Translator: CinderTL
In the blink of an eye, nearly half his wounds had healed, and dense mist surged from his body.
He reached out and seized Feng Qi, pulling him close.
Glancing at Feng Qi's near-death state, he enveloped him in the mist.
Origin Qi and Blood Power flowed into Feng Qi's body, sustaining his life and nourishing his ravaged form.
The Lord of the Mist turned his violet-tinged gaze toward the elder:
"You will die, and none of your clansmen will escape!"
"You're welcome to try," the elder replied, raising his dragon-patterned greatsword once more.
Amidst the biting wind and snow, sword energy clashed with the mist, creating a vacuum-like zone around them.
Even with his decaying body, the old man's fighting spirit soared to the heavens.
His swordsmanship differed greatly from Liu Yue's.
If Liu Yue's sword intent represented the relentless advance of youth, the old man's sword energy resembled a flickering candle struggling against the wind and snow, unwavering despite the storm's fury.
When the old man wielded his sword, it was like watching an ancient dance, each movement flowing with natural grace.
At that moment, he seemed to merge with the very fabric of the world, drawing upon its momentum to channel his sword energy. The Lord of the Mist was essentially battling the world itself.
Before the old man, the Lord of the Mist's power remained potent but unable to truly unleash its full force.
This battle once again demonstrated to the Lord of the Mist the might of humanity's greatest warriors.
Even in his twilight years, the old man possessed the strength to utterly overwhelm him.
Yet as time wore on, the old man's strength began to wane.
His sword strikes grew slower, and the Lord of the Mist gradually gained the upper hand.
When the mist brushed against the old man's body, he suddenly collapsed.
Struggling to his feet, he tore off his tattered robes, revealing a body covered in scars.
The wounds were so numerous they covered every inch of his skin.
Behind him stood his clansmen, whom he had protected for over two centuries. He had never fallen before, and he would not fall today.
With eyes devoid of joy or sorrow, Shouyi raised his greatsword once more.
"I can spare you, but only in exchange for the lives of your clansmen," the Lord of the Mist rasped, his voice hoarse.
He had spoken these same words to Mu Qing before.
Mu Qing had answered him with a fist. This time, Shouyi responded with his greatsword.
As the sword energy approached, the mist surged forward.
The two forces clashed, the sword energy unable to cleave through the mist, and the mist unable to repel the sword energy.
Locked in stalemate, fine beads of blood began to seep from the old man's skin.
With a roar, his white hair danced wildly as the sword intent within him surged relentlessly, pushing the sword energy forward, inch by inch, to cleave through the mist.
Sensing the overwhelming sword intent, the Lord of the Mist once again felt the threat of death.
Driven by his desperate desire to live, he unleashed his full power.
The dense gray mist churned violently, surging forward with qi blood.
The violent force swept up accumulated snow, scattering it in all directions. The terrifying power kept the scavenger warriors who had rushed to reinforce the village from even approaching.
The sword energy continued to advance, gradually nearing the life origin core at the heart of the mist.
Though his body was aged and frail, the old man's peerless swordsmanship remained terrifyingly sharp.
The Lord of the Mist let out a desperate roar.
But no matter how violently the mist churned, it couldn't halt the sword energy's relentless advance.
Grasping the greatsword with both hands, the old man pressed down with all his might.
At that moment, he seemed to merge with the heavens and earth, his sword intent growing ever sharper, fueled by his unwavering resolve.
But the blood seeping from his body flowed faster and faster, until in the blink of an eye, he was drenched in crimson.
Just as the Lord of the Mist believed he was about to be wounded to his life origin by the sword energy, perhaps even killed, the sword energy suddenly dissipated.
He stared intently, only to see the old man standing in a sword-wielding stance, yet utterly devoid of life.
Witnessing the old man's death, the reinforcing warriors erupted in sorrowful cries.
These scavengers had all grown up listening to the old man's stories.
To the entire village, he was more than just a leader—he was a hero etched into their hearts.
But now, the hero had aged, unable to withstand the ravages of time.
In his youth, Shouyi had wielded his sword across the northern domains, leading the residents of Extreme City to break free from the Domain Field and reach the Winterfrost Front.
Throughout his life, he had slain countless domain creatures without a single defeat.
He had even single-handedly suppressed several uprisings by Domain-Transcending Creatures.
His achievements could only be described as legendary.
He had trained countless students, many of whom still served as renowned warriors on the front lines.
In his most legendary battle, he had ventured alone into the Purgatory Domain Field, single-handedly slaying the Eight-Armed Purgatory and ultimately suppressing the entire domain.
It was during the peak of the Hell Domain Field's frenzied expansion.
Yet, because the sword-wielding Shouyi stood there, the Hell Domain Field dared not advance rashly.
But even heroes must eventually fade.
No one can escape the ravages of time and the inexorable flow of life.
Now, Shouyi, wielding the dragon-patterned sword, no longer possessed the peak combat prowess of his prime.
As his physical functions steadily declined, even his burning desire to slay his enemies couldn't overcome the limits of his aging body.
In his final battle, he nearly struck down the Lord of the Mist.
But in the end, he fell with lingering regrets, his figure collapsing amidst the howling winds as his clansmen cried out in anguish.
Thus ended the legend of a generation.
Such is the human struggle against the encroaching domains.
Each era brings forth new legendary figures, who rise step by step to their zenith, leaving indelible marks on history and forging their own epic tales.
Even domain experts who viewed humans as mere ants dared not underestimate these legendary figures.
Yet every age has its own legends.
The era of Shouyi had long passed.
Now, amidst the cries of his clansmen, he was buried beneath the wind and snow.
The Lord of the Mist gazed at the warriors charging toward him, their eyes bloodshot and their attacks desperate.
He felt no flicker of emotion, nor any inclination to hold back.
The gray mist surged forward, claiming lives one by one, relentlessly draining the Qi and Blood Power from their bodies.
In this moment, life seemed utterly fragile.
Without Shouyi's protection, the scavenger villagers stood no chance against the Lord of the Mist.
The village's capable warriors had already been deployed to the front lines, leaving the remaining villagers utterly defenseless in what quickly devolved into a one-sided massacre.
Scattered blood stained the falling snowflakes crimson before being absorbed by the mist.
Within half an hour, the entire village had been slaughtered.
Having completed the slaughter, the Lord of the Mist gathered the mist into a pure blood pearl. With a wave of his hand, the pearl merged into Feng Qi's body, which had been suspended in the air by the mist.
Nourished by the concentrated qi blood, Feng Qi slowly opened his eyes.
He looked around, his gaze settling on the corpses of villagers strewn across the snow-covered ground.
His heart trembled, but he betrayed no emotion.
"Thank you," he said, turning to the Lord of the Mist.
"If I ever rise to stand at the pinnacle of this world, you will have a place by my side," the Lord of the Mist replied, his purple eyes blinking as he smiled.
(End of the Chapter)
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