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The scene before Ling Qing suddenly changed, and he found himself on a battlefield.

"Kill!!"

Countless soldiers rushed at him from the opposite side, weapons in hand.

He wanted to dodge, only to discover that countless soldiers surrounded him as well, squeezing him tightly in their midst.

Other than advancing, there was no way out at all.

Before he could figure out what to do, the soldiers behind him shoved him to the ground, and hard battle boots stomped down mercilessly.

His vision went black. When he came to, he was once again faced with the same scene.

He immediately leaped up and ran backward, but several arrows flying toward him shot him dead.

Before losing consciousness, he heard someone shout, "Those who flee the battlefield shall be killed!!"

When he woke again, it was the same scene. This time, he could only follow the others forward.

The soldiers opposite charged as well, countless weapons crushing down on him like a gleaming wall of light.

Though he did his best to fend off the weapons, he was still pierced full of holes like a sieve.

The next time, he had only one thought in his heart: carve his way through.

The feeling of death was too terrifying.

He gripped the long blade in his hand tight, his eyes fixed only on the enemies before him. When they drew close, he slashed out and cut one down.

Before he could rejoice, more charged up from behind.

The long blade in his hand swung without cease. He only cared about cutting down the enemies before him, with no time to worry over whether he had truly killed them.

As long as they fell, they had no chance of surviving. He had verified that himself.

He did not know how long he killed