He gripped a massive Wolf Fang Club in his hand, its spikes half a foot long, appearing extrely terrifying.
Barnar shouted loudly, his voice like a great bell: "You thief, daring to intrude into my Watt Tribe! Tired of living? Today I’ll make sure you co but can’t go!" With that, he raised the Wolf Fang Club high, charging at Shi Feiyang with an unstoppable, overwhelming montum, smashing it down towards him.
The force of the Wolf Fang Club seed as if it could tear through the air.
Shi Feiyang’s lips curled into a slight, disdainful smile, and he said softly, "Hmph, you think you can stop ? Like a mantis trying to stop a cart, overestimating yourself!" As he spoke, he flickered like a ghost, deftly dodging Barnar’s attack with agility dazzling to the eyes. He executed a move from the Hundred Victories Saber Technique called "Golden Dragon Coiling Claws," his palms moving like lightning, the wind from them as sharp as blades, slicing towards Barnar’s arms as if to chop them off like chopping vegetables.
A crisp "crack" sounded twice, similar to the sound of branches breaking in winter, and Barnar’s arms were imdiately severed by Shi Feiyang’s palms.
Barnar scread miserably, the sound harrowing and despairing, his Wolf Fang Club clanging to the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust.
His eyes widened in disbelief, struggling to accept that he had been defeated so easily by Shi Feiyang. In his heart, he had considered himself a brave warrior of the tribe, yet was so effortlessly vanquished before Shi Feiyang.
Seizing the mont, Shi Feiyang kicked out, hitting Barnar squarely in the chest.
Barnar went flying backward like a kite with a broken string, crashing into the wall behind him, leaving a large dent, bricks scattering. He spat out a mouthful of blood, the mist of it filling the air, then died, his body sliding down lifelessly, falling in a pool of blood, the scene gory and tragic. Imdiately following, a nimble woman charged up. Her na was Narenhua, her face beautiful yet exuding a cold elegance, like a snow lotus blooming on an icy mountain — beautiful yet radiating a deadly chill.
Her eyes shone like cold stars, flashing with an icy light, discerning every weakness of her enemy.
Clad in a purple, tight-fitting outfit with a black belt at her waist, accentuating her graceful yet heroically poised figure, she held an unusual pair of weapons known as the "Purple Lightning Hooks." The hooks were uniquely shaped, glimring with purple light, like two nimble and deadly vipers, poised to strike and take the enemy’s life.
Narenhua shouted sharply, "Bold scoundrel, hand over your life! Today you’re going to pay for what you’ve done!"
With that, she wielded her hooks, executing a bizarre hooking technique, her hooks dancing up and down, cold light flashing like two bands of purple lightning attacking Shi Feiyang’s vital points with fierce and unpredictable moves.
Shi Feiyang snorted coldly, his form shifting unpredictably like flowing clouds and water, cleverly dodging Narenhua’s attacks, every evasion just right. After a few moves, he seized the right mont to execute a move from the "Hundred Victories Saber Technique" called "Cangsong Welcoming Guest."
With a sweep of his palms, carrying a ferocious gust of wind like two massive axes, he slashed towards Narenhua’s hooks.
A resounding "clang clang" echoed, like the tolling of a great bell, ringing in the ears.
Narenhua felt a shock in her arms, nearly losing her Purple Lightning Hooks, the skin of her tiger’s mouth splitting open, and blood slowly oozing out.
Shi Feiyang seized the mont when her technique grew old and flaws appeared, his left palm striking out fiercely, hitting Narenhua squarely in the chest.
Narenhua’s delicate body shuddered, spurting a mouthful of blood, a blood flower blooming in the air like a blossoming blood lotus.
Her entire body flew backward, Shi Feiyang’s form flickering like a shadow, his right palm following through, a fierce blade aura slicing forth.
A deep blood mark appeared on Narenhua’s neck, blood gushing forth like a fountain, her gaze gradually dimming as she slowly fell, her fragrance fading away, collapsing in a pool of blood, adding a touch of desolation to this bloody skirmish.
At this mont, another elder rushed over like a fierce wind, brimming with murderous intent.
This person was nad Wuri Chagai, his hair completely white, strands flying wantonly in the wind like frost and snow in winter, exuding the vicissitudes and chill of years. His face, deeply lined like the dry ravines in a sunken riverbed, every wrinkle telling tales of past storms and struggles, resembling an old tree standing unyielding amidst endless storms.
Though appearing aged, he emanated an awe-inspiring majesty that demanded respect.
Dressed in a grey long robe of simple material, gently swaying in the wind, integrating seamlessly with the heavens and earth, exuding a celestial and ethereal aura. He held a cane, its entire body jet-black, made of an unknown rare material, glistening with a cold luster in the dim light.
Atop it was embedded a large Gemstone, emitting a mysterious and profound glow, like a pair of eyes watching over the world.
Wuri Chagai’s gaze was as sharp as the stars in the cold night sky, piercing and resolute, fixed firmly on Shi Feiyang.
He tilted his head slightly, his chin lifting with an innate arrogance, his voice deep and authoritative like the tolling of a great bell, echoing within the chaotic tent: "Young man, do not be too presumptuous. This Watt Tribe is the place our generations have protected, not for you to intrude upon at will. Since you’ve co today, don’t dream of leaving alive; you will pay dearly for your recklessness! I, Wuri Chagai, will not allow your insolence!"
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