Chapter 67: The Great River Stained with

The stars in the night sky were meant to be eternally serene, at most twinkling softly, but at this moment, amongst the vast array of stars, three shone exceptionally bright, trailing long tails as they streaked across the heavens, meteors plunging into the great river.

“Quick, channel your energy!” Zhong Shuman shouted. Not only was she discerning, she saw clearly that this was no ordinary arrow attack.

Hua Feihong and Ma Junmei managed to muster their strength in an instant, but Zhang He was unable to do so. His internal energy and strength had already been depleted, and forcing himself to channel energy now would cause more than simple exhaustion.

The realms of attributes in “Dynasty” were not mere numerical data. Take Zhang He’s internal energy as an example: currently, it was (Emerging Realm, 48 points) + 26 points. He had returned to level 20 from level 33 after his first class change, granting him more attribute points invested in internal energy. Compared to players who changed classes at level 20, his foundation was undeniably deeper—an advantage.

Yet the disadvantage was that his level and progression lagged behind typical players, and cultivation demanded more time. When he reached his second class change and advanced his internal energy realm, this foundation would deepen further, making his advantage even more pronounced. By the third, fourth, and fifth class changes, his internal energy would be so profound, it would be unmatched.

A powerful internal energy brought many benefits, but not without drawbacks. During battle, once the ordinary usage period had passed, forcibly channeling energy would cause some depletion—it would recover slowly like stamina. If the depletion was greater, more cultivation would be needed to restore it; even greater, one could rely on mental techniques; if it became severe, mental techniques would fail and only rare medicines and advanced martial arts could help. Should it be entirely exhausted or killed by reckless attacks, one’s realm would decrease, perhaps even losing skills.

The same applied now—Zhang He’s internal energy was still at a low realm. Even if severely depleted, it would not yet decrease his realm or require medicine, but further depletion now would mean that when he trained up to the fourth or fifth class change, even mighty internal energy would be limited—a congenital defect, potentially making him a “crippled” internal energy user.

For example, during the Motian Dao incident, Gui Yufeng exhausted his internal energy to repel a crowd, sacrificing realm reduction to protect his treasure.

Zhang He understood this well. After his duel with “Wild Cleaver,” then dashing onto the arrow boat, his internal energy and agility could not afford further strain.

Now, with Zhong Shuman’s shout, Zhang He prepared to jump into the river to evade. Yet they all underestimated the three divine arrows of Xiliang Xu. The Thirty-six Waterways dominated the middle Yangtze thanks to his “Hundred Paces Piercing the Willow,” an archery technique capable of shooting several hundred meters. It required immense strength, and the arrows were imbued with powerful internal energy at a high realm—ordinary martial arts and blades could not withstand them.

As the arrows descended, Zhong Shuman noticed that the flying arrows seemed to twist—not the arrows themselves, but the air, as if torn and distorting her vision.

The power of these three arrows was immense, a frontal assault with wide and deep force.

Originally, Zhong Shuman intended to block with a weapon, but she instantly changed her mind, forcibly raising her Disassembling Red Needle at the cost of internal energy and strength. She crossed the twin needles, and as the first arrow landed, she lifted to intercept, catching it on the shaft.

With a sharp crack, the Red Needle was knocked from her grasp, the tremendous force shaking her entire body until she went limp, unable to stand, and fell with a splash into the river.

Yet the arrow only slightly deflected, its momentum unbroken, charging straight toward the boatman at the bow.

A sharp hiss, then a thunderous thud.

Red damage value: “-523!”

The arrow pierced not only the boatman’s chest but also punched a bowl-sized hole through the thick wooden hull, allowing water to rush in.

Hua Feihong and Ma Junmei had never witnessed such awe-inspiring arrows; for a moment, they were stunned.

“Watch out!” This time Zhang He shouted, having seen that the second and third arrows were not aimed at him, but at the two women.

Too late. Though they reacted, the arrows were already upon them.

They swung their swords to block, sword gleams dazzling, rising like snowflakes; their Shushan Demon-Expelling Swords were jolted from their hands by the force of the arrows, flying up into the night sky.

Two sharp hisses sounded, and Zhang He’s heart sank.

Red damage values:

“-433!”

“-393!”

Both Hua Feihong and Ma Junmei’s chests were pierced, each with a bloodied hole the size of a bowl, shocking to behold. Their bodies tumbled into the water.

“Boss Ma, Miss Hua, Sister Zhong...” Zhang He leaned over the boat rail, shouting, but only the surging river answered him.

His fist clenched instantly, veins bulging, knowing he had implicated the three.

Furious, Zhang He turned toward Peony Pavilion upstream, his gaze filled not only with anger, but hatred and poison.

The music from Peony Pavilion suddenly fell silent, echoing the winding waters—its melody slow and low, imbued with a sense of sorrow and lament, as if mourning the loss of a kindred spirit.

The music faded, growing fainter and fainter, until it vanished amid the eternal silence of the great river.

Players clad in Daoist robes on the five-tiered railings chuckled coldly, “Hmph, mere thieves, overestimating themselves.”

Qi Shiqi remained silent for a long time, sighing inwardly, “Brother Wu, may you survive this calamity and suffer no more misfortune!”

Zhang He had indeed escaped, but his prospects were bleak—water had flooded the arrow boat, and it was sinking fast.

The river was wide and swift; experienced swimmers knew that swimming alone could not overcome the rapids and waves—the force of nature was not easily resisted.

Swept into a whirlpool, Zhang He struggled desperately. The current mercilessly dragged him downstream. He did not know how long he fought, but he found all his attributes drastically reduced, his limbs gradually chilled—an inner coldness. Luckily, he was finally washed to the riverbank.

This nameless wilderness was covered in weeds and thorns. Ignoring exhaustion and weakness, Zhang He sat cross-legged and immediately recited his mental technique to restore his attributes.

His agility recovered slowly, and his Emerging Realm strength matched the pace. The “Clear Wind Formula” eased his stamina and fatigue after the battle, but when he tried to recite the “Returning Wind Formula,” the system indicated it was temporarily unavailable.

Zhang He cursed inwardly. Looking carefully, he saw that the status icon for his Emerging Realm internal energy, originally green, had turned pale blue.

His heart sank. Martial arts and realms were displayed in color on the status bar: green meant the skill could be used normally, yellow meant it was being depleted, red was a warning—not to force it further. If one forced a skill in the red zone, it would truly be damaged, and the color would darken through blue, purple, brown, and black... until it became a pitch-black mass, indicating the skill was lost, utterly ruined.

Now, internal energy was pale blue, proving realm damage. The “Returning Wind Formula” required Emerging Realm internal energy, which was now damaged—hence, it could not be used.

Though he was in distress, Zhang He’s mind remained coldly clear.

The team had disbanded. Hua Feihong and Ma Junmei were dead, Zhong Shuman’s fate unknown; he had no one to rely on.

This ghostly place offered neither village nor shop, so buying medicinal supplies was unrealistic. Zhang He’s greatest strength was never overestimating himself, nor underestimating his opponents.

Among those at Peony Pavilion, there were certainly experts—at least Xiliang Xu was no ordinary foe. Though he escaped, they would surely find out. A search at the Three Lives Stone in Fuling County would reveal everything.

Looking at the map, he was still in the middle Yangtze region, under the control of the Thirty-six Waterways. For safety, best to hide deep in the wilderness, training his level and martial arts—first to avoid pursuit, second to strengthen his skills, third to try restoring his internal energy realm.

The battle at Peony Pavilion was impressive, but the price was steep. Though he wiped out the White Horse Prince and felled a mid-level hero—a feat to be proud of for a first-class-change wild player—Xiliang Xu’s “Hundred Paces Piercing the Willow” showed him true danger.

The martial world teemed with talent and experts. To survive, one must forge oneself strong; it was time to train in earnest.

Having resolved this, Zhang He rose and strode into the depths of the nighttime wilderness.