King of Hundred Victories Saber

But among the leaders, a few displayed worries on their faces. An elder leader slowly spoke, his voice slightly hoarse: ”Everyone, this matter requires careful deliberation. The actions of the Western Holy Sect are unpredictable and strange. If we work with them recklessly, we may invite trouble, and the tribe could be in danger.” His brows furrowed deeply, his eyes full of concern as he tried to persuade the others to remain calm.

However, under the insistence of the majority and the temptation of enormous benefits, the intention to cooperate was ultimately reached.

From then on, the Western Holy Sect and the Hake Tribe officially colluded, and waves of blood-soaked storms surged onto this Northwest land.

To solidify the cooperation further, the Western Holy Sect and the Hake Tribe secretly planned a blood-curdling alliance ritual.

The location was chosen deep in a hidden valley in the desert, a place that seemed forgotten by the world. The howling wind roared like evil spirits, sweeping fiercely, carrying endless yellow sand as if intending to devour everything in the world.

The followers of the Western Holy Sect, clad in black robes like emissaries from hell, surrounded a massive blood-colored altar tightly.

They chanted incantations under their breath, their voices low and hoarse, resembling curses from the Nine Nether Hell.

On the altar, eerie green flames blazed, twisting and jumping as if they were alive.

The fire emitted a pungent odor, nauseating to smell, harboring infinite evil power.

The warriors of the Hake Tribe, each bare-chested, wore fierce expressions.

They held sharp blades, unhesitatingly carving wounds on their strong bodies, the crimson blood trickling down the muscle contours slowly, appearing particularly shocking against the background of yellow sand.

In this nearly self-destructive manner, they demonstrated loyalty and determination for the alliance, declaring to heaven and earth that they would stop at nothing to achieve their goal.

Both sides exchanged symbolic tokens for the alliance, these tokens akin to a demon’s contract, binding them tightly together.

The Holy Sect produced black tokens with mysterious runes, the runes on the tokens glimmered with an eerie light in the darkness, seemingly concealing ancient and evil secrets; the Hake Tribe presented a totem made from precious beast bones, engraved with bizarre patterns, exuding a primal and mysterious aura, bearing the tribe’s soul.

From then on, the Western Holy Sect and the Hake Tribe formally became partners in crime, like two ferocious wolves, they began a series of extremely brutal attacks on the Northwest Salt Gang.

They first targeted the Salt Road, laying careful ambushes on the winding and twisted path.

The warriors of the Hake Tribe, riding lightning-fast steeds and wielding gleaming scimitars, charged at the Salt Gang’s salt transport convoy like a gust of wind, shrouded in a storm of yellow sand.

Their eyes flashed with a bloodthirsty light, shouting wildly, catching the Salt Gang members off guard.

Meanwhile, the followers of the Western Holy Sect performed bizarre and unfathomable magic on the side.

They waved their hands, chanting spells; in an instant, the sky was densely covered with dark clouds, and darkness enveloped the land.

The Salt Gang members felt a chill rising from their hearts, plunging them into deep fear and confusion.

In this fierce battle, thousands of elite guardians of the Salt Gang perished on the spot under the enemy’s pincer attack.

Their blood gushed out, soaking the originally white Salt Road, turning it crimson like a river of blood, a bloody and tragic scene that was unbearable to look at.

Immediately after, they turned their sinister aim towards the Salt Field. The Holy Sect members cast dark magic, creating various bizarre illusions. Suddenly, specters loomed in the Salt Field, eerie and terrifying.

The guards’ minds were disturbed by these illusions, their eyes bewildered, at a loss.

The Hake Tribe then took the opportunity to flood into the Salt Field like a tidal wave, killing, burning, and looting rampantly.

Raging fires quickly spread, devouring the houses and warehouses of the Salt Field, and billowing black smoke shot straight up into the sky.

The long-serving workers of the Salt Field fled in all directions, cries and screams intertwining, echoing over the land ravaged by war.

The entire Salt Field instantly turned into a sea of fire, resembling a human purgatory, filled with pain and despair everywhere.

The Northwest Salt Gang suffered devastating losses under this double onslaught.

Gang Leader Xue Hongshan was anxious like never before, realizing that mere self-reliance was no longer enough to save the situation.

Therefore, he hurried all around, contacting a great number of martial artists of the Northwest Martial Arts, spending heavily and imploring them for assistance.

However, facing the mad assault of the Western Holy Sect and the Hake Tribe, despite the martial artists’ valiant resistance, the tide of the battle could not be turned, and the Salt Gang continued to suffer heavy losses.

In resignation, Xue Hongshan had no choice but to pin his last hope on the Heroic Sakura Association, sending someone to seek help from Shi Feiyang.

At that moment, after Shi Feiyang listened to the report brought back by Xie Wen, his expression was as serious as iron. His deep gaze seemed able to penetrate the tent, discerning the layers of crises in the distance.

He slowly swept his eyes over Guo Xiangyu and Shi Xiong, his voice low and powerful like the tolling of a large bell: ”Xiangyu, Shi Xiong, the current situation is as precarious as an egg on a cliff, and extremely urgent. We must make thorough preparations. Start packing your belongings immediately, and bring all essential items to my tent.” His words exuded a clear understanding of the situation and deep care for his companions.