Qin Ming sensed something and glanced toward the mountain range from which the Purple Lightning Beast had burst, but he had no intention of investigating. Reaching his destination was the priority.
Deep in the mountains, a man of thirty-seven or thirty-eight stood on a cliff overlooking the expanse, his azure robes rippling in the wind.
Across from him, on a magnificent peak shrouded in white mist, hazy clouds of colorful vapor blanketed more than half the mountaintop. A higher-stage aberrant appeared within the mist.
"The new lord of Redcloud City—you should be going to take up your post. What are you doing here?"
"I'm passing through this region and特意 came to pay my respects to the Mountain Lord."
...
After galloping a dozen li, the Purple Lightning Beast grew restless again. Purple mist flowed through its fur as it ran, the ride growing increasingly rough and unstable.
Sometimes it would suddenly decelerate. Anyone else would have lost their seat long ago—or been thrown off entirely.
Seeing it acting up again, Qin Ming pressed the phoenix-inscribed long blade against its neck. A cluster of faintly glowing purple mane fell away, and a bloody gash appeared on its neck.
"If you won't give me a ride, I'll send you on your way!" Qin Ming had no intention of fully taming it.
Besides, he felt no guilt—the Purple Lightning Beast had attacked him first with that hoof. An ordinary person would have had their skull crushed.
"If you don't cooperate, you're done for!" Qin Ming pressed the blade again. This time the beast was truly frightened. Blood from its neck soaked through its mane.
Then it fell silent and became relatively obedient. The ride proceeded smoothly from there, with Golden Ridge now only a dozen li away.
Qin Ming was momentarily lost in thought. Even without using his Heaven Light Force, he could sit steadily on this aberrant's back and control it quite well.
And before this, he'd never ridden a horse or any mount in the Black-White Mountains region. Moreover, he was riding bareback with no bridle.
In the faint recesses of his mind, images flickered—outside an enormous city, he too had once ridden a creature at full gallop. That aberrant had been even more magnificent-looking than this Purple Lightning Beast.
He shook his head, dismissing the thoughts. But as if by habit, he used the long blade like a whip, lightly tapping the Purple Lightning Beast's hindquarters with the flat of the blade.
The creature was startled, thinking it was about to be cut again. It surged forward like wind made manifest, accelerating with breathtaking speed—like an arrow loosed from a bow, trailing purple light and mist, slicing through the thick darkness.
Qin Ming rode the fierce beast through the long night, closing in on Golden Ridge!
Ahead, the area blazed with light. Even deep in the night, Golden Ridge was anything but dim—its fire spring was nearing the second rank, nearly rivaling the one in Silver Elm Town.
The road was broad, leading straight up to the mountain ridge. Dense forests flanked both sides. No aberrants lurked nearby—they knew the brigands here were not to be trifled with.
But Golden Ridge was far more desolate than before. Their casualties had been severe when they'd gone to the Great Rift Gorge to fight for mystical products. That day, many of the Black-White Mountains' aberrants had eaten their fill.
Around thirty people remained on the mountain. Those who'd been allowed to stay behind all had connections—and they were even more vicious than the rest.
In Old Liu's words: if you swung a blade randomly into this lot, you wouldn't have to worry about killing an innocent person. They could die a few times over and it would be no loss.
Qin Ming sheathed his long blade, took the hard bow from his back, and rode the Purple Lightning Beast up into Golden Ridge's bright zone where the fire spring surged.
The first to spot him wasn't any brigand but a Golden Ridge rooster—a sentinel creature mutated twice over. It was remarkably dutiful, hiding in the woods. Seeing someone break in, it immediately let out a tremendous squawk: "Ba-gawk!"
Qin Ming's first iron arrow shot straight at it. With a thud, the rooster's head was pierced by the high-speed arrow, cutting its cry short.
"What's happening?" Some people in the stronghold were already dead drunk.
A few veteran brigands snapped awake and shouted: "Enemy attack!"
They leaped to their feet and saw on the road outside the stronghold a single rider wreathed in hazy purple light—like Heaven Light tearing through the night—charging toward the mountain gate.
In the past, their watchtowers and palisade walls would have been manned by a squad of archers. But Golden Ridge was in a half-ruined state, and the remaining men rarely did any work.
In this frigid season, with snow still falling from the sky, most of them were holed up inside eating, drinking, and gambling.
Qin Ming rode his mount forward. The sturdy gate shattered under the Purple Lightning Beast's heavy, powerful hooves with a thunderous crash. The rider charged straight into Golden Ridge's stronghold.
"Everyone, wake up! Enemy attack!" Golden Ridge descended into chaos. Even the drunkards realized what was happening.
The stronghold was brightly lit. The near-second-rank fire spring flowed with flaming radiance—this was a treasure of a location, far superior to any village outside the mountains.
Qin Ming now wore gleaming armor, his face hidden behind his helmet's visor, with only his eyes and nose visible.
To these brigands, the rider and mount were terrifyingly fast, flowing with purple light, possessing incomparable striking force.
Qin Ming drew his bow and fired—rapidly, one arrow after another. Under the fire spring's glow, each iron arrow flew like a cold bolt of lightning.
Thud, thud, thud...
In that first exchange alone, he shot down five men. Some brigands hadn't even reacted before an arrow pierced their forehead. Two more were killed by the same arrow passing clean through their chests.
"Fire back—now!" Someone had come to his senses and was quickly organizing the defense, simultaneously blowing a whistle to command the trained Golden Ridge roosters to charge the enemy.
Qin Ming had studied the Wu family's secret manual extensively. His claim to dual mastery of spear and bow was no joke. The bow in his hands seemed to possess a soul, and his eyes were extraordinarily keen. The man giving orders hadn't finished his instructions before a special heavy arrow shattered his skull.
Under the fire spring's illumination, this scene was crystal clear—blood and bone fragments sprayed everywhere, splattering on other brigands. The psychological impact was devastating; some men froze in place.
Yet these were brigands who'd seen blood before. Their vicious nature surged. In an instant, they were screaming and fighting back—some returning fire with their own bows.
At that moment, five Golden Ridge roosters also charged forward, spreading their wings, extending massive beaks and sharp talons, diving at the rider.
The Purple Lightning Beast had been forced up the mountain and was already seething with pent-up fury. Now it was being attacked by these inferior roosters. It exploded with rage.
It let out a roar. Though its head resembled a horse's, its body was that of a tiger-leopard—ferocious beyond measure. It reared up on its hind legs and brought its massive hooves crashing down.
Thud, thud—two roosters died in quick succession. One had its skull crushed; the other had its body pierced through. Then the beast swung its head violently, its razor-sharp teeth clamping onto another rooster's neck, delivering a swift "decapitation."
Throughout this—whether rearing up or leaping forward—Qin Ming remained adhered to its back as though standing on flat ground. Utterly stable, he continued firing arrows, single-handedly suppressing the brigands' return fire.
The two brigand leaders had appeared silently, but they didn't attack immediately. They knew that someone who dared charge in alone was no ordinary fighter. The display was formidable.
In truth, they still underestimated Qin Ming. They were judging the enemy's level by the arrow force, but the hard bow's own limits were nowhere near Qin Ming's ceiling.
The next moment, they realized their error. One of the brigand leaders drew his own bow and fired at Qin Ming.
Qin Ming simply deflected it with a single iron arrow—a light tap, sparks flying, sending the powerful shot spinning away. This precision and judgment made both brigands' hearts sink.
At the same time, Qin Ming turned his bow toward them and fired.
Thud!
Both brigands dodged, but a young man beside them took an arrow through the skull. He toppled backward without a single scream.
One of the brigand leaders growled low. This was clearly someone close to him—his killing intent surged.
Qin Ming fired again and again!
In those brief moments, Golden Ridge had lost over a dozen men. From the roughly thirty who'd remained, nearly half were now dead.
Qin Ming drove the Purple Lightning Beast directly toward the nearby wooden huts, having put away his bow. He gripped the razor-sharp great spear in his hand.
The charge of rider and mount sent a chill through many brigands. It felt like a thousand cavalry were crashing in. That mount was savage—it had trampled several twice-mutated Golden Ridge roosters to death in an instant. And the armored figure on its back was like a god of death—one arrow, one life. Many who met his gaze couldn't help but tremble.
The lone rider closed in. Qin Ming thrust his spear with tremendous force, impaling an entire wooden hut and blasting it to splinters.
The two men inside panicked and swung their blades. But they'd only undergone a single New Life. Facing this rider, they were simply throwing their lives away.
Two bursts of blood sprayed upward. Qin Ming's spear was lightning-fast, piercing them one after the other, then charging toward the two brigand leaders' position.
The Purple Lightning Beast was ferocious. It reared up and brought its heavy hooves down on the hut before it, which disintegrated on impact.
Qin Ming sensed something—wind from behind. He spun around instantly and thrust his spear.
An elderly brigand he'd seen before at the Great Rift Gorge—the fact he'd survived meant he was a Third New Life cultivator. He was actually mounted on a Golden Ridge rooster much larger than the others, one mutated three times, and was half-flying from higher ground in a surprise attack.
"Golden Ridge has some tricks—cultivating these mutated creatures on a mass scale." Qin Ming felt no fear. His spear transformed into dozens of phantom afterimages.
In midair, the old man swung his blade repeatedly but was shaken until his arm went numb. To his horror, he realized the gap between them was enormous. His ambush had failed—and he might die here.
At his level, his survival instincts were sharp enough to give him a premonition.
In truth, death came even faster than he'd imagined. When Qin Ming's spear vibrated, it not only deflected the old man's blade but also tore over a dozen bloody holes in the thrice-mutated rooster, killing it instantly.
"Ahhh—" The old man screamed, swinging his blade, trying to escape through the air.
But his opponent below was vastly superior. In the dense forest of spear afterimages, he couldn't tell which was real and which was phantom. With a thud, a spear pierced through his chest.
Qin Ming impaled him, then flung the old man's corpse off his spear like a straw dummy, sending it sailing a dozen meters into a wooden hut. The people inside scrambled backward in terror.
This was their second-strongest fighter after the two brigand leaders—killed this easily.
At Qin Ming's signal, the Purple Lightning Beast slowed its pace, but its hoofbeats were heavy and deliberate. Ignoring everyone else, it drove straight toward the two brigand leaders.
Both leaders wore grave expressions. One drew a broadsword, the other a long spear-pole, and they advanced together.
At that moment, from the shadows to one side, another elderly figure appeared silently and launched a sneak attack from behind, intending to coordinate with the two leaders.
Qin Ming gripped the spear in one hand, pointing it forward at the two brigand leaders—the spear tip didn't waver even slightly. His left hand swiftly drew the phoenix-inscribed long blade from his back. Like a blinding streak of lightning, it slashed through the night air and knocked the old man's sword flying twenty meters away.
Qin Ming's blade carried enormous force and wasn't impeded for even an instant. After sending the sword flying, the blade accelerated, slicing through the night and cleaving the old man diagonally from shoulder to waist. He died with his eyes wide open. Another Third New Life cultivator had fallen!