I Have the Martial Arts Heavenly Eye in the Storm Riders

The raging waves roared and surged beneath the deep, inky night sky.

The Emperor stood with his hands behind his back at the bow of the ship. With a flick of his finger, the corpse of the once mighty martial arts god, which had once dominated Japan, instantly became like a broken and useless piece of chess, stiffly tracing a desolate arc before being swallowed up by the greedy waves, without even a ripple.

A snow-white silk handkerchief dangled gracefully from between his strong fingers. His movements were precise and deliberate as he wiped away the non-existent bloodstains inch by inch, his expression as cold and stern as if he were merely flipping through an insignificant tattered scroll.

On the cracked, sunken wooden deck, Fire Wolf gripped the blood-soaked wood with his five fingers, barely managing to lift his head, which felt as heavy as lead.

Witnessing this still-warm final blow, a chilling coldness originating from the depths of his bones instantly swept over him.

Having followed His Majesty for half his life, he originally thought that the emperor before him was just a supreme strategist who was good at playing the game of the world and manipulating power on the edge of the abyss. He was physically weak and had mediocre martial arts skills, and relied on his group of top-notch assassins to protect him with their lives.

But that move that just crushed the Heavenly Net had shattered all the martial arts common sense and the understanding of the relationship between ruler and subject that he had firmly believed in throughout his life.

That's the God of Kung Fu.

A madman who once shattered half of Japan with his bare fists and whose strength even the god of death dared not directly confront, was annihilated in the Emperor's seemingly casual wave of the hand.

"Your Majesty...you..."

Fire Wolf's throat throbbed violently, and the syllables that escaped his mouth were hoarse and dry, like the friction of gravel.

He looked up at the imposing figure whose silhouette was outlined in pale gold by the cold moonlight. The awe he once held in his eyes had long since shattered, replaced by an absolute terror at the collapse of known limits.

This usually gentle and unassuming emperor is actually the most untouchable abyss on this archipelago.

The silk handkerchief drifted out with the howling sea wind, tangled among the towering waves, and finally disappeared into the darkness.

The Emperor's gaze swept across the vast expanse of blue water, then settled once more on the distant, gradually decaying, yet still brimming with an aura of destruction, orange-red.

That was the end of the Godless Palace, and also the cremation of the old order of Japan.

"With the East secured, the next step is the Central Plains."

He stood with his hands behind his back, gazing westward, letting the fierce wind whip his dark purple hunting robes in the wind. His gaze pierced through the heavy mist at the horizon, aiming straight for the land of China that slumbered in ancient legends.

"I will personally sever the dragon veins of this land, and let all the rivers and mountains fall into my hands!"

Above the ruins of the Godless Palace, the scorched earth still smelled pungent.

Nie Feng and Bu Jingyun sat cross-legged, their bodies enveloped in a faint vortex of true energy, as they circulated their internal energy to regulate themselves.

The night wind was like a steel blade, stirring up the gunpowder that had accumulated among the ruins.

In this deathly darkness, only the faint sound of bloodstains drying and peeling could be heard intermittently among the ruins.

Suddenly, two chilling killing intents, as cold as the ice of the far north, silently attacked from the blind spot on the flanks, moving with incomprehensible speed, like deadly hooks suddenly emerging from the depths of hell.

To the left, a terrifying black shadow, as massive as a mountain of flesh, suddenly rose from the ground.

The strange man's feet shattered the void, and the surrounding air exploded with a thunderous roar due to extreme compression.

An entire dark mountain peak, exuding a strong stench, crashed headlong into Nie Feng with terrifying force as if it were collapsing from the sky.

Under this overwhelming pressure, not to mention flesh and blood, even ancient rocks would be pulverized by this one stomp.

Accompanying the sudden thunder was a strange monk's robe that flickered uncertainly in the bloody wind.

Dozens of afterimages of monks' robes materialized into an array in an instant, indistinguishable from the real thing, and simultaneously approached within three feet of Bu Jingyun like a hundred ghosts walking at night.

The illusion danced wildly to deceive people, while the real body had already transformed into a silent, sharp finger strike, using the illusion as cover to pierce straight into Bu Jingyun's brow.

This series of attacks struck precisely at the critical juncture when Feng and Yun's old strength had dissipated and new energy had not yet arisen, their consciousness plunging into a momentary state of chaos.

A strong wind was blowing overhead, and even my scalp was throbbing.

Nie Feng remained seated cross-legged, but his eyelids suddenly snapped open in that instant.

Those usually gentle eyes now held only a chilling, deathly crimson light.

"roar!"

A roar that shattered the earth's lungs and nearly tore apart the throat exploded out.

The Snow Drinking Cold Blade, which had long since merged with his five fingers, transformed into a streak of pitch-black, merciless lightning, flowing upstream and striking the descending "Mount Tai"!

Demon Blade – Demonic energy surges forth!

In an instant, the ink-black blade of energy severed the vast sea fog and the chilling moonlight.

With a chilling, muffled cracking sound, the enormous, despair-inducing body was brutally sliced ​​in two by the black lightning.

Scalding blood mixed with fragments of tissue cascaded down like a waterfall, and the two mountain-sized remains of the corpse smashed through the scorched earth, raising clouds of dust.

Bu Jingyun was deeply immersed in illusions, his eyes devoid of any restlessness, only displaying a cold and decisive killing intent.

The vast true essence originating from the nameless within his body interacted and fused with the mysterious sword energy and the Cloud-Dispelling Palm Force. Surprisingly, under the heavy pressure of these illusory curtains, he broke through the last bottleneck at this moment and completely stepped into the pinnacle of the Grandmaster.

Before this new force, powerful enough to shake the heavens and earth and cleanse the winds and clouds, mere phantoms are nothing but clay chickens and earthen dogs, instantly pulverized by the sword intent.

Bu Jingyun suddenly let out a cold shout that tore through the night wind.

The true energy that was originally as still and majestic as a deep pool instantly transformed into a chaotic wave that surged into the sky.

The violent internal energy surged outwards like a burst dam, shattering the surrounding layers of monks into pieces.

With a flick of his finger, Leng Li pointed out a mysterious and incomparably sharp sword vein that shot out from his fingertip and pierced the air.

Mysterious Sword Technique – One Strike Makes You Famous!

The rainbow-like sword light tore through the illusion, so fast that even the eyes could not catch it, and instantly pierced through the monk's brow.

Without uttering a single dying scream, the renowned Japanese illusionist fell straight backward.

A bright red spot between his brows cracked rapidly, and his eyes were wide open, unable to see where the sword light that had broken the spell came from until his death.

The attacks around them had just ended.

Nie Feng dragged the Snow Drinking Cold Blade, which was still dripping with green smoke, and his scarlet demonic eyes swept across the severed limbs on the ground without any human emotion.

His nostrils twitched almost imperceptibly, as if he had lost all interest in this scorching, dead land.

He suddenly turned around, unleashing the Wind God Leg technique to its limit, transforming himself into a black whirlwind, plunging headlong into the vast night abyss.

"Wind! Wind, where are you going?"

In a corner of the ruins, Yan Ying saw her beloved son disappear into the darkness. Her mind went blank, and she cried out in anguish as she was about to give chase.

Before he could take a single step, he suddenly felt his waist tighten, as he was firmly gripped in an iron-like embrace.

"Yingying, Feng'er has become possessed by a demon; he doesn't recognize anyone, not even his own family. It's futile for you to chase after him."

The handsome young man who stepped out from the shadows stood tall and straight, with sharp eyebrows and eyes, exuding an aura of dignified authority that drew attention.

Under the watchful eyes of everyone, Duan Lang held Yan Ying tightly in his arms, his expression so open and honest that it chilled people to the bone, as if the woman in his arms was not his brother's mother, but his rightful possession.

Not far away, Bu Jingyun had just withdrawn his sword intent from his fingertips when he caught a glimpse of this scene out of the corner of his eye, and the flames of anger in his chest erupted like a volcano.

Nie Feng was his closest friend, and Yan Ying was his elder.

Duan Lang's actions undoubtedly trampled on Nie Feng's dignity.

"Duan Lang! Let her go!"

With a thunderous roar, Bu Jingyun unleashed a torrent of new and old grudges, which coalesced into a boiling murderous intent.

The true energy of the Grandmaster peak that he had just broken through to possess surged through his body, and his figure shot up like an arrow released from a bow.

The force of the Cloud-Piercing Palm, carrying the thunderous power of a raging torrent splitting the shore, slammed towards Duanlang's face with hatred.

His gaze was piercing, fixed on Duan Lang who was restraining Yan Ying. He was determined to avenge the blood debt owed to his sworn brother.

Faced with this palm strike powerful enough to shatter mountains, Duan Lang's face seemed to be covered with a layer of ice that had never melted for millions of years.

His left hand remained firmly locked around Yan Ying's waist, while his right hand emerged from his large sleeve and struck out with the ease of plucking a leaf.

"boom!"

The violent airflow exploded between their palms.

Bu Jingyun felt as if he had been hit by a surging tide, and a powerful backlash surged up his arm bone.

His body involuntarily retreated repeatedly, his blood and qi churning violently.

In contrast, Duan Lang's feet were like iron wedges driven into the scorched earth. He did not retreat an inch, nor did his protective aura shake off a single speck of dust. Even the woman's hair in his arms remained perfectly intact.

"Bu Jingyun, it seems your Cloud-Dispelling Palm is nothing special after all." A hint of mockery flickered in Duan Lang's eyes as he sneered.

Bu Jingyun was shocked, but he was naturally arrogant and unruly, and there was no reason for him to back down.

He changed his palm into a sword finger, drawing out all the true energy from the depths of his Qi Sea. A mysterious sword energy, ten times more ferocious than before, shot out from his finger and aimed directly at Duanlang Tianling.

"To show off one's limited skills before an expert."

Duan Lang parted his thin lips slightly, and with his fingers also pointing like a sword, a crimson sword light shot out from the tip of his finger without warning to meet the attack.

"Zheng—"

The two swords were invisible, yet they produced a piercing, sharp sound as metal clashed in mid-air.

The mysterious sword energy that Bu Jingyun was so proud of melted and dissipated instantly, like snowflakes under the blazing sun, the moment it touched the crimson sword light.

The crimson sword energy tore through the void, its remaining power undiminished, narrowly grazing Bu Jingyun's face and leaving a thin, scarlet mark.

Bu Jingyun's heart sank into a deep abyss.

A desperate, all-out attack was effortlessly crushed by the opponent with a single, nonchalant gesture.

Duan Lang's cultivation had somehow reached a bizarre level where he could disregard even grandmasters.

For a time, they were caught in a dilemma.

Just then, a ghostly afterimage swept across the ground and approached.

"Young Master Bu, do not linger in battle! The Wushen Palace is now destroyed, and the situation in Japan is in chaos. Our most urgent task is to escort the Emperor back to the Central Plains. Delay will only lead to unforeseen circumstances!"

Ghost Tiger's voice, accompanied by the cold wind, entered Bu Jingyun's eardrums.

Bu Jingyun gritted his teeth, forcibly suppressing the raging fury that was burning his mind; reason finally prevailed.

His gaze swept across Duan Lang's face like a sharp blade before he finally slowly withdrew the murderous aura surging around him.

On the other side of the ruins, the emperor had long been stripped of his composure as a ruler by the series of shocking events that had just occurred.

Upon hearing Guihu mention returning to the capital, the fear in his eyes instantly transformed into a gleam of survival.

The Wushen Jue Palace was already a death trap for Asuras, so naturally he didn't want to stay there for even a moment longer.

As he turned his head, his peripheral vision caught sight of several Japanese geishas huddled trembling beneath the ruins.

Those were all the elegant items that Jue Tian had arranged for him to serve him during the time he was trapped in the Jue Palace.

Even though he escaped death, his insatiable lust for imperial power remained undiminished.

"Um... Master Bu, I... wish to take them all with me, but I don't know..."

The emperor's lips trembled, each word hesitant, but his eyes were fixed on Bu Jingyun, as if afraid that this plague god before him would utter a single word of dissent.

A cold glint of disgust surged in Bu Jingyun's eyes, and he coldly squeezed out two words through clenched teeth:

"what ever."

The emperor, as if startled birds suddenly found life, scrambled to call out to the beautiful women behind him.

Ghost Tiger led the way, and several figures, like ghosts, darted through the dilapidated palace and sped straight toward the coastal cliffs.

As the ruins receded, Bu Jingyun's cold voice pierced through the howling wind:

"Where is Wuming?"

The afterimage leading the way didn't stop, leaving only a curt, iron-fisted reply:

"The master has his own plans, so there's no need to worry."