Chapter 150: Kill All, Clash at the Cold-Repelling Level [Massacre Chapter—Requesting Moon Tickets]

The realms of Felling Wood and Digging Earth, even the Cold-Repelling level, all measure combat strength by raw power.

If that's the case, numerical advantage must inevitably exist.

More hands make light work—this isn't just empty words!

As soon as he neared He Meng, Xia Hong observed the changes in his qi and muscle and knew his base strength was around forty-three thousand, meaning He Meng had also entered the phase of reshaping the skin membrane and was preparing to break through to the Cold-Repelling level.

One near-Cold-Repelling, plus twenty-three Digging Earth cultivators charging at him at once—saying he felt no pressure at all would be impossible.

Especially when his peripheral vision caught seven figures behind him drawing bows and aiming arrows at him, Xia Hong's brows tightened slightly.

Like the Great Xia, the Mirror Immortal camp's hunting team also moved with perfect coordination.

He Meng led sixteen men straight at him, while seven behind fired arrows to cover them.

Despite appearing emotionally charged, they still remembered to coordinate.

"Nice plan!"

Xia Hong sneered, raised his Longyi Blade, targeted the seven archers, sensed their positions briefly, spun around, used momentum, and with a powerful right-hand throw, hurled the blade straight at the man in the center.

Puchī…………

The one-meter-seven Longyi Blade instantly became a spear.

In an instant, it covered thirty meters—the man had barely nocked an iron arrow when his forehead was pierced clean through, dead on the spot.

As he spun to throw the blade, Xia Hong's left hand didn't idle.

He had already taken down the double-bladed great axe from his back, gripped the haft with both hands, and swung it in a half-circle before him, just catching the great swords of He Meng's group as they slashed toward him.

Qiang… qiang… qiang… qiang…

A series of metallic clashes rang out around them—the seven fastest attackers met the great axe; all seven were flung back over ten meters, three of them losing their swords entirely as the blades shattered and flew away.

Pēn!

"Pū…"

All seven hit the ground with a thunderous crash; six couldn't even muster strength to rise, spitting blood and collapsing unconscious, utterly defenseless.

"Use bows! Don't close in!"

The only one who rose was He Meng—his face twisted with fear, he shouted, halting the others who still tried to charge.

Qīng… qīng…

Xia Hong, having swept seven men away with one axe swing, dared not pause a moment—he continued whirling the great axe, nearly forming a curtain of steel before him, blocking the iron arrows fired by the six behind.

"Thankfully, my current strength is more than enough to wield this axe!"

Through the axe curtain, Xia Hong saw the remaining sixteen of the Mirror Immortal camp, under He Meng's orders, beginning to retreat—his killing intent surged again.

Clearly, these men realized direct combat was hopeless and planned to rely entirely on bows.

"At this range, using bows? You need time to draw!"

In a gap between axe swings, Xia Hong's gaze flashed like lightning—he spotted an opening, then sprinted forward, closing the distance to the retreating ten in an instant.

He ignored He Meng entirely on his flank; the rapidly spinning axe curtain swept toward the ten, its overwhelming force creating a suction that instantly pulled in the slowest man.

Kā… chā… kā chā…………

First… second… third…

The axe curtain swept like autumn wind clearing fallen leaves, crushing everything in its path—each man pulled in could not withstand Xia Hong's terrifying power; either they were cleaved outright by the axe, or their bones shattered under the force.

Even if they reacted fast enough to block with their swords, the result was always the same—the man and his blade were both flung away, and when they hit the ground, their bodies were twisted into impossible, fatal shapes.

Qīng qīng…………

Most absurdly, even the six archers farthest back could not pierce Xia Hong's axe curtain—their arrows were all blocked.

The axe curtain repelled water, deflected oil—it was like a massive shield, completely enclosing Xia Hong, leaving them helpless.

"How can he be this strong? How can he be this strong!"

Watching Xia Hong slaughter all ten men who had charged with him in less than a few dozen breaths, He Meng's heart trembled violently—seeing the axe curtain still wreaking havoc, his eyes burned not just with hatred, but with bitter envy.

He couldn't understand why Xia Hong, who had been so weak just a few times before, had suddenly become this powerful.

"You all run! Go report to the leader!!!"

Consumed by envy and seeing Xia Hong nearly reach the last six, He Meng could hold back no longer—he gritted his teeth and roared, charging from the flank with his sword aimed at Xia Hong's back.

Xia Hong's brows lifted slightly—he had ignored He Meng earlier to deal with the archers, which was why He Meng had remained behind him.

"None of you will escape!"

Xia Hong sneered, eyes blazing, and suddenly stopped swinging the great axe.

As He Meng's sword slashed down, Xia Hong spun, raised the axe horizontally to block.

Qīng…

The instant he blocked the sword, Xia Hong's eyes narrowed—he stomped the ground with his right leg and delivered a brutal upward kick straight into He Meng's abdomen.

Pēn…………

He Meng's abdomen caved inward by half.

His entire body flew back over twenty meters, smashing through the snow, rolling another five or six meters on the ground, leaving a two-meter-wide trench.

Had it not been for the snow's resistance, the trench might have stretched even farther.

"Wā…"

Leaning against a snowdrift, He Meng spat blood two or three meters away, his face pale, his life force draining rapidly—yet even then, his gaze fixed on Xia Hong held no fear, only deep resentment and hatred.

Sōu sōu sōu…………

"Don't kill them all—leave survivors!"

Xia Hong ignored He Meng's stare, turned to see the last six surrounded by Xia Chuan and the other seventeen—he shouted urgently.

He had dared to stop swinging the axe and focus on He Meng only because he knew Xia Chuan and the others had arrived.

Walking up to He Meng, Xia Hong's expression was icy, his voice low: "Who gave you the courage to come to Redwood Ridge and kill my Great Xia people?"

Slumped on the ground, He Meng was barely breathing—his face weak, yet his pupils still glowed with ferocity:

"You think killing me solves everything? You're finished. Your Great Xia camp is finished. Wait. Wait for the Mirror Immortal camp to crush Great Xia…"

"Stop!"

Puchī…

"Kill them all—no survivors!"

Puchī…

As the distant cry of "Show mercy!" rang out, Xia Hong swung his axe and severed He Meng's head—his command given, Xia Chuan and the others surged forward without hesitation and slaughtered the final six.

Thus, including the He Meng and He Gang brothers, the entire Mirror Immortal hunting team that crossed the border tonight—twenty-five men—were all dead!

After killing the last six, Xia Chuan and the others gathered their weapons and packs, then hurried to Xia Hong's side.

"I told you to stop—were you all deaf?"

As a voice full of fury rang out, Xia Hong and the others all looked north.

On the snow over ten meters away stood a middle-aged man in black, broad-browed, clean-skinned, gripping a massive broadsword, glaring at them with rage.

"This is Yuwen the Guardian—only one came?"

His appearance, weapon, skin, and the unperceivable qi-muscle changes.

Xia Hong and the others recognized him at a glance.

Realizing this man was the Mirror Immortal camp's only other Cold-Repelling expert, Yuwen the Guardian, Xia Hong's spirit tensed slightly—he immediately focused on the space behind Yuwen.

He truly came alone!

After four or five breaths, Xia Hong relaxed slightly, looked up, and met Yuwen's gaze directly, deliberately saying: "I don't know who you are or what relation you have to these men. Normally, I'd grant you a favor—but these men have a blood feud with Great Xia; killing them is the only way to quell our rage. I hope you understand."

The middle-aged man paused, then, seeing Xia Hong's expression, realized he was pretending not to know him—he stared at Xia Hong for dozens of breaths, his face slowly darkening.

"Tao said you were clever, cautious, and prudent. Clearly, he was wildly wrong."

He meant: you shouldn't have killed He Meng and the others!

Xia Hong instantly understood Yuwen's implication—he lowered his gaze slightly, said nothing in rebuttal, and simply stood still, watching him.

"You probably think He Meng started it by killing first, so now he's paid with his life—fair enough, right?"

Naturally!

Though he received no reply, Yuwen could read the answer from Xia Hong's expression—he sneered twice and continued:

"That 'fairness' only holds if your Great Xia's strength equals that of the Mirror Immortal camp!

Do you understand!"

Yuwen's final question boomed—he gripped his sword, instantly crossing the ten-meter gap, swinging the broadsword in a gust of wind that struck Xia Hong's face.

"Fall back!"

Xia Hong had been prepared—he shouted for the others to scatter the instant Yuwen moved, then gripped the great axe with both hands, bracing directly against the strongest point of the wind.

Pēn…………

"This…"

"This…"

The broadsword met the great axe—sparks exploded everywhere, then a shockwave lifted snow meters into the air around them.

Both Xia Hong, who had been pushed back three or four meters, and Yuwen, who had swung the sword, showed identical expressions of shock upon sensing each other's power.

"This kid hasn't broken through to Cold-Repelling—yet he's nearly reached one zong of force!"

Yuwen, standing firm, his pupils contracted sharply—his face pretended calm, but inside he was stunned. It took three or four breaths before his trembling hands finally stilled.

On the other side, after his initial shock, Xia Hong's expression shifted rapidly—then, as if he'd just understood something, it turned slyly amused.

"So my earlier assumption was wrong—the Cold-Repelling level's power isn't fixed at one hundred fifty thousand jin. The speed of reshaping the skin membrane and breaking through varies by person!"

Xia Hong's heart surged with excitement.

The force behind Wuyen the Guardian's last strike was beyond his precise estimation, but he was certain it fell between 110, 00 and 120, 00 jin.

The first time he encountered Wuyen the Solemn in the north, he sensed the man's strength surpassed his own—over 40, 00 jin—and at the time, Xia Hong hadn't thought much of it.

But tonight, during the hunt for He Meng and his group, he felt the strength of both He Meng and He Gang—also over 40, 00 jin.

Among the other twenty-odd men, three had strength exceeding 30, 00 jin.

Xia Hong began to suspect something.

Anyone whose strength surpassed 30, 00 jin had already begun reshaping their skin membrane.

=9+book_bar

Intermediate cold-beast blood didn't seem so hard to obtain after all.

Especially not at a massive camp like Mirror Immortal!

There was no reason why everyone in Mirror Immortal Camp whose skin membrane had been reshaped should have strength between 30, 00 and 50, 00 jin—surely there must be some above 50, 00 jin.

Coupled with He Meng's horrified expression upon sensing Xia Hong's strength, all of this forced Xia Hong to entertain a bold hypothesis.

Now, with Wuyen the Guardian's strike before him, that hypothesis had become fact.

"During skin membrane reshaping, the increase in base strength isn't fixed—it varies by individual. Generally, the higher one's potential, the greater the increase, requiring more cold-beast blood and longer time."

"But correspondingly, once one breaks through to Cold-Resistant Rank, their power becomes far stronger—even before reshaping is complete, base strength may rise to rival Cold-Resistant Rank itself!"

Xia Hong lifted his gaze to Wuyen the Guardian before him, a spark of battle-lust flashing in his eyes.

His own base strength neared 70, 00 jin; combined with his mastery of the Long Fist, his output could increase by another 20 to 30 percent—nearly 90, 00 jin.

Wuyen the Guardian was powerful, but he came alone…

"No need for torches!"

Xia Hong's eyes gleamed with icy light. As he spoke, he gripped his great axe and charged straight at Wuyen the Guardian.

On the surrounding trees, Xia Chuan and the others had long scattered, torches in hand, waiting. Hearing the calm killing intent in Xia Hong's voice, they all extinguished their torches, drew their bows, and aimed at Wuyen the Guardian.

Clang…

Wuyen the Guardian raised his sword to block the great axe, his face flickering with surprise.

Clearly, he hadn't expected Xia Hong to charge him. Sensing over a dozen iron arrows already locked onto him, he instantly realized this group intended to trap him.

"Wuyen the Solemn's words had some merit—this Xia Hong…"

Though anger flared on Wuyen the Guardian's face, his mind immediately recalled his son's description of Xia Hong—and he couldn't help but feel a flicker of admiration:

Calm in action, cautious in nature.

"He could even be called decisive in killing!"

Xia Hong saw he came alone—not invincible—and within moments, had decided to eliminate him.

"Since we're already at war with Mirror Immortal, better to strike first!"

Though their positions opposed each other, Wuyen the Guardian had to admit: Xia Hong's choice was the best possible.

Clang…

Of course, admiration was admiration.

Someone trying to kill him—Wuyen the Guardian's anger now dominated.

As his broadsword blocked the great axe, he shook his body, surged both arms with sudden force, and swept Xia Hong flying.

He didn't relent. He lunged forward, his broadsword rising from the ground, using his body's spin to instantly reach Xia Hong's face, then sharply upward in a vertical slash.

The blade's edge whipped up snow over ten meters high, nearly burying Xia Hong in a curtain of flakes. The crushing force tore through the snow, driving straight from Xia Hong's abdomen upward toward his jaw.

Swoosh… swoosh… swoosh…

Dozens of iron arrows erupted from all directions. Sensing they targeted his arms—knowing Xia Chuan and the others sought to force him back—Wuyen the Guardian's expression hardened, and a cold smile curled his lips.

"With this little strength, you think you can drive me back? Naive!"

Facing the dozen iron arrows, Wuyen the Guardian made no move to dodge. He kept his sword-arm extended, pressing upward toward Xia Hong.

The moment the arrows struck his arm, his body jolted violently—as if moved by no wind—as the snow beneath him trembled slightly.

Clang… clang… clang…

On the surrounding trees, Xia Chuan and the other seventeen men froze in shock.

For they saw their fully-fired iron arrows—none pierced Wuyen the Guardian's arm. They struck like iron walls, clanging loudly, then clattered uselessly to the ground.

"Big brother, watch out!"

Without Xia Chuan's warning, seeing his arrows rebound off Wuyen the Guardian's skin membrane, Xia Hong's pressure surged to its peak.

This was the power of fully reshaped skin membrane? Ten-stone iron-tire bows firing arrows over 10, 00 jin—still couldn't pierce it.

Wuyen the Guardian didn't retreat. The upward slash of his broadsword struck Xia Hong's abdomen without doubt.

Hss…

Feeling the pain in his abdomen—not tearing, but crushing—Xia Hong instantly realized Wuyen the Guardian's broadsword had only sharpened edges.

Its tip was blunt—likely used for blunt-force impacts.

"Then so be it…"

Xia Hong's eyes flashed with ruthlessness. He dropped his great axe, abandoned retreat, forced his abdomen forward with all his strength, gripped the upward edge of the broadsword with his left hand, ignoring the gash opening on his palm, then kicked off the ground and leapt upward.

The broadsword had been thrust upward; Xia Hong's forward push had already been sensed, so Wuyen the Guardian had immediately followed with the upward slash—intending to rip open his abdomen and kill him in one strike.

Though the snow had formed a curtain obscuring vision, Wuyen the Guardian still sensed it: Xia Hong's body was rising rapidly.

Believing his strike had succeeded, Wuyen the Guardian grinned savagely and pushed harder upward.

Shhh…

Yet, at the critical instant—

A piercing whistle split the air. A sharp point of light pierced through the snow curtain, streaking straight for Wuyen the Guardian's face.

Wuyen the Guardian's pupils contracted. He snapped his upward motion to a halt, yanked his broadsword back, and retreated swiftly with his body.

Too late. The point's speed was too great.

Not just fast—but long!

The point suddenly shifted, transforming into a blade of light over a meter long.

Only now did Wuyen the Guardian see: it was a slender, one-meter-seventy-long blade—the point was its tip.

Xia Hong had sensed his retreat was too swift. He couldn't thrust forward. In a flash, he switched grip and slashed sideways.

Hss…

Wuyen the Guardian, now ten meters away, stared in horror and dread.

A thin, two-to-three-inch gash now marred his forehead.

"This kid…"

Seeing Xia Hong's blood-drenched left hand and the long knife in his right, Wuyen the Guardian's shock paled beside the tremor in his heart.

He had nearly died.

"Now tell me—does Great Xia have the standing to match your Mirror Immortal Camp?"

Xia Hong sheathed his long knife, pulled out a velvet cloth, calmly tended to his left hand's wound, and looked up at Wuyen the Guardian.

His question, though calm and measured, rang with finality.

Xia Chuan, Luo Yuan, and the rest of Great Xia emerged from the trees, standing behind Xia Hong. The iron-tire bows had failed—there was no longer hope of killing Wuyen the Guardian.

Wuyen the Guardian stood frozen for over ten breaths, his expression shifting, until finally, he sighed and spoke low:

"Xia Hong, your strength is impressive. But Mirror Immortal Camp's power extends far beyond what you've seen. Has Great Xia truly considered—do you truly wish to fight us to the death?"

Was he now considering recruitment?

The opening Wuyen the Guardian left in his words, Xia Hong understood at once.

Great Xia would never merge into another camp—and even if it could, Mirror Immortal Camp's conduct made any alliance unthinkable.

"You say Mirror Immortal Camp's strength extends beyond this? Have you truly seen all of Great Xia's strength?"

Xia Hong first sneered, then turned sharp: "Our two sides have no territorial disputes—we could have coexisted peacefully. But you pushed too far. Wuyen the Solemn and He Meng both crossed borders to hunt first. I endured, I pleaded, I reasoned."

"Yet you ignored me. You grew bolder. He Meng even came south to kill. Now you blame me?"

"The ringleader is dead. I hold no grudge against Mirror Immortal Camp. But…"

Here, Xia Hong paused, then intensified his tone:

"Any future trespassers will be killed without mercy. Make sure you deliver my words to your leader."

To be threatened so bluntly by a man nearly his son's age—Wuyen the Guardian's face flushed with rage. But then he recalled something, and held it back, as if to speak further.

But Xia Hong gave him no chance. He extended his hand—clearly, he was ordering him to leave.

"Senior Wuyen, please go."

Hearing Xia Hong's address, Wuyen the Guardian's rigid expression softened. He stood still, thought a moment, then gave Xia Hong one final deep look—and turned away.

"Xia Hong, your courtesy is noted. I will deliver your message."

Still five hundred votes short—can we make it in the next two days? Brothers, please vote! Give us strength, hit two thousand—I beg you.

(End of Chapter)