"However, when entering a Small World, one could at most roughly estimate the world's power level by the size of the Bright Point. No one knew whether it would be possible to find a method of spiritual cultivation within a Small World. If there was one, that would be fine. If not..."
There were countless Bright Points in his mind, each representing a world. Within each was another version of himself, or rather, a clone.
The reason he could travel through these worlds was because of the positioning provided by those other selves.
"No matter what, I'll go in first. Even if I can't find a method for spiritual cultivation, killing my other self can still strengthen my foundation."
With a thought, his entire body vanished.
"Run! Run quickly! We'll be safe once we reach Xiangyang!"
A shriveled old man in ragged clothes hunched over, clutching his thin garments tightly. Beneath them was a bulge, protecting a two-year-old child.
The child was tied to his chest with strips of cloth, while a sled made of thorny branches was dragged behind his waist, loaded with dozens of pounds of firewood.
He trudged forward step by step through the heavy snow. With every step, the snow sank past his knees, making movement incredibly difficult.
This was far from an isolated case. Behind the old man, hundreds of similarly ragged refugees staggered along, shivering violently.
From time to time, someone collapsed beneath the biting wind and never rose again.
The roadside was littered with corpses frozen harder than iron. Those still alive showed no surprise at the sight. Their eyes were numb, devoid of emotion. To them, this had long become an everyday occurrence.
Neigh—
The shrill cry of a warhorse sounded from afar. Terror appeared on the faces of the walking civilians, and they screamed as they scattered in all directions, as though demons and monsters were pursuing them.
In an instant, several dozen soldiers came thundering over on tall horses, clad in armor and wielding curved sabers.
These soldiers were imposing, broad-shouldered and thick-waisted, with deep-set eyes. Beneath their helmets, their hair could be seen braided into small plaits.
"It's the Tartar cavalry! Run, run!"
"Don't kill me! Don't kill me!"
"Father! Mother! Where are you?"
"Waaah! Save me! Save me!"
Before several dozen Tartar cavalrymen, the hundreds of refugees were like lambs awaiting slaughter. Beneath the curved sabers, their souls returned to heaven and earth, with not even a chance to resist.
Suddenly, one of the Tartar cavalrymen seemed to see something horrifying. He instinctively swung his curved saber in a slash.
Bang!
With a dull thud, his head burst like a watermelon. The headless corpse tumbled from the horse into the snow.
Fang Xuan appeared where he had stood, flecks of blood still staining his hand.
Such a sight naturally alerted the other cavalrymen. They howled as they spurred their horses toward Fang Xuan.
They shouted in a language he could not understand.
Borrowing the momentum of their horses, their curved sabers flashed with icy light beneath the sun.
Fang Xuan sneered disdainfully. His right foot stomped down fiercely, and the snow beneath him exploded outward, spraying in every direction and leaving behind a massive crater. He himself vanished like lightning.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Bang! Bang! Bang!
In an instant, every cavalryman had been killed. Their hard armor could not withstand that peerless brute strength. Their chests caved in, and blood flowed from all seven orifices.
Fang Xuan ignored the refugees kneeling on the ground and kowtowing nonstop. He patted a horse on the rump, mounted it, and headed north.
"Southern Song, Mongol Yuan... the final years of the Southern Song," Fang Xuan sighed softly.
After entering this Small World, Fang Xuan had used the connection between himself and his other self to determine the direction and travel continuously.
Along the way, he naturally witnessed the miserable plight of a dynasty in its final days.
This place was located in the Yangtze River basin, within the borders of Great Song. Those refugees were citizens of Great Song, forced by natural disasters and human calamities to keep migrating south. As for the cavalrymen, they were Mongol Yuan cavalry who had already destroyed Liao and Jin.
"Looks like, aside from my other self, this trip will have been for nothing," Fang Xuan said regretfully.
Fang Xuan had been in this world for several days, yet he had not seen any extraordinary power. They were all ordinary people. It seemed this truly was just an ordinary Small World.
"Hyah!"
He rode north all the way. From time to time, he saw refugees fleeing south and Mongol Yuan soldiers slaughtering without restraint.
Fang Xuan never showed mercy toward those soldiers. With the physical strength of thirteen horses at the Divine Courage Realm, he was like an overlord reborn, unstoppable by anyone.
"Old sir, what place lies ahead?" Fang Xuan asked an elderly refugee.
"Hero, Zhang Family Fortress lies ahead. You should hurry and flee as well. Zhang Family Fortress has been breached. Those Tartars are inhuman and are slaughtering people wantonly," the old man urged.
"Thank you, old sir."
After saying that, Fang Xuan ignored his warning and continued toward Zhang Family Fortress.
"Alas, this cursed world... when will it ever end?" the old man sighed.
Fang Xuan could already feel his other self drawing closer. Hearing that the Mongol Yuan army was rampaging ahead made him even more anxious. If his other self were killed by someone else, his trip would have been wasted.
"Hyah!"
Before long, he arrived at a fortress. Calling it a castle would have been an exaggeration; it looked more like a small fort constructed from bricks and stone.
Yet the fortress had clearly already been breached. Mongol Yuan soldiers brandished their curved sabers and slaughtered freely. The entire stronghold was in chaos, filled with screams and the stench of blood, a scene of endless slaughter and evil in the human world.
Fang Xuan's gaze quickly settled on a scholar in green robes. The scholar's face was pale, and his entire body trembled amid the flashing blades.
He shielded a little girl of seven or eight behind him. He held a longsword, yet lacked even the strength to bind a chicken.
The reason he had managed to endure for so long amid this chaos was the protection of two men in their thirties standing before him.
One of the men wielded a saber, the other a sword. The swordsmanship was sharp, while the saber techniques were heavy and powerful.
"Third Brother, protect the young master and young miss. You must get them out!" Zhang Jie shouted thunderously after cutting down an attacking soldier with a single slash.
"Alright."
"Kill!"
Zhang Jie leaped into the air, his body light as though weightless as he crossed several meters. His long saber chopped down, accompanied by a shrill whistle as a fierce gust tore through the air.
Clang!
A deafening clash of metal rang out, and the long saber in Zhang Jie's hand was nearly knocked away.
The Mongol Yuan Thousand-Man Commander, clad in armor and holding a curved saber, raised his head. His face was twisted in a savage grin as he said in broken Han Chinese, "Song man, I am your opponent."
"Damn Tartar, take my blade!" Zhang Jie roared.
While still in midair, Zhang Jie twisted his body and used the strength of his waist and limbs to slash toward the Mongol Yuan Thousand-Man Commander's neck.
This technique was simple, but its force was immense, even fiercer than before.
The Mongol Yuan Thousand-Man Commander refused to be outdone. He likewise raised his curved saber and met the strike head-on.
Clang!
The piercing sound reverberated between them. Zhang Jie was sent flying backward, spitting out a mouthful of blood. His face turned as pale as paper.
"second brother."
Zhang Zhen cried out in alarm and rushed forward to catch Zhang Jie.
"Run! Don't worry about me. Take the young master and young miss away from here!"
Before you continue