Chapter 87: The Final Dance

Yin Mufan spoke in a deep, steady voice, “That day on the river, you didn’t even use your full strength?”

Jiang Chen replied, “There was no need to waste time with you then. I hope you haven’t gotten the wrong idea and started thinking you’re my equal.”

“What did you say?!”

Jiang Chen flashed a wicked smile as he swept forward with his spear. Yin Mufan met him head-on without the slightest hesitation. Once again, the two clashed for over a dozen rounds, and with each exchange, the difference in their abilities became ever more apparent.

Yin Mufan realized that, though Jiang Chen’s arrogance was infuriating, his skill was indeed terrifying. Since coming south, Yin Mufan had never faced an opponent this unfathomable. What was even more astonishing was that Jiang Chen looked no more than twenty, with fair, refined features—hardly the sort of man one would expect to possess such formidable martial prowess.

With a crisp clang, Lin Bufan flicked Yin Mufan’s Hanfeng Spear from his hand, catching it effortlessly.

“I have other matters to attend to. I’ll take my leave,” Jiang Chen said.

Concerned for Old Wu’s safety, Jiang Chen seized the Hanfeng Spear and prepared to ride off, but seven or eight men rushed to block his path.

Having witnessed Jiang Chen’s skills, Yin Mufan suddenly had a new idea. He called out, “Brother, you have such talent—why waste it? Join us. Once we overthrow the crumbling Great Qian court, you’ll make your mark and achieve undying glory.”

Jiang Chen laughed. “Sounds tempting, but I’m not interested.”

He tossed the captured spear aside. As his opponents dodged, he spurred his horse forward, breaking through their encirclement and vanishing into the forest.

Yin Mufan started to give chase, but at that moment, someone barreled toward them from ahead. With a sweeping strike of a halberd, three men were sent flying—a new, fearsome fighter had arrived.

Jiang Chen no longer cared what was happening behind him. All he wanted was to find Old Wu. If there was vengeance to be exacted, Old Wu deserved a part in it.

As he pressed forward, a strong scent of blood prickled Jiang Chen’s nose. He immediately grew alert and hurried toward the source of the smell.

Not far ahead, the sounds of battle echoed faintly. When Jiang Chen arrived, he saw Old Wu seize a silver spear from his opponent with one hand and drive his palm into the man’s chest. With a brittle crack, the man’s ribcage shattered.

Such clean, effortless elimination of a foe—and all with just one hand.

Old Wu’s right shoulder wound had worsened, leaving him unable to lift his right arm at all. He fought now with only his left.

“This is madness!” Jiang Chen muttered as he rode his horse past the corpses strewn across the ground—all felled by Old Wu. The old man’s combat prowess was truly extraordinary.

Now, only Qi Zhaoxuan remained.

At that moment, Qi Zhaoxuan was hiding in a patch of grass. If not for his subordinates buying him precious time, he wouldn’t have escaped Old Wu’s pursuit. Even so, he hadn’t gotten far and had no choice but to lie low for the moment.

Jiang Chen reached Old Wu and warned, “If you don’t bandage that soon, you’ll bleed out and die!”

Old Wu replied indifferently, “Twenty years ago, I should’ve died with my brothers. Heaven spared me that day, letting me fall into the river and escape—so I could avenge them now!”

From the nearby grass came a faint rustling. Old Wu dismounted to investigate, but Jiang Chen handed him the Hanfeng Spear, causing Old Wu to pause.

“I went to such lengths to reclaim this. It should taste vengeance with me.”

Old Wu nodded and took back his long-lost weapon. With the Hanfeng Spear in hand, the legendary “Iron Spring Butcher” seemed even more imposing.

Jiang Chen moved to circle around. Qi Zhaoxuan, separated from his main forces in the confusion, had been driven to desperation by Old Wu and brought ruin upon himself. But a man like him would never surrender to fate—he would be lurking somewhere, waiting to strike back.

Suddenly, something shot from the grass—a stone, thrown more as a distraction than a weapon. As Old Wu’s attention was drawn, Qi Zhaoxuan leapt out, but Old Wu instantly thrust his spear at him, unaffected by the ruse.

Qi Zhaoxuan had hoped to seize the initiative and land a decisive blow on the wounded old man. Had he succeeded, Old Wu would have been finished.

But his ploy, clever as it was, failed completely.

Old Wu’s Hanfeng Spear swept in a blur. Though Qi Zhaoxuan lost the advantage, the urgency of the moment brought out his own considerable skill. Yet Old Wu’s strength had diminished; fighting one-handed, his attack was far less lethal.

Jiang Chen moved to assist, but Old Wu barked, “This is between him and me—do not interfere!”

“But—”

“I know my body. Even if you patched me up, I wouldn’t make it out of these woods alive. Let me use what little time I have left to do what I’ve wanted for twenty years.”

There was a burning intensity in Old Wu’s words, and Jiang Chen could not bring himself to intervene further.

“Watch closely. The essence of the Hanfeng Spear is in its final move—‘Wildfire Dance.’ You’ll only ever see it once. Don’t miss this chance.”

Enduring the searing pain, Old Wu took up the spear with both hands and assumed the opening stance of his signature technique. Jiang Chen, beside him, watched intently as the long-lost spear art—forgotten by the world for two decades—came to life once more.

The Hanfeng Spear swept forward like a raging gale, overwhelming all in its path. Qi Zhaoxuan fought back with everything he had; the two men clashed with a deadly ferocity, the ring of metal echoing through the trees.

Jiang Chen was deeply shaken by the skill Old Wu displayed. Though he was born in the age of firearms and, as a king among mercenaries, was adept with all manner of weapons, he had never before witnessed spearplay of such exquisite mastery.

The spear was the army’s trump card—swift, ruthless, precise, and perfectly balanced between offense and defense. Learning this technique would be of immeasurable benefit to Jiang Chen.

Under Old Wu’s masterful assault, Qi Zhaoxuan was utterly routed. When Old Wu knocked aside his opponent’s spear, he unleashed the final move of his art—“Wildfire Dance.”

Jiang Chen couldn’t help but exclaim, “Magnificent technique!”

It was the most dazzling move of the Hanfeng Spear, and Old Wu’s last, resplendent dance after twenty years.