Chapter 739

A voice came through.

"No support needed."

"He is vital to me, tied to my Dao path's growth—do not interfere, even if he dies."

Jiang Ding slashed back the armored king's fist with one sword, then another, continuously testing the sword techniques he had studied for years; his voice drifted slowly toward the Northern Sky Command, settling into the ears of every commander.

His eyes burned hot and deep red, his chest seething with unceasing killing intent—accumulated over decades of forging blades, seemingly calmed, yet actually waiting for the blood of a strong foe to return and cool him into calm reason.

Once hope is lost, the killing urge instantly surges several-fold; even a heart demon may arise.

Now he understood why, in history, the Sun Sword Disciple's battles were always interrupted—he would immediately slaughter his own allies.

This was not psychological deviation.

It was because they were literally stealing his nourishment, trying to drive him into qi deviation!

How could such actions not enrage him?

Of course, this did not mean the Sun Sword Disciple was a fool who challenged heaven and earth.

Once he judged he had no chance against his opponent—say, an enemy two realms above, or a peerless Immortal Child—he would instantly activate escape measures; he would not hesitate to summon elders to crush the attackers.

Do not idolize one-sided selfless sacrifice!

It is unsustainable, violates human nature, and cannot exist in this world.

What he loved was not the opponent, but growth.

Teacher Ouyang Hui fell silent.

"This is a new tactic."

Teacher Ouyang Hui silently felt lucky—the Sun Sword Disciple, eyes red with bloodlust, might not have any reason left.

Jiang Ding slashed again and again at the armored king, who stood atop Shanfeng, surrounded by twelve hundred Mao Shen; he continuously refined the sword techniques he had studied over the years, and now, at the peak of Sword Qi Thunder Sound, his art began to yield faint, delicate insights—growing denser, brighter.

"After this battle, we two might end up before a military tribunal."

The risk of war has indeed increased.

She hesitated, saying, "This violates operational regulations—it will bring greater risk to our landing campaign, and countless ancestors' and citizens' sacrifices may be rendered meaningless."

"This is not rogue action. As long as we win, this becomes my newly invented tactic—the elders will handle the rest. Don't worry."

"No, it does not violate military law."

In the Immortal Gate military, solo duels like those in legends are strictly forbidden; caught once, punishment is severe—dismissal from rank is the mildest outcome.

"Of course!"

Jiang Ding said calmly.

Ding!

Ding ding ding…

But he did not believe this was wrong.

Long ago, Master Master Dinghai had said: merge your own interests with those of the Immortal Gate—secure your gains while defending the Gate.

He had absolute confidence: even without any inheritance or aid, merely through solitary study, he could create the third realm of Sword Qi—Sword Qi as Fine Thread—within a thousand years.

Jiang Ding deeply agreed.

In the blink of an eye, hundreds of swords had been struck.

"But,"

The armored king roared continuously, smashing his fists into the sword shadows above; his punches tore through space and devoured the earth, yet he could not advance a single step toward the sword cultivator, nor get near his fragile, paper-thin spiritual body.

Every step forward summoned a sword from beyond the heavens, pinning him in place—no matter how heavy his fists, no matter how the twelve hundred Mao Shen and the Brother Xuanwu-blooded bronze tortoise roared, it was useless.

The storm of swordlight abruptly ceased.

All fell silent.

"Do you dare…"

The armored king's eyes burned red, fixed on the boy in the sky.

"If your strength is only this,"

"Then you will die."

Jiang Ding said calmly.

At this point, this person could no longer bring him any insight into the way of the sword.

"If you surrender, I am willing to make a major sacrifice and spare your life."

After a moment's hesitation, Jiang Ding spoke again.

A "King" of the Brother Xuanwu Heavenly Palace held great value to the Immortal Gate—perhaps enough to advance certain Immortal arts.

The twelve hundred Mao Shen had been obedient.

Now, their eyes glinted with malice.

"I will win."

The armored king gave no reply; slowly, he drew from his chest a massive blood-red axe, its ferocious aura surging into the heavens.

He opened his mouth, frantically swallowing and exhaling celestial qi, stirring a storm covering dozens of kilometers; his mighty body swelled like a balloon, growing taller, larger, soon towering like a mountain peak.

His knotted muscles tore through his armor, revealing bronze-hued skin; gripping the blood-red axe, he stood like a celestial pillar—the Giant Spirit General before the Heavenly Palace's gate—mortals like ants, only able to kneel, gaze upward, and offer all their devotion.

Merely standing, he radiated a scorching, searing power outward; white clouds evaporated entirely, forming a localized warm current weather phenomenon.

This was not a spell—it was a natural manifestation of blood and qi at their peak!

"Sword cultivator, and you,"

The armored king had transformed into the mythic Giant Spirit General, a hundred zhang tall; he roared, wielding the great axe, stomping through empty space with footsteps like thunder, his blood qi flowing like an ocean, driving him forward.

One step down,

Several li of empty space shattered, and his figure vanished.

In the next instant, the void shattered, and a giant spirit general, a hundred zhang tall, emerged from the splintering space; his face was grotesque, seething with malevolent aura, and twelve hundred Mao Shen transformed into streams of Jin Chong Guang swirling around him like a cloak, while whispered prayers echoed from the void, granting him twelve hundred Jin Dan-level forces and crushing pressure spells.

"I'll die!"

"You die!"

The Armor King roared, gripping a blood-colored colossal axe in both hands, locking onto the tiny, dust-and-ant-like youth before him—and his soul core—amidst infinite pressure and boundless might.

One axe swing descended,

Heaven cracked, earth split!

"Sword One,"

Jiang Ding gazed at the giant spirit general and spoke calmly.

Compared to the giant spirit general, he was as minute as dust, utterly unremarkable, easily overlooked.

The blood-colored colossal axe above him crashed down, carrying crushing pressure sufficient to flatten an entire Shanfeng and sink deep into the earth.

Boom!

At that moment, the Taiqing Flying Sword slashed upward, its sword intent of annihilation spreading in all directions, instantly erasing all pressure; the heavens and earth were engulfed by the terrifying will of annihilation and prohibition.

Immediately after, within a range of nearly a hundred kilometers, the sun's light abruptly dimmed, boundless radiance converging here, gathering toward the Taiqing Flying Sword—brilliant beyond measure, temperature soaring, melting the space.

From afar,

A sun was rising!

It radiated light, annihilation, destruction, prohibition, and searing will, blotting out sky and earth; the giant spirit general's ferocious aura vanished upon contact, stripped of all majesty.

"Kill!"

The giant spirit general disregarded all, roaring, burning his thick, Rushan-like blood qi, achieving another peak of power.

In the span of a breath,

The sun and the descending colossal axe collided with a thunderous impact; a terrifying explosion erupted, the sky like a nuclear detonation, filling heaven and earth with light—nothing else remained.

Then came a storm and tidal wave of force thrust outward; wherever it reached, whether warships or immortal pavilions, all shattered into fragments, utterly defenseless.

The brilliant light faded, spiritual sense and vision returned.

Puff!

The hundred-zhang-tall giant spirit general and the bronze tortoise beneath his feet spat blood and recoiled, golden blood spraying, the blood-colored axe flung away.

The twelve hundred Mao Shen surrounding him like a cloak remained silent; over six hundred revealed expressions of terror, attempting to flee, yet in an instant turned to ash.

(End of Chapter)