King of Hundred Victories Saber

The trapped enemies struggled desperately, unable to break free from the tough Celestial Silkworm Silk Net, only able to cry out in despair.

Immediately after, the steel blade in Xie Wen’s hand flashed coldly, like a bolt of lightning piercing the enemy’s throat and other vital spots.

The blade flashed by, blood gushing out, the enemies screaming in agony. Xie Wen’s actions were seamless and clean, each strike claimed an enemy’s life, moving effortlessly through the enemy ranks, instilling fear in their hearts.

”Divine Archer” Miao Menlong stood like an aloof War God descended from the heavens, atop a large rock.

His posture was upright, his clothes fluttering violently in the wind. The hard bow in his hand, under his strong arms, slowly drew into a full moon shape, emitting a creaking sound, as if gathering infinite strength.

Miao Menlong’s eyes were as determined as the brightest and coldest stars in the night sky, his sharp gaze seemed to penetrate the smoke, firmly locking onto the enemies on the chaotic battlefield below. His eyes exuded a sense of resolve and coldness, declaring to the enemies that death was imminent.

Every arrow was nocked and fitted with anticipation, the shafts trembling slightly, seemingly eager to claim the enemy’s life.

As his arms released forcefully, the arrows flew out with a strong and fierce momentum, whistling through the air, resembling meteors streaking across the night sky, trailing long luminous tails.

The arrows spun rapidly in the air, slicing through the air, emitting a piercing whooshing sound, like the cries of ghosts and wolves, chilling to the bone.

These arrows were infused with life and spirit, hitting the enemies accurately. For a time, the pirates and members of the Giant Whale Gang fell as the arrows struck them.

Some enemies were hit in the throat, blood gushed out like fountains from their mouths, forming pillars of blood in the air, their bodies then limp as they collapsed; others were struck in the chest, their bodies jolted as if hit by a heavy hammer, then fell straight to the ground and lay motionless, crimson blood spreading underneath them, dyeing the earth red.

The still living enemies shot by arrows writhed painfully on the ground, uttering miserable groans, the cries overlapping, echoing on this bloody Qingfeng Mountain, adding more bleakness and horror.

Yang Xue’Er on this chaotic, bloody Qingfeng Mountain, seemed like a blood-red rose blooming proudly amidst the storm, her figure graceful yet exuding a deadly aura.

She tightly gripped her long sword with both hands, the blade flickering with a chilling cold light, like a deep and icy cold spring, the chill overwhelming.

As she swiftly wielded the long sword like an illusion, sharp and piercing sounds rang out in the air, the sound from the blade’s high-speed friction with the air, akin to the Death God sounding the horn to claim lives.

Since gaining Shi Feiyang’s supreme bloodline blessing, her Qingfeng Swordsmanship has reached a masterful and peak state.

Every strike carried a fierce chill, like the most biting north wind in the dead of winter, able to penetrate the enemy’s skin and reach the bone.

Her swordsmanship was unpredictable and elusive, each strike fatal, every move pursued souls. Her movement turned lightly, like a nimble butterfly, the long sword like a Spiritual Snake emerging, swiftly and accurately stabbing at a pirate’s throat.

The pirate’s eyes widened, face filled with terror, unable to make any defensive move before dying instantly.

Blood gushed from the throat like a fountain, splattering onto Yang Xue’Er’s clothing, instantly dyeing her originally snow-white clothes a shocking crimson red.

However, Yang Xue’Er was unfazed, her eyes firm and resolute, continuing to wield the long sword, like a white flash of lightning, launching round after round of attacks on the enemies, where she passed, the enemies fell, blood splattered on site.

”Iron Flute Scholar” Xiang Kun stood alone as an aloof hermit on the battlefield.

His figure appeared lonely and mysterious amidst the war smoke, yet emitting a chilling aura.

His expression was stern, his face covered in frost, the iron flute in his hand seemed to merge with his body, becoming a part of him.

At this moment, he slowly placed the iron flute to his lips, playing a strange and eerie melody.

The sound of the flute was like an invisible ghost, drifting and lingering on the bloody Qingfeng Mountain, drilling into everyone’s ears.

The flute sound sometimes deep like ghost cries, seeming like desperate cries from the depths of Nine Nether Hell, chilling the hair; sometimes sharp like wolf howls, resembling the howl of hungry wolves in the wild, horrifying. The enemies listening to this eerie flute sound showed expressions of fear, their eyes filled with confusion and fear, their minds gradually disturbed by the terrifying flute sound.

A pirate, eyes filled with madness and killing intent, attempted to sneak attack Shi Feiyang from behind while he was focused on fighting other enemies. However, Xiang Kun’s flute sound was like an invisible yet indestructible shackle, instantaneously drilling into the pirate’s mind.

The pirate felt a sharp pain in his head, his mind in chaos, originally agile movements abruptly stalled, his steps became staggering, as if drunken. Shi Feiyang, with keen perception, in this critical moment, swiftly turned, the Celestial Frost Blade in his hand flashing cold, with the force of Mountain-Splitting Rock-Breaking, sweeping through.