Martial Arts Master: The Lin Family Sword God, who swept through the Five Mountains and Four Sects

Indeed, after countless cycles of tempering within the "Heaven and Earth Shattering" bell, Lin Tian has truly mastered the realm of intent. As long as he completes the twenty-fifth relief of the "War God's Record" step by step, he can steadily enter the legendary third realm.

In a fleeting moment, ten years of arduous cultivation were saved.

Thinking about it this way, this old monk... really was a great philanthropist.

When the Eighth Division was killed, Kublai Khan's face turned ashen.

He thought that with the support of eight masters and eight protectors, even if he couldn't kill Lin Tian, ​​he would be more than able to save his own life.

Who would have thought that after only a few exchanges, the dignified Eighth Division would be pierced through the heart by a single sword strike!

Wasn't it said that within three zhang (approximately 10 meters), even those from the four surrounding areas would surely die?!

If I had known this would happen, I would never have believed this bald monk's nonsense!

"Protect the Emperor!!" Hulagu roared.

Dozens of swordsmen and shieldmen rushed forward instantly, forming a shield wall that was as solid as an iron wall.

Even so, Kublai Khan was still somewhat apprehensive.

He forced himself to remain calm and said, "I have witnessed Your Highness's bravery today, and I am completely convinced. The Mongols wish to withdraw their troops immediately, establish a permanent alliance with the Song Dynasty, with the Yellow River as the boundary—what is Your Highness's opinion?"

In his view, Lin Tian had no reason to refuse.

After all, this was already a huge concession. Henan, Shandong, Shaanxi... large swathes of territory were still under Mongolian control, and now the proposal to divide the country along the Yellow River was tantamount to handing over half of the country. Anyone would agree to such a condition.

"Peace talks?"

Lin Tian chuckled softly, and slowly sheathed the Yuanhong Sword in his hand.

Upon seeing this, Kublai Khan's eyes lit up, and he quickly replied, "Exactly! Let's negotiate peace!" But inwardly he sneered: "Wait ten or twenty years, and when my iron cavalry on the grasslands regains its former glory, we will surely trample the south of the Yangtze River and wipe away today's humiliation!"

But in that instant, Lin Tian's tone turned icy:

"Sorry, peace talks? Never in this lifetime. What I want isn't a ceasefire—it's the complete annihilation of the entire Mongol Empire! Today, you and your 500,000 troops are merely the beginning. Within three months, I will ensure that the word 'Mongol' will no longer exist on those steppes!"

"you--!!"

Kublai Khan's eyes widened, staring intently at Lin Tian as if he wanted to devour him alive.

Lin Tian had already pointed his fingers like a sword, and the void around him trembled violently for ten feet!

In an instant, countless sword energies appeared out of thin air, tearing through the air and roaring like a tide—

Innate, formless sword energy that breaks through the body!

Immediately afterwards, those sharp sword beams were dyed a deep, dark black, like a death scythe spreading from hell!

The Realm of Artistic Conception – The Intent of Death is Infused into the Sword's Power!

Before the wisps of sharpness could fully materialize, the ground had already cracked inch by inch, and the air echoed with the mournful sound of metal, like the low roar of a thousand troops on the eve of battle!

With a flick of his finger, a torrent of black light surged forth, rushing straight towards Kublai Khan!

Wherever it goes, vegetation withers, flesh and blood are annihilated, and life is extinguished!

The area, hundreds of feet long and ten feet wide, was transformed into a desolate wasteland in the blink of an eye. More than three thousand elite Mongol soldiers fell to the ground as withered corpses before they could even utter a scream.

The Mongol prince who once commanded the world has long since vanished without a trace.

The surrounding area was silent.

Whether it was the surviving Mongol soldiers, the Heavenly Guards, the Earthly Guards, or even Guo Jing and Yang Guo... everyone stood there stunned, their pupils trembling.

Is this something a human can do?

When martial arts are practiced to the extreme, one can turn a hand into a prison and a palm into ruins.

Are we really practicing the same martial art?

Even Lin Tian himself was slightly surprised.

This move, which incorporates the innate, formless sword energy of death, is far more powerful than expected—more than ten times stronger than Wang Yuyan's Blade of Withering and Flourishing.

"Kublai Khan is dead, retreat." Without pausing, he flashed away like a ghost.

With his current cultivation level, even if he unleashed ten more killing moves of this scale, it would only slightly deplete his true essence, and he could easily slaughter 50,000 to 40,000 enemy troops.

Killing one more Mongol soldier might save two fewer Song soldiers from dying.

But he did not continue.

Because the battlefield shows no mercy. To die on the battlefield is the fate every soldier should understand when they don their armor and go into battle.

At this moment, what the Southern Song Dynasty needed was a backbone of iron will, not spectators hiding behind the city walls waving flags and shouting slogans.

He will eventually depart, but he only wishes to leave something for this nation—not that the dynasty will last for a thousand years, but that its spirit will never die.

With Kublai Khan's death, the Mongol army was immediately leaderless.

A great sweater?

That was their king, the totem of their faith, and the symbol of the strongest warrior spirit of the grasslands!

He was killed in a single blow right in front of the two armies.

No one dared to believe it, and no one could do anything about it.

When Lin Tian ordered a retreat, the Heavenly Guards, Earthly Guards, Guo Jing, Hong Qigong, and others immediately stopped fighting, slaughtered all the surrounding enemy troops, and quickly retreated.

The city walls of Xiangyang were already prepared to receive them, with thick ropes hanging down like dragons coiled around the cliffs.

Lin Tian naturally didn't need any leverage. He lightly touched the air with his toes, and his figure soared up like a swallow, landing steadily on the city wall.

The others climbed up using ropes—after all, the city wall was seven or eight zhang high, with nowhere to grab onto, and even those with a minor mastery of the innate skill would find it difficult to fly across.

"General Meng, the rest is up to you," Lin Tian said calmly.

At this moment, he was covered in blood, his robes fluttering like a blood-red banner, like a demon descending to earth. Meng Gong stared directly at his face, and even though he was a veteran of many battles, his heart turned cold.

"This humble general will certainly live up to the mission and repel the enemy!" Meng Gong knelt on one knee and solemnly accepted the order.

"Repel?" Lin Tian sneered, his gaze sharp as a knife. "What I want isn't repulsion—it's five hundred thousand corpses. If you can't do that, don't bother coming back."

Eight hundred thousand armored soldiers surged forward like a tide, crushing the more than two hundred thousand leaderless remnants of the Mongol army. If Meng Gong still couldn't win this annihilation battle, then the title of "the greatest war god of the late Southern Song Dynasty" should be stripped off and smashed.

"This subordinate obeys!"

Meng Gong's voice was sharp and clear, without the slightest hesitation. He believed in himself! Even if he dared not compare himself to Bai Qi's massacre of cities, Han Xin's troop deployment, or Huo Qubing's sealing of the wolf's lair, when it came to military generals of the Song Dynasty, Meng Gong was undoubtedly among the top five, a well-deserved honor.

He personally took the flag and charged out of the city gate. The 800,000-strong army pressed in like a dark cloud, crashing into the Mongol ranks—but the Mongols were Mongols after all. Although Kublai Khan had been executed, they would rather die than surrender, fighting tooth and nail, inch by inch, until they drew blood!

The Song army had the upper hand, but it was difficult to break the stalemate for the time being.

Standing atop the city wall, overlooking the carnage of the battlefield below, Lin Tian suddenly spoke: "Tianyi, how many martial arts masters have gathered in Xiangyang City?"

Before the battle, he had already ordered the Heaven and Earth Pavilion to issue a widespread call to arms—all martial artists of the second rank or above were to come to his aid.

"Reporting to Your Excellency, there are 8,730 people, not one missing." Tianyi clasped his hands in a fist salute.

"Order: Second-rate martial artists, cut off three Mongolian heads; first-rate, ten; acquired realm, twenty—if you don't have enough heads, don't even think about the reward."

Even the fiercest Mongol soldiers were still made of flesh and blood. This demand wasn't really harsh.

"Yes, sir!"

Once a martial artist enters the fray, the balance of power immediately tipped. After watching for the time it takes for an incense stick to burn, the momentum of victory had snowballed and was irreversible. Lin Tian turned and went back to his residence.

The Mongol army pressed into the city at dawn; the battle cries ceased at sunset.

The armor clattered, and the air thick with the scent of blood. When Meng Gong stepped through the gates, his armor was covered in dark red scabs, and his face was smeared with dried blood and mud, but his eyes burned with fire!