Chapter 117: Camp Carnage

He obviously possesses some kind of agility enhancement or short-distance teleportation ability; his figure twisted in mid-air like a ghost, narrowly brushing past the spear tip of the Thunder Pattern Spear, the gust even messing up Li Qingxuan's bangs.

The Thunder Spear missed, the violent electric arc fiercely lashed the ground, blasting a charred shallow pit, stone fragments scattering!

The black shadow landed unsteadily; in his hands were two black spikes condensed from pure shadow, seemingly substantial, wrapped in piercing yin cold, one high one low, straight for Li Qingxuan's throat and heart!

The move was vicious and swift, obviously a veteran of desperate combat.

Li Qingxuan's eyes flashed with a fierce light; he did not retreat but advanced!

He flicked his wrist, the heavy Tang Sword in his hand light as nothing, flourishing a dazzling blade flower; the blade like an awakening fury dragon precisely blocked the spike aimed at his throat, while the sword body followed up with a backward smash like a heavy hammer, fiercely striking the other spike aimed at his heart!

"Clang!" a heavy metallic clash rang out!

The sword blade and the shadow spike clashed hard; the violent force instantly repelled that short blade.

The black shadow's arm went numb from the shock, he staggered backward.

At the instant his mind and spirit were shaken, Huang Rong's figure approached like a bone-attached sore; having dealt with her own target, she paused not at all, her icy killing intent firmly locked onto the sole remaining enemy.

She tapped her toe on the frozen ground, lunged low and forward, her short dagger tracing a deadly, soundless, dark arc, straight for the knee ligament exposed by the black shadow's retreat!

The black shadow felt the lethal threat from his rear side, his soul nearly fled; disregarding posture, he desperately did a disgraceful donkey roll, barely avoiding a broken leg, but the icy blade of the dagger still left a deep bone-visible wound on his calf, blood instantly staining the icy snowfield red.

He rolled to the ground, not yet able to rise, when Li Qingxuan's tall figure already enveloped him like a shadow!

The Tang Sword bore a suffocating pressure, the blade flashing with waves of cold light, steadily stopping an inch above his brow.

That terrifying aura of destruction made his whole body stiffen, his blood seemingly freezing instantly, the shadow of death completely engulfing him.

Huang Rong had already silently moved to his side, the icy dagger pressed against his carotid artery; in her other hand, two new Willow Leaf Flying Knives flickered with a murderous azure cold light between her fingers.

The wild wind howled across, blowing away the pervasive smell of blood and scorched odor, leaving only two enemies—one dead, one gravely wounded—and the absolute, chilling dominance on the field.

The black shadow lay paralyzed on the frozen ground, coarse ice chips digging into his back, yet far less bone-chilling than the cold emanating from the Tang Sword hovering an inch above his brow.

The sword tip hovered, as if time had frozen; its cold gleam reflected in his fear‑dilated pupils, each flicker seeming to measure the distance to death.

Icy cold seeped into his skin thread by thread, raising a shudder; he lacked even the courage to swallow saliva, his Adam's apple seeming frozen rigid, each tremor tugging at the deep bone‑visible wound on his thigh, throbbing pain and the pungent smell of blood intertwining and rushing into his nostrils.

The cold wind swept past, stirring a few strands of Li Qingxuan's forehead hair and also brushing the still‑wet bloodstains on the blade.

He looked down at the figure beneath his feet, his gaze as still as ten‑thousand‑year‑old dark ice, without a ripple.

"How many people remain in your camp? Is Ye Xiao here?" Li Qingxuan asked in a low voice.

"... Most have gone out looking for people; now only about twenty remain, and Ye Lao Da is still in the camp." The black shadow lying on the ground stammered.

Upon hearing the information he wanted, he swung his Tang Sword; that person's head fell with a sound, blood spraying out, the scene extremely bloody, but the corpse quickly froze.

Li Qingxuan retracted his spear, walked to Huang Rong's side, and said, "Let's go meet them."

The two sat on the Black Goat's back, striding swaggeringly toward the camp.

The camp entrance was narrow, with haphazardly piled frozen earth low walls and sharpened wooden stakes on either side, dark red ice crystals condensed on them.

The air was filled with a strange mixture of low‑quality tobacco, lingering barbecue char, and a heavy stench of blood.

Several bonfires swayed in the cold wind, firelight stretching and distorting shadows, casting them onto the crude hide tents and the hard‑frozen ground, as if demons were wildly dancing in the darkness.

As soon as they stepped into this area where light and shadow intertwined, the silence was instantly shattered!

"Enemy attack——!" a distorted howl tore through the night sky.

"Whoosh whoosh whoosh——!"

Bowstrings twanged, dozens of arrows wrapped in gusting wind shot out from every dark corner!

Arrowheads glinted with an icy phosphorescence in the firelight, like blood‑thirsty poisonous bees, covering the sky and earth toward the two riding the Black Goat!

Li Qingxuan's eyes flared with cold light; his Thunder Pattern Spear in hand buzzed loudly!

He flicked his wrist; the spear instantly turned into a dense, wind‑proof azure electric net, the tip tracing countless blinding electric trajectories, precisely sweeping toward the incoming arrow rain!

"Crackle! Crackle! Crackle!"

Piercing blasts rang out densely! Most arrows, upon contacting the electric net, were instantly shredded by the violent current into powder, turning into sky‑covering charred wood shavings and twisted metal fragments that fluttered down!

Occasionally a few that slipped through were also struck aside by the Black Goat's low roar as it swung its massive head, its horns harder than fine steel clanking "clang clang" a few times, sending them flying deep into the frozen ground or tent poles.

As the arrow rain ceased, several figures already lunged out from behind the tents and beside the firewood piles!

These people wielded assorted weapons, their faces bearing the ferocity and madness of desperadoes, emitting beast‑like roars as they went straight for the Black Goat's vulnerable belly and limbs!

"Courting death!" Li Qingxuan snorted coldly, clamping his legs hard against the goat's flank.

The Black Goat let out a ferocious roar, its huge body like a moving mountain, not retreating but advancing, lowering its head to slam fiercely into the two charging ahead!

The heavy hoofbeats thundered like muffled explosions, the frozen earth trembling slightly! Those two pupils shrank sharply; dodging was already too late!

"Bang! Crack!"

The muffled sound of shattering bone and flesh made one's teeth ache!

The two were like being hit head‑on by a runaway siege ram, screaming as they flew backward, breastbones collapsing, blood gushing from their mouths, violently smashing into two companions behind them, rolling into a heap, clearly dead.

At the same moment, Huang Rong moved!

In the instant the Black Goat charged, she slipped silently from the saddle like a light swallow, tapping her toe on the icy frozen ground, her phantom‑like form cutting into the enemies lunging from the side!

"Swish! Swish! Swish!"

Cold light flashed!

The short dagger in her sleeve and the flying knives between her fingers turned into lethal shadows!

Every swing of her arm, every flick of her wrist, sprayed a gorgeous spray of blood!

A burly axe‑wielder suddenly had a thin blood line appear on his throat; his hoarse gasp cut off abruptly.

Another lanky saber‑swinger had his wrist pierced by a flying knife, his weapon flung away, immediately followed by a cold light slicing across his neck.

The third fellow attempting a sneak attack from behind was struck in the face by Huang Rong's reverse elbow; before the crunch of his collapsed nose even settled, her icy dagger had precisely pierced his heart!

Her movements were swift, precise, and deadly, with no superfluous flourish, like dancing a death waltz in the cold wind.

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