Wherever You Point

"Look, a big worm." Rusty Sister turned toward Wen Jifei, resting her hand on the smaller column sword. "Snake! Snake, snake, snake..." Wen Jifei insisted, unstrapping Elegy of the Square from his back at the same time. Wu Xu gripped the Binggu spear tightly, poised to strike... They had never been ones to follow rules. "Dragon!" Zhu Jiaming said languidly, unable to resist chiming in again, though he had no idea why he was feeling so worked up. At this moment, Han Qingyu stood before the battle formation of the Xiongzhanli Splinter Faction, his back turned toward them. Viewed from the front by the Huaxia battle formation or from the flanks, he was drenched in blood, his figure swaying on the verge of collapse. Yet as he gave both arms holding his blades a shake... that colossal outline manifested once more in the air. Soundless, yet carrying the sensation of a roaring howl. This time, it lingered longer than before. Only, it remained indistinct. The bone source was unleashed with all its might. To date, the bone sources Han Qingyu had consumed numbered sixteen; apart from two horn bones, he had devoured every single one he had laid hands on. The first time he had accidentally devoured a Bone of Eternal Life was during that battle with the quasi-super Sean. Sean's trait had been scorching heat, very similar to Ivan's, yet with distinct differences and a colossal gap in magnitude. Ivan had just helped him complete the thorough digestion and assimilation of the remaining thirteen bone sources. Therefore, although Han Qingyu appeared to be at death's door right now, he was actually at the pinnacle of his combat power to date. "Major Qing!" "He..." "Don't!" The cries came from the Huaxia battle formation directly facing him. Seeing Han Qingyu fighting with his very life, some drew their blades to charge Ivan, yet none dared bypass Chen Buer. This time, even Chen Buer could no longer remain at ease, turning his head in flustered concern. Under the old man's mournful and anxious gaze, Wen Jifei silently gave a salute, keeping it hidden from most eyes. Then, as all eyes turned toward him, he gave a smile tinged with complex emotion... and shouted at the top of his lungs: "It's fine, he's used to it." Han Qingyu looked frail, engaged in a desperate final struggle, but he was used to it—he was precisely the kind of person who fought drenched in blood, time after time, always. Because of those few short words. From behind, Mira, who had been running over while cradling her freshly bandaged arm, stopped in her tracks. The entire battle array of Stream Vanguard fell solemnly silent. And within the Huaxia battle formation, people were suddenly reminded once more of those stories and legends of him in Azure three years ago. And then they thought of the past two-plus years... Over the past two-plus years on the run in exile, was this how they had lived through it all? So much so that his best friend said he was used to it. Guilt and stinging sorrow began to well up in them, Chen Buer included. Eyes turned back... In the battle formation of the Xiongzhanli Splinter Faction, a group in the front ranks looked back in flustered alarm at their own shoulders, while another group behind them looked up into the sky. Accompanied by that sharp ring, within the area powerfully blanketed by bone source energy, one hundred, two hundred, three hundred Azure-issue dead iron straight swords shot straight up into the air. That was certainly not sword telekinesis. Beyond speed and mystique, legends of sword telekinesis always conjured notions of graceful shifts and airy lightness. Yet the dead iron straight swords shooting skyward like arrows at this moment had hilts pointing up and blades pointing down, suspended entirely vertical in midair, exuding a sense of sheer power and chilling lethality! *If one column sword plus two straight swords can't cut you down, then what about two hundred?! What about three hundred?!* It was an unyielding, brutally hard logic. Amid this awe-inspiring spectacle, Han Qingyu raised his head and looked across. The air briefly froze. Across from him, Ivan's eyes were fanatical, wildly excited! With a ferocious roar, molten lava flowed across his entire body as he braced himself for the clash. "He's moving." When the front ranks of the Huaxia battle formation said this, Han Qingyu hadn't actually moved yet. Yet merely the surging pressure pushing forward from the churning source energy in the air forced them to erupt their devices to resist just to barely keep their footing. The next instant, Han Qingyu truly moved. With a swing of both arms, the twin swords left his hands. Yet this was not the usual curving arc and parallel spin of Rusty Sister's Dimple Slash; this time, the twin swords flew in a straight line, upright and skimming the ground, rapidly spinning and advancing... Crackling ruptures detonated continuously in the air. Then his body moved. Taking a step forward, both hands hoisted the gigantic column sword planted in the earth, raising it above his head in his forward lunge... Leaping airborne! Swinging the sword! "Roar—!" Along with Han Qingyu's body surging forward. Along with the midair slashing arc of the column sword cleaving ahead. The phantom of the colossal beast in the air bowed forward violently, like a dragon or serpent pouncing upon prey. *Shhh-clatter!* In that same instant, the trajectories of over three hundred dead iron straight swords in the air surged forward, their edges flipping upward, slashing ahead in tandem with the beast's form! They were clearly three hundred swords, yet as they banked and plunged at this moment, it was as if they were a single blade—a super colossal blade cleaving downward and ahead. A magnificent, earth-shaking strike. *Boom!* A thunderous blast rang out in the air as gaseous mist exploded. In the rear, nearly a hundred soldiers of the Xiongzhanli formation were swept uncontrollably into the air before crashing down. Across from them, several hundred in the front ranks of the Huaxia formation were knocked backward onto the ground. Chen Buer stood alone in front, bathed in the howling wind, flying blades of grass, and dirt, watching with rapt attention. *Boom!* The first midair collision. Swords clashing head-on. After evading the twin swords, Butcher Ivan, who had charged and leaped to meet the attack, was swatted back to the ground like an insect trying to take flight, struck down with a *smack*. He was still standing. The three hundred dead iron straight swords arrived! The super colossal blade arrived! Standing on the ground, Ivan found he could barely move. Everyone noticed he couldn't move. As the three hundred dead iron straight swords poured down, the immense source energy pressure they brought bore down on everything in the targeted area, creating a lockdown and a super gravity field that pinned him to the ground. "Screeech—!" Ivan let out a frenzied howl like a madman. Molten lava flowed through the solidified air before him as he raised his blade. His long sword, now burning fiery red, carried vast life source energy and slashed brazenly toward the colossal blade formed by the three hundred dead iron straight swords in the air. *Boom!* A sound like thunder. Collision. The dense shattering sounds of dead iron erupted! The front segment of the colossal blade fractured and shattered. Yet with a cascade of swooshes, the entire sword formation still plunged down diagonally. The fiery red of molten lava, The starlight blue, Dust, grass blades, Dead iron fragments spraying wildly... The crashing blasts never ceased. Yet nobody could see the situation at the center of the battlefield clearly. Did Ivan get hit? How many blades struck him? How was Major Qing? People were watching. People were listening. People were concerned. People were silent. *Thunk!* The sound of the final dead iron straight sword plunging into the soil echoed out. The bombardment had ended. The rain of fragments lasted another dozen or so seconds before finally subsiding. The red glow faded. The starlight blue light faded. The dust and grass blades gradually settled. At last, people could see clearly. A scene of total ruin, strewn with swords and fragments. Butcher Ivan was still standing, rooted in his previous spot, facing the same direction, still propping himself up on his sword. Major The Qing was also standing, roughly ten meters behind him, the two of them standing back-to-back. "Who..." Before the words finished, *Spurt!* Han Qingyu lowered his head and spat a mouthful of blood. His head wobbled, and he crashed forward onto the ground. People saw a fresh, massive wound across his back. The soldiers of Huaxia surged forward... On the grassy slope, the battle formation of Stream Vanguard burned with fervor. Yet Ivan did not turn around, nor did he come over to do anything to Major Qing. In silence, he lifted his blade and walked forward. He took a few steps—*spurt*—a wound burst open on his chest, a thread of bloody mist spraying out. He continued walking—*spurt*—a second wound blasted open across his back. A third wound, A fourth... Eleven wounds. Ivan propped his blade with his right hand and collapsed to one knee on the ground! He was not dead. After a short while, he still managed to stand up, striving to walk forward. Major Qing was not dead either. Judging by the outcome, Han Qingyu had probably still lost, falling beneath the blade of Dome Leaderboard number five Butcher Ivan, for he had been the one on the offensive, yet he had collapsed first. Yet... it was enough. Enough to resolve the matter before them, and enough for his name—whether Major The Qing, The King, or Han Qingyu—to shake this world once more. When he struggled and unsteadily climbed back to his feet, finding support in the column sword and slowly turning his head to look toward the grassy slope at the ferocious, determined faces of Stream Vanguard's battle array, he made an effort to smile. "He didn't look at us," soldiers in the Huaxia battle formation said, their voices tinged with desolation and sorrow. At that same moment—*boom!* A roar shook the grassy slope on the flank. Source energy surged. Ten thousand raised their blades. And then, those ten thousand voiced in unison: "I vow! I shall march beside you, my fate and blade wherever you point, until your banner stands forever atop the dome, or I turn to flying ash!" Don't ask—if you must know, it was made up by the Little Prince and Wen Jifei again.