“What do you mean?” Lieteng was taken aback by this unexpected declaration.

“If I lose, I’ll let all your people go, send you back to your homeland. If I win, I’ll still let you go, but you must tell me where Huluner and the rest of your army have gone.” From the earlier exchanges, Yang Ruiyun guessed that this prince was a leader who truly cared for his people. To save his soldiers, he would certainly pay any price.

Lieteng fell silent. He couldn’t fathom why Yang Ruiyun would offer such a choice—perhaps overconfidence? Yang Ruiyun could have threatened him with the lives of his soldiers to force Huluner’s whereabouts from him, though Lieteng himself did not know where Huluner was. Still, this did not change his decision.

“I accept your challenge.” With that, Lieteng raised his curved blade and strode to the center of the field, cleared by the crowd.

The soldiers beside Yang Ruiyun tried to dissuade him, but Yang Ruiyun ignored them. Binding his wound tightly with a strip of cloth, he walked alone to stand five meters from Lieteng.

Raising his curved blade, a gray martial aura began to gather around Lieteng. “I won’t hold back,” he declared confidently.

Yang Ruiyun wielded his spear, adopting a ready stance. “Nor will I.”

As soon as the words were spoken, Lieteng shot forward like an arrow loosed from the string. The gray flash of his blade before Yang Ruiyun’s eyes was nothing but a feint. In the next instant, the tip of Lieteng’s blade shot directly at Yang Ruiyun. When it came to the martial path, Lieteng was proud—after all, his master was a true divine beast, unmatched in martial skill.

But Yang Ruiyun was not to be underestimated. With a slight shift, Lieteng suddenly felt his blade strike nothing but air. Looking up, he saw Yang Ruiyun was five meters away once more.

The onlookers were perplexed, except for one—Yang Hu, most familiar with the Yang family spear techniques.

“Who would have thought the Chasing Light technique could be used like this? Young master’s martial talent is truly impressive.”

Back in the duel, Lieteng attacked again, blade flashing, his strikes now even more fierce and complex. Yang Ruiyun’s expression grew solemn as he raised his spear to meet each move with calm precision.

Both were speed-based fighters, and their exchange was blindingly fast. The soldiers around them saw only flashes of blade and spear, and waves of razor-sharp martial force scattering in all directions.

After several exchanges, the two were evenly matched—each bore many wounds, and Yang Ruiyun’s left arm, already pierced by the arrow, was losing all feeling.

Lieteng raised his blade to the sky. “Let’s end this with the next move.” As he spoke, his martial aura surged. A gray wolf appeared at his side—the manifestation of his martial force.

In truth, both men had nearly exhausted their martial energy in the initial clash of armies, and the subsequent melee had drained them further. When the duel began, neither was at their peak, and such a technique as martial manifestation was too costly to use recklessly.

But now, with Lieteng’s manifestation, the duel had reached its final moment.

“Come.” Using only his right hand, Yang Ruiyun raised his spear, silver martial energy surging. The heroic spirit of Yang Yanhui took shape behind him.

But Lieteng did not attack. Instead, he channeled his martial energy into his blade. As the gray aura split and surged, the blade itself began to change—its original silver edge flaked away, revealing a pale gray core beneath.

In the next moment, the blade trembled, releasing a powerful and mysterious force that instantly merged with Lieteng’s manifested wolf. The gray wolf threw back its head and howled at the sky, growing larger and more muscular with each passing second.

When it finally calmed, the wolf was three times its original size, wreathed in that strange, potent power.

“This blade was forged by my master’s own hand—it is called the Divine Wolf Blade. His strength is imbued within it.” With a brief introduction, Lieteng pointed the blade at Yang Ruiyun, confidence in his every word. “I admit, you are strong—but today, I cannot lose. Wolf’s Howl!”

The giant wolf roared at Yang Ruiyun. Instantly, the heroic spirit behind Yang Ruiyun appeared before him, raising its spear to block. Yet before this force, the spirit’s power seemed feeble; it held for only a moment before vanishing, once so invincible, now dispersed.

“What—?” Yang Ruiyun scarcely had time to be shocked before the force was upon him.

“Young master!” Realizing something was wrong, Yang Hu rushed forward to save him. But before he could arrive, a force equally powerful burst forth from Yang Ruiyun, shielding him.

Only then did Yang Ruiyun notice—before the battle, Xue Rengui had given him a pendant, which now floated before his chest. That force just now had come from the fang-shaped object.

Lieteng started. “You possess a divine artifact as well?”

“I don’t know about divine artifacts. All I know is I can defeat you now.” Yang Ruiyun felt a surge of bloodlust rise within him, a violent unrest in his heart.

As he raised his spear to the sky, the White Tiger Fang unleashed its power—a giant white tiger’s head appeared overhead. In comparison, the giant wolf now seemed insignificant.

“Tiger’s Roar.” At Yang Ruiyun’s soft command, the tiger’s jaws opened wide, unleashing a terrifying roar at Lieteng. The giant wolf withstood it for only a moment before, like the heroic spirit before, it, too, dissolved into the air—its former dominance gone.

With the wolf defeated, the tiger’s head slowly faded as well.

At Kaiyan Pass, Xue Rengui stood atop the city walls, having seen the white tiger’s head clearly on the battlefield. He was not surprised; instead, he looked as though he had expected this all along, murmuring to himself, “Yang Yan was right. He’s really done it. Compared to him, Ding Shan still lacks resolve.”

Far away on the Mongolian steppe, a massive gray wolf lounged sleepily in the grass. Suddenly, it raised its huge head, gazing deeply at the sky.

“That’s divine power of the white tiger—? I thought he’d been in seclusion for years. How did Acheng end up entangled with him?” Sensing his disciple’s aura and finding it unharmed, the giant wolf finally relaxed.

“With the White Tiger about to reemerge, it seems this continent is indeed on the brink of war.”

Returning to the duel, both men were at the end of their strength, but the outcome was still undecided. Forcing themselves upright, Lieteng raised the Divine Wolf Blade, gathering the last of his martial energy.

Yang Ruiyun did the same, though his eyes were now bloodshot. Never before had he so hungered for slaughter, his spear collecting what little strength remained.

“Kill him, kill him, kill him.” The phrase echoed in his mind, urging and warning him. Under this mysterious influence, Yang Ruiyun felt both exhilarated and dangerously unstable.

“I’ll kill you.” Spear in hand, Yang Ruiyun charged at Lieteng.

At the very instant their weapons were to clash, another voice suddenly rang out in Yang Ruiyun’s mind.

“Yang Ruiyun, stop. Suppress the bloodlust within your heart.”

Yang Ruiyun was seized by dizziness—the scene before him abruptly shifted. The battlefield vanished, as did Lieteng. Now, before his eyes, stood a golden, radiant Buddha statue, and beneath it, a monk draped in a plain cotton robe sat in quiet meditation.

“Who are you? Where is this?” Yang Ruiyun was utterly bewildered—how had he, in the midst of battle, suddenly arrived here?

The old monk smiled kindly. “My Dharma name is Liaochan. This is your inner world.”