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墨書 Inktalez
Killing was like a rolling snowball, growing larger in its own world, never melting away. Wherever there were people, there was killing, unless life and death were clearly defined; only then would killing have no place.
Thus, the slaughter continued.
As the number of people dwindled, the snow-covered ground became thinner, just like the path the snowball rolled through. The Azure Wind Antelope had suffered significant damage. The poor students of this session were likely experiencing the most brutal final exam since the establishment of the Azure Wind Antelope, and perhaps even in its distant future.
As for the ordinary henchmen, their traces had long vanished from this battlefield.
Monks were also becoming increasingly scarce. Many masters who had spent years in cultivation perished in this turmoil. Such was fate; even the fate of a Buddha could not be defied.
Jufeng and his group bore more and more wounds. From an outsider's perspective, they were hardly recognizable, drenched in blood—most of it not their own but that of the Monks.
The monks truly admired this man, a demon from hell who seemed like an unyielding killing machine. He appeared on the verge of collapse, yet despite the fiercest storms, he still stood firm.
He was a terrifying figure.
Behind him, Zhu Yao's situation was far less optimistic. The Lunar Blade was originally untainted by blood, but today it could not avoid it; there was simply too much blood—so much that before it could flow away, it was covered by another wave. Her dark blue bodysuit was torn in numerous places, exposing much of her fair skin and flesh, half alluring and half horrifying, intertwined in a way that defied description.
Politeness also bore serious injuries; his handsome face was marred by sweat and blood. How could one harm others without suffering harm in return? If he were to visit a hospital now, surely few of his ribs would remain intact.
Tong Bailong's fighting style was straightforward and embodied the aesthetics of violence. However, his strength had nearly run out; his movements had slowed significantly. Each time he severely injured a Monk, he would receive a heavy blow from another Monk in return. Those still fighting did so purely out of stubborn will and fading awareness.
I must protect Brother Jufeng.
Civilization was also in a dire situation, even beginning to withdraw from the battlefield—not out of fear but because he held no advantage among the monks. Yet he continued to fight, wielding a modified handgun that fired not bullets but rocks. These would not be fatal upon impact but effectively blocked incoming attacks.
He and Liu Xing remained on the periphery, inadvertently firing shots to help their companions avert crises. Every shot hit its mark with unerring precision.
And what about Jufeng? This beautiful butterfly no longer flew lightly; yet remarkably few scars adorned his body—he seemed almost untouched by dust.
He had something important to do later, so he had to maintain a perfect image, free from any traces of bloodshed.
The battle had transcended the concept of being heated; every move was executed with deep-rooted skill. Those who could still fight were individuals of immense willpower, unwilling to compromise, with no room for concession.
Whoever compromised first would lose control over their own life and death.
The Monk had half of his strength remaining, the Azure Wind Antelope was down to one-third, and Tong Bailong had also joined Liu Xing and the others from Civilization.
The Monk was left with one-third, the Azure Wind Antelope with one-quarter, while the three from Civilization had exhausted their resources and temporarily withdrew from the fight.
The Monk had one-fourth left, the Azure Wind Antelope was down to fewer than twenty members, and Zhu Yao was severely injured. He was swiftly pulled out of the crowd by a quick-handed ally and sent back to Civilization's ranks.
Zhu Yao also withdrew from the battle.
The Monk had one-fifth remaining, and the Azure Wind Antelope had exactly ten left. Under Chang Guohong's leadership, they made their final push.
The Monk was down to one-sixth, and the situation for Civilization was perilous. Politeness went to rescue them and also temporarily withdrew from the fight.
The Monk had one-tenth remaining, while all members of the Azure Wind Antelope had fallen. Politeness also exited the battle.
Thirty Monks faced Jufeng and five others, bringing a temporary halt to the battlefield.
This was the last pause; after this rest in music, it would be time for the final act.
After this act, it would all come to an end.
…
Not far below, the concert of Sister Five was in full swing, and the countdown had begun. The music, with its rising and falling melodies, mingled with the cheers of the crowd, softly reaching their ears.
Jufeng listened to the music, his chest rising and falling gently, appearing no different from an ordinary person. It was as if he had merely been an onlooker in the earlier battle, standing far away from it all.
He felt happy.
Beside him, Five seemed to come from another world, drenched in blood, with only her clear and bright eyes visible amidst the crimson.
Five was also happy.
"I'm a bit hungry. After we take care of these Bald Donkeys, you have to treat me to a feast," she said cheerfully, revealing a set of white teeth that stood out starkly against the bloodstained scene, creating a dissonant yet comforting sight for Jufeng.
Hearing this, Jufeng chuckled softly and pointed to the pitiful figure of Tong Bailong not far away. "Let's wait for them to join us for dinner; I’ll make sure there’s plenty."
"There's no time to waste. Shall we go?"
"Let’s go."
It felt like two friends discussing what to have for dinner; once they settled on it, they set off with ease and grace.
Thus, the two moved toward the group of monks, and the battle began anew.
Jufeng's Steel Blade was damaged; he switched to a soft sword now.
Five had already sheathed her Wind Chaser; the short blade was no longer suitable for the upcoming fight, so she picked up the Lunar Blade instead.
Blade and Sword United was unstoppable, not to mention the thirty Buddha.
The battle was brutal, even more so, yet it was also beautiful. Jufeng had poured all his savings from the past twenty years into this moment, making it a splendid conclusion.
After a quarter of an hour, Monk was halved, and after another quarter, the fight ended.
In the entire arena, only two people remained standing.
Their reserves were depleted, and it would take time to replenish them; recovering would not be easy. Both felt exhausted, incredibly tired, to the point where they wanted nothing more than to sleep.
Yet neither of them fell.
Jufeng slowly walked back, initially hoping to return without a trace of blood on his clothes, but imperfections still marred his efforts.
It was a pity; however, who in this world could have everything go their way?
He approached Zhu Yao, apologizing, “I’m sorry, I can’t help you bandage your wounds today.”
Zhu Yao’s pale face was smeared with blood and sweat, resembling a red lotus blooming in clear waters.
She shook her head, struggling to speak but still trying to comfort Jufeng with a few words. However, someone beside her spoke up first.
Five, who had been walking slowly behind Jufeng, said, “Let me handle it. I used Yao’s knife; I should do something in return.”
Yao, yet another exclusive title. The crowd fell silent for a moment, and Zhu Yao’s face flushed crimson, though it was hidden beneath the blood.
Jufeng chuckled softly. He naturally believed in Five’s abilities; after all these years outside, the most practiced skill he had was healing himself alone.
He just needed to obtain Zhu Yao's consent.
Zhu Yao looked into Wu's eyes, like two distant stars in the vast sky, mysterious and profound, drawing one in and making it hard to escape.
She lowered her head slightly, her delicate chin nodding.
Seeing this, Jufeng revealed a knowing smile, genuinely happy, before turning and disappearing into the night.
"Roar!"
A fierce howl echoed through the air as a swift shadow darted down.
(To be continued)
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