King of Hundred Victories Saber

He let out a long sigh and said, ”Enough, enough. Things have come to this, and we can only continue to wait. We just hope that Grand Squad Leader Shi can arrange everything soon, lead us to attack the Western Holy Sect, reclaim everything that belongs to us, let our brothers rest in peace, and restore the past glory of the Northwest Salt Gang. The future of the Northwest Salt Gang hangs like a thread on the edge of a cliff, all depending on the outcome of this battle.”

After speaking, he waved his hand, signaling Xue Tielong and Xue Qiuchun to retreat.

At this moment, he appeared incredibly desolate, knowing deeply within that this battle absolutely required Shi Feiyang to take up the responsibility, otherwise, the salt road and salt field in Ningxia might be something the Northwest Salt Gang could hardly even touch.

This sense of helplessness and frustration weighed down on him like a heavy boulder, pressing firmly on his heart, making him feel unbearably heavy.

Although Shi Feiyang was young, he had already spent years navigating the bloody and vicious Jianghu, tempered by countless trials with blood and sweat, and was extremely experienced in the ways of the world. Every decision he made required careful consideration, weighing the pros and cons, displaying a maturity and wisdom beyond his years. In his eyes, every worldly affair had its patterns and solutions, and by uncovering the mysteries within, he could handle them with ease.

Xie Wen was also a loyal and diligent individual, unwilling to slack in the slightest during this tense time. Every morning, as soon as he opened his eyes, he would immediately practice the exquisite ”Feixu Qingyan Technique.” With just a flicker of his figure, like a wisp of ethereal, invisible smoke, he merged instantly into the vast sea of sand and the majestic mountains of the Northwest Land.

He raced along, not missing any corners, meticulously and thoroughly investigating all about the Western Holy Sect, striving to understand its comprehensive strength clearly. In this perilous Jianghu, intelligence was the key to victory, a fact Xie Wen understood well, thus he tirelessly traveled night and day.

In the vast Northwest Land, the Western Holy Sect appeared like a mysterious and terrifying shadow crawling out of a dark abyss, silent yet firmly entrenched here.

Its influence was like a vast and invisible net, covering large areas of the Altai Mountains and the Tarim Basin.

People within the sect, regardless of gender or age, revered the ”Qi Yin” clan of the Sect Leader as deities, firmly believing they possessed extraordinary and sacred powers, acting as conveyers of divine will. To them, every word from the Sect Leader was like a golden rule not to be defied.

Stepping into the Holy Sect’s territory was akin to stepping into a bizarre and isolated world.

The atmosphere here was pervaded by an aura of creepiness, as if the very air was tainted with evil.

The disciples dressed in black robes were like emissaries from Hell, their expressions stern, their eyes filled with fervor and loyalty.

They practiced inscrutable and enigmatic cultivation techniques, their every move exuding an aura of intimidation, with every motion containing deadly threats.

Within the main altar of the Holy Sect, a towering black tower rose, piercing the clouds like a sharp blade.

The tower was inscribed with mysterious runes, which seemed alive, flickering with eerie light under the sun’s rays, as if narrating ancient and evil secrets.

Every time night fell and everything was silent, creepy chanting would resonate from within the tower. The vocals were low and hoarse, like whispers from the depths of Hell, echoing in the quiet night sky, making one shudder, as if their soul was being drawn away by the sounds.

To the Hake Tribe, working in sinister collaboration with the Western Holy Sect, they were like birds of a feather. The warriors of the tribe, towering and robust like great mountains, their skin rough and dark, bore the marks of years of training under scorching sun and sandstorms.

Growing up on horseback, they led a life of nomadism and plunder, which made them ferocious and combative like wolves on a prairie, always ready to pounce on prey. Riding swift horses, wielding sharp scimitars, they galloped across the vast prairie and desert, stirring up endless yellow sand wherever they went, ruling over this land.

Together with the Western Holy Sect, one relying on brute force and the other on sinister magic, they turned the entire Northwest Land turbulent and unstable, plunging the people into misery and suffering.

A storm of bloodshed loomed like clouds gathering before a storm, quietly coming together over this land, seemingly about to erupt at any moment, engulfing everything in endless darkness and blood.

The history of the Western Holy Sect dates back hundreds of years, the past resembling a cursed dark Chapter.

It was said that the Holy Sect once almost toppled the Jin Dynasty with terrifying feats, its strength formidable and its methods brutal, making all cower in fear.

However, the Sect later suffered a great calamity, a divine punishment for its wicked deeds, causing its divine bloodline to sever.

From then, the sect fractured, splitting into the Burial Moon, Wuyue, and Silver Moon clans.

The Silver Moon Clan suffered severe punishment due to Silver Moon Ji Meng’s defection twenty years ago, leading them into decline; the Burial Moon Clan fell into disarray and confusion following the death of Burial Moon Fa, leaderless and at a loss; while the Wuyue Clan mysteriously vanished completely, like evaporating from the human world.

This series of events left the Holy Sect internally unstable, like a mound of scattered sand. Yet, even so, its outside ambition and ruthlessness never waned, becoming instead like a suppressed volcano, ready to erupt at any moment.

The current Sect Leader Qi Yin, is a ruthless and merciless figure, with methods cruel and hair-raising.

He is adept in a sinister and inscrutable ”Blood Demon Technique,” an incredibly evil cultivation technique capable of transforming blood into blades, killing invisibly.

With just a thought, he can make the enemy’s blood boil instantly, turning it into a deadly weapon in his hand.

Under his rule, the Holy Sect became even more sinister and terrifying, resembling a human purgatory.

The Defender of the Faith ”Black-winged Rakshasa” Uma and ”Poison Heart Saint Hand” Ancient Wood are exceptional masters, each with lethal skills. Uma, like a demon from darkness, is incredibly fast, his body technique eerie and elusive, hard to defend against; Ancient Wood specializes in poison, his ”Poison Heart Saint Hand” leaving desolation in its wake, all life corroded by deadly toxins.

Under the Holy Sect’s command are countless masters, practicing powerful yet inscrutable cultivation techniques, their actions ruthless and decisive, with methods extremely cruel, disregarding human life entirely. The sect’s disciples, dressed in black robes, shuttle through the desert sand, like a pack of ghosts, causing panic among the common people wherever they go.

To achieve their goals, they use any means necessary, either secretly performing assassinations, taking lives quietly; or deliberately stirring up disputes, encouraging fights among Jianghu sects while they reap the benefits.

With their meddling, both Jianghu and local societies fall into unrest, as if plunged into a bottomless dark abyss.

In their controlled regions, civilians dare to be angry but remain silent, living under the shadow of fear.

Any slight rebellion is deemed as blasphemy against the divine and punished severely.

Such punishments are too cruel to behold, causing countless innocent civilians to lose their lives, their vengeful spirits wandering over this land.

Colluding with the Western Holy Sect, sharing in sin, is the Hake Tribe.

The people of the Hake Tribe, tall and robust, with rough, dark skin, lead a life of nomadism and plunder, each as ferocious and combative as wolves.

Their eyes glimmer with a greedy light, their desire for wealth and land insatiable like a bottomless black hole.

The warriors of the Hake Tribe grew up on horseback, skilled in riding and archery, as if fused into one with their horses.

They wield scimitars, racing across prairie and desert, raising clouds of yellow sand wherever they go, their aura formidable and imposing.

They not only excel in wilderness combat but are also adept at ambush and plunder, essentially a well-trained group of bandits.

Whenever they launch an attack, they come like a surging tide, their battle cries shaking the land, terrifying all.

Their attacks are without warning, like a sudden storm descending, catching victims completely off guard.