King of Hundred Victories Saber

Chapter 86: Chapter 66: Divine Skill Showdown! Shi Feiyang Braves the Dragon’s Lair, Bloodbath at Vajra Stronghold (Part 2)

Zheng Zhong’s body suddenly became rigid, his face revealing a terrified expression. He wanted to struggle but found his body was no longer under his control.

With a cracking sound, Zheng Zhong was split in two by Shi Feiyang’s saber, blood splattering everywhere and dyeing the ground red.

The black-robed warrior, realizing the situation was unfavorable, turned to flee.

Shi Feiyang wouldn’t let him go. His figure flashed, instantly appearing before the black-robed warrior, and with a ”Dragon Roar Nine Heavens,” carrying the power to destroy everything, he directly sent the black-robed warrior flying away.

The black-robed warrior spat out blood, like a puddle of mud on the ground, unable to rise again.

Then Shi Feiyang looked around, seeing the people of Vajra Stronghold and Divine Water Palace beginning to scatter, he shouted loudly: ”Brothers, pursue them to victory, don’t let a single one escape!” The disciples of the Heroic Sakura Association were invigorated, shouting in unison, their voices echoing through the clouds.

They charged into the enemy lines like tigers descending the mountain, killing the enemy so thoroughly that they were battered and lost their equipment.

Next, Shi Feiyang led the heroes and disciples, directly rushing towards Vajra Stronghold.

At this moment, the night grew ever darker, and the fierce wind howled among the steep mountains, like a prelude to death.

Vajra Stronghold was hidden within these rugged mountains, surrounded by overlapping peaks and jagged rocks, resembling dormant beasts exuding a chilling aura.

A winding and narrow path, like a thin ribbon, appeared intermittently among the mountains, serving as the only access to Vajra Stronghold. On either side were cliffs, unfathomably deep, where one misstep would lead to a crushed body.

Vajra Stronghold was built against the mountain, its walls tall and solid, constructed from large stone blocks, like a black fortress in the night, impenetrable. The fortified gate was shut tight, covered in spikes, resembling a menacing beast that deters any approach.

Inside the stronghold, lights shone brightly, shadows flitting about, occasionally accompanied by bursts of noise.

Shi Feiyang gazed at the Vajra Stronghold before him, his eyes resolute, shimmering like stars in the cold night.

He was well aware this battle would be hard-fought, but he was unafraid, harboring only one belief: to utterly destroy Vajra Stronghold, to eliminate harm from Jianghu, uphold justice, and safeguard people’s safety.

Previously, Xiao Lingling wielding the ”Mandarin Duck Saber” and Liao Pei with his ”Long Arm Fist” led over ten thousand disciples to attack Vajra Stronghold. Due to the treacherous terrain, their attack was thwarted, and they were instead besieged by hidden darts and crossbow bolts, suffering heavy casualties.

Vajra Stronghold’s newly appointed ”Black Wind Altar Master,” Zhou Kui, inherited the family’s ”Black Wind Iron Cloth Shirt,” impervious to blades and arrows, possessing immense power.

At this moment, he firmly grasped a thick Wolf Fang Club, fiercely engaging with Liao Pei’s ”Long Arm Fist.”

Every swing of the Wolf Fang Club carried a rushing wind, threatening to smash Liao Pei into pulp.

Liao Pei’s agile figure continuously dodged Zhou Kui’s attacks, while searching for an opportunity to counterattack.

Vajra Stronghold’s newly appointed ”Evil Wolf Altar Master,” Zhao Jin, with a burly stature, mastered the family’s Mountain-Opening Ax technique, wielding a pair of Iron Double Axes, creating a fierce wind with every swing. He occasionally shouted and brandished the axes in fierce clashes with Xiao Lingling’s Seven Fiend Saber technique, each move aggressively contended, the axes and saber colliding, producing resounding clinks of steel and sparks flying.

Xiao Lingling’s arms went numb, her tiger’s mouth ached terribly, forcing her to retreat repeatedly. Her face showed a pained expression, yet her gaze remained steadfast.

After Shi Feiyang dealt with the black-robed warrior, just about to lead everyone in charging towards Vajra Stronghold, his peripheral vision caught sight of the intense battle between Xiao Lingling and Zhao Jin. Zhao Jin was wielding the pair of Iron Double Axes with fierce wind accompanied by each attack of Mountain-Splitting Rock-Breaking force. Xiao Lingling, though struggling to fend them off, was gradually becoming overwhelmed.

Shi Feiyang lightly tapped the ground with his toes, his whole person shooting toward Zhao Jin like a black meteor.

During his flight, Shi Feiyang employed the Bright Jade Technique, and suddenly, a thick layer of white mist surged around him. This mist was not ordinary fog, but carried an extremely cold essence like a millennium-old Profound Ice. As he approached, the surrounding air seemed to freeze instantly, the grass and trees swaying in the night wind were covered with frost, becoming rigid and fragile, shattering into powder with a light touch.

In an instant, Shi Feiyang had reached behind Zhao Jin. His gaze was like lightning, locking onto Zhao Jin’s major acupoints all over his body, suddenly reaching forth with his left hand, his five fingers like hooks grasping at Zhao Jin across the air. A visible gust of cold air shot from his fingertips, like invisible ice needles piercing into Zhao Jin’s acupoints throughout his body. Zhao Jin felt an intense cold invade instantly, his limbs seemingly pierced by countless steel needles simultaneously, his body stiffened abruptly, and the axes in his hands slowed involuntarily.

At the moment Zhao Jin was attacked by the cold, Shi Feiyang pulled out the Myanmar Saber from his waist with his right hand, the saber blade glistening coldly, like a ray of cool moonlight. He executed the ”Golden Dragon Coiling Claws,” a move from the Hundred Victories Saber Technique. His figure moved like electricity, the Myanmar Saber cutting a golden arc through the air, resembling a golden dragon winding and coiling, directed at Zhao Jin’s neck with an unstoppable momentum.

The saber wind howled, causing the surrounding air to emit a sharp whistling, sand and stones on the ground swept up by the saber wind, forming a small sandstorm. Zhao Jin sensed the lethal threat, wanting to dodge, only to find his body bound by the extreme coldness, unable to move. He stared with wide eyes, a terrified expression on his face; he wanted to cry out, but found his throat also frozen by the cold, unable to make a sound. With a ”crack,” Shi Feiyang’s Myanmar Saber struck precisely at Zhao Jin’s neck, and Zhao Jin’s head flew off like a kite with a cut string, blood gushing from his neck like a fountain, tracing a blood-red arc across the air, falling onto the icy ground.