Chapter 1247: East Sea Wields Blade to Subdue the Japanese Chaos, North Border Raises Sword to Protect the People

Chapter 1247: Chapter 321: East Sea Wields Blade to Subdue the Japanese Chaos, North Border Raises Sword to Protect the People

However, Shi Feiyang’s saber aura was incredibly fierce, causing skulls to shatter into powder wherever it went.

Seizing the opportunity, Shi Feiyang struck with both palms, the “Hundred Victories Saber Technique: Slash Heaven and Earth” raged like a tempestuous sea, directly piercing through the body of the Corpse Master.

The Corpse Master widened his eyes, displaying an incredulous expression on his face: “Impossible… my Secret Technique from the Corpse Forest… how could it be…” Before he finished speaking, his body turned into a cloud of black smoke, dispersing with the wind.

Xie Wen’s Flying Eagle Dart aimed precisely at the vital points of masters from the Western Regions, leaving a spray of blood wherever it reached.

Liao Pei’s Long Arm Fist, Lie Quan’s Heaven and Earth Saber, and Xiang Kun’s iron flute attacked from the flanks, joining forces with the Naiman Tribe from inside and outside.

The Black Flame Envoy of the Western Holy Sect attempted to unleash Evil Skill but was entangled by Liu Guihua’s Spirit Snake Whip around the neck. Bai Zhi seized the chance to release the Nine-headed Serpent Gu, instantly devouring until only bones remained. By dawn, the battlefield outside Wulang City was littered with corpses.

Yili stepped over the bodies scattered on the ground, a look of exhaustion flickering in her eyes, but even more, it was the steadfastness of victory. She looked towards the trembling remnants of the enemy under the sunrise, her voice cold as ice: “Go back and tell Zhu Yijun, my Naiman Tribe is not someone he can easily provoke!”

The prairie morning wind blew, dispersing the blood scent on the battlefield, yet unable to wipe away the profound marks left by every participant in this bloody battle.

Inside the Qianqing Palace, the coiling dragon’s golden pillars mirrored the flickering candlelight, the hem of Zhu Yijun’s dragon robe stained with spilled tea. The ink brush holder on the jade table was broken in two. “Useless! All of you are useless!” He grabbed the jade paperweight from the table and smashed it on the floor tiles, the shards splattering onto the Chief Minister’s python robe. “The Thirty-Six Demons of the Western Regions and Kunlun Twelve Swords invited by Xiang Yushan, along with my Three Hundred Imperial Guards, were completely annihilated by that little demon Yili!” Inside the hall, silence reigned, save for the “drip-drip” of falling candle tears.

Xiang Yushan knelt below the Danbi steps, the front of his purple robe stained with cold sweat, the scabbard of the Brocade Spring Saber gleaming with cold light in the shadows: “Please calm Your Majesty’s anger! The defeat was due to Shi Feiyang suddenly returning to assist…”

“Silence!” Zhu Yijun staggered as he supported himself on the dragon chair, his knuckles white with tension, “I don’t care whether Shi Feiyang fell from the sky or crawled out from the ground, if within three days you cannot regroup the Death Warriors…”

Before he finished speaking, a young eunuch tumbled in, the secret report in his hand still stained with mud: “Reporting to Your Majesty! Urgent news from Liaodong!” Zhu Yijun snatched the secret report, his face changing dramatically after scanning a few lines. The news that Nuerhachi sent Bu Zhantai back to the Wula Tribe to succeed as chief, married his sister, and allied with the Yehe Tribe seared his eyes.

The dragon chair emitted a strained creak, and Zhu Yijun tossed the secret report harshly onto Xiang Yushan’s face: “Nuerhachi’s wolfish ambitions, to form alliances right under my nose!”

Kang Fusheng stepped forward from the crowd, his green robe still smeared with the ink stains from yesterday’s meeting. Twirling his sparse beard, a sly look flashed in his eyes: “Your Majesty’s insight is clear. In my opinion, the urgent matter is to pacify Liaodong. Although Shi Feiyang is a rogue of the Jianghu, he is known for his chivalry. His recent actions in Jiangnan against the Wokou pirates are meritorious for the country and the people alike.”

“Humph! A Jianghu rogue deserves to talk about loyalty and righteousness?” Xiang Yushan suddenly stood up, the scabbard of the Brocade Spring Saber thudding against the stone steps. “Your Majesty, Shi Feiyang has allied with the Naiman, harboring rebellious intentions for some time! If we don’t act before his wings are fully grown…”

“Silence!” Zhu Yijun suddenly coughed violently, beads of blood seeping through his fingers onto the bright yellow dragon pattern. “Kang Fusheng speaks rightly. Nuerhachi’s influential grip over Liaodong, if left unchecked, will surely become a major threat.”

His gaze swept over the ministers, settling on Xiang Yushan’s pale face, “You must immediately deploy thirty thousand Iron Cavalry, join forces with Li Chengliang’s troops, and ensure Nuerhachi’s ambitions are nipped in the bud!” Xiang Yushan’s forehead veins bulged as he bowed deeply, his fingernails digging into his palms: “I obey the decree! But about the Heroic Sakura Association…”

“Leave the Heroic Sakura Association for now.” Zhu Yijun leaned wearily against the dragon chair, waving his hand. “Let them and the Wokou pirates struggle against each other; when Liaodong is settled, I will make further arrangements…” After the dismissal of the court, Kang Fusheng intercepted Xiang Yushan outside the Qianqing Palace.

As he approached, a faintly discernible strange fragrance wafted from his sleeve: “Lord Xiang, why be so fixated on Yili? Nuerhachi is the real formidable enemy.” Xiang Yushan spun around sharply, his eyes gleaming with cold light: “What are your intentions? Allowing the Heroic Sakura Association to grow, could it be that you and Shi Feiyang…”

“Lord Xiang speaks too gravely.” Kang Fusheng smiled as he stepped back half a pace, a scroll of secret letters slipping from his sleeve, “How about having a look at this. Shi Feiyang’s significant success against the Wokou in Jiangnan has already offended the forces behind Fusang. We only need to wait for the opportune moment…”

As dusk deepened, the corner towers of the Forbidden City were shrouded in shadow. Xiang Yushan’s hand trembled slightly as he clutched the secret letter, the Brocade Spring Saber reflecting an icy light in the setting sun. In the distance, the sound of the night watchman’s clapper rang out, startling a flock of cold crows to flutter over the palace walls.

Outside Kaifeng Prefecture, the ruins of the Divine Sword Manor resembled the skeletal remains of a giant beast in the night.

Xie Zhichuan stood beside a crumbling stone lion, his dark tight-fitting clothes covered in dust, yet the broken sword at his waist was polished bright — the blade his father Xie Luo Jia had when slain by Shi Feiyang’s Hundred Victories Saber. He gazed at the sky as dark as ink, the burning hatred in his eyes even darker than the night, so palpable that Li Wuduo, the “Poisonous Hand Nuwa” beside him, could feel the searing anger.

Li Wuduo wore a scarlet gauze dress, the soft whip around her neck shaped like a silver snake, glowing faintly. She leaned against a partially collapsed beam, her red-tipped fingers tracing across Xie Zhichuan’s tense back: “Xiaochuan, your eyes are even fiercer than the corrosive poison I brew.”

She giggled softly, her laughter echoing among the ruins, startling a few night owls, “But what good is just hatred? Shi Feiyang now has repelled the Wokou and is hailed as the ‘East Sea War God’ by the common folk, his status in Jianghu soaring.”