It's Over

Zhao Hong stood still, resting as his blood and qi surged within him, driving out the lingering chill from before.

Slaying that man had looked easy, but the process had been quite perilous.

The other side had also been far too careless.

Inner force—the way force was wielded was at its most formidable.

The force behind that man's final palm strike had truly been impressive.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sized up Wu Qingyu.

This woman was the daughter of the Cold Blade Sect's sect master. Her methods would only be more formidable.

And after the first battle, she certainly would not underestimate him.

"My blood and qi are abundant, but before inner force, they still aren't enough."

"Dragon-Tiger Divine Strength..."

Zhao Hong's heart stirred as he silently recalled the sensation of savage power erupting from deep within his sinews and bones.

A long while passed.

Zhao Hong opened and closed his eyes, stretching his muscles and bones as his gaze locked firmly onto Wu Qingyu.

Wu Qingyu's gaze was icy as she suddenly asked, "May I use a blade?"

"Yes."

Zhao Yang did not hesitate.

Lu Hong's expression shifted slightly, and he was about to speak, but seeing Zhao Yang's calm expression, he immediately cursed himself for meddling in others' business and obediently swallowed the words in his throat.

Clang!!

The blade rang out crisply.

Wu Qingyu drew a long saber from its sheath, its cold edge gleaming with a dim light that made hearts tremble.

The temperature plummeted.

A shocking chill surged outward, lingering through the surrounding space.

The villagers immediately retreated in terror, their faces changing as they looked at Zhao Yang as though they wanted to speak but held back. Their eyes were filled with worry when they looked at Zhao Hong.

The chill emitted by the blade was several times stronger than the cold aura surrounding that man.

It was merely a blade.

Zhao Hong stared fixedly at the blade, and his expression instantly became exceedingly grim.

His blood and qi formed an airtight defense beneath his skin and flesh, yet they still could not immediately block the lingering chill. His entire body turned cold, and he could not drive it away.

This blade was terrifyingly abnormal.

He could not help cursing inwardly.

Uncle Yang, are you really that afraid I won't die?

Whoosh!

Wu Qingyu vanished from where she stood without warning.

The blade tore through the air, and the howl of wind pierced his ears.

In an instant.

Zhao Hong felt as if a vast tide of piercing cold had crashed straight at him.

It twisted the space around him and made his flesh shudder, even causing all the blood and qi in his body to recoil.

Damn it!

He twisted and shifted sideways like lightning, slapping one palm against the side of the blade.

Bang!

Hiss!

Zhao Hong sucked in a sharp breath. His entire arm jolted as the chill on the blade froze his blood and qi, boring into his body and spreading numb stiffness through him.

So strong. Far too strong.

Wu Qingyu sneered, her figure flashing as she spun and danced wildly.

Blade light filled the air, dense and seamless, raising a fierce tide of cold that forced Zhao Hong to retreat in disarray.

He did not even dare to parry.

As he retreated, he kept shaking out his hand. Only after three breaths did feeling return to his stiffened arm.

"Do you only know how to run?"

Wu Qingyu roared, intensifying her assault.

Whoosh!

Blade light scattered. The cold blade was like an azure dragon emerging from a sleeve, bursting out from the tide of cold with lightning speed and shooting straight toward Zhao Hong's face.

"Damn you."

Driven to the brink, Zhao Hong's face twisted savagely.

Boom!

He erupted with wild force, his body like a blazing furnace.

Stele-Splitting Hand!

His blood and qi surged. He twisted his body slightly, and his crimson palm smashed against the side of the cold blade like lightning.

Clang!

The blade shrieked, pausing only slightly.

The chill descended with the force of thunder, shredding the bloody glow over his entire hand.

Zhao Hong's face tightened, yet he paid no heed to the icy cold in his right hand as his feet spun fiercely.

With this little bitch holding that blade, I'll definitely lose if I drag this out with her!

This blade was too vicious.

Every touch greatly diminished his fighting strength.

He could only win through trickery.

A mocking smile appeared on Wu Qingyu's face. She turned her wrist and casually swept out a blade, yet it was as swift as a flash of lightning.

Everyone saw only an afterimage flicker past.

Pfft!

Blood splashed everywhere.

Strings of blood droplets fell to the ground, already transformed into blood pearls covered in frost, congealed without scattering.

Zhao Hong let out a muffled groan of pain. A saber wound nearly a foot long had been ripped open across his waist, blood pouring as flesh curled outward.

The chill seized the chance to entwine and erode him, directly numbing his waist as the stabbing pain grew increasingly intense.

He suddenly grinned viciously, utterly disregarding it. His feet stomped the ground until it trembled, and he slammed half his body forward with all his strength.

Mountain-Leaning Stake.

Crash.

Combined with the momentum of a Bursting Fist.

Half his body became a Bursting Fist.

Wu Qingyu's expression changed slightly, and she swiftly brought her blade across to block.

Bang!

Even with the blade blocking it, the force of the collision made her body tremble and numbed the web between her thumb and forefinger.

What tremendous strength.

He was simply a monster.

Wu Qingyu was deeply shaken, and the killing intent in her eyes grew even more surging.

"Die!"

The cold-blood force within her body poured out in torrents, whipping howling gusts around her.

Anyone could see how terrifying her next eruption would be.

Zhang Tai's face went deathly pale, and he could not help shouting, "Brother Yang, save Ah Hong!"

Zhao Yang did not move, though the hand within his sleeve quietly clenched tight.

In truth, he had regretted it the moment he allowed Wu Qingyu to use her blade and watched her draw it.

This blade itself was a hundred-forged elite weapon.

It had also been tempered by cold blood and chill an unknown number of times.

Even someone in the late stage or at the pinnacle of inner force would find it difficult to withstand Wu Qingyu as she was now.

But once words left his mouth, spilled water could not be gathered again.

"Regretting it now?"

"That is a cold blade forged through the Cold Blade Sect's exclusive blood-tempering method. The one in Wu Qingyu's hand has undergone at least twenty temperings. It is one of the Cold Blade Sect's superior cold blades." Lu Hong glanced sideways and could not help sneering lightly.

Zhao Yang's expression did not change.

In the flash between lightning and flint.

Facing Wu Qingyu's erupting blade, Zhao Hong suddenly fell backward toward the sky. Midway through, his body twisted diagonally. One hand braced against the ground as his sinews and bones thundered, and all the blood and qi in his body gathered in his right foot before it suddenly shot upward.

There was nothing but an opening between Wu Qingyu's legs.

Her charged blade had concentrated all its force in her upper body and hands. She was determined to cut Zhao Hong down with one strike. At such close range, how could she possibly react in time?

She had never even dreamed Zhao Hong would suddenly pull such a move.

Pfft!

Bang!

Like a charging war chariot, like a spear thrust viciously forward.

Zhao Hong's arm trembled, and he pressed against the ground before rolling away.

"Ah~~~~~"

The scream was incomparably shrill.

With a clatter, the cold blade flew from her hand and plunged into the ground.

Wu Qingyu's features twisted as though splitting apart. Her knees bent, her legs shook violently, and blood instantly dyed her crotch red before flowing down her trouser legs.

The agony was something no outsider could comprehend.

Pain beyond the desire to live.

"Y-you shameless... Aahhh!"

She clutched her abdomen in agony and collapsed to the ground.

Zhao Hong sprang up like a carp and pounced forward.

Bang!

One elbow strike smashed open her chest.

Wu Qingyu's scream came to an abrupt halt. Her eyes nearly burst from their sockets, and a jet of blood sprayed from her mouth all over Zhao Hong's face.

It was freezing cold.

Zhao Hong shuddered. Seeing Wu Qingyu's eyes roll white and the delicate body beneath him go still, he immediately rolled aside and lay there gasping heavily at the sky.

His whole body ached. Half his body and half his waist and abdomen were ice-cold and numb, nearly devoid of sensation, making him shiver without pause.

The surroundings were silent as death.

Lu Hong stood there with his mouth hanging open without the slightest regard for his image. He looked as if he had seen a ghost; even he felt pain on Wu Qingyu's behalf.

That kick had been too damn inspired.

It was simply a stroke of divine genius.

Yet it made the space between his own legs feel chilly.

If that had been a man instead...

The men, women, young, and old of the village all stared as though dumbstruck, then belatedly clenched their buttocks tight.

Zhang Tai swallowed hard and secretly swore that from now on, he would absolutely, absolutely never spar with Ah Hong.

"Uncle, I can't go on. Help me out."

After waiting half the day without any movement, Zhao Hong finally could not help howling miserably.

He truly had no strength left to dispel the chill from his wound.

Zhao Yang swayed and arrived before him. Looking down at Zhao Hong from above, he wore a strange expression. "You really have no idea how to cherish delicate beauty."

"Cherish my ass." Zhao Hong rolled his eyes.