Looks Like I Won...

"Awwooo~~~"

He watched as the wolf pack was swiftly dealt with amid mournful howls.

Perched on a great tree, Ling Wuyuan immediately felt extremely satisfied.

While the mantis stalked the cicada, the oriole waited behind.

And one oriole was all that was needed.

Therefore, it was necessary to eliminate the wolf pack, an uncertain factor, in advance.

After he had forced them out,

facing two stronger opponents whose hearts brimmed with killing intent, let alone ordinary wild wolves, even the wolf king of the pack could only be described as utterly incapable of fighting back.

Though enormous in size,

its thick, sleek, glossy fur was like paper before its enemies' blades and swords.

It was sliced apart with ease!

As for the claws and fangs it relied upon for hunting, they had no chance whatsoever of hitting their enemies, easily evaded by the two men, both exceptionally experienced in battle.

In only a few short seconds,

the wolf king, built like a bull, fell forever beneath their blades and swords.

Its massive wolf head was even severed on the spot, allowing steaming fresh blood to flow continuously out, slowly watering the soft earth and nourishing this land bit by bit.

After successfully dealing with the wolf pack that had tried to take advantage of their injuries, the two men—unaware that the wolves had simply been set up by someone—finally put their minds fully at ease.

They felt that there were no longer any outside factors around them.

Next,

it was time to test each other's true strength.

As that thought arose,

the flashing blades between them naturally grew increasingly ruthless, with neither holding anything back!

The subtlety and profundity of their techniques made Ling Wuyuan feel that he had benefited immensely.

After all, no one had previously been willing to use their life to demonstrate martial arts for him.

Many things had only existed on the pages of books for him.

Thus, their life-and-death struggle

gave him even more practical insights into a true battle to the death.

For example: cost.

One could not hope for perfection in battle.

Sometimes, one had to pay a certain price oneself in order to make the opponent pay a greater price.

Battle was not merely about technique, speed, and strength. It was also about who could be more ruthless—ruthless toward oneself, ruthless toward others...

When he personally saw someone deliberately sacrifice an arm in exchange for an opening, allowing his longsword to successfully stab into his enemy's abdomen and viciously twist twice, Ling Wuyuan could not help but smile...

Then,

he quietly took the special arrows he had put back earlier from his quiver and nocked them onto his bowstring.

Amid a field strewn with battle scars and wolf corpses,

Che Xianwei, a swordsman who no longer had a sword in hand, let out a long breath and did not continue approaching his heavily wounded opponent.

Instead, he casually tore a strip of cloth from his body and quickly bound his left arm—whose left hand was already gone—tightly, preventing more blood from pouring out of the wound.

Then, he picked up his severed hand and slowly retreated.

He had no intention of finishing his opponent off.

The reason was simple.

He feared that his dying opponent might launch a desperate final strike.

With victory already decided,

he had no need to take that risk.

At that thought,

though Che Xianwei looked thoroughly wretched, he was fairly satisfied inside.

As he slowly backed away,

he considered how he needed to reach the nearest town as quickly as possible to have his severed hand reattached.

Although it would be extremely difficult to reattach the hand without leaving the slightest lasting complication, restoring most of its function would not be difficult, so long as he did not delay for too long.

And as a right-handed man skilled in wielding a sword with his right hand, he had never had much need for flexibility in his left arm to begin with.

Therefore,

the price he had paid was entirely within an acceptable range and would not affect his fundamental strength.

Moreover,

when he thought of being able to keep the treasure for himself and inherit the estates of his two companions, he even felt that he had made a profit.

How should he put it...

Although things had developed somewhat beyond his expectations and did not align with his original plan of having the three of them find the treasure, flee far away, build a force together, and live well from then on... since his companions could not be of one mind with him, finding a way to kill them and then inherit their estates was also a very good choice.

In any case, the treasure's approximate location had already been found. It was somewhere within this area spanning several dozen li.

If I can't find it in a year, I'll spend ten years.

If I still can't find it in ten years, I'll spend a hundred!

He still had more than a hundred years of life left. He could afford to drag this out...

At present,

though he did not know what Che Xianwei was thinking, his opponent's face was filled with unwillingness as he watched him steadily retreat.

The man stood in place with a saber in one hand. Looking at the sword still lodged in his stomach and the gaping hole that had been forcefully gouged straight through his abdomen, blood flowed from his mouth before he could even open it.

He wanted to step forward and forcibly take Che Xianwei down with him.

But after taking just one step, a mass of blood and fragments of internal organs slowly fell to the ground along with the sword...

"Clang~"

"Drip, drip, drip..."

He heard the sword hit the ground, heard his own blood mixed with fragments of flesh and organs slowly dripping onto the earth.

Then he looked at Che Xianwei, who was still gradually retreating and widening the distance.

Though he still gripped the saber tightly in his hand,

his heart had already sunk to the bottom.

He understood that he probably had no chance left...

Yet, looking at the goose-egg-sized puncture wound in his abdomen and at his opponent, who was getting farther and farther away and clearly intended to drag out his death, he still unwillingly forced himself two more steps forward.

"Drip, drip, drip..."

That was the blood flowing out ever more heavily with his movements.

Before long,

"Thud..."

With a dull sound, his legs gave way, and he dropped to his knees on the grass.

Even the saber in his hand could no longer be held tightly.

A great deal of blood slowly spread outward from where he knelt...

Seeing this sight,

Che Xianwei revealed a smug smile.

His feet stopped retreating, and he stood still where he was.

With the calm bearing of a victor, he announced, "Wen Changyu, looks like I won..."

It made the other man glare at him furiously, yet he could do nothing.

However,

in the next instant,

a shrill whistling sound erupted behind Che Xianwei without warning!

Not one sound!

But several!!

They merged into one continuous barrage!!!

Faintly,

Che Xianwei also heard the slight tremble of bowstrings.

In an instant,

"An arrow rain?"

Though he did not know what was happening, Che Xianwei instinctively tried to dodge.

But at that very moment, Wen Changyu, who had seemingly already given up struggling, did not hesitate to use every last shred of strength to hurl the saber beside him with all his might, attempting to block off one direction Che Xianwei could dodge toward...