Surveying the entire battlefield, perhaps only Song Zining understood the reason behind it all.
Song Zining, limping and with steadfast resolve, was slowly ascending the Holy Mountain.
Suddenly, the clamor of battle cries filled the air as a band of mercenaries appeared at the base of the Holy Mountain. Roaring fiercely, they charged up the mountain, each one fearless in the face of death. They knew not what lay at the summit; they only knew that the banner pointed towards the top of the Holy Mountain, and with the characteristic bloodlust and ferocity of neutral ground mercenaries, they surged upwards.
More and more mercenaries began to appear at the foot of the mountain, joining the ascent. The city guards, who should have been present, were conspicuously absent.
A young mercenary dashed to the base of the Holy Mountain, halting for a brief moment to catch his breath and gaze up at the peak. His face still bore a hint of youthful innocence, perhaps he was only fifteen or sixteen, but his frame was tall and imposing. His young face was streaked with blood, which he did not seem to notice, his eyes fixed on the summit, for that was the goal of their charge.
Suddenly, a powerful force struck him from behind, sending him crashing to the ground. Turning, he saw a grizzled, bearded face. The older mercenary pointed to a spot nearby on the ground, “Boy, if you want to live, be sharper! Next time, you might not be so lucky.”
The spot indicated by the older mercenary had a small, perfectly round hole, its walls gleaming as if cut by sword energy. This flying sword beam, originating from some unknown source, would have turned the young mercenary into a corpse had he not been knocked down.
After this warning, the older mercenary continued his charge towards the summit. The young man quickly scrambled to his feet, ready to resume the climb. Suddenly, he felt a sharp pain in his palm. Looking down, he saw a silver emblem embedded in his hand, resembling a rune of unknown material.
At that moment, the war horns sounded again. Hastily, the young mercenary yanked out the rune and tossed it to the ground, resuming his charge up the mountain.
As the rune fell into the soil, it faintly glowed, but a soldier’s boot landed squarely on it, pressing it back into the earth. The mercenary, oblivious to what he had stepped on, continued his frenzied charge with red eyes.
Song Zining, struggling halfway up the mountain, looked up just in time to see a watery blue sword light slicing across the sky, aiming for Luo Bingfeng. Luo Bingfeng casually deflected the sword light and retaliated with three successive sword beams. Li Kuanglan, moving like lightning, evaded two of the beams. The third, however, was unusually off-target and would have missed even if she had not dodged.
On the other side of the Holy Mountain, Qian Ye struggled to his feet once more. His previously sunken chest had nearly returned to normal. Placing his hands on his chest, he carefully aligned and reconnected his broken ribs, then exhaled. Despite the pain causing sweat to bead on his forehead, the super-strong inner armor prevented Luo Bingfeng’s kick from shattering his blood core.
Luo Bingfeng had not anticipated Qian Ye’s formidable defense. Had he known, he would have used full force. But now, there was no opportunity to land another decisive blow.
Feeling the rapid growth and reconnection of his bones and flesh, Qian Ye retrieved the Twinflower and took to the skies once more. Against a powerhouse like Luo Bingfeng, the East Peak was of little use; only the Primordial Gun could provide sufficient deterrent.
At this moment, Luo Bingfeng’s hair was disheveled, his demeanor near-mad, a far cry from the composed figure he had been at the start of the battle.
Qian Ye immediately noticed that something was amiss. In a short span, Luo Bingfeng had shown a flaw and made two less-than-ideal strikes. Moments ago, Luo Bingfeng had seemed like a god of war, every move flawless, giving no openings. It had taken Qian Ye risking his life to grab onto one of Luo Bingfeng’s legs to get a shot with the Primordial Gun.
Now, Luo Bingfeng fought alone against the Empire’s elite and the horde of mercenaries, still overwhelmingly powerful, but he had become human again.
This subtle change was apparent to Qian Ye, even if others still saw Luo Bingfeng as an unstoppable killing machine. He couldn’t pinpoint the cause, but he knew it boded well. His eyes glowed blue as he activated True Sight, focusing intently on Luo Bingfeng, waiting for the moment to deliver the fatal blow.
Luo Bingfeng now resembled a giant beast surrounded by wolves, with powerful adversaries swarming around him.
Another watery blue sword light flashed by, striking Luo Bingfeng’s shoulder and drawing a line of blood.
The morale of the Empire’s strong surged; to them, this was the first real injury Luo Bingfeng had sustained. Although it was merely a flesh wound, the true damage had been inflicted by Qian Ye’s Primordial Gun. Yet, the subtleties of the gun were lost on these ordinary warriors.
Sensing Luo Bingfeng’s weakness, the strong rushed to attack. But their assault only ignited his fury. With a long, piercing howl, his figure flickered like a specter, each flash bringing a trail of blood. In an instant, six of the Empire’s strong were sent plummeting to the ground, their blood staining the sky.
The others, startled, scattered in fear, ignoring Ji Tianqing’s warnings. Only Elder Li and the aged Imperial elders, among a few others, remained, fighting to protect Li Kuanglan and Ji Tianqing’s retreat.
Luo Bingfeng did not pursue Li Kuanglan, who had wounded him. Instead, he descended to the ground, casting a shower of jade-colored sword light, like rain, over the mercenaries climbing the Holy Mountain.
Though the rain was fine, it was deadly to the mercenaries. A single touch of the sword rain, regardless of where it landed, sapped their vitality, leaving them weak and unable to continue after a few steps before collapsing.
In one wave, almost all the mercenaries at the forefront were wiped out, with only those furthest away surviving.
The charge of the mercenaries faltered, many looking skyward, their fiery resolve replaced by fear. But instead of receiving support from the Empire’s strong, they faced another wave of sword rain. In moments, hundreds more mercenaries fell along the mid-slopes of the Holy Mountain.
The battlefield for ordinary soldiers and the strong was different. Even a typical divine general, let alone Luo Bingfeng, would seldom deign to strike at common troops. The worthy opponents of the strong were only the strong.
Until now, Luo Bingfeng had behaved similarly, disregarding even the average strong, let alone the common mercenaries. Only Qian Ye, Song Zining, Elder Li, and the Imperial elder could command his attention.
Thus, though the heavens raged with the battle of the strong, the mercenaries continued their charge, the distant clash seeming too far removed. But none expected Luo Bingfeng to suddenly descend upon them, slaughtering thousands of mercenaries with ease. Such a move rendered the battle unwinnable.
The mercenaries wondered where the Empire’s strong were now.
After two swift attacks, Luo Bingfeng roared, “Get off the Holy Mountain! Whoever dares to take another step will be executed without mercy!”
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