King of Hundred Victories Saber

Chapter 226: Chapter 126: Chivalrous Passion Battles the Furious Tide, Sword Shadows Like Rainbows Strike Down the Wicked

As time passed, the icy chill continued to spread and wreak havoc within the Ghost-faced Elder, as if a thick layer of ice gradually froze his blood, slowing its flow until it nearly stopped. His movements became sluggish and stiff, the rotation of his cane slowed, and the glow of the black shield grew dimmer, like a candle about to go out.

A pained expression grew more prominent on the Ghost-faced Elder’s face, his lips trembled as he tried to speak, but the cold had completely frozen his throat, forcing him to utter only weak whimpers.

At this moment, Shi Feiyang keenly sensed the timing was right. He gathered his strength in his feet, leapt high into the air, spun rapidly, and with his Myanmar Saber raised, gathered all his strength, and swung down upon the Ghost-faced Elder with a world-shattering momentum.

This strike seemed to gather all the power between heaven and earth, the blade’s light sliced through the air with a sharp, piercing whistling sound, as if divine punishment had descended. The Ghost-faced Elder widened his eyes in terror, wanting to dodge, but found his body immobilized by the icy chill.

The blade light descended instantly, splitting the Ghost-faced Elder’s body in two, blood spurted like a fountain, spraying a mist of blood in the cold night sky, like the final struggle of his sinful life. Thud! The two halves of the Ghost-faced Elder’s corpse fell heavily to the ground, raising a cloud of dust.

Shi Feiyang slowly sheathed the Myanmar Saber, his gaze like a torch as he scanned the surroundings, ready to face the next unknown fierce battle.

Shi Feiyang knew well that in this world of Jianghu filled with evil and conflict, he bore the responsibility of upholding justice, and as long as evil existed, he would never stop fighting.

On another side, the raging battle had reached a fever pitch, the tense situation like a bowstring stretched to its limit, fragile and ready to snap at any moment. In the sky above, thick ominous clouds were stacked and compressed by giant hidden hands from the darkness, presenting a twisted and oppressing form, like a massive, menacing black curtain, pressing heavily down towards the earth, as if intending to devour the world mercilessly.

Occasionally, a strange glimmer flashed through the gaps in the clouds, not the dawn of hope, but the prelude to an impending lightning strike, adding a few chills to the gloomy and oppressive sky.

The fierce wind roared like an untamed horse unleashed, sweeping with irresistible force.

It carried such force that it blew the sand and stones on the ground like hidden weapons flying everywhere.

The sand and stones collided with each other, producing sharp, piercing whistles, as if cheering wildly for this brutal and bloody battle.

In the wind, there was a faint thunder sound from afar, a dull and oppressive sound like the earth’s deep groan in pain. The surrounding trees were shaken violently by the raging wind, thick trunks swaying, branches creaking, leaves rustling down, seemingly weeping silently for this human tragedy. The distant mountains, under the veil of the gray sky, had blurred outlines, resembling silent and lurking beasts, coldly watching the bloody slaughter, quietly witnessing the cruelty and impermanence of Jianghu.

Li ManCang’s right arm was wounded, and blood gushed endlessly from the wound, quickly staining his clothes in a shocking crimson red, which appeared even more ghastly under the dark skies.

However, he was like a wild beast that became more frenzied after being wounded, gritting his teeth tightly, cheeks bulging with effort, eyes flashing with fierce and resentful light, as if burning with two flames of hatred.

Despite the pain clinging to him like a shadow, tormenting him relentlessly, he endured it with sheer willpower, elevating his signature ”Dog-Beating Stick Technique” to its pinnacle.

He wielded the iron stick in his hand with a fierce wind, the stick shadows crossed, like an extremely angry mad dog, furiously pouncing on Yili, each sweep of the stick shadow wrapped with the sound of the wind, as if to grind the surrounding air to dust.

Under his feet, the ground was covered with layers of sand and stones whipped up by the whirlwind, and as he moved violently, the sand and stones flew everywhere, intertwining with the surrounding dust, making the entire scene increasingly hazy and chaotic, like a doomsday painting filled with violence and conflict.

Yili’s face was as frosty as her gaze, her eyes like bright stars in the cold night, deep and sharp, exuding a calm and decisive aura, with no hint of fear, resembling a bottomless pool, locking onto Li ManCang’s every move.

Her lips slightly curled into a confident arc, that demeanor as if proudly declaring to the opponent, the victory of this fierce battle was already within her grasp. Her toes lightly touched the ground, her body gracefully spun like a petal dancing lightly in the wind, while the Cyan Blade in her hand was like an agile white snake, creating brilliant and bizarre sword flowers with her exquisite movements.

At this moment, Yili performed the ”Misty Cloud Step,” each step was as light as stepping on clouds, her toes touched the ground and instantly propelled her up, her body drawing lovely and alluring arcs in the air, like a celestial dancer, but hidden within her elegance was a deadly fierce killing intent. Each step landed as if a dragonfly touched water, seemingly there but not there, making it difficult to predict her next move, already merging with the heaven and earth, her figure elusive and undefined.