Wandering Swordsman |

"You!" Loren whirled around, rushing to Shen Mo and Hua Tianyou, his voice urgent yet tinged with a rare concern. "Hurry! Before they arrive! You only have two light cavalry, you'll be a smaller target, they won't bother you!"

There was no pleading in his eyes, only a resolute entrustment—as if to say: You shouldn't have gotten involved in this sordid family affair. Run away, don't be buried with me, a dying man.

Hua Tianyou finally stood up, his silver robes fluttering gently in the night breeze like a shrine veil. He looked at Loren, his tone calm to the point of being cold: "Do you know why they were able to find this place so precisely?"

Loren was stunned, his face turning deathly pale.

Yes... They moved stealthily, changed direction overnight, and even changed their course at the last minute. How could the pursuers follow them like a shadow?

Unless... there's a traitor in the camp.

But there was no time to investigate further. The pursuing vanguard was less than a hundred meters away, and the torches illuminated their bloodthirsty eyes.

"Let's go!" Loren gritted his teeth, mounted his horse, and gave the two of them one last, deep look, as if trying to etch their faces into his very being. "If we manage to escape alive today, and if fate allows us to meet again someday, I will certainly befriend you both!"

Before he finished speaking, he cracked his whip and led his remaining troops like arrows shot into the dense forest to the north.

The campsite was instantly empty, like a ruin. The campfire had long since gone out, with only a wisp of smoke rising into the dark sky, as if burning incense in advance for the impending slaughter.

Shen Mo slowly rose to his feet, his black robe brushing the ground without picking up a speck of dust. He gazed at the pursuing troops rushing towards him like an iron torrent, his eyes showing neither anger nor fear, but rather a bottomless, icy pool.

"Heavenly Demon Lord," his voice was deep, yet each word was clear and distinct, like a knife carving into stone, "could one person possibly deal with eight hundred soldiers?"

Hua Tianyou stood beside him, his silver robe billowing slightly in the night breeze. Hearing this, he nodded first, his movements slow yet resolute: "Don't worry, my lord, they're nothing but clay chickens and earthen dogs."

But as soon as he finished speaking, his brow furrowed slightly, and a hint of hesitation flashed in his eyes—not out of concern for combat strength, but out of confusion about his meaning.

Shen Mo seemed to see through his thoughts, and a faint yet extremely cold smile appeared on his lips: "I had no intention of interfering in the power struggles of this far west. But since they have come to us, we no longer need to stand idly by..." As he finished speaking, his gaze swept across the approaching flames like a blade.

Upon hearing this, Hua Tianyou's doubts vanished, replaced by a sharp, piercing glint.

He said no more, his right hand slowly resting on his waist—not the papal scepter, but a sword concealed in a silver sheath. Even before the sword was drawn, its killing intent was already palpable.

"Zheng—!"

A clear, resonant dragon's roar pierced the night sky.

Hua Tianyou drew his sword, its blade gleaming like the moon reflected in autumn water, its cold light shimmering.

He held his sword in one hand, pointing it diagonally at the ground. His figure was as upright as a pine tree, his silver robe fluttering in the wind. His aura was extremely restrained, yet it made the wind in the entire wasteland freeze.

Just then, the pursuers were upon them.

Eight hundred iron cavalrymen swept across the plains like a black tide, instantly surrounding the remaining camp.

Torches were held high, illuminating ferocious faces with menacing glints in their eyes.

The leader was a burly knight captain, clad in heavy red armor with the emblem of Ruolan City etched on his shoulder armor.

He reined in his horse ten paces away, his gaze sweeping across the empty camp before settling on the two remaining figures. He paused for a moment, then let out a sneer:

"Ha... that rat Loren certainly ran fast!" His gaze, sharp as a hawk's, fixed on Hua Tianyou and Shen Mo. Seeing their simple attire yet extraordinary bearing, and especially the chilling sword in Hua Tianyou's hand—clearly not belonging to a missionary—he sneered, "Two imposter envoys? They still have the guts to stay here and wait to die?"

He glanced around, his voice suddenly rising, laced with mockery and cruelty: "Very well! Let's use you as a sacrifice to celebrate our victory today! We can pursue that traitor later!"

Before he finished speaking, the cavalry behind him burst into laughter, raised their swords and spears, and exuded a murderous aura.

However, amidst the clamor and violence, Hua Tianyou remained standing calmly, his sword tip touching the ground, his clothes not even trembling slightly due to the killing intent.

Shen Mo stood with his hands behind his back, his black robe as dark as night, his eyes lowered, as if the eight hundred elite soldiers before him were nothing more than a gust of wind brushing across the hillside.

The knight commander's laughter stopped abruptly.

He suddenly felt a chill – the two people showed no fear whatsoever, and didn't even bother to glance at him.

Having been through many battles, he naturally understood that such indifference was not ignorance, but rather... looking down on someone.

It's like a god watching mortals make self-righteous sacrifices.

A chill ran through him, but he suppressed his unease and shouted sharply, "Fire! Shoot the one with the sword first!"

With a chorus of bowstrings, dozens of rockets tore through the night sky, like venomous snakes spitting their tongues, heading straight for Hua Tianyou's face!

However—Hua Tianyou finally made a move.

He neither dodged nor parried; he merely raised his wrist slightly, causing the sword to gleam.

A silver-white sword aura formed from internal energy appeared like a moon, sweeping out silently.

"laugh--"

Before the arrow even reached its destination, it broke apart inch by inch in mid-air and turned into dust.

The sword's momentum had not yet dissipated when it swept past the throats of three cavalrymen in the front row.

The three cavalrymen didn't even have time to blink before the blood lines on their necks slowly split open, their heads tilted to the side, and their bodies crashed off their horses like broken logs.

Blood gushed forth, splashing into a crimson mist in the firelight, staining the withered grass and dust.

The entire place was deathly silent; even the wind seemed to hold its breath.

The eight hundred iron cavalrymen did not dare to move, as if an invisible giant hand was choking them.

Only the torches crackled and popped in the night wind, scattering sparks that illuminated faces that had suddenly turned deathly pale.

The knight commander's pupils dilated violently, and his heart felt as if it had been struck by a heavy hammer.

He gripped the reins tightly, his knuckles turning white, and cold sweat instantly soaked through his inner lining.

But in an instant, an even stronger sense of shame and anger surged into his heart—the dignified Knight Commander of Ruolan City and his eight hundred elite troops, were actually intimidated by two people? Absurd!

"Charge! Kill them!" he growled through gritted teeth, suppressing his fear as he gave the order: "All troops, charge! Bows and crossbows, fire! Swordsmen and shieldmen, surround and kill them! Chop them both to pieces!"

But deep down he was certain: Even if your sword is as fast as lightning, how many people can you kill? Eight hundred iron cavalry will charge in waves, wearing you down until you're dead!

The cavalry surged like a black tide, with the front ranks holding shields and the rear ranks firing arrows in unison, a rain of arrows that blotted out the sky.

Dozens of riders flanked them from both sides, intending to surround and kill them.

However—facing the overwhelming force of eight hundred cavalrymen, Hua Tianyou smiled.

The smile was as warm as ever, yet it carried a hint of coldness bordering on pity.

He didn't retreat a single step, but instead stepped forward to face the rain of arrows.

With a slight lift of his left hand and a gentle rotation of his palm, a silvery-white protective shield suddenly opened up like a glass dome—arrows struck the shield and shattered like snowflakes.

"My lord, please wait a moment." He whispered, his tone respectful as usual, but his murderous intent was already evident.

In the next instant, he charged into the enemy ranks like a ghost!

Where the sword light flashed, the world lost its color.

He no longer concealed his Heavenly Demon True Essence; the demonic energy within his body erupted like a volcano, and silver flames swirled around him. With each step he took, the ground cracked; with each swing of his sword, someone was beheaded!

Wherever his sword points, it is either man or horse—shields are like paper, armor like thin ice, and flesh and blood are nothing but rotten wood and withered branches before him.