Purple-red mist

The golden light moved incredibly fast, appearing before his eyes in an instant. Before the edge of his sword could fall upon the heavy sword, he felt an intensely scorching aura.

It was neither the unbearable heat of flames nor the savage, destructive force of lightning. It was something solid and powerful, something that made resistance almost inconceivable, as though he had been nailed inside a coffin, unable to move.

In that instant, surprise, panic, and fear flashed through Qin Zihui's eyes. How could he have expected that the unidentified Elementalist he thought had long since left had actually been waiting in the shadows, watching for the moment he exposed an opening, then striking?

Whoosh! The golden light swelled, and the Fish-Scale Sword, coated in a layer of golden elemental energy, slashed fiercely into his breastplate.

With a boom, Qin Zihui was driven back by the strike. He retreated dozens of meters before slowly steadying himself. A few seconds later, when he raised his head, his expression was utterly dark.

"Nameless, perfect timing." Yetos did not stint on his praise.

"How are you feeling? Are you all right?" Zeng Mu stared like a tiger at Qin Zihui, who stared back at him. In those eyes, he felt a dense, unadulterated killing intent, dozens of times stronger than that of the three men that night combined. An ordinary person probably could not meet that gaze for more than three seconds without losing their nerve and backing away.

Yetos said quietly, "I'm all right, but I've used more energy than I expected. That Second-Tier Wind Elemental Artifact above his head doesn't just enhance his elemental power; it also speeds up his recovery severalfold. I hadn't anticipated that either. Under these circumstances, I can't hold out much longer."

"Where exactly has Lord Soxia gone?" Zeng Mu could not help asking. For him not to have appeared even now undoubtedly put both Yetos and Sand City in danger.

"In hiding." Yetos lowered his voice and offered only those two words.

Zeng Mu smiled faintly at that. This was clearly something he had not anticipated. Lord Soxia's movements were elusive; apparently, even the Knight Commander did not know his exact whereabouts.

"Who are you, boy? Give me your name. I don't kill nameless nobodies." Qin Zihui's eyes were as dark as the night. That earlier strike had cut a fissure through his breastplate, exposing a glimpse of the silver mesh armor beneath. It had missed his heart by only a fraction. Had his opponent been just a little stronger, that strike might have pierced the inner armor and cleaved his heart.

At those words, a rare smile appeared on Yetos's face. He heard Zeng Mu reply beside him, "Oh, I'm terribly sorry. Then you're destined not to kill me this morning, because I have no name. I'm actually called Nameless."

"Smart-mouthed brat! You're asking to die!"

During that brief exchange, Qin Zihui had already seen through him. This boy was merely in the Manifestation Realm. Judging from the aura of the elemental mark on his forehead, he had only recently become an Elementalist-half a month ago at most. To have been caught off guard by someone of such meager strength was something Qin Zihui had never experienced. It filled him with anger and shame, more than he could bear.

As his shout faded, the hovering Wind Elemental Artifact blazed with more white light, enveloping him like a brilliant white sun. The glare was so dazzling that his body could no longer be seen, as though he did not exist.

Wind sprang beneath his feet, leaving two small depressions an inch deep. The sword in his hand gave a humming cry like a bird's call, and amid the flashing white light, it hurtled straight toward Zeng Mu.

The strike was so fast that it blurred beyond recognition. Even Yetos's eyes struggled to follow it. He immediately understood that Qin Zihui intended to finish Nameless with a single blow, preventing any further complications so he could turn back and deal with Yetos as quickly as possible.

"Shameless bastard!" Yetos shouted. His rebuke was clear: despite his already exceptional strength and the advantage of a Second-Tier Wind Elemental Artifact, Qin Zihui was unleashing his full power against a junior first.

It felt like a slap across his face, as though Qin Zihui were saying, "I'm allowed to rely on a Wind Elemental Artifact, but you're not allowed to fight me two against one."

Yetos would never let him have his way. He immediately stamped his foot and moved to intercept with his sword, but his opponent was simply too fast, his killing intent too focused. He had no intention of paying Yetos any attention.

White light skimmed past green light and shot toward the golden glow.

Even with the sword's edge still dozens of meters away, Zeng Mu could clearly feel its dense killing intent in that instant. Lethal, cold, pure, terrifying-the aura alone was enough to drive someone mad.

His hand instinctively tightened around the Fish-Scale Sword's hilt. A rich, scorching surge of energy poured out of his body into his palm. The blade trembled and rang, its golden scale patterns shining brighter at once. Light wandered across the lifelike scales, lending the precious sword a touch of spirit.

Whoosh! With a ringing hum, the two lights converged and the two swords collided. Ripples of energy erupted instantly. Trees to the left toppled, while columns of water shot skyward to the right. Booms and crashes collided and blended into one, drowning out all hearing.

At the instant that thunderous roar sounded, three massive battering rams carried the soldiers operating them surging into the gap amid the flames.

The gate had fallen.

As the opening widened and the sounds of slaughter and horns poured through like thunder, Kanni's eyes held no panic or fear, just like those of the knights beside him. Instead, their gazes carried an urgent hunger, an anticipation. It seemed this was precisely what they wanted to see and gladly welcomed. Otherwise, what purpose did the sharp swords in their hands serve?

In the glow of the battle fires, black shadows slanted and stretched, then shortened, merging into a dark curtain before gradually turning pale. At last, the shadows tumbled and collapsed, vanishing completely into the flames.

Everything grew hot-blooded. Amid the chaos, a streak of silver light danced and leaped wildly. The Bright Moon Silver Sword once again appeared on this bloody battlefield, displaying its ferocity without restraint. Each leap severed a black shadow in two; each swing sent a trace of crimson sliding gently along its blade. There was no pause, no haste. Everything was orderly, everything poetic and still, as though someone were painting beneath the night sky. The sight only made one's vision darken and drowsiness stir within.

Kanni was utterly satisfied with the slaughter. The corners of his mouth curved into an unconscious smile. His face, nose, lips, and eyes were all stained red. The sweet, bloody taste was like spoiled red wine mixed with Qierweige liquor, making him half love it and half hate it, drawing him away from reality.

Every raindrop held a drop of blood, and every drop of blood was a face. Within the thousands upon thousands of raindrops, Kanni sensed an aura belonging to tears slanting down a gravestone, to bright, magnificent roses at a funeral. It was the scent of death.

Everything he did was merely an attempt to distance himself from that scent, even as he yearned to inhale it.

Amid the clanging slaughter, as though fatigue had been forgotten, Kanni was almost lost in a haze.

Firelight swept through black shadows and struck his face, flickering back and forth in his eyes. Heads, severed limbs, and flying pieces of armor came rushing toward him in a disjointed jumble, faintly accompanied by a steadily deepening drowsiness he could not resist.

Then, through his haze, he saw a graceful figure dancing dozens of meters ahead of him, wielding a flickering sword as she wove among flames and silhouettes.

"Ma Linya?!" Kanni shouted, his sword moving forward with his steps.

On the deafening battlefield, his shout was feeble indeed. She did not hear him.

He advanced, closing the distance. With only a dozen or so meters left between them, Kanni was certain: she really was Ma Linya.

She wore a suit of close-fitting white-gold armor, its material and luster both of the finest quality. The emblems at the centers of her breastplate and helmet proclaimed its noble status as a Baron's battle armor.

Before he could call to her again, Ma Linya noticed him. Her brief glance carried the meaning of a beckoning hand.

Kanni drew close to her, and the Silver Sword in his hand flashed faster still. Its swishing became a series of booms, and the air, already riddled with wounds, grew more desolate beneath his blade.

"Why did you come? You should be staying inside a stone house right now." He became the eyes at her back, cutting down every approaching figure.

"Of course I had to come. Only people with no skill or a fear of death would hide. Don't forget, I'm a Baron, after all. I have a duty to serve the Holy Temple." Her golden eyes shone brilliantly, outshining even the pale-gold edge of her sword.

"You're certainly skilled, but these men are the fiercest of enemies. They won't give you a moment to catch your breath or a chance to stop. Do you understand? This is a fight to the death."

Ma Linya's voice was firm and strong, edged with the indignant anger of someone who had been underestimated. "Enough nonsense! Where is Nameless?!"

Half a minute after the gate fell, the central troops of the Seven Kingdoms Coalition scrambled forward. Their eyes were red as they hacked at suspension ropes as thick as arms, seemingly heedless of their own safety.

Snap! Nearly ten suspension ropes broke. As the last supporting chain was destroyed, an enormous, elongated shadow slowly folded down from above the gate, finally landing across the Moat with a crash.

The loss of the drawbridge was devastating for Sand City, because the instant it fell, the Seven Kingdoms Coalition's Knights' Order charged out of the black tide on pounding hooves.

Countless silhouettes of horses joined into a single line. Bent riders and the long shadows of their scythe-bladed halberds moved swiftly together. The pounding hoofbeats carried more force than the horns. The moment they reached the ears of the Seven Kingdoms' soldiers, their eyes lit up, and their blood surged with renewed vigor.

The fighting became exceptionally brutal. Although the Seven Kingdoms Coalition's Knights' Order could not compare with the Holy Temple's Knights' Order, the cavalry pouring through the gate had undeniably caught them off guard.

Severed limbs fell in swathes, and heads were flung one after another into the gradually quieting curtain of rain.

Their overwhelming advantage did not last long. A loud shout rang out: "Xibizete is here!"

A troop of cavalry came galloping over, led by none other than Xibizete. His face was covered in blood, presumably traces of the fighting at the western gate.

Yetos's prediction had been entirely correct. Qin Zihui had indeed deployed a diversionary force to feign an attack on the western gate while the East City Gate came under assault. They numbered more than a hundred—not many, but well equipped. Xibizete had personally led his cavalry out through the gate to attack them, yet it had still taken a full ten minutes to eliminate them. Only now did he have time to rush over with reinforcements.

The arrival of this cavalry troop suppressed the Seven Kingdoms Coalition's advantage. Warhorses neighed, halberds and spears clashed, and the ringing of metal went on and on.

The rain finally stopped, but the long night's downpour left a curtain of moisture behind. Under the combined influence of temperature and moving air, it wondrously formed a mist.

Night approached its end. A striking gleam of dawn shone from the eastern horizon, passing through forests, oceans, and mountains to fall across the crystalline mist and stain it with color.

Purple radiance came from the east. Amid crimson blood, within this rare, dense mist, the carnage continued.