The pale white flames converged, imprisoning the scorching high temperature that completely vaporized the twenty-one experts of the Towering Pavilion realm. The flames were confined within a space only a few hundred meters in size, without a trace of heat escaping.
The flaming figure, enveloped in an ashen iron shell, its gleaming surface reflecting the flickering firelight, looked like a demon king from hell with a human head and a dog body. It emitted a sinister and triumphant laughter.
The Supreme Command of Wudao struggled to pull his upper body out of the dome. His hand gripped a rocky protrusion as he leaned down to look below. Amongst the pale white flames, there were twenty-one vague figures imprinted on the ground.
In an instant, the high temperature vaporized the twenty-one bodies, leaving behind these traces on the rocky surface.
The flaming figures wriggled, swaying like serpents, exuding a terrifying aura.
"The Ancient... Artifacts," the Supreme Command of Wudao muttered to himself, his voice carrying a bone-chilling coldness and a hint of inexplicable fear.
Wutie tumbled across the ground for a distance before finally stabilizing his posture. He leaped up, gripping the long spear in his left hand, and drew a large circle around him.
No one attacked.
All the Mistblade assassins, along with their mercenary warriors, stood motionless.
In an instant, the twenty-one leaders of the Mistblade at the Towering Pavilion realm level vanished, including four or more Commanders.
This caused a great psychological impact on the Mistblade organization. They dumbfoundedly watched the flaming figure, laughing like a demon god, and for a moment, no one came to attack Wutie.
Wutie gasped for air, his left hand below the elbow burning with intense heat, as if his flesh and blood were being incinerated. He endured the pain radiating from his arm, stepping quickly towards the direction of Lao Tie.
Lao Tie emerged from the flames step by step, accompanied by a low laughter. He smoothly joined Wutie.
The humanoid arms on his back slowly receded into his body. Lao Tie looked up at the Mistblade Supreme Command hanging from the dome and said in a deep voice, "We have left... Why must you exterminate us?"
Shaking his head, Lao Tie let out a deep sigh, "Although these words can be hurtful, I must tell you... you bunch of trash at the Towering Pavilion realm, with your insignificant power, years ago, you were nothing more than cannon fodder... Cannon fodder!"
With a crooked head, Lao Tie glanced at the dumbfounded Mistblade assassins and spat on the ground, "Even cannon fodder is too good of a description for you top-tier trash. Who gave you the audacity to come here and sacrifice yourselves so willingly?"
Laughing a few times, Lao Tie, accompanied by Wutie, continued to walk slowly towards the nearest corridor.
Outside that corridor stood a group of Mistblade members, a group of heavily armed warriors from the Niu and Lang tribes. When they saw Lao Tie and Wutie approaching, each one had a fearful look and instinctively stepped aside.
The Mistblade Supreme Command's face darkened as he watched Lao Tie.
Seeing that the two were getting closer to the corridor, the Mistblade Supreme Command's voice turned grim, "I see, in your arm, there are thirty-six red specks... and just now, you used twelve?"
Lao Tie paused, raising his head and sneering disdainfully, "You want to try? Feel free to try..."
The Mistblade Supreme Command fell silent.
Lao Tie stood still, his bloodshot eyes exuding a freezing coldness as he stared at his opponent.
Silence filled the room, only interrupted by the trembling of Wutie's left arm as his fingers continuously struck against the spear, emitting a faint 'ding, ding' sound.
As his arm absorbed the essence of the three knives, the pain was unimaginable for ordinary people. Each time a point of essence fused with his bones, it felt like being slashed by thousands of knives while being burned in a steel furnace.
Wutie was enduring the pain with all his might, but he couldn't stop the involuntary trembling of his arm.
In the eyes of the Mistblade members, this boy seemed to be scared.
Why was he afraid?
Lao Tie had already demonstrated such terrifying killing power, instantly wiping out the twenty-one top-level Mistblade members.
With such formidable killing power, why would Wutie be afraid?
Three Mistblade high-level members who had just attacked Wutie suddenly brightened. Their bodies instinctively swayed, and three threads of breeze swept towards Wutie and Lao Tie.
The Mistblade Supreme Command, hanging from the dome, also noticed Wutie's trembling left arm.
He made the same judgment as his three subordinates.
Was Wutie afraid, and if so, did he know the true battle power of this ancient artifact?
Perhaps they were no longer capable of launching such terrifying attacks? Attacks like the pale white flames that seemed capable of incinerating everything.
The flames gradually disappeared, leaving behind a concave hole in the ground where Lao Tie stood. The one-meter-thick layer of rock was completely incinerated, and the twenty-one human-shaped silhouettes that were left on the rock also disappeared.
The three Mistblade high-level members approached rapidly, their low bellowing accompanied by the sharp whistling noise of dozens of elemental blood knives spinning and flying towards Wutie and Lao Tie.
These blood knives were powerful enough to pierce through Wutie's armor.
Wutie didn't dare to be careless. He quickly waved his right arm, using the White Tiger Armguard to intercept the blood knives that were falling like little blood moons towards him and Lao Tie.
The destructive power of the blood knives posed no threat to Lao Tie. He stood in the way and blocked them with his enormous body. The blood-colored lights fell on him, emitting a piercing slicing sound, exploding into countless blood-red sparks.
Lao Tie's body remained motionless, showing no sign of injury.
The blood knives of the three Mistblade high-level members had no effect on him.
Wutie's left hand continued to tremble violently, the flesh below the elbow burned into charred meat. If it wasn't for the sealed armor, the smell of roasted meat would have spread far away.
Enduring the severe pain, Wutie gritted his teeth. His fingers trembled violently, constantly striking against the gun barrel.
The essence within the three knives was absorbed by the bones in his arm. During the process of bonding the metallic material with the bones, the pain was unimaginable. Each point of essence merging into the bones felt like being sliced by a thousand knives while being burned in a steel furnace.
Wutie could only endure the pain; he couldn't stop the natural trembling of his arm.
In the eyes of the Mistblade members, this boy was clearly afraid.
Why was he afraid?
Lao Tie had already demonstrated such terrifying killing power, making twenty-one Mistblade high-level members disappear instantly.
Why would Wutie still be afraid?
The three Mistblade high-level members who had just struck at Wutie's arm suddenly had a revelation. They instinctively swayed, sending gentle breezes and closing in on Wutie and Lao Tie.
The Mistblade Supreme Command, hanging from the dome, noticed Wutie's incessantly trembling left arm.
He made the same conclusion as his subordinates.
Wutie was afraid because he knew the true combat power of this ancient artifact?
Perhaps they were no longer able to launch the horrifying attacks they had just made? The pale white flames that could seemingly incinerate everything within reach.
In an instant, the Mistblade Supreme Command appeared before Wutie, having crossed over thousands of meters. He swung his sword down at Wutie's chest with all his might.
Wutie instinctively raised his left hand. The Handguard on his palm receded like flowing water, revealing his hand with exposed bones and flesh. In the cracks on his hand, a dim red radiance faintly flickered, and a pungent burnt smell pervaded the air.
The smell was like what would emanate from poorly cooked braised pork, resulting in an aroma of burnt charcoal.
The Mistblade Supreme Command sneered as his sword clashed with Wutie's palm.
The barely audible 'ding' resounded. The Mistblade Supreme Command's sword had been struck, leaving a thumb-sized dent. Fragments of the blade shattered, and near the area of the dent, the blade was covered in spider-like cracks.
Lao Tie's unyielding palm simultaneously struck the Mistblade Supreme Command's chest, tearing his clothes and exposing a large area of flesh. Lao Tie's palm was like a red-hot branding iron, scorching the flesh with a crisp 'sizzle' sound. The pain made the Mistblade Supreme Command hiss in anger.
With a gust of wind, the Mistblade Supreme Command rose both palms like knives or a monstrous giant's heavy axe, fiercely chopping towards Wutie's chest.
Behind the Mistblade Supreme Command, within the mist, a monstrous demonic shadow, with its ferocious appearance and bulging muscles, held two mountains in its hands, forcefully swinging them up high... high.
This was the Greater Force Divine Magic, the Mistblade Supreme Command's special ability.
This attack was the Mistblade Supreme Command's full force strike. Even if Wutie still wore the Handguard, he believed he could cleave Wutie in two with one strike.
Since he was a Mistblade, with just one swing, he displayed the same might as a full-powered strike from a normal Mistblade Commander.
The sword light was as fast as lightning as it heavily chopped onto Wutie's palm.
The bones in Wutie's palm were violently shaken. In particular, the first phalanx of his left index finger vibrated at an extremely high frequency.
'Ding'!
A very long collision sound rang out. The Mistblade Supreme Command's sword was knocked out of shape by Wutie's fingertips, leaving a gap the size of a thumb.
The broken edge cracked, and the area near the gap was densely packed with spiderweb-like cracks.
Wutie extended his left index finger, and another piercing 'ding' sound followed.
Just like the three Mistblade high-level members before, the Mistblade Supreme Command's sword, the symbol of the entire Mistblade organization, was reduced to countless fine fragments.
Bright sparks, invisible to the naked eye, jetted out of the sword like fireflies finding their nest, whistling as they flew into Wutie's left index finger. Flames over one foot high ignited on Wutie's palm, exuding a terrifying high temperature.
The Mistblade Supreme Command's slender face contorted. He widened his eyes, completely frozen as he stared at the shattered sword.
This sword was not just a personal weapon; it represented the authority of the entire Mistblade organization.
For the Mistblade organization, this blade was comparable to the national treasure of a country.
The Mistblade Supreme Command's adam's apple twitched. He vomited a mouthful of blood, staring fixedly at the fragments of the broken sword which had caused the large-scale bloodshed.
Wutie howled. His burning left palm struck the Mistblade Supreme Command's chest.
The Mistblade Supreme Command's shirt was burned to pieces, revealing a large area of flesh. Wutie's palm was like a red-hot branding iron, sizzling as it burned through the flesh. The pain made the Mistblade Supreme Command roar in anger.
With a 'whooshing' sound, the Mistblade Supreme Command raised both palms.
Like knives or an axe held by a giant troll god, they viciously struck Wutie's chest.
Behind the Mistblade Supreme Command, within the mist, the monstrous god shadow roared to the sky. Wutie's chest armor resounded with a loud bang, as streams of flowing light swiftly flickered. The armor was caved in, revealing numerous cracks across its surface.
This armor, just scrap iron stored by a subdivision of the Ancient Divine Soldier Camp, was a crudely-made, non-standard armor.
For an average Mistblade assassin, this armor was practically indestructible. However, for an expert like the Mistblade Supreme Command, this layer of armor was no different from slightly thicker iron plates.
The tremendous force struck Wutie's chest, shattering layer after layer of flesh.
Wutie screamed, and through some sudden inspiration, he aggressively waved his right arm. In the White Tiger Armguard transformed into the White Tiger Crack, the short spear tip was ejected with a length of two chi and four cun.
The spearhead, shaped like a short sword, flew rapidly, accompanied by a fine tearing sound, as it cut towards the Mistblade Supreme Command's chest.
The Mistblade Supreme Command seemed indifferent to the White Tiger Crack sweeping across. With both palms forcefully exerting strength, he wanted to instantly kill Wutie with a single blow.
The slap was as wide as a palm, but the White Tiger Crack swept across with the crack as long as a spear.
The Mistblade Supreme Command howled, and behind him, the mist coalesced into a giant god-shaped shadow. The giant had a ferocious face and bulging muscles. In his hands, he held two mountains and swung them forcefully.
In the hands of this monstrous god, the mountains were like pebbles, constantly thrown high in the air.
The Greater Force Divine Magic...this was the special ability of the Mistblade Supreme Command.
This strike was the Mistblade Supreme Command's full power attack. Even if Wutie still had the Handguard, he was confident he could cut Wutie in half in one blow.
With a flash of wind, the Mistblade Supreme Command appeared before Wutie, having crossed over thousands of meters. He swung his sword down at Wutie's chest with all his might.
Wutie instinctively raised his left hand. Flesh and blood on Wutie's chest were burned to ashes, revealing a large area of corrosive-blackened skin. He was left with a fist-sized hole in his chest.
The Mistblade Supreme Command's sword, propelled by his full force, punched a hole through Wutie's body.
(End of this chapter)