Chapter 167

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Chapter 167: Daybreak Approaches

“Clang!”

The clear resonance of the sword echoed like the roar of a blue dragon. The shadow of the sword slashed diagonally, sealing Wei Rou’s retreat, and the sword light cascaded like radiant moonlight, illuminating every corner without missing a single inch.

The Jing Ying Sword channeled sword energy, concentrating it at the tip, piercing through the layers of mist and penetrating the spiritual energy barrier. Though its momentum was slightly hindered by the Earth Emperor’s power, it did not come to a complete stop.

Ming He steadied her mind; at this moment, her focus was solely on the sword before her. Her eyes burned with a bright, unwavering determination, as eternal as the stars.

Wei Rou furrowed her brow, flicking her wrist as the long whip coiled upward. The power of the royal side surged into the whip’s tail, attempting to repeat her previous tactic, but Qin Chu Yi would not let her succeed.

The Chi Li sword, pure white like unmelting snow, swept through the air with the force of thunder. The long sword clashed sharply with the black whip, its tip winding upward, dispersing the mist around them.

Qin Chu Yi stood on Ming He’s shoulder, leaning forward as Ming He moved. She twisted her right wrist, the sword forming a protective barrier that restrained Wei Rou’s long whip, her gaze sharp and icy.

The Combined Attack Formation, Dual Sword Fusion, revolved around Ming He.

In the art of swordsmanship, Qin Chu Yi acknowledged her inferiority to Ming He.

With the black whip restrained by Qin Chu Yi’s assault, Wei Rou could only use her left sleeve to fend off Ming He’s relentless sword strikes. Her lips paled, and her breathing grew labored, revealing her growing exhaustion.

Ming He smiled faintly, remaining silent as she raised the Jing Ying Sword. Her sword techniques grew increasingly fierce, the air swirling with sword energy, transforming into a tempest beneath the blade. The distant mist scattered, and the faint sound of crashing waves echoed.

Unknowingly, she had shifted her sword intent.

Like a whirlwind amidst a storm, Ming He suddenly drew her sword and turned, the sword energy gathering at the tip. She hurled it forward like a thunderbolt, leaping toward Wei Rou. With her left hand, she caught the Jing Ying Sword, which had shattered the royal defense after Wei Rou dodged the fatal blow.

Her gaze fell upon the single drop of blood trickling from the sword tip, her expression dark and solemn. Her left hand, shaped like a sword, pointed directly at Wei Rou’s heart from an extremely close distance.

Wei Rou’s expression shifted slightly. Instinctively, she tried to retract her whip to defend herself, but the black whip was tightly entangled by Qin Chu Yi’s sword tip. Qin Chu Yi would rather injure herself than let Wei Rou reclaim the whip, fearing any harm to Ming He.

Such deep devotion!

Wei Rou’s breath hitched. Ignoring all else, she discarded the whip and leaped back, her vertical pupils widening as a dark, formidable shadow shot forth. Her once delicate fingers elongated into sharp claws, deadly enough to slit throats.

“To kill the Fifth Prince, you must die!”

Wei Rou hissed coldly, her figure darting forward like the wind, her eyes gleaming with a crimson, bloodthirsty light, no different from the elite members of the Tian Yan Tribe Qin Chu Yi had faced before.

With the royal bloodline of the Tian Yan Tribe and her Tian Yan eyes now awakened, Wei Rou was no longer the same as before.

A grave and serious look flashed in Ming He’s eyes as she raised her head to meet Qin Chu Yi’s lowered gaze. In their locked eyes, no words were needed; she understood Qin Chu Yi’s intent.

“Zing!”

The Jing Ying Sword emitted a soft hum, its straight blade radiating golden light that shattered the darkness, transforming into a golden sword. It clashed with Wei Rou’s sharp, claw-like black nails, the residual force distorting the air around them.

Qin Chu Yi lightly touched her toes, her body floating gracefully behind Wei Rou. The Chi Li sword wove a curtain of shimmering sword light, enveloping Wei Rou and preventing her escape.

Ming He joined the fray, flanking Qin Chu Yi from left and right, forward and back, responding to Wei Rou’s onslaught with fierce sword intent. A sword struck from the east, and before Wei Rou could react, another blow came from the west, each strike merciless and precise.

After dozens of exchanges, Wei Rou’s black clothes were soaked with blood, her movements far less agile than before, and her breathing grew increasingly ragged.

Yet, in this short time, Ming He and Qin Chu Yi still could not bypass her defenses to kill He Lou Feng.

She was stalling for time!

Ming He realized this and felt a chill in her heart. She glanced back to see Nineteen’s black clothes drenched in blood, clinging to her body, her face pale and almost blending into the surroundings. Even with the protection of the Four-direction Compass, her body trembled, clearly nearing its limit.

This was a battle between the Ancient Formation of Heaven and the Absolute Formation of Mist.

“Senior Sister!” Ming He suddenly called out, her wrist exerting force as she hurled the Jing Ying Sword toward Wei Rou’s heart from a close distance, her eyes darkening with a chilling murderous intent.

Wei Rou’s face paled as she withdrew her palm and turned to strike at Ming He, no longer holding back. Her palm strike was as fierce and cold as drifting snow.

She had been mistaken.

She had sought to protect He Lou Feng, but they were fighting to safeguard the Tianwu Continent and the battlefield of the heavens. In this life-and-death struggle, where blades and palms clashed and their very cultivation was at stake, how could they afford to show mercy?

Their opposing stances left no room for alternatives.

“Understood,” Qin Chu Yi laughed sharply, her eyes icy as she trapped Wei Rou’s palms with the Chi Li sword. She channeled her spiritual energy to its limit, pouring it into the sword’s chilling tip. Her sleeves billowed with energy, shrouding Wei Rou’s vision in perfect, seamless coordination.

“Hmph! Do you think this is enough to defeat me?” Wei Rou sneered, her eyes snapping open, blood trickling from them. The Tian Yan eye on her forehead opened wide, emitting a dark, swirling light that formed a shadowy mist shield. The Jing Ying Sword struck it but could not pierce through, leaving the battle at a standstill.

“Boom!”

The moment the dark shield shattered, the Jing Ying Sword was flung backward, its force crashing like a tidal wave into Ming He and Qin Chu Yi, sending them tumbling. The residual energy condensed into a blade, stabbing toward Ming He’s heart, only to be intercepted by a streak of red silk that wrapped around her waist and pulled her away from the storm’s center.

Qin Chu Yi’s face turned pale as she spat out a mouthful of blood, crimson and chilling. Her body swayed, but Ming He steadied her with an arm, then turned her gaze to Wei Rou, her eyes filled with resolve and confidence.

Through the misty haze, a white streak of light pierced through layers of obstacles, striking Wei Rou’s heart with pinpoint accuracy. The cold tip of the sword emerged from her chest, glinting ominously.

Blood pooled at the corners of Wei Rou’s lips as she looked down at the sword tip embedded in her heart, her eyes wide with shock. Then, she managed a bitter smile. “I underestimated you after all.”

Her words were directed at Ming He.

To be named the young leader of the human race, one had to possess extraordinary talent and endure countless trials. How could Wei Rou have thought Ming He’s cultivation was too shallow to pose a threat?

Throughout history, true prodigies were never defined by their cultivation alone.

“You spared my life earlier; I won’t take yours now,” Ming He said, stepping forward. She clenched her hand, and with a subtle flick of her finger, the white Soul Sword—the Ghostly Sword—that had pierced Wei Rou’s heart trembled and returned to her grasp, vanishing in a flicker of light.

Her true aim had been to use the Ghostly Sword to pierce through the void, slip behind Wei Rou, and deliver a devastating blow when least expected.

All her earlier maneuvers had been mere distractions.

Ming He released Qin Chu Yi, who struggled to stand, and turned her cold gaze to Wei Rou as she swayed unsteadily. “Senior Sister, I’m going to kill He Lou Feng.”

With those words, she shot forward, the Jing Ying Sword’s tip swirling with deadly intent, aimed for a fatal strike.

Her focus was on the array flags, where He Lou Feng and Nineteen were locked in a fierce battle of formation mastery, leaving them no room to counter her.

She had planned this sneak attack all along.

The battlefield was ever-shifting, with winds and clouds sweeping across the heavens. To seize control of the battlefield of the heavens and protect the Tianwu Continent, one could not afford to fight with honor or restraint.

It was a matter of using every means available, staking their lives for a chance at the future.

Ming He felt no hesitation. Her sword intent surged like thunder as she ascended through the mist, the sword tip aimed squarely at He Lou Feng’s heart.

“Father!”

“Be careful!”

Two cries rang out simultaneously.

The first came from He Lou Feng, the white-haired woman in white robes, her gaze lowered to conceal her expression before lifting to address a voice in the void, cold and grave.

The second was from Qin Chu Yi, her voice sharp as ice but laced with deep concern.

Father? He Lou Feng’s father? That would be the Tian Yan Tribe clan leader, a powerful ally at the peak of the Earth Emperor Realm, Half-step to the Emperor realm.

Ming He’s thoughts raced as the wind howled like a lightning strike. He Lou Feng stood nearby, within striking distance of her long sword, the white-haired woman’s smile cold and piercing.

In the fleeting moment of lightning and fire, Ming He swiftly sheathed her sword and spun around, channeling her spiritual energy to its zenith. Her left hand formed a sword-like gesture, conjuring a surge of sword energy, while her right hand thrust the Jing Ying Sword forward, unleashing a thunderous roar akin to crashing waves.

“Boom!”

A shadow lurking in the void was forced into visibility by the overwhelming force, retreating several steps under the pressure of Ming He’s advancing sword tip, its composure momentarily shattered.

Ming He steadied her sword, feeling the surge of vitality within her as she stood beside the approaching Qin Chu Yi, her gaze fixed on the distant shadow.

It was a middle-aged man clad in an ancient brocade robe, his aura sharp and profound. A single vertical eye on his forehead remained closed, yet it emanated a chilling, heart-pounding sensation.

“The Tian Yan Tribe clan leader?” Ming He frowned, then her eyes narrowed. “No, your current cultivation is only at the mid-stage of the Earth Emperor Realm!”

Ming He’s expression softened, her voice steady and resolute. “You are merely a doppelganger of the Tian Yan Tribe clan leader.”

“The young leader of the human race truly lives up to her reputation,” the middle-aged man sneered, wiping the blood from his lips with a cold, piercing gaze.

“The Tian Yan Tribe clan leader!” Qin Chu Yi muttered under her breath, her eyes blazing with crimson intensity as she unsheathed the Chi Li sword. Gripping the long sword tightly, she turned to Ming He, her voice laced with venomous hatred. “I will kill him.”

Even if he was just a doppelganger, she was determined to end him.

But she couldn’t do it alone. She needed Ming He’s help.

Ming He froze, the depth of Qin Chu Yi’s hatred striking her like a blade. She remembered her Senior Sister’s words—the tribe leader’s wife of the Qin Clan had been slain by the Tian Yan Tribe clan leader.

The tribe leader’s wife—Senior Sister’s mother.

The bone-chilling coldness and the twenty years of torment that had haunted Ming He all stemmed from this middle-aged man before her.

Ming He’s gaze dropped to the battlefield below, where Qin Huai Yuan, clad in heavy armor, fought fiercely, his hands trembling and his eyes bloodshot, clearly aware of the chaos above the mist.

A sharp pang of sorrow pierced her heart.

Ming He nodded. “Alright.”

She stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Qin Chu Yi, sheathing the Jing Ying Sword and summoning the Xuanyuan Sword. With a delicate touch, she pressed her fingertip to the sword’s tip, a single drop of crystal-clear blood seeping into the blade—a sword cultivator’s blood sacrifice technique.

By sacrificing half her vitality and soul, she could momentarily amplify her strength, a desperate measure reserved for sword cultivators who had surpassed the Human King stage. It was not to be used lightly.

Qin Chu Yi’s eyes glistened with unshed tears, her fingertip twitching as if to follow suit, but Ming He stopped her. “Senior Sister, we are one. The Dual Sword Fusion requires only one blood sacrifice.”

The blood sacrifice would wrack her meridians and churn her Sea of Souls, an agony beyond words.

Ming He had endured such pain before—when her tendons were severed and the world turned against her. This time, she would bear it alone.

“Just remember to catch me later, Senior Sister,” Ming He murmured, her hand growing numb as she gently wiped the blood splatters from Qin Chu Yi’s face. A soft smile, like starlight, bloomed in her lowered gaze. “We will win.”

They would destroy the doppelganger of the Tian Yan Tribe clan leader, aiding Nineteen in suppressing the Absolute Formation of Mist with the Ancient Formation of Heaven’s power, securing control of the battlefield of the heavens.

With those words, Ming He darted through the mist like a gust of wind, her movements too swift for the eye to follow. The Xuanyuan Sword’s light dimmed into silence before erupting in a burst of sword energy, its tip gleaming with a cold, deadly light as it clashed against the middle-aged man’s elongated claws.

“Ants shaking the heavens!” the middle-aged man scoffed, his tone dripping with disdain as he looked down upon her, utterly dismissive of her strength.

Ming He smirked. “Those who have said that to me have all lost.”

Her sword stance shifted fluidly—sometimes as heavy as a mountain, sometimes as light as a soaring roc, and at times as elusive as a fleeting shadow.

When their sword intents merged, the Dual Sword Fusion unleashed a biting, bone-chilling force. After dozens of exchanges, they managed to carve a deep, jagged wound into the middle-aged man’s body.

“Damn it!” the middle-aged man growled, his attacks growing fiercer. Noticing Ming He’s effortless defense, he shifted his focus to Qin Chu Yi, his strikes now aimed at her with relentless ferocity.

Exhausted from the relentless battles, Qin Chu Yi struggled to keep up. Without employing the blood sacrifice technique, she was barely holding on, blood spilling from her lips as the middle-aged man’s onslaught intensified.

“Senior Sister!” Ming He cried out, swinging the Xuanyuan Sword to deflect the middle-aged man’s claws. She bent down, catching Qin Chu Yi’s faltering form and hurling her toward the safety of the ancient pavilion’s roof. Then, with a swift turn, Ming He faced the middle-aged man’s relentless attacks, her sword gleaming with unwavering resolve.

“Do you truly believe that with your mid-stage Earth Emperor Realm cultivation, the battlefield of the heavens is the lair of your Tian Yan Tribe?” Ming He sneered, flipping the Xuanyuan Sword upward and executing a swift slash with the Unsheathing Style.

The Nine Styles of Swordsmanship flowed seamlessly, forming an intricate array. The sword intent of heaven and earth surged at the sword tip, amplified by the perfected ninth-level sword intent and the vast sword domain. The sword spirit, radiant and clear, enveloped the blade.

Ming He turned her gaze downward to the battlefield, her voice ringing out to Ye Ke, “Friend Ye Ke, lend me your strength!”

“What must I do?” Ye Ke stood at the forefront of the battle formation, her spear sweeping aside the encroaching Tian Yan Tribe as she looked up at Ming He.

“Channel the ferocity of a tiger roaring through the mountains and gather the winds at the tip of my sword!” Ming He shouted, her eyes sharp as blades, piercing the middle-aged man with a gaze brimming with resolve and icy murderous intent.

The enemy of her Senior Sister was her enemy as well.

“Understood!” Ye Ke responded, her battle aura shifting as she leapt into the air. Her silver spear arced upward, followed by a heavily armored cultivator. The gathered energy at the spear’s tip surged like a dark shadow, drawn to Ming He’s sword by her focused will.

With a single swing of her sword, a tidal wave of force erupted, the Shadow Strike roaring with the ferocity of a mountain tiger, unstoppable and relentless. The immense energy shattered the middle-aged man’s defenses, scattering dust and chaos in its wake.

Ming He’s figure darted through the haze like a dragon, the gleam of her sword tip flickering through the oppressive fog. Her strike carried the force of uprooting dry grass, precise and devastating.

As the dust settled, Ming Sheathed the Xuanyuan Sword, its blade dripping with blood. She stood amidst the lingering black fog, a faint smile playing on her lips as she met Qin Chu Yi’s anxious gaze. Her strength faltered, and she began to fall into the mist.

Qin Chu Yi leapt forward, catching Ming He in her arms as tears welled in her eyes.

Ming He’s smile deepened as she reached up to wipe the tears from Qin Chu Yi’s cheek, her voice a hoarse whisper, “Senior Sister, I killed him.”

Even if it was only a doppelganger, he was dead.

And in time, she would destroy his true self as well.

Qin Chu Yi nodded solemnly, “I know. I saw it.”

Amidst the black fog, He Lou Feng finally moved, planting the array flags of white and crimson into the ground. Her body swayed as she turned, grasping Wei Rou’s shoulder before vanishing.

Before disappearing, she committed the forms of Ming He and Nineteen to memory.

Exceptional swordsmanship, masterful formation mastery—she would not forget.

As she departed, the mist’s power waned, and the Tian Yan Tribe’s army, as if receiving a command, retreated like a receding tide.

Atop the ancient pavilion, Nineteen exhaled in relief, releasing the array flag. She tumbled downward but was swiftly caught by Feng Xin, who sat below, enduring the Bone-Chilling Cold.

On the battlefield, the human race’s armored guards bore heavy injuries, yet the number of lives lost was far fewer than in previous battles.

In contrast, the Tian Yan Tribe suffered devastating losses under the combined pressure of the Ancient Formation of Heaven, the Big Dipper Seven Star Sword Array, and the Thousand Layers Spirit Mountain. Their strength was severely depleted.

Qin Huai Yuan sheathed his bloodied long sword and gazed upward. The golden sun hung high in the sky, half bathed in radiant light and half veiled in mist, yet it exuded a sense of vitality and hope.

The battlefield was divided by the central pavilion, one side shimmering with starlight and the other cloaked in darkness. The boundary between the human race and the other tribes had never been clearer.

A glimmer of hope and light was enough for the human race to breathe amidst their struggle.

In the dark of night, the human race glimpsed a faint light—dawn was approaching. The Absolute Formation of Mist and the Ancient Formation of Heaven clashed in a relentless battle, shattering a millennium-long stalemate in a single moment.

In this battle, the human race did not achieve a complete victory, but neither did they lose. And they had lost nothing of significance.