CRACK, CRACK, CRACK, CRACK, CRACK...
A series of crisp, cracking sounds echoed from Ding Xiang’s body. The son of the Silver Armored Guard’s commander was, at this mont, enduring the most terrifying torture imaginable.
Behind him stood Zheng Fan, his hands clamped around Ding Xiang’s head. Strands of a black aura seeped from his palms, flooding into Ding Xiang’s body.
Ding Xiang’s eyes had rolled back, showing only their whites.
His mouth hung open, yet no sound ca out.
Normally, if people jump around after drinking water, they can feel it sloshing in their stomachs.
At this mont, that was precisely the sensation inside Ding Xiang’s body, only far, far more intense.
His bones, his organs, everything within him, was liquefying.
It was like ice and snow slowly lting in winter; all chaos, all turmoil, all attachnts—none of it mattered anymore.
Chu Fengjiu watched this unfold, his eyes wide, as he slowly drew the soft sword hanging from his waist.
The supple blade trembled slightly, emitting a faint hum.
He knew that very soon, the Silver Armored Guard mbers lurking nearby would converge on this location.
As a Captain of the Silver Armored Guard, he cherished his life dearly.
POP!
Zheng Fan released his grip on Ding Xiang’s head.
Ding Xiang swayed a few tis
and subconsciously began to stumble towards Chu Fengjiu. Perhaps, at this mont, only Chu Fengjiu could offer him so semblance of security.
This was despite the fact that his superior, this elder figure, had just unhesitatingly used him as a human shield.
But Ding Xiang could no longer think coherently; his brain had also lted. It wasn’t so much that he was still alive, but rather that inertia made him appear... as if he still lived.
One step,
two steps,
three steps.
SPLASH...
It sounded like a water-filled paper bag bursting on the ground, or like a perfectly made soup dumpling rupturing.
Ding Xiang "collapsed,"
leaving behind nothing but a sack of skin filled with liquid,
wobbling back and forth on the ground, glistening and moist.
At this sight,
Chu Fengjiu’s pupils contracted sharply.
As a Captain of the Silver Armored Guard, what vile and filthy things had he not witnessed?
The Silver Armored Guard’s dungeons were filled with countless horrifying tortures, but he had never witnessed a scene like this!
At this very mont, Chu Fengjiu had no doubt that if he were to prick Ding Xiang with his soft sword, Ding Xiang would simply "flow" out.
Zheng Fan tilted his head slightly, his body also leaning, his left shoulder higher than his right. He just stood there, a faint smile on his face as he looked at Chu Fengjiu.
This was Mo Wan’s torture, Mo Wan’s experience. The Ninth King’s Resentful Infant—this was the pain he himself had endured, the tornt he had once suffered.
In the beginning, ti and again, he had clung to the hope of "life," yearning for the outside world, instinctively perceiving all that was beautiful, eagerly anticipating his own birth.
But in the end, what awaited him was not his own first cry, nor the loving care of parents—only the cold penetration of tal!
He was ended just like that, terminated. Ti and again, his fervent desires, his beautiful aspirations, all ultimately transford into the most heartless, shrill despair.
Now, he had turned it into his own thod.
This was Mo Wan’s retribution!
"Heh heh... heh heh..."
A childish voice drifted over.
Zheng Fan’s hand reached forward.
BOOM!
The next mont, Zheng Fan’s feet scraped grooves into the ground as he instantly appeared before Chu Fengjiu.
A gray light imdiately emanated from Chu Fengjiu’s body. This light also coated his soft sword, which he swiftly thrust forward.
Vitality and blood projecting outwards—this was an Eighth Rank martial artist!
But he was unlike Old Man Sun, who had charged against the current with his spear below Mianzhou City. Old Man Sun’s body was failing due to age. Although he had once been an Eighth Rank martial artist, in reality, he was likely only at the peak of the Ninth Rank. His stamina was sowhat lacking; the standoff between him and Liang Cheng had rely been his swan song, bought at the cost of his life force.
Chu Fengjiu, however, was a genuine Eighth Rank practitioner!
The soft sword moved with incredible speed, striking like a silver serpent with a clang!
But Zheng Fan was even faster. He dodged, his body turning sideways, his feet continuously moving, easily evading the soft sword.
Simultaneously, Zheng Fan’s hands shot out towards Chu Fengjiu!
Having witnessed Ding Xiang’s fate, how could Chu Fengjiu dare let Zheng Fan’s hands touch him?
He quickly retreated, but Zheng Fan relentlessly pressed his pursuit.
Chu Fengjiu imdiately slashed downward with his soft sword, aiming to cut Zheng Fan in half at the waist.
At this instant,
a flicker of hesitation seed to appear in Zheng Fan’s eyes.
As if, in this mont, if this body were to be bisected at the waist, he might actually be able to accept it sohow?
His body suddenly trembled then, as a powerful will forcibly imposed itself, shattering his hesitation.
Zheng Fan’s body abruptly pressed lower again, his entire form almost scraping the ground.
The tip of Chu Fengjiu’s sword rely scraped a mark on Zheng Fan’s armor. Sparks flew, but it failed to seriously injure Zheng Fan.
anwhile, Zheng Fan’s feet continued to propel him rapidly across the ground.
Chu Fengjiu roared in anger. From the start of the engagent until now, he had been completely on the defensive, forced to retreat. He knew that if this suppression continued, disaster was inevitable.
Every mber of the Silver Armored Guard had climbed up from the lowest ranks. Those who managed to reach high positions had all fought their way through an environnt akin to cultivating Undead Insects; naturally, their combat experience was exceptionally rich.
But what Chu Fengjiu could not have predicted was that no matter how rich his combat experience,
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