Chapter 28: Chapter 28 — Life-and-Death Battle

Slash!

Fang Han’s sword pierced straight through a sand bandit’s scale armor, punching a hole through his heart, while the bandit’s curved blade carved a shallow cut across Fang Han’s magic robe.

Kill.
Take a blow.
End a life.
Dodge. Leap.
Kill again.

Fang Han plunged into the sea of bandits.

His body moved like an ape, his sword like a shooting star.
His killing intent thickened with every breath.
With each exchange, his combat experience sharpened.

This was not sparring.
This was war.

A moment’s hesitation meant death.

Thousands of bandits surged like a ferocious army. Their blades flashed. Their bows screamed. Their presence alone was enough to crush the spirit.

What do martial artists fear the most?

Armies.

No technique survives long inside a forest of blades.

Though Fang Han’s stamina far surpassed ordinary cultivators, danger stalked him constantly. Without the Demon-Slaying Sword’s terrifying sharpness and the protection of his magic robe, he would have died ten times already.

Even so, his arms and neck were crisscrossed with wounds.

Only the power of the Nine-Aperture Golden Pill kept him alive, his flesh sealing itself almost instantly.

“Fang Han—careful!”

CLANG!

A crescent of cold light slashed toward his throat.

His scalp prickled.
Death loomed.

At the final instant, Princess Hongyi’s sword flashed like lightning and smashed the blade aside.

“Who is that?”
Fang Han thought, cold sweat running down his spine.

“That strike carried mental force… That’s peak Divine Transformation!”

The bandits suddenly parted.

A tall figure in white robes strode forward, spotless amid the blood and sand.

His voice was deep and magnetic.

“Yuhua disciples… Impressive. Fall back. I will hold them.”

He was young, his face hidden behind a veil.

His weapon—a six-foot silver crescent saber—gleamed like liquid moonlight.

“Evil Moon Prince!”
Bao Qinwang roared.

“He’s the sand bandit lord! Capture him and the sect will reward us with spirit artifacts and inner-disciple status! He once devoured a Six-Winged Blood Bat—his body surpasses ordinary Divine Transformation cultivators!”

The Evil Moon Prince smiled beneath his veil.

“You want me?
Then come.”

He leaped.

Thirty meters in a single bound.

Moonlight erupted as his saber descended.

Fang Han’s mind was yanked toward the blade—his limbs froze.

But he triggered the Yuanchen Spirit Art.

His consciousness snapped back.

Seven Stars Sword Form!

Clang! Clang! Clang!

He blocked dozens of strikes, then the pressure vanished.

The Evil Moon Prince was already elsewhere, his blade carving through several Yuhua disciples before retreating in a blur.

Moments later, the bandits withdrew completely.

The battlefield fell silent—littered with corpses and riderless camels.

“Should we pursue?”
someone asked.

“No,”
a princess said coldly. “He’s too dangerous. Without spirit artifacts, chasing him is suicide.”

Above them, the true battle raged.

Mo Shijie and the inner disciples locked Crimson Prince within a storm of flying swords, while ten Flying Yakshas struggled helplessly, bound by the Heavenly Rooster Pure-Yang Rope.

Mo Shijie held the rope’s end like a dragon handler, waiting for Crimson Prince to fall.

Fang Han’s gaze sharpened.

“This treasure artifact… Monstrous.”

Crimson Prince floated within a sphere of pink radiance, his sword dancing in defense. Petals of peach-colored light exploded wherever blades struck.

“They’re about to decide it,”
Princess Hongyi whispered.

Crimson Prince roared.

A ball of pink thunder appeared in his palm and hurled forward.

The heavens screamed.

“Six-Desire Yin Thunder!”