When words no longer align, swords become the only language.
In the awkward silence, Zhong Xiong finally ordered, “Everyone, step outside and guard the granary.”
His subordinates responded in unison. It was not only the Ironblood Guards’ strict discipline and Zhong Xiong’s skilled leadership that compelled them to obey, but also their familiarity with the terrifying power of Zhong Xiong’s steel trident. In a confined space like the granary, once Zhong Xiong unleashed his Flying Fork technique, neither man nor object could escape being utterly destroyed.
The sound of footsteps gradually receded, and the granary returned to its eerie calm.
Yet Zhong Xiong didn’t immediately attack. Instead, he sighed and said, “I, Zhong Xiong, have always prided myself as a hero, and I’ve long hoped for the chance to cross blades with Protector Zhan. But now, with you gravely injured, even if I were to win, it would be a hollow victory.”
Zhan Zhao replied calmly, “Why does Chief Zhong need to be so modest?”
Zhong Xiong continued, “However, I, Zhong Xiong, owe a great debt of gratitude to the prince, one I cannot hope to repay. My personal honor is insignificant compared to the prince’s kindness and recognition. Thus, this battle between us today is not a contest of skill, but rather my fulfillment of the prince’s strict order to retrieve the item you took from Chong Xiao Tower. No matter the outcome, whether victory or defeat, the result will remain known only to us.”
Zhan Zhao replied evenly, “Chief Zhong’s heartfelt words resonate deeply with me.”
Zhong Xiong said, “In that case, forgive my offense!”
No sooner had the words left his mouth than his Flying Fork struck!
The steel fork, weighing at least seventy to eighty pounds, became as light as a feather in Zhong Xiong’s hands. Its movements were as graceful as a spring breeze, producing not even the faintest whisper of wind. The technique was so intricate and precise that it resembled a Jiangnan weaver embroidering the finest brocade. Yet hidden within each seemingly delicate move lay an endless series of deadly and unpredictable killing strikes.
With every move, an oppressive pressure filled the granary. It was as though the weaver’s hands, while weaving the brocade, were simultaneously crafting an invisible, inescapable net.
Huo Xiao Di’s heart sank.
Only now did he realize that Zhong Xiong, the famed Flying Fork Commander, was far more formidable than his reputation suggested. While stories of his brilliance in military strategy and tactics already placed him among the elite, it was now clear that his martial prowess far surpassed even that.
But why couldn’t Huo Xiao Di hear Zhan Zhao moving?
The only sound that reached his ears was the sudden “shh” of Zhan Zhao’s sword slicing through the invisible web. The sharp whistle of the blade breaking through the air revealed the force and precision behind the strike.
—But given his current condition, how could Zhan Zhao execute such swift and powerful moves?
What was even stranger was the faint gasp that seemed to accompany the sharp whistle of the sword.
Huo Xiao Di, trained in Ling Long Manor’s supreme technique, “One Night Listening to the Flowers,” could perceive even the subtlest sounds despite his immobilized state. Now, he noticed something peculiar about Zhan Zhao’s breathing—sometimes long, sometimes short, sometimes slow, sometimes rapid.
—Could Zhan Zhao’s internal energy be in disarray?
—If his inner breath was truly disrupted, how could he possibly withstand the relentless might of Zhong Xiong’s Flying Fork?
Huo Xiao Di felt his anxiety surge uncontrollably.
If he weren’t paralyzed, unable to move or speak, he would have already drawn his sword and joined the fight.
But then, like a flash of lightning, a sudden realization flooded his mind, filling every corner of his thoughts like a raging torrent. The sheer weight of this revelation struck him as if by thunderbolt, leaving him utterly stunned.
For a moment, it felt as though countless voices were roaring inside his head, deafening and relentless.
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