Silver Dragon Soaring to the Heavens Chapter Four: Crisis! Murderous Intent Everywhere

Originally, Luo Chen thought Zhao Xingyu would tell him the answer. But to his surprise, Zhao Xingyu only shook his head in response to his question. This left Luo Chen feeling somewhat lost. How could the grand commander of the Imperial Knights, a man whose cultivation had reached the half-step Heavenly Spirit Realm, not know about the Imperial Capital Academy of his own empire? If word got out, it would surely become a laughingstock.

“Brother Luo, don’t lose heart,” Zhao Xingyu said. “I never attended the Academy myself, so I know little about the Seven Divisions. But as for the foremost of the Eight Divisions—the one that vanished long ago—I can tell you something about it.”

“From what I read in the scrolls my father left behind, the leader of the Eight Divisions was originally called the Sky Thunder Pavilion. It was known as the head among the Eight because, according to legend, the previous strongest in the Mortal Domain—Emperor Sikong Yutian, when still a prince—emerged from the Sky Thunder Pavilion and, through overwhelming strength, suppressed all the other royal heirs, thus inheriting the imperial throne.”

"As for why it later disappeared from the world’s eyes, that remains unknown. But if you have the courage, Brother Luo, you might ask to enter the Sky Thunder Pavilion during the selection. If you can persuade those old fellows at the Academy..."

As Zhao Xingyu spoke, he removed his helmet. Under the moonlight, Luo Chen could only make out two scars on Zhao Xingyu’s battle-hardened face and the dark hair hidden beneath the helmet. Yet, his features were not so fierce; there was an easy-going air about him.

Zhao Xingyu’s words left Luo Chen deep in thought. There seemed a note of challenge in his tone, as if testing Luo Chen’s courage. During the days they had known each other, Zhao Xingyu had spoken with him several times, always leaving a good impression.

He didn’t seem like someone about to deceive him. Luo Chen thought that this journey to the Academy—perhaps the Sky Thunder Pavilion could serve as a breakthrough in uncovering his origins.

“Brother Chen, the stars are so beautiful here! I’ve never seen such a bright sky in Luo Yu Village,” said Luo Xiaoya as she ran to his side, gazing up at the heavens. Luo Chen only glanced up, then gently pulled Xiaoya to sit beside him.

“It really is beautiful. I’m glad you like it,” he replied.

Zhao Xingyu watched the sibling bond between them and smiled. The three of them sat by the campfire, laughing and drinking together, words few and far between, as the night deepened.

The two men continued to drink as confidants. Luo Xiaoya lay asleep on Luo Chen’s lap. Suddenly, a knight rushed over from behind.

“Commander! Several hundred people are rapidly approaching from a hundred meters to the rear!”

At once, Zhao Xingyu’s expression turned grave as he looked at the knight behind him. Luo Chen was startled too. He watched as Zhao Xingyu donned his helmet with a solemn face and realized trouble was brewing.

They were in the heart of the vast desert—how could anyone survive here, let alone hundreds? Unless, of course, their enemies had known of the caravan’s route and lain in wait.

“Brother Luo, the newcomers may be mercenaries from the desert’s edge. You and Miss Luo should get into the carriage. Let me deal with them first.”

With those words, Zhao Xingyu strode away. Luo Chen dared not hesitate; he picked up Luo Xiaoya and headed straight for the carriage. More than a dozen knights had already gathered to guard it.

Luo Chen knew Zhao Xingyu had arranged this. He quickly carried Xiaoya inside, laying her on the small bed. Seeing she had not awoken, he smiled softly.

Yet, thinking of Zhao Xingyu heading off, worry gnawed at him. Judging from the knight’s report, at least a hundred enemies were coming. Zhao Xingyu had left some knights to guard the carriage, but would that be enough? Luo Chen hesitated, then decided to take a look outside.

“Brother Luo, the commander said you and Miss Luo must stay in the carriage. We are here to protect you. If things change, we’ll leave with the carriage at once.”

A knight blocked his way, clearly not about to let him leave. Luo Chen shrugged helplessly and was about to re-enter the carriage when he glanced at its roof. With a leap, he landed atop the carriage, looking down at the knights.

“It’s fine. I just want to keep an eye on things. If anything happens, I’ll return to the carriage at once.”

He gazed toward the direction where Zhao Xingyu had gone. About twenty meters away, under the moonlight, Zhao Xingyu sat astride his wind steed. Most of the knights had formed three ranks before him, like three silver ramparts. The rest stood at his side. Yet, on the distant dune, Luo Chen saw no one.

Then, in a blink, something flashed across the night sky. A massive black blade appeared, stabbed upright into a sand dune not far from the knights.

In the moonlight, Luo Chen caught a glint of cold steel on the blade. The knights raised their shields and leveled their lances in preparation for a charge. Moments later, a coarse voice boomed from behind the dune.

“Knights, listen up! I am Black Python, leader of the Black Serpent Mercenaries. Those who don’t wish to die, leave your valuables and get lost!”

As the words echoed, a dark figure flitted onto the dune, perching one-footed atop the blade. Luo Chen could tell that this man’s presence was at least equal to Zhao Xingyu’s—or even superior. Zhao Xingyu was already a half-step Heavenly Spirit cultivator. That meant Black Python had reached the Heavenly Spirit Realm.

In the fleeting moonlight, Luo Chen saw scars on Black Python’s face and bare chest—he too was a hardened warrior. Zhao Xingyu didn’t speak; he seemed to be sizing up his opponent. After a moment, he drew his sword and pointed the tip straight at Black Python.

“Black Python, is it? You’re bold indeed. Do you really think your little Black Serpent Mercenary band can halt the Imperial Knights? Aren’t you afraid my empire’s might will wipe you all out in an instant?”

Black Python leapt from the blade to the ground, grabbed his great saber, and gave Zhao Xingyu a strange look, even licking the blade before planting it back in the sand.

“The Imperial Knights? Don’t worry. The disappearance of a mere hundred men means nothing to your empire. As for your so-called imperial might, I only want your valuables. Leave them and go—I promise not to kill a single one.”

His words dripped with mockery. Luo Chen, though far off, understood what he meant: “not kill a single one” was just a lie—he wouldn’t leave any survivors. Black Python wasn’t foolish enough to let a hundred men return to the empire and risk retribution from a thousand-strong knight regiment.

As Black Python finished, hundreds of his men appeared behind him, each wearing the same eerie smile. Zhao Xingyu remained silent; the confrontation stretched tense and silent. Then, Black Python’s lips curled in a sneer.

“Kill.”

A single word, but it brimmed with murderous intent. At once, thirty of his men charged toward Zhao Xingyu, their steps raising clouds of sand.

Zhao Xingyu showed no hurry. As the attackers crossed the midline, he raised his sword and pointed at them.

“Silver Blades—Strangle!”

The words had barely left his lips when the first rank of knights hurled their silver shields into the air. As the shields spun, two silver blades flicked out from each, transforming twenty-odd shields into a single, slicing wind blade.

In a heartbeat, the wind blade struck the oncoming wave, sending flesh and blood flying, screams filling the night. Luo Chen, unaccustomed to such slaughter, shuddered at the sight.

He glanced at Black Python in the distance, who showed no change of expression, as if it were all routine. In the next moment, the wind blade smashed into the sand, strewing the ground with blood and mangled bodies. After the dust settled, Black Python gave another signal. His remaining men surged forward in a deadly wave.

“Shields—Leap!”

At Zhao Xingyu’s command, the third rank of knights leapt ahead to form the new frontline.

“Blades—Strike!”

With chilling precision, the forward squad raised their shields sideways, standing one body’s width apart. The next two squads charged through the gaps, heading straight for the enemy. As soon as they passed, the first squad re-formed a silver shield wall.

Though Luo Chen stood not far behind Zhao Xingyu, the view from the carriage roof was clear. Witnessing the simple, effective commands and flawless cooperation, he couldn’t help but admire the famed knights. No wonder the Skyspine Empire, with only fifty thousand men, could hold off the demon horde—the quality of the Silver Dragon Knights was indeed exceptional. Each knight was an individual point, yet all interconnected on the battlefield.

Under the moonlight, blades flashed and screams echoed. The two squads of knights were soon locked in a tight melee. Anyone who tried to break through would be stopped and slain at the shield wall.

“Hey! Kid, are we just going to watch these weaklings fight it out? My great blade is itching for blood!”

With that, Black Python vanished in a blink, his great saber in hand. Zhao Xingyu’s figure disappeared from his wind steed as well. Luo Chen watched as blades and swords clashed in the air, sparks flying with every blow. Even from a distance, he could feel the terrifying aura of battle between two Heavenly Spirit cultivators. Though not a contest to shake the world, each strike was lethal, a deadly dance riveting to watch.

After several exchanges, Black Python returned to the dune. Zhao Xingyu stood poised atop his steed. Luo Chen noticed a drop of blood fall from Black Python’s blade, while Zhao Xingyu’s sword remained spotless. A chill ran down Luo Chen’s spine—Zhao Xingyu, at half-step Heavenly Spirit, hadn’t even scratched Black Python. The blood on Black Python’s blade said it all: Zhao Xingyu had lost the exchange.

“You should know, I cultivate an earth-based defensive technique. Your little sword can’t even break my shield. Still, you’re strong—join my Black Serpent Mercenaries, and I’ll spare the rest.”

“Enough talk! One move to decide it all!”

Watching from afar, Luo Chen finally understood why Zhao Xingyu couldn’t harm Black Python—an earth-based technique? Did cultivation arts have attributes? But before he could ponder further, a biting wind swept toward him, laden with murderous intent.

On his wind steed, Zhao Xingyu was now surrounded by a tangible whirlwind. As it spun faster and faster, he raised his sword high—the silver blade gleaming coldly in the moonlight. Black Python only glanced at his saber.

“Windstride—Sky Splitter!”

“Stone Blade—Assault!”

The two shouted in near unison and vanished. Boom! The air exploded in a burst of fire, lighting up the surroundings. The fighting paused as all eyes turned to the blaze, waiting for the duel’s outcome.

Two heartbeats later, a silver figure was flung from the flames, crashing to the ground behind the wind steed. Luo Chen’s heart clenched—he knew it was Zhao Xingyu. The duel was over. Zhao Xingyu had lost.

“Commander!”

The knights who hadn’t joined the fight rushed to Zhao Xingyu’s side. On the battlefield, the two sides clashed again—the war was not yet over. Luo Chen watched as Zhao Xingyu was helped to his feet. His helmet had fallen off in the crash, revealing a deep, bloody gash across his chest, torn through his silver armor.

Zhao Xingyu’s face was ashen, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. He glanced up at Black Python, who was descending slowly from the sky. Zhao Xingyu’s gaze met Luo Chen’s—full of apology.

Luo Chen understood. Zhao Xingyu was deeply sorry, and Luo Chen was at a loss. Zhao Xingyu’s defeat meant the end was certain for them all. Luo Chen glared fiercely at Black Python, but what could he do? He was powerless to resist. He didn’t care for himself, but when he thought of Xiaoya in the carriage, dread filled him.

Unbeknownst to him, Luo Xiaoya had awakened at the sound of the explosion. Frightened, she shrank in the corner, hands tightly covering her mouth to stifle any sound.

Luo Chen remained on the carriage roof, eyes locked on Black Python. When Black Python shot him a strange look, a sense of foreboding swept over Luo Chen.

In an instant, Black Python’s form blurred, and Luo Chen felt himself seized by a terrifying force and lifted into the air. He tried to speak, but Black Python appeared before him, gripping his throat in one massive hand. He turned to Zhao Xingyu.

“This little one is the person you’re so desperate to protect, isn’t he? If I kill him, even if you return to the empire, you and your men will be executed. Why not join my Black Serpent band?”

Luo Chen struggled desperately, but the strength pinning him was immovable. Black Python’s meaning was clear—kill Luo Chen, then force Zhao Xingyu to surrender.

Choked by Black Python’s grip, Luo Chen couldn’t speak. With his remaining strength, he glanced at Zhao Xingyu. Zhao Xingyu broke free from the hands supporting him, staggered forward with great effort, and looked at Luo Chen.

“Brother Luo, I’m sorry I couldn’t keep you safe. Even if I die, I will never betray the empire. I owe you this life. If there is a next life, I will repay you.”

Hearing such steadfast words, Luo Chen smiled faintly, resigning himself to death. As Black Python’s grip tightened, his breath grew shallower. In his final moments, he felt himself plummeting to the ground, his consciousness fading into darkness.

Within that darkness, a voice echoed, urging him not to die—not yet, not before discovering his origins, not before protecting Xiaoya.

No matter how Luo Chen screamed in his heart, the darkness remained unbroken. He didn’t know how long he called out before a faint light appeared. As it drew near, a girl’s voice came from within the glow.

“Do you need my help? All you have to do is willingly give me your body and all of your spiritual power.”

Luo Chen didn’t know why the voice was inside him, but with no other choice, he merely sneered and gazed into the light.

“As long as you kill him, take whatever you want!”

The girl’s mocking laughter rang out, but Luo Chen cared only for killing Black Python and protecting Xiaoya—even if it cost him his life.

He could not die so easily. If he must die, he would take Black Python with him. The white light grew brighter, more dazzling, and a powerful force invaded him, as if someone were trying to drive out his soul and seize his body. Within that brilliance, a pure, suffocating murderous intent began to erode his consciousness.