Han Muye looked up and saw a sword light streaking across the sky, shattering all the demonic light.
At this moment, swords rang within a thousand miles.
This was a true sword expert!
A sword rose, and ten thousand swords rang.
Is this the number one sword cultivator in the Western Frontier, Master Tu Sun?
Within a thousand miles, the sword sensed that such a sword cultivation was the number one sword cultivator in the Western Frontier. Who else could it be?
Han Muye turned his head and saw an old man in a gray robe with disheveled hair walking in the air. Each step was 10,000 feet.
Han Muye had seen this old man before.
“Tu Sunshi?”
A strange expression appeared on Han Muye’s face.
Wasn’t the person in front of him the Tu Sunshi who recruited him at the auction and rewarded with 200 spiritual rocks by Han Muye?
Seeing Han Muye’s expression, Tu Sunshi grinned in satisfaction.
“Two hundred spiritual rocks. It’s not a loss to buy this old man to save you, right?” As Tu Sunshi spoke, he waved his hand and turned to look at the endless demon clouds in front of him.
“I have a sword technique that mimics the soul sword technique of the Nine Mystic Sword Sect’s Sword Pavilion. I wonder if any Fellow Daoist from the Southern Wasteland is willing to come and die? Give me your head.”
The calm old man stood beside Han Muye, and there was no aura of a powerhouse on him.
It was still the same as when he was recruiting customers at the auction.
However, such an old man stood there and made the rolling demon clouds slowly decline.
They retreated.
Han Muye felt that even after risking his life and using both swords, he had only killed a few Earth Realm demons.
But this old man in front of him had made countless demons retreat without even drawing his sword.
That’s not fair.
Tu Sunshi shook his head in disappointment and glanced at Han Muye, who was beside him. His gaze swept across Han Muye’s two swords. “You have a lot of tricks up your sleeve, kid. It’s just that swordsmanship is about specialization. It’s not a good thing to be mixed up.”
Mixed up?
Han Muye nodded.
You’re the number one sword cultivator in the Western Frontier. Whatever you say.
Han Muye believed that he could cultivate every sword technique to the extreme.
But there was no need to argue with Tu Sunshi at this time.
The demons temporarily retreated, and the demon clouds scattered, slowly condensing into a battle line.
With the fall of Fengshou Mountain, a large number of resources had been seized by the demons. They had to digest it.
The next battle would be at Cloud Nest Ridge.
Han Muye and Tu Sunshi flew down and exchanged a few pleasantries before Tu Sunshi left.
As a top sword cultivator in the Western Frontier, he naturally had something to do.
He was able to save Han Muye with his sword because of the friendship he had exchanged with 200 Spirit Stones.
“Nineteen.”
“Senior Brother Han.”
“Brother.”
Figures gathered beside Han Muye.
Li San was dressed in green and carrying a green wine gourd.
Song Jiu, whose white clothes were fluttering and stained with blood.
Huang Six held Lu Qingping’s hand tightly with a smile on his face.
Han Muye glanced at everyone and smiled.
Didn’t he cultivate the sword so that he could fight alongside these people?
Turning to look at the surging demonic aura in the distance, Han Muye’s fighting spirit rose.
In the distance, the Grand Elder of the Sword Sect, Lu Hao, nodded at Han Muye.
Han Muye strode over.
“Why are you here?” Lu Hao asked in a low voice as he looked at the sword mark left by Han Muye.
“This place is so exciting, of course I have to come.” Han Muye stared at Yun Tao in the distance and said calmly.
Lu Hao nodded and shook his head. Just as he was about to speak, he heard crying not far away.
Lu Hao sighed and did not say anything else.
With the defeat of Fengshou Mountain, the Western Frontier suffered extremely heavy losses.
Suddenly, Lu Hao’s expression changed. His body turned into nothingness, and when he appeared again, he was already thousands of feet away.
“Boom—”
A whistling sword light slashed down. Lu Hao raised his hand to block it and eliminated the sword light.
“Lu Changze, what do you mean?”
Lu Hao stood there, sword intent surging on his body.
In midair, a long-bearded old man in a green robe held a sword and glared at him.
“What do I mean?”
The old man glared at Lu Hao and shifted his gaze behind him, his eyes shining with endless anger.
“If it weren’t for your Nine Mystic Sword Sect stalling for time, how would Fengshou Mountain have fallen?
“If Fengshou Mountain wasn’t lost, why would my grandson—”
The old man’s face revealed endless unbearable sorrow.
Lu Hao’s face stiffened and he said in a low voice, “Fellow Daoist Lu, my condolences.”
Tang Chi, who was standing not far behind Lu Hao, looked pale. He lowered his head and did not speak.
Li Three, Song Nine, and the others slowly walked over and stood behind Lu Hao.
“Good, good. Your Nine Mystic Sword Sect is united. You know how to scheme.” The white-bearded old man gritted his teeth and stared at Lu Hao. “In that case, my Spiritual Imperial Sword Sect will withdraw.
Guard this place yourselves!”
With that, the old man turned and flew away.
Lu Hao stood where he was, his expression changing, but he could not speak.
“Lu Changze, are you preparing to flee?”
Just as the white-bearded old man flew ten thousand feet away, a voice sounded. Then, a green mountain appeared and blocked in front of the old man.
“Yang Dingshan!”
The old man’s expression changed and he stopped in his tracks. He looked at the mountain range that transformed into a black-robed old man with a large sword on his back.
The Sect Master of the Bright Mountain Sword Sect, Yang Dingshan.
Yang Mingxuan’s grandfather.
Yang Dingshan’s cold gaze landed on Lu Changze. “Are you leaving or not?”
As he spoke, an indescribable pressure gathered.
It was as if a huge mountain was hanging high in the sky and would crash down at any moment.
Lu Changze gritted his teeth and stared at Yang Dingshan.
Yang Dingshan’s expression did not change.
After a moment, Lu Changze snorted and turned around.
Seeing that Lu Changze was no longer leaving, Lu Hao looked at Yang Dingshan and said in a low voice, “Thank you, Sect Master Yang.”
Yang Dingshan nodded. He glanced at Han Muye, then disappeared.
After Yang Dingshan left, Tang Chi, who was standing behind Lu Hao, bowed to him, “Thank you, Elder…”
Lu Hao did not answer. In a flash, he left.
Tang Chi’s expression froze and he turned to look at the others beside him.
Li Three glanced at him and said coldly, “You’re not worthy of being a sword cultivator.”
With that, Li Three turned around and strode away.
The others also stopped looking at Tang Chi and turned to leave.
Han Muye’s gaze fell on the young man in white who walked past him. He said in a low voice, “Brother Nine, this time, my Nine Mystic Mountain…”
The young man in white paused, but he did not turn around. “I’m Song Seven.”
“Old Nine and Old Ten. They’re gone.”
After saying that, he walked to the edge of the forest step by step. He leaned against a big tree, sat cross-legged, and meditated.
Song Nine and Lu Ten had died.
Han Muye felt his body tremble, and a sense of sadness filled his heart.
Lu Ten.
Lu Ten, who only hunted wild beasts and had never killed anyone before coming to Fengshou Mountain.
Lu Ten, who liked to cook and treat everyone to a meal in the spiritual land.
Lu Ten, who had secretly given Han Muye the Tiger Whip and wanted to turn the tiger skin into a robe.
Fallen.
Han Muye turned his head and clenched his fists tightly, looking at Song Seven sitting under the tree.
No, he was Sung Nine.
Han Muye was sure that he was Song Nine.
However, he wanted to be Song Qi now.
It was Song Nine who died, and it was Song Seven who was alive.
“Han Muye, is this what you want?” Tang Chi’s voice sounded behind him.
There was resentment in his voice.
“Originally, all of this was within my calculations.
“I can end this battle here on Cloud Nest Ridge.
“Now, hehe, maybe everyone will die here.”
Tang Chi gritted his teeth and stared at Han Muye, “Do you think good swordsmanship is useful?
“Even if Master Tu Sun’s swordsmanship is good enough, can’t he only retreat to Cloud Nest Ridge?
“He’s good at swordsmanship. How many people did he save?”
Han Muye’s gaze fell on Tang Chi’s neck, making his heart turn cold.
Han Muye shook his head and walked away.
His swordsmanship was not good, but he still wanted to scheme against others.
Ridiculous.
Han Muye’s disregard made the veins on Tang Chi’s forehead throb.
He gritted his teeth and turned to look at the edge of the forest.
There, an old man in black armor nodded at him.
He didn’t hesitate. He strode over.
“Senior Brother Han.”
“Senior Brother Han.”
Han Muye walked over to where the disciples of the Nine Mystic Sword Sect were gathered.
Han Muye nodded.
Most of these people had received swords in the Sword Pavilion.
There were also many who had received his guidance.
“Senior, Senior Brother Han.” Sun Dayong struggled to get up.
There was blood on his chest.
Han Muye reached out and pressed Sun Dayong’s shoulder, then a pill appeared in his palm.
“I have an injury medicine. Take it and heal yourself first.”
This was an eighth-grade pill, and its quality had already reached the top-grade.
Sun Dayong took the pill and hesitated for a moment before saying in a low voice, “Senior Brother Han, give this pill to Zhao Youzhi.”
He lowered his voice and said, “Senior Brother Zhao, your arm is broken.”
“Right arm.”
Zhao Youzhi.
The inner sect disciple of the Sword Sect who was determined to uphold justice.
His sword was steady and heavy.
Although Han Muye had advised him to cultivate swordsmanship with his left hand.
Han Muye patted Sun Dayong on the shoulder and said, “I still have some medicine. Treat your injuries first.”
With that, he searched ahead.
When they arrived at a tent, Jiang Han and the others welcomed them.
“How’s Zhao Youzhi?”
Han Muye asked in a low voice.
“Senior Brother Zhao is still unconscious. His internal injuries aren’t very serious, but…” Jiang Han shook his head and didn’t continue.
Han Muye walked into the tent and saw Zhao Youzhi lying on the simple wooden couch with his eyes closed.
The spot on his right was empty.
Walking forward, Han Muye activated a top-grade pill with spiritual energy and fused it into Zhao Youzhi’s body.
“When he wakes up, send him back to the Nine Mystic Mountain first.”
Han Muye glanced at Jiang Han and the others.
“Senior Brother Han, we’ll stay here.” Jiang Han lowered his voice and clenched his fists.
“More than 30 of us came together. Now, there are only 12 of us left.”
His words brought tears to the eyes of the others around him.
Han Muye took out a handful of pills and placed them in Jiang Han’s palm. He nodded and said, “Live well.”
With that, he strode out of the tent.
In the distance, a bonfire swayed.
Han Muye walked over and sat in front of Huang Six.
On one side was Lu Qingping, who was curled up in a deep sleep, and on the other was Gao Xiaoxuan, who was holding the little white fox in a daze.
“Otherwise, why would I only want to be a mortal?” Huang Six pulled at the fire and picked out a few sweet potato things that were about to burn.
“As long as mortals have enough to eat and drink. They don’t have to cultivate, so they don’t have to care about such nonsense.
“This living and dying makes me unhappy.”
After peeling off the skin of the sweet potato in his hand, a faint fragrance wafted over.
Huang Six handed it to Gao Xiaoxuan.
“Sixth Brother, did you cultivate a demonic technique?”
When he looked up, Han Muye looked at him and whispered.
Lu Qingping, who was curled up on the ground, trembled.