Han Diaosi, like a demon under the blazing sun, approached a swordsman from behind. With a single finger, he carved a line down the swordsman’s back, then plucked his thumb and middle finger together, snapping them in midair. Half the swordsman’s skin peeled away as if it were paper, but Han did not kill him outright. The swordsman staggered, screaming in agony, while Han drifted away like a ghost, continuing his hunt like a cat toying with mice. Not far off, Lu Song, who carried a quiver of arrows, had already shattered his iron spear. Witnessing the unspeakable horror, he could not bear to watch the swordsman suffer. He plucked an arrow from his quiver and shot the dying swordsman through the head. The corpse, blood seeping from its eye sockets, fell backward in a straight line.
On Han Diaosi’s arm, the crimson rope-serpents had dwindled to about three-quarters of their original number. They stretched like whips, and anyone they touched was lucky to only lose a limb. Dozens of mounted warriors were yanked from their saddles and sliced in half at the waist, their armor as useless as thin paper against a blade.
Whether Han, the devil who had destroyed an entire generation of martial cultivators, felt the carnage was not enough, he split the whip into several serpents that lashed wildly in all directions. Within a few meters of Han’s center, the battlefield became a living hell, where no one could get near. Wang Lin, after losing an arm, gritted his teeth and bandaged himself. He hurled his last hammer, but it was shattered by the chaotic whip strikes. The fragments flew like rain, striking down several heavily armored cavalrymen around Han. One shard even rebounded. Had Wang not quickly drawn his sword to block after throwing his hammer, he would have been pierced through the chest and perished. Even so, the shockwave sent him tumbling from his horse. At the right moment, Lu Song rode past, bending down to grab Wang Lin’s shoulder and pulling him onto the horse. Two riders became one.
Mounted archers with powerful crossbows proved equally futile. Several times they fired in tight formations, their arrows flying with deadly precision like a storm of wasps. Yet Han Diaosi devoured them with terrifying ease. He seemed to become a porcupine riddled with arrows, but in an instant, all the arrows reversed direction and shot back. A circle of riders died instantly. Most arrows pierced through one body and kept flying with undiminished force, creating a gruesome chain of deaths among their own ranks, a sight so bleak it chilled the soul.
To strike down a general amidst a million troops had always been considered a myth, something even the sword emperor of Xishu, who guarded the emperor’s borders, could not achieve. Nor could the elder sword masters of Dongyue’s Sword Pond, who perished with their swords shattered before their nation fell. Yet Han Diaosi now moved through several waves of cavalry formations as if they were empty air. Lu Song and Wang Lin were seasoned commanders, but they had no experience in fighting a single opponent with a thousand men. They could only throw the lives of their soldiers at the problem, hoping to wear down the devil’s inner energy. Fortunately, martial experts like Ren Shanyu provided intermittent support. Han killed with leisurely ease, but he could not break the morale of the two cavalry units in a single battle. Just to maintain the continuous assault of the cavalry, over eighty elite warriors from Beiliang had already suffered heavy losses. Except for a few, none could survive a single exchange with Han. All were cut down the moment they engaged him. In less than half a stick of incense’s time, Ren Shanyu was disheveled and wild-haired, nothing like the graceful beauty she had been when she first took to the mountains. Catching a moment to breathe, she glanced sideways at the young man with white hair standing far from the chaos. Her heart, ever fickle, had moments ago been filled with admiration for the refined young prince who had mastered the art of the saber. Now, she felt only resentment. Why had he not stayed comfortably in Beiliang, wielding power and authority, instead of coming here to provoke such a terrifying demon?
What kept Ren Shanyu from retreating was not a desire to win favor, but the sight of a black-robed woman, the personal attendant of Xu Fengnian, charging forward with a red spear to challenge Han Diaosi. The woman’s fearless resolve made Ren, who lived under the shadow of Beiliang and whose life was as fragile as paper, dare not retreat. If a general fights to the death, even the humblest soldier must follow.
In the eyes of the onlookers, the black-robed woman did not recklessly charge into battle. After a failed strike, she withdrew several meters, surprising everyone with her mastery of the spear. None noticed how she repeatedly moved her lips, swallowing blood each time.
Ren Shanyu took a deep breath, steadied her heart, exchanged a glance with a few familiar companions, and formed a pincer formation as they entered the fray.
The whip strikes rained down like blooming flowers. At some point, Han Diaosi had seized a head in one hand, pulled the body free, and hurled it backward, shattering Ren Shanyu’s axe into splinters. The woman spat a mouthful of blood, fell to her knees, and covered her mouth with both hands, blood dripping between her fingers.
A cavalry commander fought bravely at the front, and wave after wave of horsemen followed to their deaths.
Four hundred dead.
Nearly a stick of incense had passed. Han Diaosi looked down at his crimson whip, now reduced to less than half its former glory.
Beyond the Kui Gate in the Western Regions, there were three ambushes. Han Shengxuan, caught in one of them, failed to reach the crucial Iron Gate. He did not linger to fight with Wang Zhi and his three thousand elite riders but cut straight through their formation and rode westward. Still, he was too late to save Prince Zhao Kai. In the eyes of the former Grand Eunuch of the Directorate of Ceremonial, for his young master to ascend the Dragon Throne, he himself must step back, piece by piece. First, he would relinquish the seal of the Grand Eunuch, then gradually retreat into the shadows, from a man who held the fate of the empire in his hands to a living corpse, quietly lurking behind the scenes, finally dying before the current emperor. He had guarded the Zhao family for decades, hunting martial cultivators during and after the Spring and Autumn Periods. Besides the Red Armor of the Fu General, there was another hidden expert at the Heaven’s Will level, who was later transformed into the Golden Armor of the Fu General. As for the dozens of experts at the Diamond and Finger-Sky levels, Han Shengxuan was truly a devil among devils. If Huang Sanjia and Xu Xiao had destroyed one Spring and Autumn, then later, Han Shengxuan’s assassinations and Xu Xiao’s campaigns across the martial world together destroyed the martial sects.
Han Diaosi flung all his whips into the air. They cracked like firecrackers, surged like serpents crossing a river, and brought another storm of blood and gore.
On the carriage, the sword-maniac Wang Xiaoping whispered, “After descending the mountain and entering the world, I learned that peace reigns beneath the heavens, except for the smoke of war in the north, which stains the blue sky year after year.”
He opened the second box behind him and drew out Fengsui.
The first sword, Xiaofei, soared like a great rainbow. The second sword, Fengsui, rose only a zhang from its box before halting midair. It did not charge directly at Han Diaosi but moved forward in a strange, serpentine way, like a snake hunting. It entangled and destroyed all the crimson whips filled with killing intent.
After eliminating the crimson serpents of chaos, Fengsui exhausted its strength and could not reach Han Diaosi, the master of the whips. It shattered in midair, turning to dust and vanishing with the wind.
Wang Xiaoping formed a seal with his fingers. The wind howled, the clouds surged, and all entered the sword box. The final sword, Geliutou, shot straight into the sky.
Han Diaosi, with only a little of the crimson rope left on his arm, extended his left hand to caress the serpents he had lived with for most of his life. He looked up at the sky, stomped his foot, and the earth shook.
All the horses and riders felt a deep tremor beneath them.
The young assassin on the carriage roof collapsed in defeat.
The second iron arrow, carefully hidden, was still crushed under Han Diaosi’s foot.
Han Diaosi, who had been gazing at the sky, suddenly smiled and murmured, “When I was young, I too envied the wandering swordsmen in green robes.”
The human-cat, who had shown no sign of fatigue during the entire battle, gently clapped his hands. The crimson ropes peeled away and gathered into a single line, forming the shape of a sword.
From the heavens, the sword Geliutou descended, accompanied by several thick bolts of lightning.
Before Han Diaosi, a three-foot crimson sword rose into the air.
With the last of the crimson rope now gone, Han Diaosi launched himself upward like a comet, aiming directly at Xu Fengnian as the line-sword blocked Geliutou.
Qing Niao’s face, pale as if in the final moments of life, suddenly flushed with vitality. She threw her spear with all her might.
It was a move worth a life for a single strike.
Ten zhang away, the Thunder Pool sword formation was deployed. Han Diaosi raised both hands to his chest and tore them apart.
Nine flying swords were wrenched away, drifting dozens of zhang into the distance like soulless ghosts. They fell lifelessly to the ground, showing that Xu Fengnian could no longer control them.
Xu Fengnian now held Liang Dao in his left hand and Chunqiu in his right. The Two Sleeves of Green Snake, taught by the old man in sheepskin, surged forth. Unlike the sword maid Cuihua of the Wu family, whose sword techniques were more outwardly similar, Xu’s were more inwardly profound, capturing their essence.
When Li Chungan was at the peak of his power, he declared, “One sleeve cuts down all swords of the world, one sleeve shatters the brows of beauties.”
That was true elegance.
But Xu Fengnian was no Li Chungan, the sword god who was unmatched in both swordsmanship and sword intent. The Heaven’s Will cultivation he had stolen, along with the Finger-Sky techniques, were all naturally suppressed by Han Diaosi. The human-cat, overflowing with killing intent, ignored the shredded sleeves and slid his hands along the sword and saber blades. His left hand struck Xu Fengnian’s head with a slap.
Xu’s head jerked to the right. His right hand was slapped again.
Behind Xu, the The Crimson Robe of Shadows knelt on both knees. One face, filled with compassion, began to bleed purple-gold blood. The other, filled with joy, bled golden blood.
Han Diaosi roared, “Zhao Kai cannot sit on the Dragon Throne, and you, Xu Fengnian, dare to call yourself the King of Beiliang?!”
After his words, Han seized Xu Fengnian’s throat with one hand and clenched his fist with the other, smashing it into the prince’s forehead.
The kneeling shadow’s head was struck as if by a deadly hammer, flying backward nearly eighteen zhang. Its five arms clawed at the ground, nails breaking, but it refused to let go. Finally, it stopped at sixteen zhang.
In that trench, purple-gold blood stained the ground.
Han Diaosi sneered, “Beiliang Dao?”
The old eunuch slammed his elbow down. Xu Fengnian’s arm cracked, and sixteen zhang away, the The Crimson Robe of Shadows’s arm broke.
The Beiliang Dao fell gently to the ground.
The spear of In an instant struck Han Diaosi from behind.
Han casually waved his free hand. Xu Fengnian, his face expressionless, struggled to raise his right hand and weakly pressed the Chunqiu sword against Han’s heart.
Han Diaosi, lost in madness, tightened his grip on Xu’s throat and lifted him off the ground. The The Crimson Robe of Shadows’s neck bore a deep bruise.
Han Diaosi laughed coldly, “Six hundred riders remain, plus Wang Xiaoping, who has not reached the realm of a land immortal, and Yuan Zuo Zong, who is rushing here to collect corpses. Do you think any of them can harm me?”
The sword tip trembled, always pointing at Han’s heart.
Han Diaosi’s expression calmed and he said, “Don’t worry, after you die, I won’t leave. I will kill Wang Xiaoping and Yuan Zuo Zong, and on the Yellow Spring Road, I will kill you again.”
Looking at the unusually young face, the cold peach-blossom eyes, Han Diaosi felt a surge of intense hatred. He smiled softly and said, “Die!”
Xu Fengnian nodded.
Die.
A sword pierced through the chest, cold to the heart.
The Chunqiu sword flew a thousand li.
Someone borrowed the sword Chunqiu in the Wudi City of the East Sea.
He once exchanged an arm with the peak Li Chungan.
He once swallowed countless swords into his belly.
This strike was so fierce that it pierced Han Shengxuan’s heart at its peak and forced his body to drift backward in a desolate manner.
It was not only Xu Fengnian’s first strike but also the ancestral sword of the Sui family piercing Han Shengxuan’s heart.
Sacrificing a thousand riders was merely a distraction, a flourish.
This strike that traveled ten thousand li was the true act of kindness in the snow.
Xu Fengnian strode forward, leaped, and struck Han Shengxuan’s head with a palm, his expression complex.
The Celestial Palm.
One strike forced Han Diaosi to his knees in the snow!
The human-cat, his heart shattered, bled from all seven orifices.
He struggled to rise.
Xu Fengnian struck again with another palm.
With a thud, Han Diaosi, his silver hair in disarray, knelt once more.
Xu Fengnian delivered a slashing hand strike, severing the head of the greatest eunuch in the world.
Without glancing at the headless corpse kneeling on the ground, Xu turned to lift the The Crimson Robe of Shadows from the pool of blood, picked up the Beiliang Dao, and walked toward the battlefield littered with broken limbs and carnage, supporting the critically wounded Qing Niao.
All the armored riders dismounted in unison.
Xu Fengnian said solemnly, “Remove your armor!”
The soldiers of Beiliang held only the swords and armor of Beiliang!
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