A head rolled to the ground, spinning a few tis in the snow before the fresh, warm blood cooled.
Wen Chaoshen's heart pounded wildly as he felt the long sword in his hand, experiencing an unprecedented sense of control.
Was that a mont of killing, or rely chopping wood?
Even he wasn't sure.
In a daze, his own voice echoed in his ears:
...
"What should I do, Mr. Lü?"
...
"Chop wood... chop wood..."
Wen Chaoshen murmured softly, his thoughts drifting to the woodshed at Lü Zhiming's ho, where he had spent days lifting and dropping the knife, chopping until his arms were sore and his palms ached, all in search of that elusive feeling from the first cut.
Although he had occasionally co close to that initial mystery, there was always a gap.
Only with the recent sword strike, which pierced through the powerful crossbow bolt, did he once again capture the sensation of that first cut.
Unintentional, natural.
It wasn't his own swordsmanship; it felt more like a natural essence that existed between heaven and earth, which he had accidentally captured and then infused into his swordplay.
After that strike, Wen Chaoshen stood motionless in the snow, seemingly enlightened.
From afar, a second crossbow bolt ca riding the wind. Wen Chaoshen heard the sound and, without hesitation, slashed at the flying snow with the long sword in his hand.
This seemingly ordinary action was one he had practiced many tis in Lü Zhiming's woodshed.
It was just chopping wood.
The clumsy movent suddenly beca familiar. At the mont he faced the sharp arrow, Wen Chaoshen was unsure if his sword could truly sever it before being hit, nor was he sure if his judgnt of the sound was accurate. Casting aside distractions, he treated it as nothing more than chopping wood.
In the instant of swinging the sword, the imnse pressure between life and death vanished.
Slash!
He struck true.
The arrow lost its force in mid-air, its two halves not yet touching the ground when the third explosive sound of a crossbow bolt breaking through the air assaulted Wen Chaoshen's eardrums. Without thinking, he swung his sword again, the moonlight on the blade clashing with the arrowhead, sparking a bright flare. Wen Chaoshen's palm went numb, and the long sword almost slipped from his grasp!
This strike was clearly not as natural as the previous one, but he knew it was a matter of life and death. Ignoring the risk and pain of his cracked palm, he gripped the long sword tightly and rushed toward the source of the sound!
Wen Chaoshen's ability to locate by sound was far inferior to A Shui's, but he knew the opponent wanted to kill him and would certainly strike again.
Whether he could catch the next arrow at close range, Wen Chaoshen himself was unsure, but he rembered A Shui's earlier words—when weapons clash, it's life or death, everything else is a distraction.
The only chance of survival was to eliminate all threats!
In the distance, corpses lay around A Shui. Her woodcutting knife was coated with thick blood and frost, and the remaining black-clad n surrounded her, none daring to approach lightly.
Though these n were desperadoes, A Shui's fierce and formidable presence had intimidated them, making them aware of the vast gap between them, which re numbers could not bridge.
One of them, feeling the urge to retreat, took two steps back before a fishbone-like long sword pierced through his back.
The assassin's eyes widened, and he turned slightly to see the cold face of the middle-aged man behind him.
"As a mber of Wangchuan, it's truly disgraceful to falter in battle."
He slowly withdrew the long sword, staining the snow-covered ground with a large patch of blood.
The man stared at A Shui, whose body trembled slightly, her breathing labored.
"You've suffered such severe injuries, damaging your very essence, yet you still hold on. It's truly remarkable."
"But this also proves that your head is indeed worth the price."
"I, Bai Youyu, have road the Martial World for half my life, favoring gambling and romance. I've squandered countless silver, yet never struck such fortune."
"I never understood before, but now I see that my luck was saved by the heavens for today."
"In the Wind Banner, so old n are too old to continue, and others have mysteriously disappeared, their remains yet to be found. Several positions should have been vacated long ago."
"I've always wanted to join, but lacked a stepping stone. Today, I ask for your help."
Bai Youyu stepped toward A Shui, his sword in hand, snow falling on his shoulders, making him appear even more imposing.
A Shui's lips were pale, yet she still held her woodcutting knife, standing her ground, panting heavily. The remaining black-clad assassins, seeing Bai Youyu ready to join the fray, abandoned thoughts of retreat, preparing to charge in unison.
They dared not compete with Bai Youyu for credit, but by assisting him, their status might rise alongside his should he beco a leader in the Wind Banner.
"Is that so?"
A Shui's gaze pierced through the strands of hair dusted with snow, a faint sneer playing on her lips.
"In my experience, people aren't always lucky, but they can be consistently unlucky."
"Gamblers have a peculiar trait: after every loss, they believe they'll win it back next ti."
"But for you, this might be your last gamble."
Bai Youyu's face darkened further, his expression turning sinister as if A Shui had struck a nerve.
"When my 'Fishbone' pierces your heart, you'll realize your folly!"
As his words fell, the surrounding snow halted, the fierce wind stilled, and in the distance, Wen Chaoshen, about to slay the last crossbowman, froze in place, as if the world had plunged into absolute silence.
Ti, of course, couldn't stop; soone was simply too fast, so fast that even the wind and snow couldn't react!
Zheng!
The "Fishbone" thrust through the void, the cold light of moonlight preceding it, enveloped in the chill of winter, blooming at A Shui's heart!
The cold gleam arrived.
The sword ca too swiftly, too precisely, too unexpectedly.
Before the other assassins could draw their swords, Bai Youyu's blade had already reached A Shui's heart.
As he had said, he intended to pierce A Shui's heart with a single sword.
When a person is stabbed through the heart, they don't die imdiately, allowing Bai Youyu to witness the terror and despair in A Shui's eyes.
He relished seeing such expressions on his prey before they died.
The sharp sword tip had already pierced A Shui's chest, and as he watched the blade sink in, Bai Youyu's lips curled. His acupoints were all in his hands and feet, granting him such speed that even many in the Nether Passage Realm couldn't match. If given the first strike, he could potentially slay a Nether Passage Realm martial artist at close range, let alone a woman already on the brink of death, gravely injured?
Puchi!
The sword blade pierced the chest, bringing forth a gush of blood.
Bai Youyu stared at the woman before him, sneering:
"Now, what will you do?"
A Shui coldly t his gaze, her pupils showing no sign of distraction. In the brief mont of a single breath, Bai Youyu sensed sothing amiss. As he was about to withdraw, a woodcutting knife was already at his throat, sealing off any chance of retreat with its terrifying killing intent.
"You..."
Bai Youyu's face froze. He was certain his sword had pierced A Shui's heart, so why did she seem unaffected?
"Are you sure you really hit your mark?"
She spoke coldly, Bai Youyu's gaze fixed, his hand holding the sword trembling slightly.
He felt it—the heartbeat transmitted through the sword.
This strike... had not pierced A Shui's heart.
Puff!
With a swing of A Shui's knife, Bai Youyu's head flew, blood spraying skyward amidst the falling snow!
With Bai Youyu's death, the remaining black-clad n should have been inclined to flee, but one, bold and ticulous, noticed A Shui's dire state and charged with a knife, gambling his life for a chance at survival!
The knife cleaved through the snow, aiming for A Shui's neck. She neither dodged nor defended, turning to strike at the black-clad man, seemingly willing to exchange life for life!
In this battle, although Bai Youyu's sword hadn't dealt a fatal blow to A Shui, she was already gravely injured, and now further wounded. Her knife lacked its previous swiftness, and as the black-clad man's long knife neared her neck, a crucial mont arrived. A crossbow bolt pierced through the wind and snow, embedding precisely in the man's abdon. He grunted, his grip on the long knife faltering, and in the next mont, A Shui's woodcutting knife cleaved his chest, spilling his innards.
With his death, the remaining three black-clad n, terrified, dared not linger and fled into the depths of the snowstorm...
A Shui coughed up a mouthful of blood, turning to see Wen Chaoshen aiming a crossbow in her direction.
Her vision blurred, and after holding on for a while, she finally collapsed into the vast snow, unconscious...
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