"Ding!"
"Congratulations, Host. You have spoken Li Bai's classic line from Honor of Kings and gained one lottery chance. Would you like to activate the lottery wheel?"
"Yes!"
A virtual wheel appeared in Yang Ming's field of vision. It spun faster and faster.
The Green Lotus Sword Immortal, Li Bai, was an exceptionally powerful jungler hero in Honor of Kings. He had four skills: one passive, [Way of the Vagabond], and three active skills, [Drunken Revelry], [Divine Brushwork], and [Green Lotus Sword Song].
Li Bai had four skins: Van Helsing, Millennium Fox, Keen Force, and Phoenix Seeker.
As the wheel slowed, its pointer stopped on Li Bai's ultimate, Green Lotus Sword Song. Yang Ming knew this round was in the bag!
Green Lotus Sword Song: Transform into sword qi and rapidly dash through enemies within range, slashing five times. Each slash deals massive physical damage. While casting, the Host cannot be targeted or attacked. (Consumes no mana.)
There were still restrictions from Way of the Vagabond in the game, but in reality, there were none!
Just like when he had received Han Xin's inheritance, a massive flood of information poured into Yang Ming's mind. It included types of swords, ways to use them, methods of cultivating sword arts, sword maintenance, and the core Green Lotus Sword Art.
Yang Ming pretended to drink wine to quench his thirst, concealing the dizzy, swollen feeling in his head.
The other bandits were intimidated by his fearsome reputation from killing so ruthlessly earlier. They merely surrounded him in a circle, remaining extremely cautious.
A group of brawny men in their forties and fifties actually dared not face a six-year-old child.
The scene looked somewhat comical.
But none of it was funny at all. Yang Ming had forged his fearsome reputation from the heaps of white bones on the ground!
Seeing these tiger-like wolves completely cowed by him, Yang Ming's chest swelled with heroic spirit. Inspired by poetry, he drank as he recited aloud:
"Have you not seen how lions and tigers win fame by hunting prey? Yet who pities the poor deer?"
"In this world, the strong have always devoured the weak. Even with reason on your side, it is all in vain."
Yes.
If Yang Ming and the other two had been captured by the bandits today and sold to nobles with peculiar tastes, who would seek justice for them?
Justice did not lie in people's hearts. Right and wrong depended only on strength!
Yang Ming was like a raging mountain fire. He suddenly threw down the wine jar with a bang, shattering it across the ground.
Yang Ming seemed unable to hold his liquor. He swayed his dizzy head, the Mysterious Sword in his hand hanging crookedly, but his eyes were as cold as an icy spring.
He swept his gaze around, yet not a single bandit dared meet his eyes!
"Do not ask, for men have the paths men must walk!"
As soon as Yang Ming finished speaking, the encirclement took shape, and some bandits could no longer restrain themselves from attacking.
The bandits on the outer edge held bows and crossbows. One-meter bolts as thick as an adult's arm shot toward him like a swarm of locusts, carrying chilling killing intent!
"Hahaha!"
Rather than becoming angry, Yang Ming rejoiced. He stepped into Ghost Shadow Perplexing Track, swaying from side to side as he dodged the bolts and rushed forward.
"A man's path should be violent."
"Deeds and benevolence cannot coexist."
Yang Ming moved like a shadow that followed its form, his ghostlike figure charging into the battlefield.
Spearpoints gleamed coldly, and sword light flashed like lightning.
The bandits had already witnessed Yang Ming's terrifying techniques. They did not dare confront him head-on and retreated one after another, trying to escape disaster.
Bandits were not the sort to care about honor. Seeing how formidable Yang Ming was, someone immediately pulled out a bag of lime powder and hurled it straight at his face.
The packet burst open in midair, and lime powder poured down like a torrential rain.
If the lime powder entered Yang Ming's eyes, even if it did not blind him, he would be unable to see for the rest of the battle. Then he would become a lamb awaiting slaughter!
Yang Ming did not retreat. Instead, he advanced, his poem growing louder.
"A man's affairs lie on the battlefield of slaughter, with the courage of bears and eyes of wolves."
"If born a man, then kill. Let no man's body wrap a woman's heart."
Yang Ming's figure blurred.
As he leaped through the air, he transformed into incomparably sharp sword qi. The sword was a weapon of killing, and its sword qi swept in all directions!
The lime powder missed completely, passing through the sword qi Yang Ming had become. Before the terrified eyes of seven bandits in the rear, sword qi came from the east and cut through their throats!
Long, twisted bloodstains appeared one after another. Fine heads flew into the air, blood spraying half a meter high!
The headless corpses fell like toppled cards. Behind them, Yang Ming crouched with his sword in hand, blood staining his white robes crimson, his expression cold and stern.
"A man has never cherished his own life; even dying to an enemy, he meets it with a smile."
"A hundred places of vengeance and battle, and everywhere I wish to turn green with wild grass."
He flicked the sword's blade, and its light rippled like water.
Seeing the remaining bandits in the distance gripping their reins and whipping their steeds as they charged forward with the momentum to break through enemy lines, Yang Ming curled his lips.
When one carried a sharp weapon, the urge to kill naturally arose.
Today, he would begin a massacre!
"Men, do not tremble. I have a song for you to hear."
Yang Ming's poetry was like a death notice. With every line he uttered, sword qi swept forth, and another person was beheaded.
"To kill one is a crime; to slaughter ten thousand is to be a hero. Slaughter nine million, and you are the hero among heroes."
One sword, one spear, sweeping across the battlefield!
He killed until his enemies cast aside their helmets and armor, until their hearts trembled with fear!
Yang Ming cut through the entire battlefield. Behind him, human corpses and horse corpses lay mixed together, impossible to distinguish!
This...
Was this even human?
The remaining nine bandits looked at one another, terror rising from the depths of their hearts.
This child, this little boy, was a demon wearing human skin!
If regret medicine truly existed, they absolutely, absolutely would not have provoked this demon!
The nine bandits turned their horses around and fled in different directions.
They were already terrified, frightened senseless by Yang Ming's slaughter!
However, Yang Ming proved with his actions—
Those who offended him would be punished, no matter how far away they fled!
Yang Ming vaulted onto a horse and gave chase without mercy!
"Hero among heroes, with paths apart, seeing through the Thousand-Year Level name of benevolence and righteousness, let this life display heroic might."
With a single sword strike, he beheaded a mounted bandit from behind. His hot blood had turned cold. Yang Ming's gaze fell upon the head beneath the horse's hooves as he said icily:
"I do not love a good name, only an evil one. Having killed millions, my heart feels no remorse."
Gripping the reins tightly, Yang Ming pursued and killed the fleeing bandits one by one, rooting them out completely!
Standing atop a pile of corpses, Yang Ming felt as though his entire soul had been cleansed. His thoughts flowed freely.
In this world, if you did not kill others, others would kill you.
Sometimes, reality was simply this cruel.
Good people never lived long.
Instead, bad people lived for ages.
Storing away the Mysterious Sword, Yang Ming felt something stir within him and slowly spoke the final line of Killing Song:
"Better to make ten thousand curse me through gritted teeth than leave no one to curse my name. Looking across five thousand years, where has there ever been a hero who did not kill?"
Watching Yang Ming, alone with sword and spear, slaughter every fleeing bandit, Tang San was deeply shaken.
"Yang Ming, he's so strong!"
Tang San considered himself an elite of the Tang Sect, yet in that battle, even after using every trick he had, he had killed only eight bandits. Compared to Yang Ming's brilliant achievements, it was like comparing a firefly to a candle—utterly insignificant.
Yet this did not make Tang San retreat. Instead, it stirred him with fighting spirit.
"Once my Mysterious Heaven Skill improves further, I will definitely surpass Yang Ming!"
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