Wandering Swordsman |

A cavalryman thrust his spear at Hua Tianyou, who dodged to the side, then with a backhand flick, the blade sliced ​​through the enemy's breastplate from bottom to top, piercing straight to the crown of his head.

Another person attacked from behind, but before the knife could fall, he was already airborne with his toes touching the ground, and with a horizontal slash, he cut the victim in two at the waist, his intestines spilling out all over the ground;

Ten riders surrounded them, their spears like a forest, but he turned his sword energy into a circle, a silver arc sweeping across them, severing the arms of all ten men, who fell to the ground screaming in agony.

He moved with impunity, his sword flashing like a net of death, leaving corpses strewn everywhere and rivers of blood flowing in his wake.

Under the torchlight, his silver robe was already stained crimson, yet it remained pristine—because the blood had not yet touched his clothes before it was vaporized into mist by the sword energy!

The knight commander trembled as he watched helplessly as his elite troops were harvested like wheat.

"This...this is impossible! He's not human! He must be a demon in human skin!"

His legs went weak and he almost slipped off the horse.

At this moment, he finally understood—he had not provoked any fake missionary at all, but a demon walking among men!

When only a hundred men remained under his command, the knight commander could no longer hold out and screamed, "Retreat! Retreat now!"

Before he could finish speaking, Hua Tianyou had already soared into the air like a falcon, his toes touching the head of a warhorse, using the momentum to leap forward, his figure shooting behind him like lightning.

"Since you said you would use us as a sacrifice for your flag..." Hua Tianyou's voice was as soft as a whisper, yet it sent the knight commander's soul flying. "Then let your blood be used to consecrate my sword."

A flash of sword light.

The knight commander felt a chill on his neck, and his vision spun—he saw his headless body still sitting on the horse, his hand still tightly gripping the reins.

His head fell to the ground and rolled into a pool of blood.

The remaining hundred riders were terrified and turned their horses around to flee.

How could Hua Tianyou let himself slip through the net?

He leaped into pursuit, his sword energy pouring down like a torrential downpour.

One person escapes, he cuts them down; two people escape, he cleaves them; ten people scatter, he splits into ten shadows, ten sword energies are unleashed at once!

Moments later, the last cavalryman fell from his horse, a broken sword lodged in his throat, his eyes still filled with terror.

On the desolate plain, the blood mist had not yet dissipated, and the embers of fire flickered like ghostly eyes.

Eight hundred corpses lay strewn across the ground, their armor shattered, limbs severed, and blood flowing in dark red streams that meandered into the cracked earth.

The night wind carried the pungent smell of burnt metal and rust, as if the earth were silently groaning.

Hua Tianyou stood in the center of the pile of corpses. Although his silver robe was stained with blood, it remained unblemished due to the rising demonic energy. As his robe fluttered, he resembled an angel of judgment emerging from a church mural—except that his eyes were cold and devoid of any human warmth.

Shen Mo walked slowly, his black robe as dark as ink, stepping over the pool of blood without leaving a trace.

His gaze swept over the devastation, his expression calm, with only a barely perceptible hint of gravity flashing across his eyes.

"From this day forward," he said in a low voice, each word like a nail, "you can no longer use your identity as a missionary."

Hua Tianyou sheathed his sword, the metallic sound like a dragon returning to its abyss. He bowed respectfully, his posture as always: "Understood, subordinate."

His tone was calm, as if he had just single-handedly slaughtered eight hundred elite soldiers, and it was nothing more than brushing a speck of dust off his shoulder.

At that very moment—

In the distance, the sound of horses' hooves approached from the woods, urgent yet hesitant, like a startled deer tentatively exploring its way home.

They both looked up at the same time.

Loren led a dozen or so surviving cavalrymen back from the dense forest to the north. He reined in his horse ten paces away, his gaze sweeping across the battlefield, his pupils suddenly contracting, his breath almost stopping.

The scene before us was beyond description—it was a divine punishment-like destruction.

Eight hundred elite Ruolan warriors, well-equipped and well-trained, not a single one survived! Even their warhorses all perished, not a single one escaped.

The two "missionaries" were impeccably dressed, their breathing steady, and not a single strand of their hair was out of place.

Loren's heart sank suddenly, as if he had fallen into an ice cave, or as if he had been burned by a raging fire—shock, awe, fear, gratitude... a mix of emotions overwhelmed him, which finally turned into a chill that shot straight up his spine: This is not a human being. It is clearly divine punishment walking in the world!

He immediately realized that it must have been done by the two of them.

Loren immediately dismounted, his movements swift yet revealing an undisguised tremor.

He strode forward, knelt on one knee, placed his right hand on his chest, and performed the most solemn knightly salute in the far west.

"My two benefactors..." His voice trembled slightly, but every word was clear, "Loren... I thank you for saving our lives! If it weren't for your help, our lives would have been in grave danger!"

He dared not look up, feeling that the two people standing in the sea of ​​blood were even more unbearable to look at than the monarch on the throne.

After a moment of silence, Hua Tianyou said gently, "Get up. It was just a small favor, so there's no need to take it to heart."

Loren slowly rose, still not daring to look directly at the two. After hesitating for a long time, he finally asked in a low voice, "May I ask... with such powerful martial arts, are you perhaps 'Seven Stars'?"

"Seven Stars?" Shen Mo's eyebrows twitched slightly, and his heart skipped a beat.

He had never heard of these two words before. He glanced at Hua Tianyou, a questioning look in his eyes.

Hua Tianyou understood perfectly, but couldn't explain it—if he showed any unfamiliarity with the term "Seven Stars" at this moment, it would be tantamount to admitting that he was not from the far west.

He waved his hand nonchalantly, a perfectly timed wry smile appearing on his lips: "As you can see, the two of us are indeed not Holy Envoys of the Holy See, much less the seven most powerful 'Seven Stars'."

He paused, then said casually, "We were just two wandering knights who happened to be passing by and happened to meet."

"The wandering knight..." Loren murmured repeatedly, his heart pounding like a stormy sea.

A wandering knight? A wandering knight could kill eight hundred cavalrymen?

But he dared not question it.

Not only did he not dare, but he became even more certain that these two must be reclusive masters. They were unwilling to reveal their identities, and it would be unwise for him to ask them.

What's more... they just saved his life and eliminated Ruolan City's main fighting force for him!

Loren took a deep breath, suppressing all his doubts, and solemnly cupped his hands in greeting: "Regardless of your identities, Loren will remember this kindness forever! If you ever need my help in the future, I will go through fire and water for you!"

Shen Mo nodded slightly without saying a word.

Hua Tianyou stood with his hands behind his back, his long robe fluttering gently in the breeze, like a god who had just returned from a battlefield of carnage.

"Go back now." His voice was not loud, but every word was like a knife. "The people of Ruolan suffer from oppressive government. The people's hearts are your weapon. Use them wisely, and do not let our actions today be in vain."

Loren was jolted, as if struck in the soul by that seemingly casual remark.

He looked at Hua Tianyou—his eyes held no pity, no arrogance of a benefactor, only an almost indifferent emotion.

His throat bobbed, and he finally bowed deeply, mounted his horse, and led his remaining troops away in a cloud of dust.

Horse hooves trampled through the blood-soaked mud, splattering specks of crimson.

When the sound of hooves completely faded away, the wasteland returned to deathly silence.

Shen Mo then slowly spoke, his voice low and deep like the lingering echo of a night breeze: "Heavenly Demon Lord, what is the 'Seven Stars' that Loren spoke of?"

Hua Tianyou remained silent for a moment, his gaze still fixed on the distance, as if recalling a long-forgotten past. After a long while, he slowly spoke:

"In the far west, there are many powerful figures, but only seven people can truly make the monarchs of various countries uneasy—the world calls them the 'Seven Stars'."

He paused, his tone growing heavier, carrying an almost awe-inspiring solemnity: "The number one among the Seven Stars is 'Invincible Duke'."