Chapter 156
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Chapter 156: She is Faith
The first style of the Nine Styles of Swordsmanship, the Unsheathing Style!
The radiant sword light swept through with the force of thunder, the sword tip gleaming with a cold brilliance against the starry sky. In Ming He’s hand, the blade’s sharpness was fully revealed, casting shadows that enveloped the surrounding world.
Ming He lightly tapped her toes on the ground and, in an instant, rushed to Ye Ke’s side. Her left hand, fingers poised like a sword, sliced through the sharp claws of the Tian Yan Tribe.
She soared into the air, spinning like a top. The Xuanyuan Sword followed her motion, drawing forth shadows as she swung. The sword’s edge sparkled with cold gleams, tracing a circle and slicing through a patch of black fog.
With one person and one sword, she could withstand thousands of troops.
The Nine Styles of Swordsmanship flowed effortlessly in a single breath. On the battlefield, now drenched in blood, the sword energy reigned fiercely. The dense black mist swirled, attempting to engulf and assimilate her.
Yet, that sword energy was sharp enough to break through the haze, smashing open a gap with reckless fury.
Ming He wielded the Xuanyuan Sword, cutting down enemies left and right. Her form was like a gust of wind, surpassing the battlefield’s raging storm. The fury of the Tian Yan Tribe burned fiercely, creating a widespread blaze.
“Roar!”
With one strike, Ming He shattered the advancing force of the Tian Yan army.
The giant tiger formed by the Battle Formation let out a roar, and with the Silver Spear once again, it took a step forward. The crouched tiger slowly raised its head, following the straight figure ahead.
In an act of pursuit.
Under the heavy armor stained with blood, Ye Ke’s black eyes sparkled with determination. The Silver Spear deflected the encircling attacks as she stepped through the puddles of blood on the ground. Watching Ming He’s back, varying shades of emotion appeared in her eyes.
She clearly recognized her identity.
Upon her first arrival on the battlefield of the heavens, unbound by heavy armor, showcasing such astonishing talent—there could be no one other than the newly appointed young leader of the human race, Ming He.
The waves of the Tian Yan army showed no sign of retreat.
Ming He’s eyes shone brightly as she observed the blood dripping from the sword tip, slightly frowning. She twisted her wrist, shaking the sword tip, sensing a slight resistance enveloping her blade.
Drawing the Jing Ying Sword with her other hand, she executed a sword technique that surpassed even the Nine Styles of Swordsmanship. With a gentle thrust, she broke through dozens of the Tian Yan Tribe’s vertical pupils.
This sword technique was imparted to her by the Xuanyuan Sword, called the Xuantian Sword Classic, the signature inheritance of the Sword Master, a technique that had once caused the Myriad Races to flee in panic.
Yet, she used it with the Jing Ying Sword.
However, that resistance remained.
Was it the resistance coming from the battlefield of the heavens?
Ming He looked at Ye Ke with the cold and bloodied spear tip, her eyes catching sight of dozens of attacks from the Tian Yan army approaching Ye Ke. With a cold snort, she put force into her wrist, and the Xuanyuan Sword flashed like a shooting star, directly striking the heart of those claw-wielders, shattering their bodies before returning to the palm of Ming He’s outstretched right hand.
The sword shadows swayed, the sword energy throbbed.
Ye Ke glanced at Ming He, blood streaming from her lips, her tendons straining as she almost lost her grip on the Silver Spear. Yet, her gaze was fierce, showing unyielding determination as she pointed the spear forward, urging the giant tiger to take another step ahead.
But her spiritual energy was about to run dry.
The other nine were in similar conditions.
The power of the Battle Formation waned, and the might of the giant tiger began to falter.
Even though Ming He had rushed to the front of the team, blocking the most ferocious attacks, they could hardly hold on, unable to keep up with Ming He’s pace.
Ming He sensed the situation behind her, her expression calm. She raised her sharp sword, causing a rain of blood to fall. Taking a deep breath, she leaped into the air, then descended with a heavy force, crushing down on the shoulders of the Tian Yan Tribe, shattering their bodies.
She raised her eyebrows, her clear voice cutting through the sounds of battle like thunder, “Dear friends, prepare to recover spiritual energy.”
Recover spiritual energy?
Ye Ke’s spear tip continued to move, yet her eyes reflected surprise and confusion.
Recovering spiritual energy means restoring it.
But the battlefield of the heavens was surrounded by the black fog and blood energy, so there was no spiritual energy to restore.
To regain their spiritual energy, they could only rely on pills.
And the recovery elixirs required time to take effect, and not all cultivators possessed such elixirs.
These were different from the usual recovery elixirs found on the Tianwu Continent; they were extremely difficult to refine.
Ye Ke frowned slightly, and the next moment her brows drew together as her dark pupils, raised in anticipation, caught sight of the golden light in the sky.
That light was the bright sunlight she hadn’t seen in a long time.
Everyone knew that there were no sun, moon, or stars on the battlefield of the heavens.
But it wasn’t that they were absent; their light was blocked by the black fog and could not shine through.
But now…
Ye Ke tightened her grip on the Silver Spear, using the fierce sunlight to push back the approaching Tian Yan Tribe. In the midst of the encroaching black fog, she lifted her gaze to the blue figure bound in Heavy Armor, the bloody profile tinted with breathtaking beauty.
In the battlefield, the only responsibilities were to kill enemies and preserve one’s own life. Her complete focus on one person was clearly inappropriate.
Yet, at this moment, almost all human cultivators’ gazes uncontrollably turned to the same direction, to the same figure.
She had cut through the darkness and welcomed the light.
The sunlight burned fiercely on their bodies but felt warm and passionate in their hearts.
Where the black fog was thin, the spiritual energy of the heaven and earth rushed to fill their exhausted spiritual oceans, mending the gaps in their souls.
Ming He stepped on the broken bodies of the Tian Yan Tribe, holding the Shadow Strike in her left hand and the Xuanyuan Sword in her right. The Star Lock at her heart flowed with dazzling starlight, extending from her and clinging to the sword tip.
She twisted her wrist, thrusting forward a single sword, its sharpness piercing the dense fog, revealing the magnificent golden sun above the battlefield of the heavens.
Even if only for a fleeting moment, it was enough for the struggling team of ten, for the cultivators currently surrounded by the Tian Yan army, and for the powerful allies in the central pavilion who were barely holding on.
As the moment ended, the black fog covered the earth again, driving away the sunlight, but that warmth remained in the hearts of the cultivators, sustaining them to hold on.
Ming He’s lips were pale, her wrist trembled slightly, clearly indicating that this one strike and the effort to command the Star Lock had drained much of her strength.
A Star Lock that could briefly tear apart the darkness.
A sword cultivator who could wield the Star Lock.
Ye Ke looked at her and suddenly understood why she was the young leader.
She smiled faintly at Ming He, her attacks fierce, and with a roar from the tiger, she stepped forward with unstoppable momentum.
The team of ten attacked the enemies according to their previous tactics.
Ming He wielded the Xuanyuan Sword, weaving through the battlefield. Occasionally, as the team of ten began to falter, she would send out a sword strike, her body trembling, but the sword tip remained steady as a mountain.
Ye Ke looked at her, her gaze filled with starlight, no longer restrained and shining with various colors.
It was a deep-seated admiration and respect.
As she fought, Ye Ke kept her peripheral vision on Ming He, watching her swing her sword and move gracefully, like a gentle breeze carrying a lethal intent. With every strike, she effortlessly claimed several heads, as if she were merely playing.
But Ye Ke knew all too well how formidable the Tian Yan Tribe could be. Ming He’s cultivation was evident—she was at the seventh level of the Human King stage, certainly no weakling. Yet, it was impossible for her to bridge the gap to the Earth Emperor Realm. Her ease came from exploiting the Tian Yan Tribe’s fatal weaknesses, delivering precise, deadly blows.
It sounded simple, but each member of the Tian Yan Tribe possessed unique weaknesses due to their supernatural abilities, making them nearly impossible to discern. Even if one could identify these weaknesses, how many could remain calm and composed in the chaos of battle, ensuring every strike hit its mark? Ye Ke knew she could not. In the heat of battle, her blood ran hot, and maintaining a tranquil heart was beyond her.
But Ming He could. The young leader of the human race was truly remarkable. Ye Ke curled her lips and lowered her gaze to the blood-soaked ground, feeling a growing sense of hope on this path.
In the darkness, there was no sun or moon; time flowed silently. Ming He had no idea how long she and the group behind her had been walking through the black fog. She only noticed the bodies of the Tian Yan Tribe gradually fading away, the black fog thinning, and the Blood River beneath her feet winding and flowing in all directions.
Her Heavy Armor, soaked in blood, clung heavily to her body, leaving a trail of crimson footprints. Her wrist trembled incessantly, and an undeniable exhaustion gnawed at the depths of her soul. Yet, they had not even reached their destination.
Ming He narrowed her eyes, knowing that hope and their goal lay ahead. But this waiting, this perseverance before dawn, was the most perilous. She glanced back at Ye Ke, who followed closely, then at the other nine members of the team of ten, and finally at the bloodied cultivators behind them.
Though the ten-member team led by Ye Ke was battered and wounded, they were still alive. As long as they survived, the path would be easier for those who followed. Ming He suddenly smiled and let out a sharp cry, gathering her energy to activate the Star Lock. With Star Power amplifying her voice, it echoed for hundreds of miles, like the tolling of a bell that cleared the haze from the minds of the cultivators.
Those following behind and those rushing in from all directions paused, their hearts momentarily stilled. The cry swept away the chaos, leaving behind a sense of ease and clarity. For a moment, even the howling winds of the battlefield of the heavens seemed to fall silent.
In a corner of the central pavilion, a woman in dark robes slightly raised her brows, a faint smile playing on her lips. Ming He, pale but resolute, activated the Star Lock. Against the vast darkness, she stood like a faintly glowing star—a morning star illuminating the blood-stained path ahead.
The human cultivators gazed at her, and their restless hearts calmed in an instant. They watched her, glowing as she held her blood-dripping sword, leading the way without looking back, radiating a gentle warmth that seemed to nurture everything around her. A glimmer of light, almost like faith, shone in their eyes.
Finally, Ming He saw the central pavilion. It was an enormous, towering structure, its flying eaves shimmering with golden light. The roof sloped downward, reaching high into the black fog, as if it might touch the warmth and brightness beyond. The pavilion stretched for hundreds of miles, nearly enveloping the entire central region.
No wonder it was called the Central Pavilion.
Yet, the scene at the Central Pavilion was far from favorable.
At its heart, over a hundred individuals sat cross-legged, their eyes closed and brows furrowed, palms radiating a golden light. Array flags encircled them, swaying violently in the storm, seemingly a method to maintain the formation seal.
Surrounding the pavilion, cultivators at the Human King stage had formed a battle formation to fend off the advancing Tian Yan Tribe army.
These Tian Yan Tribe members appeared stronger than those Ming He had encountered on her way here.
Their faces lacked the typical green, tusked appearance of demons; instead, they resembled ordinary humans, save for a vertical pupil on their foreheads and a chilling aura that set them apart.
The greed, ambition, schemes, and desire flickering in their eyes mirrored the expressions Ming He had seen in human race traitors.
Their combat was not a chaotic, brute-force assault but a coordinated exchange of strikes.
Though not as sophisticated as the human race’s battle formations, their strength and teamwork far exceeded that of any previous Tian Yan Tribe members.
These were the sentient Tian Yan Tribe.
Sentient, meaning they possessed intelligence and the capacity for thought.
Ming He’s eyes darkened, a bitter taste lingering on her lips.
She had once met Wei Rou.
Wei Rou, also of the Tian Yan Tribe, bore none of its typical traits—no green face, no tusks, no dark, violent demeanor. She could even conceal the eye on her forehead.
Wei Rou was of the Tian Yan Tribe’s royal lineage.
Though those before her were not royals, they were a far cry from the mindless killing machines outside.
They attacked with purpose, targeting the hundreds of Earth Emperor Realm experts seated cross-legged at the center, or more precisely, the black array flags and the faint golden formation patterns in the air.
Their goal was to break the formation that had sealed the Myriad Races’ bloodbath on the Tianwu Continent for thousands of years.
The Tian Yan Tribe sought to shatter the formation, the Earth Emperor Realm experts aimed to maintain it, and the Human King stage cultivators were to halt the Tian Yan Tribe’s advance.
But the cultivators at the Central Pavilion were not strong enough.
This was the reason for the golden fireworks’ ascent.
Ming He found the situation somewhat absurd.
On their journey, the Tian Yan Tribe army had blocked their path.
They had fought through countless hardships to carve out a bloody road, and now it was their turn to stop the Tian Yan Tribe army’s advance.
The people remained the same, but the Tian Yan Tribe army had changed wave after wave.
The battle beneath the pavilion was fierce; the water was deep, the fire was hot, and blood flowed like a river, spreading into a sea of blood.
The human race cultivators stood in the blood sea, their black armor, soaked in blood, growing heavier, as they struggled to defend against the attacks with their worn and nearly broken weapons.
The Tian Yan Tribe members, with even a touch of elegance on their faces, showed mockery as if they were gods playing with ants.
It was simply… too much oppression!
Ming He clenched her fists, bloodlust shimmering in her eyes, and the Xuanyuan Sword let out an undeniable clamor, drawing the gaze of both cultivators and Tian Yan Tribe members on the battlefield.
Ming He paused, watching a familiar young man with blood on his face and an eager expression in the crowd, as he threw his Jing Ying Sword before the claws of the Tian Yan Tribe struck, saying clearly, "Go help him."
She spoke to Ye Ke beside her.
Although Ye Ke did not understand why Ming He did not go herself, in the chaos of battle, following orders required no thought.
Ming He was the young leader; she had led them from Tianwu East City to this life-and-death struggle in the Central Pavilion, proving her strength to everyone.
She had the right to command them.
So, Ye Ke lowered her gaze respectfully and, with her Silver Spear surging with energy, joined the fray with the swiftness of a hungry tiger pouncing on its prey.
Other human race cultivators quickly followed her into the tumultuous battle.
Ming He slowly turned and met a gaze so intense it felt like it could melt her.
The owner of that gaze was a woman in black clothes, not wearing Heavy Armor, standing amidst the blood and darkness of the Tian Yan Tribe’s attack, her lips curling into a brilliant smile, her hair billowing in the raging wind.
She appeared as if she stood in a stunning landscape painting, looking effortlessly composed, completely detached from the bloody and grim battlefield around her.
The array flags swirled around her, the strength of hundreds of Earth Emperor Realm experts tethered to her alone, yet she did not sit cross-legged on the ground.
Leaning against the ancient bronze railing of the pavilion, the woman’s gaze burned fiercely at Ming He, like a fish catching sight of the water.
Though they had only met once, Ming He felt she could understand the meaning behind her eyes.
Was it because they were friends?
Remembering the golden talisman, recalling how the woman stood by her side in peril, Ming He sighed and leapt into the air, landing in the center of the ancient pavilion, right in the midst of the woman in black.
The Xuanyuan Sword swept down, severing heads that fell to the ground.
Though her lips were pale, a trace of blood red stained the corners of her mouth.
In the shocking turmoil, Ming He’s eyes sparkled like stars, her voice as clear as spring water, "What do you want me to do?"
