Chapter 12: Never Bowing Down

Having finished speaking, Song Jue drew his blade and leapt up like a wild whirlwind. The knife's edge was sharp and fierce, manifesting countless illusions—ghostly and eerie, like fiends and demons in their frenzy. Wherever the blade struck, it seemed to carry the wails of tortured spirits.

Zhu Wen hastily raised the Daxia Dragon Sparrow treasured saber, its crimson glow surging wildly, parrying Song Jue’s relentless strike. Yet, fueled by rage to his utmost, Song Jue’s strength surged to its peak. Despite Zhu Wen’s full effort to block, it was nearly impossible to withstand; both man and horse staggered back under the force. The clashing of blades was so intense that every cavalryman from both armies felt their eardrums nearly burst.

In a brief span, their long blades had collided dozens of times, the metallic clangs ringing unceasingly like a continuous storm. The tsunami-like force pounded Zhu Wen’s saber relentlessly.

Zhu Wen believed that if not for the Daxia Dragon Sparrow being a legendary divine weapon of unrivaled hardness, it would have shattered under Song Jue’s fierce assault.

Unexpectedly, after Zhu Wen struck and killed Song Jue’s horse in a sudden attack, enraging him, Song Jue’s swordsmanship became even more fierce and unyielding, penetrating every opening without flaw. Fighting from a horse’s dismount, Song Jue instead exerted greater pressure, as if he towered over Zhu Wen from above.

“None of you dare step forward! Before I tear this brat limb from limb and feed him to the dogs, I will break every bone in his body and quarter him to honor my beloved steed!” Song Jue uttered a chilling laugh.

Though Song Jue’s fury stemmed mainly from having his warhorse slain publicly by a younger rival, he had indeed grown attached to the Night-Shining Jade Lion, his faithful steed of over ten years.

“A noble family, is it?” Zhu Wen panted. “The Guangping Song clan, right?”

“Correct. My elder brother and I hail from the renowned Guangping Song family,” Song Jue said with pride despite his hatred for Zhu Wen. “Since you know this, I can let you suffer less pain before you die.”

“That old relic you speak of—do you think the Tang Dynasty is stable today? The East is in turmoil, the people restless, refugees everywhere. Why is this?” Zhu Wen’s words carried a tone of pride, even condescension, as if Song Jue were the oppressed party. “How did the great Tang fall into such chaos?”

Song Jue’s anger flared further. “Isn’t it because of scoundrels like you who delight in stirring up trouble? Otherwise, why would the world be so unsettled? You little beast, prepare to die!”

“Sorry to say, it’s because there are so many fools like you—worthless but arrogant, thinking themselves from noble lineages—that the Tang has come to this.”

“If we speak of the Song clan that rose in Dunhuang at the end of the Eastern Han, that might be another matter,” Zhu Wen sneered. “But the Guangping Song clan is no old family of the Han or Jin. They only allied with the barbarians during the Former Yan and Northern Wei, gaining some foothold. By your reckoning, you don’t even rank in the Central Plains, and not even in the fifth tier among the damp lands of Jiangdong. What’s there to boast about?”

The Dunhuang Song family had held military power in the northwest for generations, strong enough that during the chaos of the Han’s end and the Three Kingdoms period, Song Jian even ruled Baohan for over thirty years. But after the An Shi Rebellion, with Hexi and Longxi seized by the Tibetans and the entire clan captured, the brothers Song Wei and Song Jue naturally would not claim the Dunhuang Song lineage.

“In Jiangdong, you don’t even make the fifth tier?” Song Jue’s fury made his beard bristle as he glared. “Brat, how do you figure that?”

“Besides the official genealogies compiled since the early dynasty, even among the six major sects of the martial world, the Langya Pavilion never once regarded the Guangping Song family highly.”

“If you count ranks, the four great southern refugee clans—the Wang, Xie, Yuan, and Xiao—are first tier. The four surnames of Wu, Gu, Lu, and Zhu are second tier. The martial clans Yi Xing Zhou and Wu Xing Shen are third. The four families Yu, Wei, Kong, and Xie of Kuaiji are fourth. The fifth tier includes the He, Sheng, Ji, Liu, Bu, and Zhongli clans. Each of these has sustained great prestige for over five centuries.”

“As for your Guangping Song, not to mention the established noble houses, even compared to the newly risen Changli Han clan, you pale in comparison.”

“Song Jue, you’re nothing but a lackey’s lackey, a dog raised by the five and seven families, yet you dare snarl at me here!”

Zhu Wen’s torrent of insults struck like a barrage of arrows, leaving Song Jue momentarily stunned and unable to respond. When he recovered, his eyes burned with rage, his face contorted like a wrathful demon.

“You little beast, you deserve to die! Even if I kill you a thousand times, it won’t satisfy me. You... must die!”

Song Jue’s Heaven Blade struck down like thunder, pressing heavily on the Daxia Dragon Sparrow, forcing its blade down as if two mountains crushed Zhu Wen’s shoulders.

Yet, both sides’ cavalry—whether the common troops or the armored soldiers of Taining—nodded quietly in acknowledgment. They were common folk who knew Zhu Wen’s vast knowledge and appreciated the harsh truths he spoke. The Tang people esteemed their noble lineages deeply; even commoners understood this well.

Moreover, Zhu Wen’s accusations were not baseless. Though the Changli Han clan’s history was not as ancient as the Guangping Song’s, it rose during the Northern Dynasties and produced literary giants like Han Yu and the Daoist Han Xiangzi, uncle and nephew, whose names thundered across the land. The Tang also boasted chancellors Han Xiu and Han Huang. The Guangping Song, however, could only claim the famed chancellor Song Jing of the Kaiyuan era, hardly comparable.

Though Zhu Wen’s tirade was satisfying, Song Jue raged like a tempest, his Heaven Blade’s downward pressure transmitting an endless surge of force through the hilt, rendering Zhu Wen immobile, as if trapped in a vast quagmire, struggling to breathe.

Earlier, Zhu Wen had secretly practiced the Huang Tian Heart Method taught by Huang Chao, an ancient technique refined by a grandmaster. This allowed him to resist Song Jue’s overwhelming aura and slip out of his pressure field, hiding in a stirrup to avoid the Heaven Blade and cut down Song Jue’s Night-Shining Jade Lion horse.

But now, in Song Jue’s furious state, his internal energy flowed like rivers and seas, inexhaustible. Even with his utmost effort, Zhu Wen could not break free from Song Jue’s control and was forced downwards by the blade’s weight.

Suddenly, Zhu Wen’s horse let out a mournful whinny, blood streaming from its mouth, nostrils, eyes, and ears, its legs cracking as they broke, collapsing to the ground under Song Jue’s crushing power. Zhu Wen dismounted, standing firm on the earth.

A victorious gleam shone in Song Jue’s eyes as he tasted revenge, licking his lips while increasing his blade’s force. Zhu Wen, wielding two sabers, fought back with all his strength, yet his body slowly sank under Song Jue’s pressure.

At this moment, though unwilling, Zhu Wen felt no fear—only calmness. The regrets in his life drifted away like shimmering bubbles in the sky, elusive and intangible.

His cold gaze glanced lightly at Song Jue, as if looking at a pile of rubbish.

Song Jue could not understand where this contemptuous confidence came from, facing death yet still daring to look at him thus.

But Song Jue’s rage blazed higher, like a prairie fire threatening the heavens.

“Kneel before me!” he roared like thunder, immense power surging through Zhu Wen’s body. Zhu Wen’s shoulder blades creaked ominously, breaking under the crushing force as his horse’s legs had moments before.

“Brat, many young men like you, full of pride and stubbornness, have begged me for mercy before dying.”

“Some, once arrogant and disdainful, ultimately offered their wives and children to me as servants just for a chance at life.”

“Today, I want to see if your bones can withstand the might of my renowned Heaven Blade!”

Yet, deep in his heart, Zhu Wen knew that with his two decades of pride, as a true man, he would die standing—unyielding.

He would never bow, nor could he ever bow.