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墨書 Inktalez
The sudden rise of Wu and Zhu Yao sounded like a horn being blown, signaling the army to march.
Polite Civilization and Tong Bailong were both from orthodox martial backgrounds. They might not excel in using their full strength to take lives, but their formidable power was undeniable. Politeness possessed the cultivation of Yan Huang, while Tong Bailong was known for his impressive bravery. Once they unleashed their fury, they became an unstoppable force. Perhaps in terms of sheer martial prowess, Civilization was the weakest among them, yet his agility was exceptional. Although he might not inflict as much damage, he effectively distracted many enemies.
With the three of them moving in unison, the pressure on the monk group intensified.
And what about our protagonist? He was still lagging behind with Liu Xing.
"Stay close to me; we will fight side by side as father and son."
Liu Xing tightened his grip on the Tang Dao, following Jufeng closely. Naturally, monks would come to kill him since Jufeng was their primary target. How could the person involved not face cold stares?
The number of people rushing toward Jufeng was always the highest.
Jufeng still held the Huan Ke Second-Grade Knife, but now equipped with a Steel Blade that looked remarkably similar to the Tang Dao.
Jufeng glanced at the enemy and asked Liu Xing, "Has Politeness taught you the Water Cutting Technique?"
"My master has taught me."
"Good. Stay by my side and wield your knife with me."
With that, as two monks approached with Steel Blades in hand, Jufeng initiated the first move of the Water Cutting Technique, drawing his knife to cut through water.
This was merely a starting move, emphasizing fluidity and momentum. The Steel Blade sliced horizontally downward in one smooth motion.
As the two Monks swiftly sidestepped, they were suddenly met with a fierce killing intent emerging from below. The deadly aura was overwhelming, leaving no room for evasion. One of the Monks was struck in the abdomen by a blade, blood gushing forth.
The assailant was Liu Xing, executing the second form of the Water Cutting Technique, titled "Raising a Cup to Drown Sorrow."
Having hit his target, Liu Xing quickly withdrew his Tang Dao, positioning it horizontally in front of him, readying himself for the next move of the Water Cutting Technique. His gaze was focused, devoid of any arrogance or despair.
This was the most precious spirit of a warrior—a quality Liu Xing was fortunate to possess innately, without the need for learning.
This was true talent.
Jufeng continued to strike, still employing the Water Cutting Technique. Liu Xing found openings and consistently inflicted damage on his opponent. Occasionally, when Jufeng resorted to other Yanhuang Martial Arts techniques that Liu Xing did not know, he still managed to connect with the Water Cutting Technique or other familiar moves seamlessly.
A father-son duo in battle—truly, the ancients did not deceive me.
Time was an invisible knife, and as it cruelly passed, more and more people fell—some could rise again but would soon find themselves collapsing once more; others fell and could not get back up, peacefully sleeping amidst the chaos of war.
At this point in the battle, no one remembered how long it had been; it felt as if everything had just begun while simultaneously feeling like a blur of a thousand years. When your attention is entirely focused on one point, you forget about time itself—just like now, where only slaughter filled their eyes.
The concert had already progressed for over half its duration; however, the audience's enthusiasm showed no signs of waning. Whenever an upbeat song ignited their passion, they responded vigorously as if every drop of blood within them had been set ablaze. When the music shifted to a softer tune, they fell silent, swaying their lights gently, creating waves of illumination that danced with the collision of notes and melodies.
After a concert, the singer would be exhausted, and of course, the audience would not have it easy either.
It was a spirit to be admired, much like the battlefield high above, where Buddha faced off against the Asura.
At this point in the battle, a brief pause occurred. The Monks gathered together, most of their robes in disarray, and many could no longer stand. Their calm gazes turned toward the crowd across from them, filled with admiration yet resolute.
On the side of Jufeng, the Azure Wind Antelope had sustained injuries; several were still holding on, but each person bore wounds. Among them, Five appeared the most disheveled, though these injuries were earned through bloodshed. Despite this, Five remained the most composed in the arena; his wounds and blood seemed almost invisible. Only those who knew him well would understand that it was simply because he had grown accustomed to it.
When a person becomes used to being hurt and accustomed to battling death, what is there left to fear?
This was the state of battle among the masters; as for the elite of ordinary factions, nearly all had fallen. The newcomers from the Unification Alliance were similarly affected, as were the elites from Dragon Hall.
This was how it should be; life for life was the only rule allowed—no room for cheating.
After a brief respite, the battle would continue. It had already been established that only life and death could serve as conclusions.
And now both sides were still alive, so it was far from over.
Five remained at the forefront, gripping his Chasing Wind Dart as he surged forward like a spring breeze. Zhu Yao followed closely behind; in tonight's battle, she would always be the first trailing behind Five.
With one movement came another in quick succession. The battlefield, which had calmed for only a moment, returned to its chaotic state. Jufeng looked at the group of Monks and knew it was time to bring things to an end.
He turned to Liu Xing and said, "Star, Daddy can no longer fight alongside you. You must protect yourself and remember what I told you before."
Liu Xing nodded heavily. He didn't want Jufeng to worry about him, so he acted with extra seriousness.
At the same time, he mentally repeated Jufeng's words back to her.
"Father, you must also protect yourself and live well."
Jufeng ran, sprinting forward, and suddenly transformed into a butterfly mid-air, causing the two Monks who had been fixated on her to narrow their eyes in surprise.
Illusion Ninja Technique. There was no mention of such a trick in the intelligence reports about Jufeng; could the information be wrong?
The answer was certainly no. Jufeng had learned the Illusion Ninja Technique not long ago, and how could the Unification Alliance possibly know about it?
Though it was merely a trick, when used in the right place, it could yield remarkable results.
The butterfly danced gracefully, seemingly moving to an indistinct rhythm that echoed from nearby, beautiful enough to be breathtaking. The two Monks, like fierce guardians, remained undistracted by external matters as they struck out repeatedly, sealing off all possible paths the butterfly might take.
The gusts of their palms were sharp as blades. The butterfly, unable to withstand the blows, fell weakly to the ground, scattering into countless glowing fragments upon impact.
And where was Jufeng? She had already positioned herself behind the two men, still suspended in mid-air. With a swift flick of her Steel Blade, she sliced across one Monk's back from one shoulder to the opposite waist.
The Monk let out a cry of despair as his body involuntarily lurched forward. Seeing this, his companion retaliated with a powerful strike aimed at Jufeng. Unfortunately, although he hit her, it felt as though he had struck nothing but air; Jufeng's figure had already vanished without a trace, leaving only an afterimage behind.
This was a combination of Yanhuang Body Technique and Illusion Ninja Technique. Jufeng learned knowledge not just to copy but to innovate. While Utada Hikaru separated reality from illusion, Jufeng blended the two together, making her movements even harder to predict.
If Lance were here to witness this scene, he would surely be speechless, astonished that someone could learn another's ultimate skill simply through a single encounter.
Even if it were just the surface.
At this moment, he remained in the audience at the concert, sitting beside Vera, his mind wandering as he watched the spectacular performance unfold.
Since taking her seat, Vera had maintained a single posture without change. Her delicate fingers gently stroked the soft fur of Blue Cat with a steady rhythm, her gaze fixed on the stage, where her exquisite features remained expressionless as ever.
No expression on her face, but what about her heart?
Aside from herself, no one could know.
(To be continued)
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