Wandering Swordsman |

However, Shen Mo simply stood there quietly, his gaze as clear as ever. He showed no surprise, no anger, and no retreat.

He slowly raised his sword, and the Green Ox Sword hummed softly like a dragon's roar.

"Since you're not convinced—then I'll defeat you one more time."

As soon as the words were spoken, a flash of sword light appeared!

This time, he no longer used complicated moves, but only the most basic move of Tai Chi Sword - "Falling Flower Style".

Before the sword is drawn, the intention arrives; before the body moves, the momentum is already formed.

That sword strike had no dazzling light or shadow, no thunderous force, yet it was as pure as the sun and moon traversing the sky and rivers flowing across the land!

Jianzhen's earth-shattering palm strike collided with this seemingly ordinary sword strike, and it crumbled like a raging wave crashing against a rock!

"puff--!"

Jianzhen coughed up blood again, his body flying backward like a kite with a broken string, crashing heavily to the ground. His black robe ripped apart, and the phantom of the god and demon wailed and dissipated.

The entire room fell silent.

This time, even within the Japanese forces, no one dared to make a move.

They watched as the God Emperor prostrated himself on the ground, his eyes no longer filled with arrogance, but only with bewilderment and incomprehension.

Shen Mo stepped forward slowly, sword tip touching the ground, his voice as cold as snow: "I will not kill you today, but you will pay the price!"

Before he finished speaking, his left hand suddenly shot out, as fast as lightning. His fingertips gathered the true energy of the setting sun, as intense as the sun, yet as precise as a needle, directly targeting the three vital acupoints: Jianzhen Dantian, Tanzhong, and Qihai!

Jianzhen's pupils contracted sharply, and he instinctively tried to dodge, but the two previous defeats had already injured his meridians and disrupted his true energy. At this moment, he was unable to move, like a trapped beast. He could only watch helplessly as that slender finger, like a pen of divine punishment, gently touched down.

"laugh--!"

A soft sound, like silk tearing, like a spring drying up.

In an instant, the sinister internal energy within Jianzhen burst forth like a river bursting its banks, gushing from his seven orifices and turning into wisps of ashes that drifted away with the wind. His meridians shattered inch by inch, his internal energy collapsed like a sandcastle, and his once pristine cultivation was utterly destroyed!

"Ugh—!" Jianzhen howled in agony, her voice as mournful as a lone wolf weeping for the moon.

His knees buckled, and he collapsed to his knees, his hands digging into the ground until his knuckles turned white. His eyes were filled with unbelievable despair—the power that had once made the Japanese bow down and terrified the heroes of the Central Plains had vanished in an instant!

He raised his hand with trembling hands, trying to gather a trace of true energy, but he only felt that his dantian was empty, like a dry well without water, like rotten wood without roots.

At this moment, he was no longer the powerful overseas god-emperor. He was just a cripple.

Seeing this, countless samurai in the Japanese camp turned ashen-faced, knelt on the ground with their heads bowed, and dared not look directly at him.

Just then—"Hmph! Trash, you dare call yourself a God-Emperor?!"

A cold shout, like a venomous snake's tongue, abruptly ripped through the silence!

Toyotomi! He suddenly drew his sword, his eyes flashing with ferocity. Without hesitation, he thrust his sword straight at Kanzan's heart! The sword light was as red as blood, as fast as lightning, carrying the poisonous flames of betrayal and the ambition to usurp power, tearing apart the brief silence that had just passed!

"Jianzhen! Your martial arts are crippled. Japan has no need for a cripple as its emperor!" Toyotomi sneered, his voice like an ice pick, each word dripping with venom. "The throne of the emperor should be held by the strong! Today is the day you abdicate—and also the day I conquer the martial arts world of the Central Plains!"

The sword's edge pierced the air, its cold light like a venomous snake's tongue, and it was only three inches away from Jianzhen's nape!

Jianzhen's black robe was tattered, his long hair disheveled, and he remained motionless with his eyes closed. His face was calm, but not composed; rather, it was as if his heart had died of despair.

He no longer struggled, no longer spoke; the glory of the divine emperor turned to dust; the reverence of the people was but fleeting clouds.

however--

"clang--!"

A resounding clang of metal echoed across the land!

Two figures appeared like ghosts, one on the left and one on the right, blocking Jianzhen's path!

On the left, Tokugawa, clad in black armor, slashed diagonally with his long sword, the force of which blocked Toyotomi's sword. On the right, Oda, swift as an eagle, blocked with his long sword, the tip pointing directly at Toyotomi's throat, his eyes gleaming with a cold, frost-like golden light.

"Toyotomi!" Oda's voice was low and menacing, yet as chilling as an approaching storm. "You dare to murder your lord?!"

Tokugawa coldly replied, "Even if the Emperor is defeated, he is still the supreme ruler of Japan! How is your action any different from that of a traitor?"

Toyotomi was forced back several steps, but he showed no fear. Instead, he looked up at the sky and laughed wildly. His laughter was like the wailing of a night owl, piercing and terrifying.

He whirled around, his gaze sweeping over Oda and Tokugawa, then over the Kamikaze Battalion's overseas heretical cultivators behind him, and loudly rallied them:

"You're still stubbornly clinging to your delusions?! Look at the scene before us—the main force of the Martial Alliance is still in the southwest, and the troop strength in Nanjing is vastly inferior to ours! How many of the leaders of the nine sects are even here? We, on the other hand, have countless elite troops present, and our combat power far surpasses that of the Martial Alliance!"

He pointed at Shen Mo not far away, his eyes filled with madness and calculation: "Even if he defeats the God Emperor, he's still just one person! Two fists can't fight four hands, and one sword can't stop a thousand troops! If we retreat today, Japan's prestige will be completely ruined! But if we seize this opportunity to break through the city in one fell swoop, the Central Plains martial arts world will be ours for the taking!"

His voice was like a spell, each word inflammatory: "Oda! Tokugawa! Are you willing to follow a useless man back to Japan, to be scorned by thousands? Or will you join me in establishing a new dynasty, to become conquerors of new territories?!"

Before the words were even finished, a commotion broke out in the Divine Wind Camp formation, with swords clashing and killing intent rising again.

however--

The moment Toyotomi uttered his last word, Shen Mo moved.

He didn't even turn around; with a slight flick of his wrist, the Green Ox Sword rippled like autumn water.

"laugh--!"

A burst of sword energy erupted from the tip of the sword, silent yet faster than lightning, like a meteor streaking across the sky!

Before the sinister smile on Toyotomi's face had faded, a thin red line, as fine as a hair, appeared on his neck.

His eyes were wide open, his throat bobbed, as if he wanted to say something, but he only made a "ho ho" sound.

The next moment—

"Thump!"

His head rolled to the ground, his eyes still open, filled with disbelief and horror.

The headless corpse stood frozen for a moment before collapsing with a thud, its blood gushing out like a fountain, staining a large area of ​​the ground red.

The entire room fell silent.

Even the wind held its breath.

The overseas heretical cultivators of the Kamikaze Camp seemed to have been struck by lightning, each taking a step back, their eyes filled with deep terror. The once arrogant Toyotomi had been beheaded with a single sword stroke before he could even finish uttering a word, without even having a chance to resist!

Shen Mo slowly sheathed his sword. The soft sound of the Green Ox Sword returning to its scabbard lingered in the wind like the echo of a bell. His gaze, as cold as a deep pool, swept across the entire area. His voice was clear and icy, yet every word was sharp as a knife, piercing straight to the heart:

"You're welcome to give it a try—"

He paused briefly, a slight smile playing on his lips, and an almost divine indifference appeared on his face—neither contempt nor provocation, but a calm that seemed to see through life and death and look down upon all living beings.

"Can I stop a thousand armies with a single sword?"

Upon hearing this, the world fell silent. This was not arrogance, nor boasting, but a profound and unfathomable confidence—like the sun and moon traversing the sky, and rivers flowing across the land, it needs no proof, for it has its own inherent way.

Tokugawa's hand holding the sword trembled slightly, the tip of the blade touching the ground, the crimson flames dimming.

He glanced sideways at Oda, their eyes meeting, and both read the same emotion in each other's eyes: awe, even fear. They had once thought that the Central Plains had lost its backbone, but today they realized—the backbone was not broken, but merely hidden in the world, waiting for its time to rise!

With a single sword strike, this man can defeat a divine emperor, cleave through a thousand armies, and determine the fate of the world! As long as he is here, the Japanese will never dare to set foot on an inch of Central Plains again!