Chapter 633: Targeted Kill

If not for seeing that Wolf Race warrior carrying the giant blade, Shen Hao wouldn’t have sensed his presence at all—it was as if the other existed only within sight but not within his perception. He hadn’t even felt the swathes of soldiers slaughtered by the warrior in a single strike.

The three guards guarded Shen Hao as if facing a great enemy, not even giving him a chance to react before dragging him backward.

You could say luck was with Shen Hao; that Wolf Race brute didn’t even spare a glance in their direction, instead baring his fangs and tilting his head to stare at the military’s towering watchtower.

“Awooo!”

With a wolf’s howl, the Wolf Race warrior burst forward, leaping from the fortress wall, and then swept toward the watchtower like a hurricane. Where he passed, mutilated limbs were flung everywhere; anyone bold enough to stand in his way was immediately shredded by the giant blade, magical armor or not—it made no difference.

In that moment, Shen Hao dared not move a muscle. He could sense the absolute crushing gap in strength—if that Wolf Race wanted, just a flick of his finger could kill him. The three guards before him stood no chance at all.

“What’s that?”

“Profound Sea Realm Body Cultivator!” Not just Shen Hao, the three guards also felt they’d survived a disaster, then added, “He’s here for Cheng Jinhou! This is bad!”

Yet Shen Hao’s heart held a different emotion—bewilderment. For just as he caught sight of the Wolf Race warrior, his chest’s Black Beast Tattoo leapt several times.

This is hunger without limit—a snake trying to swallow an elephant! Shen Hao froze, then cursed in his heart. He felt the Black Beast Tattoo was a damned nuisance. It was understandable for it to drool over the Barbarian Race cultivators he killed—their souls were right at its mouth, “food” abandoned half-way. But that Wolf Race with the giant blade is “food” too? Deep down, Shen Hao scoffed at the Tattoo’s reaction—he was too tired to even mock it.

But the thought just circled once in his head and was thrown aside, because now he faced a choice: flee, or stay.

“Shen Hao, go! Cheng Jinhou is doomed, the military camp can’t be held!”

Shen Hao shook his head: “No. Holding the fortress wall is the military order. We can’t leave until the camp truly falls.”

Honestly, Shen Hao himself couldn’t explain why he had such confidence in Cheng Jinhou, but he had his own calculations. If Cheng Jinhou died, chaos would follow once the camp fell, but Shen Hao had Earth Escape at hand and breath far longer than ordinary cultivators; with Earth Escape, he could skirt away safely—there was no need to rush.

Simply put, even if he had to run, it would only be after he saw Cheng Jinhou really die. Otherwise, there’s no running yet.

The three guards wanted to argue further, but the towering watchtower behind them suddenly collapsed with a thunderous crash. Through the clouds of dust, the Wolf Race warrior wielding the giant blade could be seen frozen mid-swing.

Awooo, awooo—the howls battered straight into their minds, leaving their heads spinning.

“Sound Cultivator?” The trait was familiar—like Ning Ziye whom Shen Hao had once met.

“Not a Sound Cultivator, but a special auditory stimulus—a mastery over bodily control taken to the extreme.”

Manipulation of sound? Shen Hao didn’t understand at first, but then recalled how sound was explained in another world—”vibration and sound waves”—and instantly got it. He gained a new respect for Body Cultivator techniques. Turns out, it’s not just physical strength—it’s exploitation to the utmost limit.

“It’s over. Cheng Jinhou can’t survive.”

“Wait! Look, who’s beside Cheng Jinhou?”

The dust cleared, revealing shapes amidst the ruins of the watchtower. Cheng Jinhou hadn’t died—in fact, he didn’t even have a scratch. The force of that blade earlier was aimed right at him, but someone had shielded him.

And it wasn’t just Cheng Jinhou; all the people on the watchtower became visible as the dust lifted. They wanted to garrison around Cheng Jinhou, but he waved them off.

“With Elder Xuan here, you need not worry,” Cheng Jinhou said calmly.

Shen Hao strained to look. He couldn’t hear Cheng Jinhou’s words, but after the dust cleared, the person shielding Cheng Jinhou was none other than one of those Order Flag Officers who’d helped him direct and relay orders before! Shen Hao hadn’t remembered the man’s face, but the outfit was clear, and right now, the man still had several command flags tucked at his waist.

In addition to the command flags at his belt, the “Order Flag Officer” was now holding an ancient-looking long sword.

No words were exchanged; both sides just started fighting.

It was odd—Shen Hao stole glances at the duel between the two masters in the camp, but the feeling he got was like an ordinary martial arts contest. No surges of True Qi, no overwhelming destructive power, even the movement was confined to a small stretch of ground.

Only when he saw the Wolf Race warrior step on a large shield strewn across the ground—a thick shield that vanished into vapor in an instant—did Shen Hao realize this was combat on another level, completely beyond his cultivation to grasp.

Shen Hao couldn’t help but wonder: why was the Wolf Race fighting the sword cultivator, whose identity was now revealed, like this? Wouldn’t a wide-open approach favor him?

Perhaps the Wolf Race had no choice.

Also, after watching for a while, Shen Hao felt the rhythm of the sword cultivator’s swordsmanship was familiar—he seemed to have seen it before. He searched his mind frantically and soon remembered.

Back on Chang Baifeng, when Nie Yun and Fairy Qing Wan dueled, at the critical moment, Fairy Qing Wan had used this very swordsmanship. Only now, the sword cultivator’s moves were far more fluid, as if perfectly natural. No matter how the Wolf Race wielded his giant blade, the long sword easily redirected it, and with a gentle stroke, the sword cultivator turned defense into attack, forcing the Wolf Race into a mess.

“So strong! That’s enveloping the area with ultimate sword intent, preventing any power from leaking, and creating his own heaven and earth energy space—this is the legendary ‘Domain’?! Who is that guy?”

“Who else could it be? Able to anticipate every sword technique and press a Profound Sea Realm Cultivator so thoroughly, there are only a few such people in the Jing Old Dynasty territory.”

“You mean, the senior from the Mountain of Ten Thousand Books?”

“Mm. Aside from him, I can’t think of anyone with such strength.”

“But isn’t that senior supposed to be stationed at the Central Army of Wu Lake? Why is he here?”

Suddenly, from afar, an unremarkable sword thrust stabbed forward—not even fast—but it so eerily pierced the Wolf Race cultivator’s chest. Just a nick and withdrawal, like barely breaking the skin. Yet the Wolf Race cultivator froze, unmoving, his aura fading rapidly as he collapsed to the ground—a corpse.