Chapter 719: Balance

Lin Feng stood at the highest point of the city wall, coldly watching the battle raging in the wind and snow.

A Blood Demon Sect disciple, who had recently reached the Acquired Realm, climbed up the top of the cloud ladder to the top of the rampart, but slipped and nearly fell.

He frantically grabbed the battlements to steady himself, but when he looked up, he froze.

Before him, a Nightmare Rider was sliding closer, two dark purple lights beneath its visor staring intently at him.

The disciple's arm, which was holding the knife, began to tremble.

He tried to shout something, but his throat seemed to be blocked, and he could only manage a breathy sound.

His knees buckled, and he slid down along the edge of the battlements, half-kneeling at the edge.

Before he could recover, the Nightmare Rider's long-handled scythe swept across him.

He instinctively raised his knife to block, but he was still half-kneeling and couldn't muster any strength in his arm.

The sickle struck the blade, and a tremendous force pressed down, causing the tiger's mouth to split open and the knife to fly out of his hand.

He was so shaken that he leaned backward and tumbled off the edge of the stack.

"Xiao Chen!" A disciple next to him reached out to grab him, but only managed to touch his fingertips.

The disciple peered down from the crenellation but saw nothing but the wind, snow, and a blurry expanse at the base of the city wall.

He turned around abruptly, and the Nightmare Rider had already turned its horse around and glided towards him, two dark purple spots of light under its visor staring straight at him.

"You son of a bitch."

He spat out a mouthful of bloody saliva, stabbed the knife into the ground, and clenched his fists tightly.

The cavalry's scythes arrived first.

A sweeping motion covered a six-meter radius, with shadow energy surging along the blade's edge.

He crouched down and rolled under the blade, grabbed a broken battlement stake from the ground, and swung it back to smash it into the horse's belly.

Bone-Breaking Staff Technique - Chopping Staff, with Hidden Force Penetrating to the Bone.

The Nightmare Horse, in pain, veered to the side, causing the cavalryman's scythe to deflect by half a foot.

Taking advantage of this slight deviation, he used the Blood Shadow Step, leaving his afterimage in place while his real body was already close to the cavalryman's side.

The Bloodclotting Claw dug into the gaps in the horse's leg armor, and with a tear of its five fingers, dark purple blood splattered all over his face.

The Nightmare Horse neighed, its forelegs suddenly lurching forward, causing the rider to stagger.

Just this once.

He pushed off the horse's belly and mounted it, gripping the cavalryman's wrist holding the scythe tightly with his left hand, while smashing his right fist into the cavalryman's face.

He punched the faceplate, denting it.

The second punch landed in the same spot, and the faceplate cracked.

With the third punch, the faceplate shattered, revealing two dark purple spots of light underneath, which made his eyes blur.

But he didn't have time to throw a fourth punch.

The cavalryman's free left hand suddenly grabbed his belt and lifted it up.

He was thrown off his horse, losing his balance.

The moment he landed, the scythe was already across his chest.

There are no fancy moves, just the simplest cut. The superior's crushing of the inferior never requires skill.

A flash of dark purple blade light passed by.

He looked down and saw a line of blood on his chest before he felt the pain.

He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He fell backward and never got up again.

Such scenes are everywhere on the ice wall.

Some charged fiercely, gritting their teeth, their faces flushed red, slashing their double knives at the bones of the rotting man, cursing under their breath.

A master of innate cultivation slew three shadow wolves in succession, covered in blood, yet still pushing forward.

He was followed by a dozen or so disciples who clung to him like shadows, following him wherever he went, as if sticking to his back would prolong their lives.

Lin Feng looked at those faces, but his heart didn't stir much emotion.

He has long since passed the stage where he would be moved by the casualties on both sides.

But now, standing in the wind and snow on the hundred-meter-high city tower, watching those young disciples fall down one after another, get up, and fall down again.

He suddenly realized that the deaths of these people had little to do with whether they were brave or not, or how capable they were.

They were simply placed in that position.

Those standing in the first row would be hit by the energy-absorbing cannons first, and those who were the first to climb the ladders would run into the densest part of the defending troops.

With the supervisory team watching from behind and a mountain of knives in front, where else could the people in the middle go but forward?

Their fate was pretty much decided the moment they were assigned to that position.

Like a pawn on a chessboard, once it's placed, it can only move forward; there's no turning back.

Lin Feng slowly withdrew his gaze.

Everyone on this battlefield, including himself, was being pushed forward by something unseen.

Sect, military orders, fear, greed for merit, or simply because they are in the front row, they can only rush forward.

There is no such thing as fate in this world.

It's simply a matter of the person in a higher position making a move, while the person in a lower position dies on the spot.

Before the thought could settle, the distant bugle call suddenly changed its tune.

Short, sharp, one sound following another.

Lin Feng looked up.

Behind the Blood Demon Sect's central army, the aerial formation that had been slowly advancing suddenly accelerated.

Tens of thousands of blood-red lights lit up at the same time, and a dark red figure pressed down from below the clouds, moving so fast that the wind and snow were torn apart.

"The foreplay is over, and they're finally willing to move," Lin Feng said in a low voice.

Almost at the same moment, the Central City also made a move.

Thorne leaped out from beside Lin Feng, followed by more than twenty Nightmare Clan apostles.

The smile on his face vanished completely, replaced by a grim expression. He paused in mid-air and shouted sharply towards the sky above the city wall: "Take off and engage the enemy! All flying units, follow me!"

The Nightmare Clan elites on and below the city walls took to the air.

The Nightmare Faceless Ones transformed into elongated shadows, their faceless forms almost invisible in the wind and snow, with only the vertical white crack flickering in the darkness.

Hundreds of Nightmare Generals and hundreds of Nightmare Knights followed suit and rose to the surface.

Thorne ascended to the highest point, with more than twenty apostles unfolding behind him.

He glanced back at Lin Feng and saw that Lin Feng hadn't moved. He frowned slightly but said nothing. He then turned and led his team to meet him.

Lin Feng did not move.

His gaze passed over the Nightmare Clan army that was rising into the air and landed on the crimson light pressing down on them from the opposite side.

He was waiting for Xue Wanshan.

As long as Xue Wanshan doesn't make a move, even if the Nightmare Clan's air force can't win, it won't collapse.

Xue Wanshan was also waiting, waiting for Lin Feng to make the first move.

The logic is simple: at the level of high-ranking apostles, once someone makes a move, the other person has no choice but to follow suit.

This is not just a matter of face, but also because the combat power of the higher-ranking apostles has formed an absolute "rule-level suppression".

This suppressive force means that once the two sides clash and a winner is determined, the loser must immediately retreat, even if their army still holds the advantage.

Because once the higher apostles are defeated or even killed, the entire battle line will instantly lose its support, and millions of troops will become lambs to the slaughter.

Lin Feng withdrew his gaze and gently tapped his finger on the battlement.

Xue Wanshan didn't move, and neither did he.

Since no one wants to break this balance, let the people below fill it with their lives first.