Chapter Fifty-Five: Unversed in Martial Arts, Skilled Only in Combat

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A sudden “snap”—man and fox were quietly traversing the forest, minding their own business, when a fruit came hurtling toward Li Yunfei. Hearing the rush of wind, Li Yunfei instinctively dodged aside.

A barrage of fruits followed, raining down upon Li Yunfei and the little fox in an overwhelming downpour.

With a quick movement, Li Yunfei stepped in front of the little fox, shielding her with his protective energy from this attack that could hardly be called an attack at all.

Puzzled, the pair looked up, only to be rendered speechless. Atop the branches squatted a troop of monkeys, their fur gleaming golden, nostrils upturned, lips thick and fleshy. They hurled handfuls of fruit toward the intruders below.

Upon realizing they had been discovered, the monkeys began to taunt with a chorus of shrill “cheep-cheep” calls.

“They’re golden snub-nosed monkeys. Damn, they look cute enough, but why are they so mischievous?” Li Yunfei couldn’t help but complain, then turned to tease the little fox: “Honghong, your aura doesn’t work on these guys, does it?”

The little fox, incensed, barked up at the monkeys. Seeing their continued insolence, she opened her mouth, ready to spit a fireball.

Startled, Li Yunfei quickly intervened. “No, no, don’t! There’s no need to go that far—these are a first-class protected species, already on the verge of extinction. Just scare them off; don’t hurt them.”

Only then did the little fox relent, shooting the monkeys a resentful glare.

Li Yunfei pulled a Model 42 pistol from the system store, firing several shots at the tree trunks where the monkeys perched.

Gunshots crackled through the woods. Startled by the noise, the monkeys shrieked and leapt away into the canopy.

“Let’s go,” Li Yunfei said, calmly stowing the pistol and motioning for the little fox to move on.

In the primeval forest, the dense foliage muffled the gunshots, carrying them no great distance. By now, they had ventured deep into the woods, unlikely to be overheard.

They wandered through the forest for over an hour. By the time daylight had fully broken, Li Yunfei finally made a discovery.

“Honghong, there should be a herd of wild boars up ahead. Let’s pick up the pace and catch up,” he said, rising after examining a swath of boar tracks and disturbed soil.

The little fox gave an affirmative cry.

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Following the direction of the tracks, the pair raced ahead, and before long, the system’s notification chimed.

“Attention, Host: Wild Boar Forest instance detected. Level range: 21–25. Please select instance level.”

“Select level 22 Wild Boar Forest.”

“Instance level selected. Enter now?”

“Enter.”

“Confirmed. Instance program initializing.”

This time, Li Yunfei didn’t climb onto the little fox’s back. He told her to rest while he himself, gripping the guandao, charged ahead into the woods.

Bursting through a stretch of underbrush now transformed into dense forest, he saw before him a number of massive wild boars, scattered and rooting through the earth.

Any worms, earthworms, or even plant roots unearthed were devoured instantly. Wild boars are omnivores, not picky in the least, consuming almost anything they find.

For this reason, an unchecked boar population wreaks havoc on the ecosystem. In fact, it’s not just wild boars—any animal species in excess becomes a disaster.

Once their numbers swell, wild boars virtually have no natural predators. The few beasts that could take them on—tigers, leopards, bears—are too few in number and easily overwhelmed by the herd. Other numerous predators—wolves, wild dogs—are no match for them.

Thus, when boars gather in great numbers, they roam the forests unchecked, unstoppable.

If they were loosed upon the African savannah, herds of buffalo, hippos, or elephants would soon remind them of their place. But here in the Shennongjia forests, none of those creatures exist, leaving the boars to run rampant.

The moment Li Yunfei appeared, the monstrous boars stopped rooting and charged at him.

With a cold laugh, Li Yunfei gripped the guandao—left hand near the hilt’s end, right hand at mid-shaft, blade held across his chest, tip raised up and right.

As the herd closed in, spiritual power surged from his arms into the blade, flooding along its length.

In the same instant, he pulled back with his left hand, pushed down and left with his right, and the great blade swept down in a powerful diagonal slash.

A crescent-shaped, four-foot-long arc of invisible blade energy sliced through the air toward a boar on his left.

Without a pause, Li Yunfei crossed his arms before his chest, the blade tracing an ellipse. The hilt shifted from left hip to right, hugging his body. With a downward push of his right hand, the blade swept diagonally right.

Two arcs of blade energy, left and right, front and back, curved and crossed in the air, each meeting a charging boar.

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With two sickening “splurts,” the sound of steel biting flesh rang out. The heads of two boars were sliced away at a diagonal, their massive bodies crashing heavily to the ground.

Dispatching the two beasts with ease, Li Yunfei leapt high, soaring four or five meters, guandao raised overhead.

Describing a parabolic arc through the air, he brought the blade down with the force of splitting a mountain, aiming at a boar in the center.

Channeling a surge of spiritual power, a massive, ghostly blade shadow coalesced atop the weapon.

The sight was reminiscent of Nie Feng’s snow-drinking blade strike from “Storm Riders,” though not quite matching that legendary forty-meter blade. This shadow stretched no more than ten feet long and a foot wide, but it was equally unstoppable.

Li Yunfei’s aim was true. The strike cleaved the boar’s head in two, the blade shadow biting into the earth and leaving a deep scar.

Although Li Yunfei had never studied swordsmanship, he’d at least seen enough to know how to wield a blade. The techniques for a long-handled sword are few; complicated maneuvers were unnecessary, even irrelevant.

What mattered was efficient use of strength, and wielding the blade with fluidity.

The close-quarters combat training he’d received as a soldier had covered all manner of weapons, teaching him to exploit each one’s strengths and maximize force.

He did not claim to know martial arts, but he understood the principles of combat. And in battle, mastery of a single technique often translates across many forms.

For a long-handled sword, there are only four essential moves: chop, hack, sweep, and slice. Whether at close or long range, simply repeating these four is enough for Li Yunfei to fight effectively.

Those ornate routines are merely for practice, to familiarize oneself with the weapon’s characteristics and handling.

In true combat, there are only twelve fundamental actions: chop, hack, grind, sweep, slice, shear, spread, lift, slap, hook, restrain, and cut. All techniques are combinations of these.

Just as the spear has twelve moves, but its core lies in block, grab, and thrust, so too does the sword’s essence reside in its four: chop, hack, sweep, and slice.

As long as these four moves flow smoothly, whether at close quarters or at range, Li Yunfei could rely on them to kill.