Seven Surround, Martial Artist Stage Two Massacres All!

On each side of the exit crouched three or four people, their weapons already drawn.

The moment Lin Feng stepped out of the Rift, the nearest person on the left swung at him.

The blade sliced down past his left shoulder, aimed at his collarbone.

A Martial Artist at the first stage, his sword strike was fast.

But in Lin Feng's eyes, this strike was absurdly slow.

He sidestepped half a step, and the opponent's blade grazed past the hem of his clothes, cutting through empty air.

Lin Feng flipped his right hand, his long blade sweeping upward from below.

Pfft.

From hip to shoulder, one cut through.

That person lowered his head to look at the diagonal wound across his chest, opened his mouth, but not a single word came out. His entire body split apart from the middle, collapsing to both sides.

Blood splattered three meters away.

[Steel of the Blade: 77/500]

The remaining six people froze for a second at the same time.

That second was enough.

Lin Feng stepped on the first corpse and charged forward, the starting stance of Mountain-Breaking Slash unfolding naturally in his hands.

The blade's momentum was heavy and fierce, carrying a sense of downward pressure.

The second person raised his blade to block.

Clang!

His sword, along with his hand, was severed together. Half an arm flew out, spun twice, and smacked onto the rock with a slap.

That person let out a scream. Before the sound faded, Lin Feng's second strike had already come horizontally.

A head rolled away.

[Steel of the Blade: 78/500]

"All together! Don't fight alone!"

The leader finally reacted and roared out.

The five scattered, closing in from five directions at once.

Two blocked the front, two flanked from the sides, and one leaped down from the rock wall above for a surprise attack.

Lin Feng stood still.

The moment all five blades entered attack range, he stomped hard on the ground.

The earth exploded.

Debris flew, and the kicked-up dust blocked everyone's vision.

From within the smoke, only three dull thuds were heard.

Bam! Bam! Bam!

When the dust cleared, three corpses lay on the ground.

One was split from shoulder to waist, one had his own broken blade stuck in his throat, and one had his head twisted one hundred and eighty degrees, face toward his back.

The remaining two stood in place, their blade tips trembling violently.

"You... what the hell kind of monster are you?" The leader's voice cracked.

Lin Feng walked out from the smoke, his body splattered with blood, but his expression was eerily calm.

He flicked the blood off his blade.

[Steel of the Blade: 81/500]

The count was still rising.

"Did Zhao Tianxiong send you?"

The leader gritted his teeth and said nothing.

The younger Martial Artist beside him couldn't hold it anymore. His legs gave out, and he dropped to his knees.

"Big brother, please spare my life. I just took three thousand from Adjutant Zhao as a running fee. I didn't do anything..."

The leader's face turned iron-gray. "Shut the hell up!"

Lin Feng didn't look at the one kneeling. He stared at the leader.

"I'm asking you."

The leader gripped his blade tightly, striking a pose of desperate resistance.

"I've been in the Northern Territory for six years, and I've never knelt to anyone!"

He let out a roar and exploded forward.

This strike was fiercer than any before it—blood and qi pushed to the limit, a faint reddish glow barely visible along the blade's edge.

Peak of Martial Artist first rank, a full-power blow.

Lin Feng stood still.

Only when the blade was half a foot from the tip of his nose did he draw his own sword.

The two blades clashed.

There was no imagined clash of equals.

The Alloy War Blade in the leading man's hand snapped clean in two from the middle.

Lin Feng's blade didn't stop—it slanted in from his right shoulder.

Pfft—

The leader's body froze in place, head lowering to stare at the long blade piercing through his chest.

A mouthful of blood gushed out.

"Six years..." He spat a bloody froth. "Still never made it out..."

Lin Feng pulled the blade free.

The corpse pitched forward, hitting the ground and kicking up a puff of dust.

The last young Martial Artist kneeling on the ground had a large wet patch spreading across his crotch.

Lin Feng walked over and looked down at him.

"What backup did Zhao Tianxiong arrange?"

The young Martial Artist trembled violently, words stumbling out.

"None... none left. Just... just us seven. Adjutant Zhao said if you came out of the Rift, we couldn't let you make it back to Base Camp alive."

"How many of his own people does he have in the camp?"

"Not sure, but the whole Logistics Department crew is his—at least twenty or thirty."

"Where's the evidence of his supply embezzlement?"

"Office, there's a hidden compartment in the third drawer of his desk. The key's hanging around his neck."

The young Martial Artist spilled everything he knew, words rushing out fast, terrified that slowing down would cost him his life.

Lin Feng listened, then nodded.

"Thanks."

A flicker of relief at surviving flashed across the young Martial Artist's face.

A blade of light swept past.

Another head hit the ground.

The Steel of the Blade stack count locked at 83.

When Wang Tie and Li Ming crawled out of the Rift, this was the scene they saw.

Seven corpses, scattered haphazardly around the Rift entrance.

Blood on the ground had pooled into small puddles, glinting dark red under the sunlight.

Lin Feng crouched by a nearby stream washing his blade, movements unhurried.

Li Ming threw up on the spot.

Wang Tie swallowed hard, walked over, and looked at the bodies.

"Seven Martial Artists, all dead?"

"Mm."

"You alone?"

"Mm."

Wang Tie opened his mouth but couldn't force out a second sentence for a long while.

He'd spent over two years in the Northern Territory and seen every kind of ruthless man.

But someone taking down seven Martial Artists in under three minutes, all by counter-kill? First damn time.

Lin Feng finished washing his blade and stood up.

"On the way back, clean off any bloodstains on yourselves."

He paused.

"Once we reach Base Camp, nothing happened."

Wang Tie and Li Ming both nodded in unison.

The three packed up their gear and headed toward the camp.

No one spoke on the road—only the sound of footsteps crunching over gravel.

Just before reaching the base camp, Lin Feng suddenly stopped.

"Old Wang."

"Hm?"

"How many of Zhao Tianxiong's people in the camp can you get a handle on?"

Wang Tie thought for a moment. "I roughly know the Logistics Department crew, but he's also planted a few trusted men in the Combat Department. I'll need to ask around to find out who."

"Give me a list before tonight."

Wang Tie stared at Lin Feng's back, silent for two seconds.

"What are you planning to do?"

Lin Feng didn't turn around.

"Zhao Tianxiong wanted me dead in the rift. So I'll let him see that the man who walks out of that rift can tear his nest apart."

Wang Tie let out a low chuckle and quickened his pace to catch up.

The three of them climbed over the city wall and returned to the base camp.

The canteen had just opened for dinner.

Chen Lie was sitting at the entrance gnawing on a steamed bun. When he saw the three approaching, the bun stopped halfway to his mouth.

He stared at Lin Feng for several seconds.

"Back?"

"Back."

"What about the other two? Liu Gang and Zhou Yuan."

"Didn't make it."

Chen Lie chewed twice on the bun and swallowed.

"How'd they die?"

"Exotic beasts."

Chen Lie gave him another look but didn't press further.

In the Northern Territory, death was too common. Every day, people went into rifts and never came back. One or two more or less—no one cared.

"Mission complete?"

Lin Feng pulled a rock fragment from his bag, still bearing traces of dark red mineral residue.

"There was an abnormal fluctuation source on the third layer of the F-Class Rift. It's been cleared. This is a sample."

Chen Lie took the fragment and turned it over in his hands.

"Residue from an E-Class Exotic Beast's nest?"

He jerked his head up.

"You ran into an E-Class in an F-Class Rift?"

"We did."

"And you killed it?"

"We did."

The bun slipped from Chen Lie's hand and hit the ground; he didn't even notice.

He stood up, circled around Lin Feng, and sized him up from head to toe.

"You son of a bitch."

In the end, Chen Lie could only force out four words.

"Go eat."

The three entered the canteen and found a corner to sit down.

Lin Feng ate three bowls of rice and four plates of braised pork.

"Bro, your appetite is terrifying," Li Ming said, watching in shock from the side.

"My body's depleted after the breakthrough. I need to replenish."

Lin Feng set down his bowl and wiped his mouth.

At the canteen entrance, a thin figure flickered and then shrank back.

It was Zhao Tianxiong's lackey, Chen Mo.

Lin Feng noticed but didn't care.

What's coming will come.

He was curious to see what expression Zhao Tianxiong would wear when he learned that all seven Martial Artists had been wiped out.

After dinner, they returned to the barracks. Wang Tie was already waiting for him with a piece of paper in hand.

Twelve names were written on the paper.

"Twelve from the Logistics Department, four from the Combat Department. These are the ones who've been closest to Zhao Tianxiong recently. Ten of them are Martial Artists."

Lin Feng took the paper, scanned it, folded it, and tucked it into his pocket.

"Tonight, we're paying a visit to Zhao Tianxiong's office."

Wang Tie froze. "You're going to steal evidence?"

"Not steal."

Lin Feng lay back down on the bed, placing his blade beside the pillow.

"Take."