The Great Song Dynasty's Soul-Forging in Progress

The blade flashed like a bolt of lightning!

The giant only felt a blur before his eyes, then heard a crisp sound—"Clang!"

He looked down and saw that the head of the spiked club in his hand had broken off at some point, the break as clean as if he had cut tofu.

Hu Qinggua roared, crashing through the crowd like a wild bull with its tail singed. His eyes were fixed on the snow-white blade, his pupils burning with the ferocity of a wild beast.

"You little wench! I'll tear you apart!"

He didn't even take a weapon; his ten fingers were spread wide, with bits of flesh from the previous day's fight still embedded in his fingernails, and he lunged straight at Qin Tiehua!

Qin Tiehua brandished his sword, and with a swift stroke, he drew an arc of light—

"Clang!"

The blade pierced flesh, but it felt like cutting into a bundle of oil-soaked hemp rope—sticky, gritty, and impossible to pull out! Mad Tiger, however, gripped the blade tightly with his left palm, the skin and flesh of his hand torn open, revealing the white bone beneath, yet he remained oblivious, his single eye filled only with manic ecstasy.

"Gotcha! Gotcha!"

His right palm, like a hook, pierced straight into Qin Tiehua's heart!

Qin Tiehua dropped her knife, leaned back, her back almost touching the ground—Hu Qinggua's fingertips grazed her throat, leaving three bloody marks.

This is the moment!

Qin Tiehua parried with her sword, and "Jinghong" clashed with the iron ring on Hu Qinggua's wrist—

"Clang!"

It wasn't the clang of metal against metal, but the sound of ice cracking and porcelain shattering!

The iron wrist guard on Hu Qinggua's wrist broke in half like rotten wood, the break as smooth as a mirror. Mad Tiger was stunned, looking down at his own wrist—the skin and flesh were intact, without a single scratch.

"this……"

Before he could finish speaking, Qin Tiehua's sword strike had already changed. Jinghong, following the upper edge of the severed wrist, slashed upwards in reverse—

Hu Qinggua felt a chill on her left shoulder.

He turned his head and saw that his left arm was severed at the shoulder, but it was still in a forward swinging posture, drawing an awkward arc in the air before landing with a "thud".

There was no pain.

First comes the numbness, then the burning sensation, and finally, the overwhelming, belated, excruciating pain!

"ah--!!"

Hu Qinggua's howl wasn't human; it was clearly the roar of a wild beast. He staggered backward, blood gushing from his severed arm, yet he still tried to lunge forward again, pushing off with his single leg—

Qin Tiehua didn't give him a chance.

She spun around, her graceful figure tracing a perfect circle under the moonlight. As the blade passed, Hu Qinggua's knees snapped cleanly.

The nearly two-meter-tall giant suddenly shrank to a pile.

Qin Tiehua knelt on one knee, propping herself up with her knife, panting heavily. She looked down at "Jinghong," the blade reflecting her blood-stained face, Hu Qinggua's still-convulsing mangled body, and the faint blue sliver of light from the edge—

The line was a deep blue, yet it remained unstained by any blood.

"...A fine knife."

Hu Qinggua breathed her last, her body going limp. She knelt on the ground, her fingers still clenched in a gripping motion, as if she were about to pounce again.

"A fine knife," she murmured, it was unclear whether she was praising the knife or herself.

"Ah—" Seeing his brother die, Mad Tiger Hu Dongkui was about to pounce like a mad tiger, but was held back by several trusted old bandits.

Just then, two slender bandits, whose movements were as fast as ghosts, darted out from the crowd, one on the left and one on the right. Their two long, thin curved knives, like snakes spitting their tongues, intertwined to form a deadly net of blades, and came to strangle Qin Tiehua!

The Black and White Duo!

These two brothers were quite famous in the underworld. They had worked together for twenty years and had never failed. Black Fiend attacked the lower body, while White Fiend took the upper body. Their swords were linked together, each strike connected to the next, and countless heroes had fallen under their blades.

Qin Tiehua parried with her sword, and with a loud clang, the force of the blow numbed her arm, splitting her hand and drawing blood down the hilt of her sword. The two assassins worked in perfect harmony, their swordsmanship ruthless and relentless. She was instantly at a disadvantage, struggling to defend herself and facing imminent danger.

But she didn't back out.

Not a single step.

She remembered her father's words: "Tiehua, even if our hands are broken, we will still hold the hammer."

She is holding a knife now.

It can't be broken.

She didn't retreat, but advanced—

He took Bai Sha's blade head-on with his right shoulder, the blade penetrating three-tenths of an inch into his flesh, only to be caught by her shoulder blade! Bai Sha was stunned, never having seen a fighting style that used one's own body as bait.

On the battlefield, Qin Tiehua had been cornered.

She teetered on the brink of life and death amidst the clash of swords and the shadows of danger.

At that very moment—

"Whoosh whoosh whoosh!"

Several hidden arrows flew out from Lü Maoyi's hand on the flank, like locusts, instantly engulfing Bai Sha!

Bai Sha swung his curved blade to parry, deflecting three arrows with three crisp clangs, but two still struck his shoulder and arm. He paused, a flicker of pain crossing his face.

It was that moment of stillness!

Qin Tiehua seized the opportunity and darted out like a female leopard, her "Surprising Beauty" drawing a cold arc!

"ah--!"

Black Fiend's wrist, which was holding the knife, was severed cleanly, blood gushing out, and his screams were heart-wrenching.

Black Demon's eyes were wide open; he died without ever knowing how he had been attacked.

Bai Sha tried to draw his sword, but couldn't—Qin Tiehua's shoulder blades were like iron clamps, gripping the blade tightly. She turned around, facing Bai Sha face to face, so close she could smell his bad breath.

"My brother..." Bai Sha's pupils suddenly contracted.

"You should go down and join him," Qin Tiehua said softly, then slammed his head into Bai Sha's face!

Amidst the sound of the nose shattering, Jinghong drew her sword and slashed horizontally—

Two heads, one in front of the other, rolled into the snowdrift.

Qin Tiehua knelt down, using her knife to support herself, blood gushing from the knife wound on her right shoulder. She looked down at Hei Sha's still wide-open head, then suddenly kicked it towards the surging band of bandits.

"Who else?"

His voice was hoarse, yet it was like a thunderclap.

However, cries of alarm came again from the eastern defense line!

The deaths of "Mad Tiger" and the Twin Fiends completely ignited the bandits' ferocity. "Ghost Blade" Ma Potian—yes, he has the surname "Ma" (meaning "curse")—led over thirty of his most elite bandits, fearlessly breaking through the local militia's blockade, like a sharp dagger, piercing straight into the building behind the defensive line—the Sanshenglu Medical Clinic, adorned with a medicine flag!

Inside the clinic, the aroma of medicine mingled with the stench of blood.

Liu Xinyi was intently cleaning and bandaging the wound of a villager whose abdomen had been slashed open, her movements methodical and steady, unlike anything she'd seen on a battlefield. Hearing the sudden approaching shouts and screams outside the door, she didn't turn her head, her clear, cold voice like a jade chime:

"Grandpa, this unwelcome guest is knocking on the door and disturbing our peace."

Liu Jueming slowly stood up, lightly flicked his whisk, and the whisk's tails were straight as needles.

"To heal the sick and save lives is a virtue of benevolence." He walked towards the door, each step seemingly on some ancient rhythm. "But if unwelcome guests disturb the world, what about the healer...?"

He raised his hand and lightly waved his whisk.

He cursed until the sky seemed to sink, and a chill ran down his spine.

He raised his hand to touch it, but couldn't feel his forehead—there was a silver needle there, as thin as a cow's hair, trembling as it sank three inches into his skull.

"...one must also learn how to kill."

As soon as Liu Jueming finished speaking, Ghost Blade fell. None of the thirty-odd bandits behind him saw how he made his move.

Liu Xinyi didn't turn her head: "Grandpa, the needle was coated with anesthetic, so he died without pain, which doesn't count as killing."

Liu Jueming put away his whisk and sighed, "Girl, you always try to make excuses for your grandfather."

"This isn't an attempt to cover up," Liu Xinyi said, washing her hands. "It's the truth. The needle between his eyebrows sealed his consciousness, not his lifeline. It will dissipate on its own in three days, or if he's lucky—"

She paused, looked at the bandits standing frozen outside the door, and spoke in a clear, cold voice:

"—Then I'll come to Sansheng Clinic for a follow-up appointment and wait for him."

On the battlefield, the fighting continues.

Qin Tiehua had lost count of how many bandits she had killed. She only remembered swinging her knife, swinging it, and swinging it again. With each strike, someone fell. With each swing, her own wound opened a little wider.

She could no longer stand steadily.

But she was still standing.

Because she was the blacksmith's daughter.

Because the Sanyizhai, which consists of Huluwan, Wangjiagang, Laomentan, and Lüjiachang, is her home.

In the distance, Mad Tiger, held captive by several old bandits, roared fiercely, "Attack them! They can't hold on much longer!"

The bandits, their eyes bloodshot, attacked again. Their target was clear: Hulu Bay.

Luo Tietou, who had retreated from Wangjiagang, led another wave of bandits in.

Qin Tiehua gripped the "Jinghong" sword tightly, preparing for the final battle.

Her blood pooled at her feet, forming a small puddle, which was then covered by fresh snow, gushing out again, and being covered again—like a vermilion painting that was repeatedly painted.

She remembered many things.

She remembered the first time her father let her hold a hammer; the handle was too thick, and she couldn't grip it, so she smashed her foot. Her father didn't help her up, but only said, "Tiehua, you only learn when it hurts."

I remember the first time Brother Zhonghua tried the knife she made, he cut his mouth, but he still laughed and said, "Good knife, it recognizes its master."

I remember that silly boy Shen Kuo, his glasses askew, writing in his notebook: "Sister Tiehua cried, the young master laughed, Uncle Qin cried, and Uncle Da Niu collapsed on the ground, unable to get up..."

She suddenly wanted to laugh.

But as soon as she moved her lips, it aggravated the wound on her face, causing her to wince in pain.

Qin Tiehua gripped the "Jinghong" sword tightly, preparing for the final battle.