Wuxia: Become the 100-Victory Sword King at the Beginning

Chapter 241. Mingyu's Divine Skill Dispels the Darkness, Triumphant News from the Grasslands Celebrates Heroic Spirit

Liu Guihua threw her head back and laughed heartily. Her laughter was as loud and unrestrained as a sudden thunderclap in the summer, the rolling sound waves echoing wildly across the vast grassland, startling several birds in the distance into flapping their wings and taking flight.

She slammed her hand down on the sword at her waist, the scabbard striking her palm with a dull thud. Her eyes gleamed with confidence and arrogance as she declared loudly, "With my husband leading the way, what storm can't we weather? Today, this Blood Rakshasa was routed by us! From now on, any foolish scoundrels who dare to provoke us will be made to return home empty-handed. They'll know the might of our brothers! My husband possesses unparalleled martial arts skills; in this martial world, who can rival him?"

After saying that, a confident smile appeared on her lips, and her eyes were full of admiration and trust for Shi Feiyang.

It was the height of summer, and the blazing sun beat down relentlessly on the grassland that had just been ravaged by a fierce battle.

On the grassland, the green grass was deeply stained with blood. The crimson blood contrasted with the emerald green grass, creating a shocking and tragic scene.

A gentle breeze swept by, carrying with it a strong, pungent smell of blood, which mingled with the scent of grass, filling the air and making one want to vomit.

Shi Feiyang stood with his hands behind his back, quietly gazing at the chaotic scene before him, his heart filled with mixed emotions.

He recalled the past, the endless conflicts in the martial world, the countless innocent lives lost, and how, as the leader of the Xiong Ying Society, he bore the heavy responsibility of upholding justice in the martial world. The road ahead was long and arduous, and he might have to endure countless battles.

He quietly sheathed the Heavenly Frost Blade, the sharp blade disappearing in an instant like a fleeting flash of cold light into the deerskin pouch at his waist, invisible to ordinary people. Having experienced this battle, Shi Feiyang was now certain that he no longer needed any weapons; his own hands were the most powerful divine weapons in the world, enough to roam freely in this treacherous martial world, protecting his brothers, his wife, and countless civilians.

Then, Shi Feiyang raised his arm and shouted in a booming voice, "Brothers, back to camp!"

The voice was firm and powerful, carrying an innate majesty that seemed to pierce the clouds, inspiring awe in all who heard it.

The heroes and ladies responded enthusiastically. After packing their belongings, the group marched in a grand procession toward the camp, their steps neat and powerful, demonstrating the unity and spirit of the Xiong Ying Society.

Blood Rakshasa, with a solemn expression and heavy steps as if filled with lead, slowly returned to the Khorchin tribe.

She walked straight to Dugu Yan, bowed slightly, clasped her hands in a salute, and said slowly, her tone full of self-reproach and guilt, "Senior Brother Dugu, this time I am truly incompetent and have failed your trust. Shi Feiyang's martial arts are extraordinary, and although I tried my best and used all my skills, I still could not kill him. I am truly ashamed of your trust and invitation, and I hope you will forgive me. I am filled with resentment at this defeat and wish I could fight Shi Feiyang again immediately, but the difference in strength is obvious, and I have to admit defeat."

She lowered her head slightly, her eyes filled with regret and disappointment.

Dugu Yan looked dejected, her eyes were empty and lifeless, as if she had lost her focus, and she seemed to have lost her soul.

Without uttering a word, he slowly turned and left, not even nodding in acknowledgment. His back view appeared extremely lonely, and every step he took was extremely heavy, his inner loss and pain overflowing.

He had been hoping that Blood Rakshasa would avenge his five sons, but now that his hopes had been dashed, the despair in his heart overwhelmed him like a surging tide.

Lan Xiaodie stood aside, taking in all of this, and was deeply shocked.

She never imagined that the Blood Rakshasa, who shocked the martial arts world, would actually be defeated by Shi Feiyang.

That night, the desert sandstorm howled and raged outside the tent, the sound of the wind as chilling as the wailing of ghosts and wolves.

Lan Xiaodie lay on the felt blanket, staring straight at the top of the tent, tossing and turning, unable to fall asleep.

The image of Shi Feiyang kept appearing in her mind. His unparalleled martial arts skills, every move seemed to contain the power to destroy the world; his calm demeanor and composure in the face of powerful enemies filled her with awe.

She couldn't help but wonder to herself, who exactly is this Shi Feiyang, that he has such abilities?
Is there truly an insurmountable gap between him and himself?
Blood Rakshasa's disciples Liu Pingsheng, Wu Zhengliang, and Ling Lanzhi sat around the campfire, their minds churning as they watched the flickering flames.

Liu Pingsheng frowned, his face full of worry, and said, "I never expected Shi Feiyang's martial arts to be so unparalleled. Even my master is no match for him. We were thinking of taking revenge on him before, but now it seems that we were simply overestimating ourselves."

Wu Zhenliang sighed, shook his head helplessly, and said, "Yes, what should we do? Our 'hatred' with him is probably not easy to resolve. If we rashly go to cause trouble for him again, it will be like throwing an egg against a rock."

Ling Lanzhi remained silent, a hint of confusion in her eyes. She was also pondering whether she should re-examine her grudge against Shi Feiyang. She had been blinded by hatred all along, but now it seemed perhaps she should let go of her prejudices and rethink her future path. That night, they all suffered from insomnia, their hearts filled with confusion and unease about the future, as if they were adrift at a vast ocean, having lost their way.

When the Khorchin tribe leader Keerza and Prince Wenhunnie heard that Xue Luosha had been defeated and returned, although they had given up hope for her, the situation of the alliance with the Ordos tribe to attack the Lindan tribe was already imminent and could not be delayed in the slightest.

At this moment, Kerza forced a smile and said to Blood Rakshasa and his disciples, as well as Lan Xiaodie, "Don't be discouraged, everyone. Victory and defeat are common occurrences in war. Our alliance with the Ordos tribe is of utmost importance, and I hope you will continue to contribute to the tribe. As long as we work together, what is there to worry about in achieving great things?"

After saying this, he slightly cupped his hands in a gesture of respect.

Although the smile looked extremely fake, it calmed the hearts of Blood Rakshasa and his disciples at this crucial moment.

Although Blood Rakshasa and his disciples were unwilling, they knew they could not easily back down at this moment. They could only suppress their dissatisfaction for the time being and prepare for the upcoming tribal war.

The next morning, as the sun rose, its golden rays, like a thin veil, gently fell upon the vast desert, making the entire desert seem as if it were gilded with gold, shimmering and shining.

Keerza looked grave and hurried to find Lan Xiaodie.

He clasped his hands in a fist and bowed, his tone full of earnestness and anxiety, and said, "Leader Lan, the situation is now extremely urgent. We still need your continued help to find martial arts masters for our tribe. No matter how much gold or silver it costs, as long as it helps us defeat the Lin Dan tribe, we will spare no effort. Conflicts in the martial world are ever-changing, and this battle concerns the survival of our tribe. We hope that Leader Lan can lend us his full support."

Lan Xiaodie nodded slightly, her expression calm, but her eyes revealed a hint of determination. She replied, "Please rest assured, leader. Since I have accepted the task, I will do my utmost to live up to your trust. In this martial world, the strong prey on the weak, and everyone serves their own master. I will definitely find a capable expert for you, leader, to carve a bloody path for you in this chaotic world."

Having said this, she turned and instructed her twelve sword maids to take a large amount of carefully prepared gold and silver jewelry, which shimmered brilliantly in the sunlight and were priceless. Then, she led her twelve sword maids and gracefully embarked on their journey. Their figures gradually disappeared into the desert, leaving a string of shallow footprints, and the dust they raised swirled in the sunlight, like a mysterious painting.

The Ordos tribe has always been ambitious, like a hungry tiger, coveting the vast land of the Lindan tribe, attempting to annex it in order to strengthen its own power and dominate the grassland.

The Khorchin tribe, lured by profit, colluded with the Ordos tribe like greedy wolves, hoping to get a share of the spoils.

Two weeks later, on this vast, boundless desert, the sun blazed down and the heat was unbearable.

The scorching sun poured down without any obstruction, as if to scorch the earth. The Ordos tribe and the Khorchin tribe secretly formed an alliance and amassed a large army.

The soldiers were dressed in heavy armor, which gleamed coldly under the blazing sun, exuding a chilling aura.

They held weapons, spears like a forest, blades like snow. Warhorses neighed incessantly, their high-pitched cries seeming to herald the impending battle. Military banners fluttered wildly in the wind, displaying the tribe's majesty.

They marched aggressively towards the territory of the Lindan tribe, like a surging tide, thus beginning a brutal intertribal conflict. The grassland was about to be plunged into a bloodbath, and countless lives were likely to be lost.

The Lindan tribe is currently facing a joint attack from the Ordos and Khorchin tribes, and its situation is extremely precarious.

The air on the grassland seemed to freeze under the tension, filled with a suffocating sense of oppression.

Everyone could sense that a life-or-death battle was about to begin.

The Mongol cavalry leader, Haktu, was a burly and robust man, resembling a towering mountain. His face, full of fleshy muscles, trembled with every movement, and his eyes gleamed with ferocity and greed, like a hungry vulture ready to pounce on its prey.

The deputy leader, Batel, was agile and nimble, with eyes as sharp as a falcon's, as if he could see through everything.

Entrusted by Hahatu, the leader of the Ordos tribe, and Keerza, the leader of the Khorchin tribe, the two men accepted large bribes from the two tribes and instantly became like mad dogs, losing all reason.

They led their cavalry and a group of martial arts masters, galloping towards them.

The sound of hooves thundered, as if a thousand horses were galloping by, shaking the earth slightly.

Their more than ten thousand cavalrymen, like a surging tide, swept towards the simple castle that Shi Feiyang had built on the grassland with boundless power, their momentum threatening to flatten it in an instant. From afar, they drew their bows and nocked their crossbows, the crossbows gleaming with a cold, piercing luster in the sunlight, like lurking venomous snakes, exuding a deadly aura.

Crossbow bolts rained down, their sharp, piercing whistling sounds echoing as they shot towards the patrolmen and gatekeepers of the small castle.

However, they never expected that this seemingly ordinary little castle held a hidden secret.

The patrolmen and city gate guards they shot were all straw men.

The enemy bandits, oblivious to the danger, continued shouting and brandishing their long sabers, the blades flashing as they surged towards the small castle like a torrent of steel. Upon entering the castle, their warhorses stumbled and plunged headlong into deep pits beneath the dry grass.

At the bottom of those deep pits, sharp bamboo and iron tips stood upright, gleaming coldly in the sunlight, like ferocious fangs.

The warhorses and cavalry were instantly pierced by these spikes. In an instant, men screamed and horses neighed, their voices intertwining in a mournful and agonizing chorus, as if they were wails from hell.

Blood splattered everywhere, staining the land red. Blood mist filled the air, and the stench of blood was so strong that it made people want to vomit.

At this moment, Shi Feiyang, hiding behind the small castle, was dressed in a snow-white robe. His posture was upright, like a majestic mountain peak, standing firm and unyielding. He had a handsome face and skin as white as mutton fat jade, warm and lustrous.

At first glance, he appears to be a frail scholar, yet his demeanor exudes an air of refined elegance.

However, who would have thought that he was actually the leader of the world-renowned Xiong Ying Society?

He has maintained the appearance of an eighteen-year-old for many years, as if time has stood still for him. This is all because he successfully cultivated the highest level of the Mingyu Gong, and later, by chance, successfully cultivated the "Sacred Heart Technique".

Even he himself never expected that he would forever retain the appearance of an eighteen-year-old and embark on the path to immortality.

At this moment, Shi Feiyang stood with his hands behind his back, his gaze like two sharp swords, sweeping over the group of enemy bandits who had died tragically before him.

On the grassland, corpses lay strewn everywhere, and blood gushed forth, forming crimson streams that, under the scorching sun, exuded a nauseating stench of blood.

Shi Feiyang was filled with emotion, thinking to himself, "The path of the martial world should be a place of chivalry and mutual assistance, but these people have been blinded by profit. For their own selfish desires, they have wantonly stirred up conflicts and caused great suffering. Today, I will make them know that justice is like the blazing sun. Although it may be obscured by dark clouds at times, its light is ultimately unstoppable and will never be trampled on by anyone."

He turned around, facing the crowd behind him, his expression cold and resolute.

Beside him stood the elders of the Xiong Ying Society, their eyes gleaming with the composure and fortitude of seasoned veterans of the martial world.

Liao Pei, wielding the "Tongbei Fist," moved with agility, his arms resembling two nimble snakes, creating a whistling sound with each slight movement. Lie Quan, wielding the "Qiankun Blade," gripped the imposing Qiankun Blade tightly in both hands.

The blade gleamed with a cold light, as if recounting its glorious past achievements.

Wu Zhong, nicknamed "Iron Palm," is a burly and robust man, resembling a towering mountain. His hands are thick and powerful, seemingly containing immense strength. Xiao Lingling, the head of the quartermaster and known as "Mandarin Duck Blades," has a graceful figure, yet her eyes reveal a heroic spirit. The mandarin duck blades in her hands gleam with a cold luster in the sunlight.

Xie Wen, the leader of the Spy Hall and known as the "Flying Eagle Detective," possesses eyes as sharp as an eagle's, seemingly able to see through everything. He is dressed in a black, close-fitting outfit and moves silently. Miao Menlong, the leader of the Divine Arrow Hall and known as the "Divine Archer," carries a longbow on his back, and his quiver is full of sharp arrows.

The longbow in his hands seemed to come alive; the deputy leader, "Plum Blossom Dart" Shan Zhi, had nimble hands, and the plum blossom darts in his quiver gleamed faintly in the sunlight.

Although young, the young pageboy Shi Xiong has a clever and decisive look in his eyes.

Led by Shi Feiyang, these heroes and the three thousand disciples of the Xiong Ying Society, all were in high spirits, holding their repeating crossbows, ready for battle. The crossbows, crafted entirely of fine steel, gleamed with a cold metallic luster under the sunlight, radiating a chilling aura of power. The group stood in neat rows before the small castle's gates, forming an impregnable Great Wall of Steel, their imposing presence awe-inspiring.

As the remnants of the enemy, dejected and disheveled, crawled out of the deep pit, Shi Feiyang took a sudden step forward and shouted, "Villains, you have committed countless evils, today is your death day! Those who offend my Xiong Ying Society, no matter how far away, will be punished!"

His voice was like a booming bell, its rolling waves echoing across the battlefield, making people's eardrums ache, as if it wanted to shatter all the evil in the world.

Upon hearing this, the crowd was filled with excitement and began to pull the triggers on Ma Jun's repeating crossbows.

In an instant, crossbow bolts shot out like lightning, piercing the sky with immense force, like sharp arrows aimed at the remaining bandits.

The remaining bandits were unable to dodge in time and were hit by arrows and fell to the ground, their screams piercing the sky.

In an instant, smoke filled the air, dust billowed, and shouts of battle shook the heavens, plunging the castle into chaos. Amidst this life-or-death struggle and breathtaking spectacle, the duel between martial arts masters pushed the tension of this bloody battle to its peak.

Yuan Yebi, the leader of the "Seven-Skill Heart-Locking Sword" sect, wore a gray robe that fluttered in the wind like a dark cloud, exuding a cold and sinister aura. His face was ashen, and his eyes revealed a hint of ruthlessness. In his hands were seven swords forged in the same furnace, their blades long and slender, gleaming with a cold light. Under the sunlight, they seemed to flow with icy liquid, a light that could devour a person's soul.

He turned around like a whirlwind, his hands moving rapidly, his movements as fast as lightning.

Seven swords drew eerie and sharp arcs in the air, like seven agile venomous snakes, instantly forming a strange steel yoke around Wu Zhong and Xiao Lingling, binding them tightly in the center. Within the sword formation, sword energy crisscrossed, emitting a buzzing shriek, like the howling of countless vengeful ghosts, sending chills down one's spine. This sword formation was like an invisible cage, airtight; once trapped within, an ordinary person would sink like a quagmire, the more they struggled, the deeper they sank, with escape extremely difficult.

Upon seeing this, Wu Zhong inwardly cried out in alarm, knowing that the situation had reached a critical juncture.

He dared not slacken in the slightest and immediately activated the internal energy of the "Six Harmonies True Scripture".

In an instant, a faint golden halo appeared around him. The halo was gentle yet contained powerful energy, like a sacred armor that tightly protected him and exuded a righteous aura.

He unleashed the "Demon-Subduing Divine Palm," letting out a thunderous roar. His palms moved rapidly, like two agile dragons, each strike accompanied by a howling gale. The palm winds, like surging ocean waves, distorted and warped the surrounding air, whipping up sand and gravel from the ground, sending them flying in all directions like a miniature sandstorm.

Xiao Lingling was not to be outdone. She wielded two swords, one long and one short, and moved with agility, like a nimble swallow, weaving freely through the sword formation.

The two swords spun rapidly in her hands, flashing with light and creating a sharp gust of wind that seemed capable of cutting through the air.

She unleashed the "Seven Fiends Blade Technique," each move ruthless and vicious, the wind whistling as if to slice everything around her into pieces. The couple stood side by side, their minds in perfect harmony; with a glance, they understood each other's intentions.

One wielded a fierce palm strike, the other a ruthless swordsmanship; their perfect coordination led to a fierce battle against the Seven Wonders Locking Heart Sword Formation.

In an instant, swords flashed and shadows danced, shouts of battle and the clash of weapons mingled together, sparks flew everywhere, and the scene was breathtaking.

As Wu Zhong made his move, he shouted, "You scoundrel, today I'll show you the power of my wife and me! How dare you villains bully the brothers of the Xiong Ying Society!"

His voice was firm and powerful, echoing between heaven and earth.

Lu Ling, a top disciple of the Kongtong Sect, dressed in a black outfit, was like a ghost in the dark night. His movements were as agile as a black lightning bolt, and he rushed towards Liao Pei, the master of "Tongbei Fist," with a sharp gust of wind.

His eyes gleamed with a cold light, like a hungry wolf eyeing its prey, his gaze revealing a ruthless and resolute determination.

He suddenly roared, his voice booming like a bell, and unleashed the "Seven Injury Fist." Once this fist technique was used, it immediately became incredibly powerful, like a thunderclap from a clear sky, shaking the surrounding air.

His punch contained seven completely different forces, like seven dragons of different attributes, intertwining and surging with each other in the wind of his punch, changing in countless ways and making it impossible to defend against.

These seven forces are either fierce and unparalleled, like Mount Tai pressing down, carrying immense power, seemingly capable of leveling a small mountain in an instant; or subtle and delicate, like a needle hidden in cotton, silently taking lives, striking without warning; or combining strength with gentleness, like the Tai Chi principle of combining strength and gentleness, using softness to overcome hardness, skillfully neutralizing the opponent's powerful attack, and then counterattacking; or combining gentleness with strength, like a hidden weapon with a concealed secret, catching the opponent off guard and striking their vitals unexpectedly; or striking horizontally like a giant axe splitting mountains and rocks, with astonishing power, leaving a crack in the ground wherever it goes; or shooting straight out like an arrow released from a bow, incredibly swift, penetrating the opponent's defenses in the blink of an eye; or retracting inward like a ferocious beast gathering its strength, waiting for its chance to strike, making one never dare to let their guard down.

Liao Pei's face was ashen, and fine beads of sweat glistened on his forehead in the sunlight. He knew all too well the power of the "Seven Injury Fist"; if struck, he would be severely injured, or even lose his life.

He dared not slacken in the slightest and immediately unleashed the Tongbei Fist. His arms moved like two agile whips, whistling through the air. Each swing generated a powerful gust of wind, stirring up the surrounding dust.

While parrying Lu Ling's attacks, he muttered to himself, "Hmph, so what if it's the Kongtong Sect's fist technique? My Tongbei Fist isn't to be trifled with either! Today I'll fight you, you villain, and see who the real strongman is!"

Each resistance was accompanied by a powerful impact, producing a dull sound in the air, like the beating of war drums.

Liao Pei gritted his teeth, thinking to himself, "If I can't stop this villain today, not only will my life be in danger, but I will also implicate my brothers. I must do my best to find his weakness and defeat him!"

He was completely focused, his eyes fixed on Lu Ling's every move, his gaze seemingly able to discern every intention of the other party, not missing a single detail.

At the same time, Ma Qian, a top disciple of the Kongtong Sect, moved through the battlefield like a ghost, an invisible shadow that was difficult to fathom. He unleashed the "Seven Severing and Seven Absolute Heartbreak Palm" and lunged at Lie Quan, wielding the "Heaven and Earth Blade".

With each wave of his hand, countless palm shadows appeared, each carrying a sinister aura, as if emanating from the deepest hell, sending chills down one's spine. A suffocating pressure filled the air, the entire space oppressed by the power of his palm technique.

Once this palm technique strikes, the person hit will undoubtedly die, and their face will be distorted, displaying a strange smile.

But this smile is more heartbreaking, tragic, and ugly than tears.

The so-called seven severances are: severance of the heart meridian, severance of the blood meridian, severance of the tendons meridian, severance of the liver and intestines, severance of the kidney water, severance of the bones, and severance of the wrist meridian; the seven absolutes are: absolutes of the heart, absolutes of the emotions, absolutes of gratitude, absolutes of desire, absolutes of suffering, absolutes of life and death, and absolutes of longing.

This palm technique can not only take a person's life, but also destroy their will, causing them to die in agony.

Lie Quan held the Qiankun Blade, its broad and heavy blade gleaming with a cold, icy light, like an indestructible shield.

He unleashed the Qiankun Blade Technique, his blade sweeping and flashing like a blazing sun, attempting to dispel the sinister palm strike.

Each slash carried immense power, the wind from the blades whistling and hissing as they cut through the surrounding air, leaving deep gashes on the ground.

Lie Quan roared, "Well done! Your evil palm technique has met its match today with my Qiankun Blade! Watch how I break your sorcery and show you the power of the Xiong Ying Society!" He and Ma Zheng exchanged blows, neither giving an inch, dust billowing and killing intent surging in the air. Every clash of weapons and palm techniques sparked dazzling sparks, like stars colliding.

Ling Zhuang, a master from Miao territory, wore a Miao costume embroidered with strange patterns. Under the sunlight, the patterns seemed to come alive, shimmering with an eerie light, telling of an ancient and mysterious curse.

His eyes held a chilling and eerie quality, like a cold star in the night sky, radiating an aura that sent shivers down one's spine.

At this moment, he unleashed the incredibly poisonous "Seven-Finger Technique," swiftly lunging towards Shan Zhi, the "Plum Blossom Dart." His fingers danced rapidly, their tips gleaming with an eerie light, like nimble venomous snakes flicking their deadly tongues.

Each swing of the sword brought forth a cloud of black poisonous mist. The mist spread out, corroding the air wherever it went, making a hissing sound, and the grass on the ground withered instantly, turning into black ash.

As Ling Zhuang made his move, he let out a sinister laugh: "Hmph, old man, today I'll let you taste the power of my Miao Jiang's unique poison! Under my 'Seven Cultivation Finger,' you will die a gruesome death!"

Upon seeing this, Shan Zhi was greatly alarmed. Knowing the power of this finger technique, he dared not be careless in the slightest and hurriedly brandished his plum blossom darts, trying to block Ling Zhuang's attack. Miao Menlong, the "Divine Archer," had eyes as sharp as a hawk's. Seeing that the attacker was hostile, he instantly sensed the critical situation.

He inwardly groaned, but as the head of the Divine Arrow Hall, he knew that there was no room for hesitation at this moment.

Without hesitation, he swiftly drew his bow, the movement flowing smoothly and effortlessly.

The longbow in his hand was forged from fine steel, the bowstring taut and gleaming with a cold luster.

He nocked an arrow, its arrowhead gleaming coldly, aimed directly at Ling Zhuang.

As Miao Menlong drew his bow, he shouted to Shan Zhi, "Brother Shan, don't panic! Today, the two of us will meet this villain from Miao territory and let him know that the Xiong Ying Society is not to be trifled with!" His voice was firm and powerful, echoing between heaven and earth, revealing a fearless courage.

Upon hearing this, Shan Zhi's spirits lifted, and his hands moved with such speed that they were dazzling to behold.

The plum blossom dart in his hand, though small and exquisite, concealed a deadly intent. Like tiny, cold stars, it flew out with a sharp whistling sound.

Each plum blossom dart carried his internal energy, drawing strange arcs in the air as it shot towards Ling Zhuang.

As Shan Zhi performed his dart technique, he shouted back, "Master Miao, let's fight side by side! Watch how I use this plum blossom dart to break his poison finger technique today!" Miao Menlong's archery skills were even more superb. He focused his eyes and kept a close eye on Ling Zhuang's every move.

Each arrow, fired with tremendous force, hurtled towards Ling Zhuang like a shooting star.

The arrow spun rapidly through the air, making a buzzing sound, like an angry hummingbird, carrying a deadly threat.

The arrowhead gleamed with a cold light, as if it could pierce through any obstacle.

In Miao territory, there is an extremely rare and exotic venomous snake called the Seven-Headed Snake. It has seven heads on its body and is incredibly venomous, like a poisonous creature from hell.

Whether human or animal, anyone bitten by one of its heads will instantly die, with no cure. Ling Zhuang's master used the venomous blood of the Seven-Headed Serpent to cultivate the Seven-Headed Finger technique through countless hardships in seclusion in the deep mountains and forests.

Those who practice the Seven Cultivation Finger technique must first swallow the bile of the Seven Cultivation Serpent, as well as a specially prepared antidote, to counteract the venom of the serpent's blood.

The bile was extremely bitter, unbearable for most people, and the process of making the antidote was even more complicated and required a variety of rare medicinal materials.

Once mastered, this finger technique is invincible; those poisoned will die instantly, and the finger wind emitted by the practitioner also carries a strange poison.

At this moment, Ling Zhuang's finger strikes spread out like a black poisonous fog, resembling a dark cloud, surging towards Shan Zhi and Miao Menlong. Wherever it went, the air was corroded, emitting a "sizzling" sound, as if scorched by raging fire.

The grass on the ground withered instantly, turning into black ash and emitting a pungent smell.

As Ling Zhuang unleashed his finger techniques, he let out a sinister laugh: "Hmph, two petty thieves, daring to oppose me! Today I'll let you taste the power of my Seven Cultivation Finger Technique, and turn you into pus and blood in this poisonous fog!"

The laughter was chilling, as if it came from the deepest hell.

While defending themselves, Shan Zhi and Miao Menlong carefully avoided the poisonous fog.

Their foreheads were covered in sweat, which slid down their cheeks, and their eyes revealed tension and anxiety.

Shan Zhi kept firing his plum blossom darts, trying to disrupt Ling Zhuang's offensive; Miao Menlong kept shooting arrows, using a rain of arrows to suppress Ling Zhuang.

Their figures moved nimbly through the poisonous fog, each dodge fraught with danger, teetering on the edge of life and death.

The Mongol cavalry leader, Haktu, was a burly and robust man, resembling a towering small mountain. His face, covered in thick, fleshy muscles, trembled with his movements, like a quivering mass of fat. His eyes were filled with ferocity and resentment.

He gripped a large sword tightly in his hand; the blade was broad and gleamed with a cold light.

The deputy leader, Batel, was agile and nimble, with eyes as sharp as a falcon's, as if he could see through the enemy's every intention.

He held a serrated knife, its sharp tip gleaming coldly in the sunlight.

The two led their remaining troops like a pack of crazed beasts, their eyes gleaming with bloodlust, as they launched a final assault on the disciples of the Xiong Ying Society.

The sound of hooves thundered, as if a thousand horses were galloping by, shaking the earth slightly.

Dust billowed, obscuring the sky and the sun; this place was like a powder keg ready to explode at any moment.

Shi Feiyang stood there, his expression cold and stern, like a majestic mountain peak that no one could shake.

He wore a long white robe that fluttered in the wind, adding to his mystery and majesty.

He lightly touched the ground with his feet, his figure as light as a falling snowflake, drifting down and standing alone in front of the enemy cavalry. His eyes were firm, revealing an innate confidence and domineering aura.

He slowly crossed his palms, and in an instant, the Mingyu Gong began to circulate at high speed.

His skin gradually became as transparent as jade, radiating a warm luster, like a jade-carved Buddha statue.

His power did not radiate outwards, but rather converged inwards like rivers flowing into the sea, forming a powerful energy vortex within his body.

His body was surrounded by a powerful vortex of true energy, like an invisible black hole, radiating a chilling power.

The surrounding air was drawn in by this suction force, forming streams of air that swirled around him.

The enemy cavalry, which had charged forward with great momentum, were drawn to Shi Feiyang uncontrollably, like a magnet encountering iron.

In an instant, the warhorses neighed, and the enemy bandits panicked. They desperately pulled on the reins, trying to control the horses, but to no avail.

As he unleashed his full power, Shi Feiyang's appearance became increasingly transparent, like pure white ice shrouded in a cold mist, radiating a chilling aura. That terrifying chill generated by his true energy was like sharp ice spikes, piercing straight into the hearts of the enemy bandits, causing them to tremble as if they had fallen into an ice cellar.

The enemy bandits felt a bone-chilling cold suddenly rise from their limbs and bones, as if countless tiny ice needles were piercing their marrow in an instant.

Their bodies began to freeze, starting with their fingertips and toes. The crystalline ice spread rapidly, climbing up their arms and calves like a surging tide. In the blink of an eye, they were frozen into ice sculptures, their expressions of ferocity or terror unchanged, standing stiffly on the battlefield.

(End of this chapter)