Slay the General and Seize the Banner

Her legs were beautifully and smoothly shaped, full of the strength of a martial artist yet possessing a woman's unique softness. The fullness of her thighs and the slenderness of her calves formed perfect golden proportions.

Without the slightest hesitation, he gently lifted one of her legs and rested it across his bent knee.

His hand began at the firm, rounded top of her thigh and stroked downward. The skin there was even tighter than on her upper body, brimming with astonishing vitality. He could clearly feel the subtle tremor of her perfectly defined muscles beneath his palm.

His fingers even "accidentally" brushed the edge of that most private, deepest patch of grass.

The soft down grazed his fingertips, like a feather lightly plucking at his heartstrings. The ticklish sensation nearly made him lose control. He could feel a damp warmth quietly spreading in that forbidden place, stoking the fire in his lower abdomen.

He forcibly suppressed the deeper urges within him and channeled his vigorous Internal Energy along the inside of her thigh, inch by inch, driving the remaining cold poison from her body.

Then he treated her other leg, just as meticulously, with a "focus" that invited the imagination. Under Lin Xuan's fingertips, her smooth, jade-like legs seemed to carry a tingling current. Her supple, lustrous legs trembled unconsciously across his knee, while the tender curves at the tops of her thighs repeatedly tested his self-control.

He slowly withdrew his Internal Energy, and with it, his hands—the hands that had... traveled through heaven and explored hell.

Ning Zhongze, in his arms, looked completely different now.

Her skin, once pale as paper, now glowed from head to toe with a healthy, enchanting blush, as if she were about to drip with radiance.

Her face was like a peach blossom, her cheeks flushed, her lips full and rosy. Her breathing was steady and deep, and her furrowed brow had relaxed completely. Even the corners of her mouth curved in a sweet, satisfied smile, as though she were lost in an exquisite dream.

She lay naked in his arms, like a tamed Persian cat that had lowered every defense, quiet and docile.

Lin Xuan looked down at her beautiful body, and a sense of conquest welled up inside him.

There was plenty of time. Now wasn't the moment. Heroine Ning, you would be mine someday.

When he had finished, he went to the cave entrance. The cries of battle outside had died away completely. The cold night wind brushed his heated face, warmed by the exertion of channeling his Internal Energy, and brought a touch of refreshing clarity.

Deep in the cave, Ning Zhongze was still lost in a sweet dream.

Only a golden, warm, and irresistibly powerful figure remained in her dream, rescuing her from an endless frozen hell and giving her an experience that had made both her soul and body tremble and surrender.

Slay Generals and Seize Flags

Lin Xuan's figure rose like a wisp of smoke, silently climbing onto a massive boulder above the cave. From his vantage point, his cold gaze swept over the entire battlefield in Yan Hui Valley.

The battle was unfolding just as he had predicted: fierce and precarious.

The Wolf Riders' commander had indeed fallen for his Stratagem of the Arrogant Soldier.

He had led his elite personal guards straight into the deepest part of Yan Hui Valley, like a red-hot iron spike plunging into a pocket, hoping to destroy what he imagined was the Central Plains Martial Arts World's main command post in one fell swoop.

Behind him, ambushes made up of experts from various sects had already unleashed a storm of arrows from the cliffs on both sides. Boulders and logs rained down, successfully cutting off the advancing Wolf Riders from the main force behind them.

The heart of the battle now lay in the relatively open stretch at the bottom of the valley.

The raiding party led by Luo Bing, a hundred skilled fighters from the martial world, was like a sharp dagger, driving back and forth through Bolton's main formation and desperately sowing chaos to give the ambushers on both sides the best chance to attack.

However, the Mongolian Wolf Riders were far stronger than the Central Plains fighters had imagined.

These elite veterans of a hundred battles on the grasslands showed no sign of panic, even when surrounded.

At the shouts of their centurions and squad leaders, they quickly formed small circular defensive formations, each like a hard reef, stubbornly resisting attacks from every direction.

Their horsemanship was superb, their curved sabers vicious, and their coordination flawless. Every counterattack claimed the lives of several Central Plains fighters.

Luo Bing's raiding party had now plunged into the fiercest fighting.

Her lovely, bright face was smeared with blood and dust, lending her a more striking air of heroic spirit. Her close-fitting night clothes were soaked with sweat and clung tightly to her curvaceous, voluptuous figure. Every sidestep and leap traced a figure that set the blood racing.

The Mandarin Duck Blades in her hands flashed back and forth, their edges bright as snow and swift as lightning. Each strike targeted the enemy's least-guarded blind spot. Her husband, Wen Tailai, fought with sweeping, powerful movements, his iron palms howling through the air like thunder. Any Wolf Rider caught by his strikes suffered shattered bones and was sent tumbling from his horse.

But they had only a hundred fighters, facing an enemy ten times their number that feared no death. They were gradually showing signs of fatigue.

The raiding party's formation had been broken several times, and their casualties were severe. Though they had fought desperately and killed nearly two hundred Wolf Riders, they had lost more than half their own number. Every survivor was wounded, holding on by sheer courage.

Lin Xuan's gaze passed over the chaotic battlefield and fixed precisely on a large golden tent behind the Wolf Riders' formation.

That was the enemy commander Bolton's headquarters.

Outside the tent stood a fearsome black-wolf banner. Beneath it, three hundred of the fiercest guards stood in gleaming armor, their weapons bristling like a forest of blades, protecting the tent as tightly as an iron barrel.

Bolton himself stood before the tent, wearing a cruel, contemptuous smile as he watched the Central Plains fighters struggle like ants in his eyes.

He had already seen through their plan. Once he swallowed the elite "dagger" at the bottom of the valley, the so-called ambushers on both sides would lose heart and become lambs waiting for slaughter.

"About time," Lin Xuan murmured, a cold glint flashing in his eyes. "The fish are in the net, and the bait has completely captured their attention. Now it's time to pull it closed."

He leaped down from the boulder, his figure drifting through the air. After a few bounds, he appeared behind the Mount Hua Sect's position.

"Young Master Lin!" Several Mount Hua disciples carrying logs spotted him, their faces lighting up with surprise and delight. "Our Mistress..."

"Heroine Ning's injuries are no longer serious. She's resting in the cave." Lin Xuan's voice was calm, yet carried unquestionable authority. "Pass on my order: every second-generation disciple still fit to fight is to gather here immediately! I need only ten—the strongest ones!"

His words seemed to possess a strange power. The disciples, who had been anxious over the stalemate, immediately found someone to rally around. Before long, ten elite Mount Hua disciples stood before him, swords in hand.

Lin Xuan glanced over them, then turned to the leaders of the other sects directing their men nearby. He called out:

"Honored seniors! Heroine Luo and the others have fought long and hard, creating a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for us! Now that the enemy commander Bolton believes victory is assured, his defenses are at their most lax! Though I am unworthy, I am willing to lead an elite strike team, emulate Marquis Wu's surprise raid through Zi Wu Valley, strike straight at the enemy's heart, and seize the banner!"

"I ask each senior to select ten of your sect's finest disciples to come with me! If we succeed, not one Wolf Rider will escape. If we fail, my head is yours!"

His voice wasn't loud, but every word reached everyone's ears. His calm bearing and confidence in his own plans lifted the spirits of all who heard him!

The leaders of the various sects, who had been fretting over the raiding party's desperate plight, now seemed to glimpse victory. Without hesitation, they selected their strongest disciples.

Before long, a force of fifty had gathered before Lin Xuan, representing the finest of the Central Plains Martial Arts World's younger generation.

Every one of them burned with fighting spirit and an almost blind faith in Lin Xuan.

Lin Xuan looked over the team and nodded with satisfaction. His gaze swept across each face, and his voice grew low and forceful.

"Listen carefully. We're not going to charge into the thick of battle, and we're not here to kill as many enemies as possible. We have only one target: the tent beneath that black wolf banner, three hundred yards away!"

He pointed into the distance, his voice cold as a blade. "I don't need you to get caught up in the fighting. I don't need you to play the hero. What I need is speed, stealth, and absolute obedience!"

"I'll carve a bloody path to the enemy commander's heart. Your job is to stay close behind me and drive your swords, blades, and palms straight into the enemy's throats! Are you ready?"

"Yes!" The fifty fighters roared in unison, their voices shaking the wilderness.

"Good! Move out!"

Before Lin Xuan's words had even faded, he shot forward like an arrow loosed from a bow.

But the way he moved was bizarre to the extreme.

He didn't take a straight path. Instead, he used the Nine Yin Manual's movement technique, leaving a series of blurred afterimages as he crossed the chaotic battlefield.

At times he slipped through the shadows of boulders; at others he used a corpse for cover. Sometimes he drifted over a trap-filled stretch like a fallen leaf caught on the wind.

The arrows and flying rocks crisscrossing the battlefield couldn't even brush his clothes. His speed was astonishing, yet he made no sound as he cut through the air. It was as if he weren't running at all, but "blinking" through the gaps in the darkness.

The fifty elite disciples were all sharp-eyed, yet even they watched in stunned disbelief. They pushed themselves to the limit, using every skill they had, and could barely keep up with Lin Xuan's pace. They dared not slacken for even an instant.

The strike team was like a venomous serpent lurking in the depths of the sea, soundlessly yet at astonishing speed pouncing on its unsuspecting prey.

They avoided the fiercest fighting at the front and cut in from the battlefield's flank, over a steep slope strewn with corpses and the remains of horses—a place almost everyone had overlooked.

"Pfft!"

A Mongolian sentry on watch had just sensed something was wrong. Before he could raise the alarm, a streak of blue swordlight flickered from the shadow behind him like a snake's tongue, precisely slicing through his throat.

Lin Xuan didn't even pause as he passed.

The Mount Hua disciples behind him immediately came forward and silently dragged the corpse into the shadows.

The whole process was as smooth as flowing water, their coordination flawless.

In the lead, Lin Xuan was like a god of death from hell. The unremarkable green-steel sword in his hand had become the most efficient instrument of slaughter.

His sword never missed. It pierced throats, ran through hearts, or sliced necks; every strike was simple, precise, and deadly. Every enemy in his path, whether a visible sentry or one hidden in the dark, was silently eliminated in an instant.

The fifty men behind him moved like sharp surgical knives, silently and efficiently clearing away every trace.

Their eyes brimmed with awe for Lin Xuan. They had never imagined that killing could be so "artful."

In the short span of an incense stick, the ghostlike team had silently covered nearly two hundred yards and successfully circled behind the enemy command tent.

This was the weakest link in Bolton's defenses. In his mind, no Central Plains army could possibly cross the battlefield he considered a deadly meat grinder and reach this spot.

By now, the pressure on Luo Bing had reached its peak.

Fewer than thirty of her companions remained. All were wounded, and together they formed a small circle, making their final stand like trapped beasts.

The edges of the Mandarin Duck Blades in her hands had rolled from being swung so many times. Her tiger's mouth had split, and blood soaked the hilts. Her proud breasts rose and fell with her rapid breathing, a breathtaking sight. Yet her eyes still shone like stars, filled with unyielding determination.

Just as despair was about to overwhelm her, a faint, delicate birdcall suddenly reached her ears.

That was... the signal for the final assault she had arranged with Lin Xuan!

Luo Bing's spirits surged. Summoning all her strength, she let out a clear, piercing cry. "Brothers! Young Master Lin's plan has succeeded! Let's make one final stand with me—kill!"

Her cry was like a shot of adrenaline, pouring strength into every surviving fighter. They unleashed their last reserves of strength and followed Luo Bing, charging toward Bolton like an arrow wreathed in the flames of their own lives!

The move immediately drew Bolton's attention, along with that of every guard around him.

"Foolish vermin!" Bolton sneered, drawing his golden curved saber. "Guards! Crush them!"

The three hundred elite guards roared in unison and prepared to meet the charge.

At that very moment, behind them, from the place they least expected, death... descended!

"Attack!"

Lin Xuan's cold voice sounded like a sentence passed from the depths of the underworld.

He struck first. His figure spread its wings like a roc as he leaped from behind the boulder where he had been hiding. His sword swept through the air in a dazzling flourish, like a sheet of water pouring down, instantly enveloping the three nearest guards.

"Pfft! Pfft! Pfft!"

Three soft sounds rang out. Three heads shot into the air, blood spraying after them!

At the same time, the fifty elite disciples behind him burst from all sides like tigers descending the mountain, unleashing every technique they had trained for years on the unsuspecting Mongolian guards!

In an instant, screams, cries of alarm, and the sounds of blades sinking into flesh blended into one!

This sudden, lethal attack from behind sent the battle-hardened troops into chaos and panic. The formation they had once prided themselves on crumbled beneath the enemy's unpredictable assault.

From the very beginning, Lin Xuan's target had never been the guards.

After landing his first strike, he didn't slow down. His figure flashed through the crowd several times, then shot forward like a streak of blue lightning, crossing dozens of yards straight toward the black wolf banner that embodied the army's very spirit!

"Protect the general! Protect the command banner!"

A centurion among the guards was the first to react. He roared and swung his spiked club down at Lin Xuan's head, determined to smash him into pulp.

Lin Xuan didn't even look at him. He struck backhanded, his sword arriving first.

"Clang!"

A clear ring sounded as his finely forged steel sword struck the weakest point of the spiked club at an impossible angle.

The centurion felt an irresistible force surge through the club. His palm split instantly, and the heavy weapon flew from his grasp, knocking down several of his own men behind him.

With his guard wide open, he was then run through the chest by the sword of a disciple close behind.

Lin Xuan had already reached the base of the command banner.

He reached out with his left hand, grabbed the cold flagpole, and released a surge of Internal Energy!

"Crack!"

The enormous flagpole, thick enough to take several men to encircle, snapped in his hands!

Lin Xuan stood proudly amid the battlefield, holding the massive black wolf banner in one hand. He looked at Bolton, whose face was twisted with disbelief, and smiled cruelly.

"Bolton, I'll be taking your banner!"

"You wretch! How dare you!"

Bolton's eyes turned bloodshot, and he looked like a madman. Losing the command banner was an even greater humiliation for an army than defeat in battle!

He roared and charged at Lin Xuan, waving his golden curved saber like a wounded beast.

But Lin Xuan was faster still!

Lin Xuan hurled the broken banner. It loomed overhead like a dark cloud, crashing into the guards at the front with immense force and sending men tumbling everywhere.

Riding the recoil of his throw, Lin Xuan seemed to teleport, appearing directly in front of Bolton.

They stood less than three feet apart.

Bolton could even make out the undisguised mockery in Lin Xuan's eyes, as if he were already looking at a dead man.

In all his years of warfare, Bolton had never felt such bone-deep chill. He tried to swing his saber, only to realize that Lin Xuan's fingers had somehow come to rest lightly on his wrist.