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As the defensive line ahead of Wu Jing solidified, the Yangchuan Soldiers fell into a momentary chaos. However, the Yangchuan people, lacking immediate support, seemed unwilling to back down. They regrouped, and several members of the Flame Cavalry charged in from the flanks at high speed, targeting the line of gunmen behind the barrier. Their energy lances were raised high, the burning red light seemingly heralding impending destruction.
Yan Kong's gaze was sharp as a hawk, quickly locking onto the rapidly approaching enemies. His expression was cold and resolute as he stood firmly in front of the barrier, his eyes sweeping over each target that drew near. Just as the first of the Flame Cavalry was about to breach the distance, he suddenly crouched down, forcefully stomping his right foot. A discarded sword on the ground vibrated and leapt into the air, spinning and reflecting a blinding cold light.
Yan Kong's movements were fluid and seamless; his left hand swiftly grasped the sword's hilt. He then pulled his upper body back tightly, resembling a bow drawn taut. He aimed at the leading member of the Flame Cavalry and flicked his wrist with force, sending the sword flying like a streak of cold light straight toward its target.
The speed of the sword was so swift that it was nearly invisible to the eye. It traced a perfect arc in the air, seemingly guided by some invisible force, piercing precisely into the chest of the Flame Cavalry leader. Before he could react, the cold light had already penetrated his armor, blood gushing from his chest as he fell heavily from his fire wheel to the ground. The fire wheel careened uncontrollably into a nearby cliffside, erupting in a shower of sparks.
The remaining two members of the Flame Cavalry were stunned by this sudden attack; their fire wheels came to an abrupt halt as their speed diminished. They looked at their fallen comrade with fear in their eyes, but before they could react further, Yan Kong had already raised his blade.
"Do you want to try again?" Yan Kong said coldly, his voice deep yet slicing through the air like a blade.
The soldiers behind the gunmen witnessed all this and gasped in suppressed astonishment. They had never seen such precise and deadly throwing; it was as if that sword possessed a spirit of its own, driven by an absolute killing intent that pinned their enemies to the ground. Their morale ignited instantly; they gripped their guns tighter, their gazes becoming more resolute.
"Steady! Don't let them near the barrier!" Yan Kong shouted again, stepping forward and swinging his blade toward the remaining two members of the Flame Cavalry.
With a powerful push off the ground, Yan Kong's figure shot forward like a bolt of red lightning. In just three steps combined into two strides, he rapidly closed in on the remaining two Flame Cavalry members. His gaze was sharp and focused like a blade itself; each step carried an unstoppable force as if he were about to crush all enemy defenses in an instant.
Before the two Flame Cavalry could fully react, Yan Kong's blade had already swung out. A horizontal slash cut through the air like a fierce wind, its edge glinting with cold light so fast it was nearly impossible to catch. In that moment, time seemed to freeze; only the sound of steel slicing through air echoed around them.
The sound of blades piercing armor and flesh was clear and piercing; both members of the Flame Cavalry froze in place as their fire wheels skidded uncontrollably across the ground before they collapsed. Their bodies remained rigid for a moment before their heads slid off their necks, blood gushing from their severed necks like fountains, staining the ground with glaring red.
Yan Kong stood between the two fallen corpses, his blade lowered as blood dripped from its edge with a faint sound. His armor and face were already splattered with enemy blood, yet his gaze remained calm and cruel, resembling an unfeeling slaughter machine.
His bravery and efficiency in killing shocked the surrounding soldiers. The troops of Wu Jing witnessed this almost mythical slaughter, and the fear in their hearts was completely ignited into a burning battle spirit. Their shouts grew louder, their steps more powerful, and the guns and knives they raised seemed to become steadier.
"Kill them all! Don't let a single Yang Chuan soldier escape!" Yan Kong suddenly turned around, his voice booming like thunder, stirring the blood of the soldiers around him. His gaze swept over each person, as if he were injecting his anger and strength into their souls.
The morale of Wu Jing's army surged, and under Yan Kong's leadership, they quickly suppressed Yang Chuan's Assault Team. The once formidable Flame Knights were now forced to retreat step by step; their offensive was completely shattered, and the chaotic ranks appeared utterly vulnerable under the counterattack of the Wu Jing Army.
The situation on the battlefield reversed in an instant, blood and flames continued to spread along the mountain path, while Yan Kong's figure became the most prominent symbol on this battlefield. Each swing of his blade and every roar of his was a call to victory.
The Assault Team of Yang Chuan, once fierce like wild beasts, had now been completely extinguished. The vanguard had long since collapsed, and the once tight formation was torn apart. Seeing that the surprise attack had completely failed, Yang Chuan's commander clearly realized that any further advance would only result in greater losses and ordered a retreat.
In the distance along the mountain path, the remnants of Yang Chuan's forces quickly began to withdraw. The wheels of the Flame Cavalry made urgent sounds against the rocks as they tried to escape from the pursuit of Fog City Soldiers. They retreated rapidly, even neglecting to cover their fallen comrades, desperate to flee from this battlefield that had turned into hell.
However, many Yang Chuan soldiers and Flame Cavalry trapped in the center of Wu Jing Army had nowhere to escape. Their retreat routes had long been sealed off; as Fog City Soldiers reorganized their formation, these individuals were like prey trapped in an iron cage with nowhere to hide. They struggled desperately, but their exhausted bodies and dwindling morale rendered their resistance futile.
The soldiers of Wu Jing closed in step by step, their guns and knives piercing into the chests of enemies with ruthless efficiency. Their movements were orderly and swift, gradually slaughtering these Yang Chuan soldiers. Blood pooled into rivers along the mountain path; the once imposing Flame Cavalry now lay as lifeless corpses scattered about, their extinguished flames casting a particularly desolate scene.
The battlefield gradually quieted down; gunfire and cries for blood were slowly replaced by the orderly sound of footsteps. The soldiers of Wu Jing reformed their ranks, clearing away the bodies of fallen enemies to one side. The atmosphere in the valley was no longer filled with chaos and screams but rather a dead silence, with only the lingering smell of blood hanging in the air.
Yan Kong stood at the very front line, his eyes fixed intently on the retreating remnants of Yang Chuan. The knife in his hand still hung low, its blade covered in enemy blood. He raised his wrist slightly and flicked it gently; blood splattered onto the ground in a dark red arc. The blade shimmered with a cold light under the sun, as if recounting the slaughter that had just occurred.
His gaze remained focused on the movements of Wu Jing's troops behind him, his face showing no sign of relaxation. He knew that although this battle had ended, it was merely a segment of their journey. Greater challenges awaited ahead, and he needed to be ready to draw his sword once more at any moment.
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