King of Hundred Victories Saber

Chapter 383 - 154: Flames of Weishan—Shi Feiyang Plots to Resist the Enemy, Lin Wanqing Stays by His Side

In the blink of an eye, the surrounding world seemed to have been placed under a deep freeze.

A thick and crystal-clear layer of frost quickly condensed on the ground, the frost resembling countless sharp ice spikes, shimmering with a ghostly cold light.

The once lush green vegetation, under the assault of this extreme chill, was instantly wrapped tightly in frost.

First, the leaves quickly faded, turning withered and yellow. Then, the branches began to shrivel, losing all vitality in an instant, trembling in the cold wind like countless aged elders.

This extreme cold, infused with a vast and majestic True Qi as tumultuous as rushing river waters, transformed into invisible yet razor-sharp blades capable of cutting through space, striking at Jingkou Qianli’s acupuncture points with overwhelming speed like a dense rain of arrows.

Jingkou Qianli was fully focused on maneuvering with Xie Wen, his nerves taut, completely unaware of the silent approach of this deadly cold.

He suddenly gasped in a mouthful of cold air, which instantly turned into ice shards within his body. The cold seemed like countless steel needles with barbs, viciously piercing into him, causing his entire blood flow to disrupt, running amok like untamed wild horses, and becoming lethargic.

His limbs and bones seemed tightly encased in a thick and hard ice, every muscle, every bone seemingly sieged, immobile. Every attempt to move became sluggish and difficult, as if trapped in an endless mire, every struggle requiring immense effort. Jingkou Qianli was terrified, like a beast trapped in a dead end.

In his panic, he gripped the Japanese Saber tightly with both hands, mustering his last strength to slash at Shi Feiyang.

However, his movements had long lost their former sharpness and grandeur, his arm trembling from blocked blood flow, his steps staggered and unsteady, his entire being barely able to withstand a stronger wind blowing him over.

Seeing this, Shi Feiyang sneered coldly, the sneer echoing like a wolf’s howl in the frigid night, filled with disdain and contempt.

His pace suddenly quickened, each step raising a cloud of dust, like a black bolt of lightning, he sped forward with the force of breaking wind, the air sliced by his sharp speed, producing a "whooshing" sound.

The Myanmar Saber in his hand was raised high, the blade flashing with a chilling light capable of making one’s soul shiver, aimed to sever all darkness, evil, and the bloody aura that permeated the battlefield.

With a deafening roar that seemed capable of shattering the firmament, Shi Feiyang slashed horizontally with seamless precision, fluid as a mountain stream cascading with force capable of cleaving a mighty mountain.

This slash was imbued with his full fury against the invaders and his firm resolve to protect home and uphold justice, like a beam of divine judgment from the heavens, descending with a world-destroying momentum towards Jingkou Qianli.

"Crack!" A crisp sound like a glacier shattering erupted, akin to a thunderclap shattering in this clamorous and chaotic battlefield. That sound overshadowed all others, extraordinarily clear, making everyone around jolt, their hearts seemingly trembling with the mighty noise.

Jingkou Qianli’s head, like a projectile forcefully launched with a spray of blood mist, flew through the air, tracing a bizarre and haunting arc laced with the stench of death, before landing heavily on the ground, raising a cloud of murky dust, speckled with hints of blood.

His headless body, propelled by inertia, staggered a few more steps forward before thudding to the ground with a dull sound like drumming.

Blood gushed like a fountain from his neck, instantly staining the surrounding ground red, adding another horrifying, gut-wrenching crimson patch to the already blood-soaked, heavily sanguinary-smelling soil, rapidly spreading as if seeking to engulf the heavens and the earth.

On the battlefield, smoke and fire continued to churn like a roaring black tide, enveloping the entire world, as if to bury everything in endless darkness.

The sounds of battle cries and the clash of weapons melded into a tragic and magnificent symphony, capable of stirring one’s blood while filling the heart with sorrow, echoing endlessly in the air.

Among the battle cries were angry roars, agonizing screams, and unyielding shouts; within the clashing weapons’ sounds were the "ding-dang" of swords meeting, the "puff" of lances piercing, and the "thud" of shields blocking.

After successfully slaying Iwata Jiro, Lin Wanqing’s sword still dripped with the enemy’s warm and viscous blood, the sunlight reflecting strangely and coldly off those droplets, as if casting a hellish glow, narrating the brutal and bloody battle that had just occurred, each drop seemingly an echo of a life gone.

Her gaze, sharp as a torch, seemed capable of penetrating the smoke, quickly locking onto Takeda Sanroku, who was fiercely battling Liu Dayou.

She moved with graceful elegance, like a resilient and steadfast green lotus blooming proudly in a raging storm, both graceful and full of strength.

With a light tap of her toes on the ground, raising a cloud of dust, her figure darted towards Takeda Sanroku like lightning, leaving only a fleeting, transient afterimage in the air. Her speed was such that it stirred the surrounding air into small currents, causing her hair and clothing to rustle.