King of Hundred Victories Saber

The golden saber light collided with the demon shadow’s weapon, erupting in a deafening roar.

Wherever the blast wave passed, the ground was plowed into ravines several zhang deep, and the drifting snow whirled through the sky.

In the midst of the furious clash, Shi Feiyang suddenly discovered the demon shadow’s weakness—between its brows there was a faint, blood-red vein, flickering in and out of sight.

He seized that fleeting flaw, gathering all his Inner Strength into his palm, and unleashed the mysterious move ”One Slash Severs Causality,” a technique from the ”Hundred Victories Saber Technique” that he had never before used. A blinding streak of golden saber light flashed past; the demon shadow let out a shrill, miserable scream as its brow was pierced through, the black mist receding like a surging tide.

The man in the black robe revealed his true form, his face deathly pale, the corners of his mouth ceaselessly spilling black blood. He stared at Shi Feiyang in disbelief. ”Impossible... how could my ’Netherworld Demonic Technique’...” Before he could finish, he collapsed to the ground, breath completely gone.

The setting sun bled like tears, dyeing the vast snowfield a dark crimson; even heaven and earth were mourning this brutal slaughter.

Shi Feiyang lowered his palm and stood still. Beneath his dark battle garb, the sweat that had seeped through was already frozen by the piercing wind into frost-flowers, sketching silver-white patterns along the folds of his clothing. He gazed at the devastation before him—the great grassland strewn with corpses lying crosswise and lengthwise, broken spears and shattered halberds driven deep into the snow, congealed blood turned to ice glinting with a cold light in the dusk. His Adam’s apple moved unconsciously; even one so accustomed to life and death could not help but feel his heart tremble at the savagery of this battle.

Suddenly, a choking cry pierced through the blood-reeking wind, carrying both the unique desolation of the grasslands and the lingering tenderness of Jiangnan’s misty rain. ”Husband!” The voice was laden with boundless longing and worry; Princess Gugela’s moon-white cloak billowed wildly, like torn clouds surging in the wind.

The silver ornaments in her hair chimed with each anxious step, every sound like a note of yearning leaping to life. The young son in her arms, Ba Qianqiu, clutched at her hem, his dark, liquid eyes curiously taking in the surroundings, while the soft, tender face still bore streaks of half-dried tears.

In the instant Shi Feiyang turned, Gugela had already flung herself into his arms. Two years apart, her brows and eyes were still as limpid as snowmelt from Tianshan Mountain, yet now they were veiled in glistening tears, as if all the frost and snow of the plains had turned into sorrow pooling in her gaze.

”I thought... I would never see you again...” Her voice trembled; warm tears slid down along Shi Feiyang’s collar, winding their way, spreading dark stains across his black battle robes.

Gugela’s fingers clutched his lapels in a death grip, like a drowning woman clutching the last piece of driftwood, terrified that if she loosened her hold for even an instant, the man before her would vanish. The scent upon her body, a mingling of snowfield pine resin and blood, was more heart-shaking than the most precious Dragon’s Saliva Fragrance of Jiangnan.

The Ba Qianqiu in her arms suddenly burst into gurgling laughter, his chubby little hand patting against Shi Feiyang’s blood-stained cheek.

The clear, crisp sound startled several distant cold crows into flight.

”These two years, every night I’ve been counting stars as I waited for you.” Gugela’s sapphire eyes brimmed with autumnal water, tiny crystals of ice clinging to her lashes, sparkling in the setting sun like crushed diamonds. ”Even the first words Qianqiu learned to speak were ’Daddy’ in the tongue of the Central Plains...”

She lowered her head to look at the child in her arms, her gaze filled with tenderness and pride. ”He’s only a year and a half, yet so clever—whenever he sees someone, he starts mimicking the saber moves you taught me.” As she spoke, she gently stroked her son’s small face, overflowing with affection.

Shi Feiyang’s heart softened. He raised his hand and lightly wiped away the tears at the corner of her eyes. ”You’ve suffered.” He lowered his gaze to look at Ba Qianqiu; the little fellow was staring wide-eyed at the golden saber light still lingering in his palm, even reaching out a finger to try and touch it, his appearance irresistibly adorable.