Soul of the Revered Banner
Chapter 43: Light at the End

He flipped over the wall and entered the courtyard.

Evading the patrolling guards, he slipped around to the outer perimeter of the rear garden of Marquis Jing'an’s residence.

Just as Old Xiang was about to go in, the Soul Banner in his arms gave a faint tremble.

"You again."

From the shadows, a burly man stepped out, blocking Old Xiang's path with a broadsword in his arms.

“You’ve actually broken through from the Bone Tempering stage to the Organ Refining stage,” the man's voice carried surprise, and also admiration.

He stared at the man in black.

From his build and gaze, it was clear this was no longer a young man.

Deep wrinkles ringed his eyes.

To achieve a breakthrough to the Organ Refining realm in the twilight of one's years, when vitality had already begun to decline, this was a miracle to any martial artist. Worthy of respect.

But if this man intended to break into the marquis’s residence and cause trouble, Xue Yi would never allow it.

Old Xiang placed a hand on his waist blade and faced the burly man directly.

He recognized him. Xue Yi, commander of the guards for the Marquis Jing'an's Wen family.

Even the heir himself held Xue Yi in high regard.

No one knew why, but Xue Yi had joined the Marquis's household as a bodyguard.

Old Xiang never thought much of it before. But now that he had broken through to the Organ Refining stage, he realized how unfathomably deep this man's presence was.

Old Xiang didn’t speak.

He had talked to Xue Yi before. If he spoke now, Xue Yi might recognize him just from his voice.

"Leave now, and I’ll pretend nothing happened. But if you insist on forcing your way in,

Tonight, you’ll lose your life."

Xue Yi stood tall with his broadsword, staring him down.

A sinister look crept across the face hidden beneath Old Xiang’s black mask.

Retreat?

He had come prepared to die, how could he retreat?

The flagstones cracked beneath his feet.

Old Xiang drew his waist blade and lunged at Xue Yi.

Xue Yi furrowed his brow, tightened his grip, and charged forward.

Clang!

Steel collided.

The waist blade and broadsword sparked wildly on impact.

As internal energy surged,

Shing! Two blades sliced past.

Old Xiang’s strikes targeted only vital points.

His Hundred-Battle Blade Technique was flawless.

But he was using his left arm, the power was lacking, and he quickly fell behind.

At first he could hold his own, but over time, he was sure to lose.

His weakened body couldn’t keep up in a contest of strength.

Old Xiang’s style was all speed, precision, and ferocity, while Xue Yi’s was sheer force like splitting mountains.

His broadsword was three fingers wide, nearly six feet long, and swung in sweeping arcs.

Like a warrior on the battlefield.

Inside the Soul Banner, Tu Shanjun shook his head, Old Xiang was doomed to lose.

Xue Yi’s technique was straightforward, a battlefield style.

But he was younger, had entered the Organ Refining stage earlier, and was at his peak in his 30s or 40s.

Old Xiang, in his 50s, had already begun to decline, and he was using his non-dominant arm.

It was only a matter of time.

“Hundred-Battle Blade of the Embroidered Guards…”

“You’re from the Embroidered Guard, aren’t you?”

“Don’t tell me they’re finally making a move, trying to set up the heir?”

Xue Yi rolled his neck, warming up. He seemed ready to end it.

Old Xiang’s wrist trembled, and he suddenly let out a bitter laugh.

Too weak.

Too powerless.

Even with this hard-earned breakthrough to the Organ Refining realm, he still couldn’t take revenge.

Tu Shanjun felt Old Xiang was being too hasty.

If he could finish cultivating the Nether Spirit Art and become a true cultivator, using spiritual power to summon him, no one here would last a single round.

Even the so-called Immortal Masters in the Offering Pavilion were nothing more than paper tigers.

But Tu Shanjun knew he couldn’t talk him down.

Just as he had once failed to talk sense into Li Qingfeng, he now couldn’t stop Old Xiang either.

Bang!

The flat of Xue Yi’s blade slammed into Old Xiang’s body.

He was sent flying, crashing into the ground, blood spurting from his mouth, his face turning pale.

The mask was torn off by the force of the impact, revealing his true face.

Even in the dim moonlight, Xue Yi recognized him.

“Baihu Commander Xiang?!”

Surprise flickered across Xue Yi’s expression, mingled with joy.

“It’s you!”

Old Xiang struggled to his feet, gripping his blade tightly.

“You came to see the young master, didn’t you? I heard you were here.”

“I didn’t expect you to have broken through to the Organ Refining Realm.”

The tension from before vanished instantly. Xue Yi seemed genuinely pleased by Old Xiang’s arrival.

Old Xiang was stunned.

He hadn’t come to see the young master, he came for revenge.

But now that things had gone this far, he had no choice but to go along with it.

He’d thought Xue Yi and the heir were only casual acquaintances.

Now it seemed there was more to it. Xue Yi truly cared about the heir’s safety.

“That’s right. The manor’s under lockdown, I had no other option,” Old Xiang answered.

“I thought you, Commander Xue…”

He didn’t finish but his expression said it all, he was worried Xue Yi, as a mere guard, might stay neutral and stop him from entering.

Xue Yi laughed heartily. “I’m the heir’s sword instructor.”

Their relationship was far from ordinary. While sword instructors in noble houses were not as esteemed as full-fledged masters, Xue Yi was different. A top-tier Organ Refining master.

“Come, I’ll take you to him.”

Xue Yi sheathed his sword and turned to lead the way.

His back was completely exposed to Old Xiang.

With one blow, Old Xiang could kill or cripple him.

And once Xue Yi was dead, no one in the entire manor could stop him.

Old Xiang gripped his blade tightly but didn’t move.

The heir had once saved his life. If he killed Xue Yi, the heir would be truly alone.

With a crippled leg and no allies, he would die.

Truthfully, ever since the heir’s leg was shattered, and there was no hope of healing, he was no longer a true heir.

With healthy brothers still in the running, the old marquis would surely favor them.

That was why the second branch of the family had suddenly grown bold.

Xue Yi was watching Old Xiang closely.

Turning his back was a test in itself.

If Old Xiang attacked, Xue Yi would have no choice but to kill him.

Fortunately, Old Xiang didn’t move.

“Truly, ‘When all hope seems lost, a village blossoms beyond the willows,’” Tu Shanjun chuckled.

He hadn’t expected a path to open in such a desperate situation.

The two of them twisted and turned through the estate until they reached a small cottage.

There were no guards, only a run-down courtyard in a remote corner.

When they pushed open the door, the strong smell of medicine filled the air. Only the heir’s personal servant was there, tending to things.

“Is the young master resting?”

“Not yet.”

The servant quickly shut the courtyard gate and invited them in.

“Young master, look who I’ve brought,” Xue Yi said in a low voice.

“Master Xue…”

The young man on the bed struggled to sit up.

As they approached, he saw the man beside Xue Yi.

“Baihu Xiang?”

“Your servant Xiang Hu, greeting the young master,” Old Xiang saluted.

His eyes showed disbelief.

He had expected severe injuries but not this severe.

The leg was practically useless.

“I… am no longer a young master,” Wen Yue said bleakly.

When he learned the leg was beyond saving, he nearly lost his mind.

Not only had he lost his title, but his Military Affairs deputy commander post was stripped away, and everything he once had now seemed so far out of reach.

Only his sword instructor remained.

That was the only reason no one in the household had moved against him yet.

But there was no guarantee old enemies wouldn’t come to finish him off.

The palace no longer sent envoys. The assets he once controlled were reassigned. He was still a liability, a risk.

He was crippled but not dead.

No one had made a move yet, but they were just watching.

Wen Yue asked, “How are the others?”

There was concern in his voice.

His fall would surely drag others down with him, even cost them their lives.

Old Xiang opened his mouth, but didn’t speak.

It wasn’t just him. Everyone aligned with Wen Yue had met with misfortune.

The stubborn were executed under some pretense. The cautious preserved themselves by stepping down.

Others defected to the new deputy commander.

His once-glorious faction was now history.

He didn’t need Old Xiang to say anything, Wen Yue understood. Without his support, his followers would be purged.

In politics, everyone forms cliques.

Even emperors had loyalists.

And once one falls, the purge follows.

As an official, one has to think beyond oneself, there are always followers, people who depend on you.

Tu Shanjun couldn’t help but sigh.

In the dramas he used to watch, people with legions of followers would casually announce they didn’t want power or kingship.

It used to infuriate Tu Shanjun.

They could afford to walk away, to vanish into the mountains.

But their followers? Powerless, with nowhere to go, waiting only for the purge.

It was nothing short of irresponsibility.

The bloody reality was this, if you don’t fight to the end, your only path is death.

Just like now.

(Chapter End)