In its basic layout, the dueling ground consisted of a small open clearing on the outside connected seamlessly to a long, narrow rectangular room deeper in, with no barrier between them.
*Kong!*
*Kong!*
From the far side of the clearing, the sound of heavy impacts battering against the dead iron layer drifted through the thick soil, muffled and dull. Clods of earth rattled and fell in a flurry to the ground.
Leaning against the inner wall, Han Qingyu raised a hand to wipe the blood from his eyes. Watching the dirt shower down outside, he slowly parted his blood-soaked lips in a grin, tightening his grip on the combat blade in his right hand.
*Don't worry. I'll hold out,* Han Qingyu told himself silently.
In this world, there were a handful of people who knew their Qingzi would never know how to give up, just as he knew they would never give up. Perhaps that was the greatest harvest he had reaped through all these years of drifting between life and death.
Han Qingyu was not a man skilled at expressing emotion; he had never said these words to them.
*Bastards! Making so much noise! I'll beat you all to death when we get back,* he cursed inwardly.
Right then, Alphonse's head turned slowly back.
He stood near the outer end of the room's layout. Having frozen for two seconds at the sound, he had just looked back over his shoulder.
Naturally, that was not his own men. Passages led here, and his men knew where they were. Even if they came, they would not be breaching the wall, which meant...
"Die!"
The instant he turned back, Alphonse's eyes were savage and frantic. Roaring, he lunged forward with full force, sword raised, his specialty surging past all limits to the point that the blade's glow took on a greenish hue.
"I'll devour you!"
"Devour me? Piss off. That specialty of yours... is only good for bullying the weak," Han Qingyu said.
***
The weak were on the other side.
A dead iron layer more than a meter thick, spanning what seemed to be a vast area and formed as a single unbroken slab—in their haste, they could find no edge to it.
Dead iron was already tough beyond common sense, and once its thickness reached a certain degree, that toughness increased exponentially. Punching straight through it was extraordinarily difficult, placing immense demands on both weapons and wielders.
They were chiseling! Desperately chiseling!
They cut into it.
They could not pierce it through.
At this moment, they had no idea just how thick the dead iron layer actually was.
"Chiseling like this! If Qingzi really is on the other side..." Staring at the dead iron barrier before him, He Tangtang gripped his combat blade with both hands and spoke in a choked, suppressed voice.
He was not blaming anyone. It was just this feeling of helplessness, of having strength but nowhere to apply it, combined with his anxiety, that was pushing him near his breaking point.
They all knew that the sound of their battering had certainly reached the other side by now. If Qingzi really was over there, both he and Alphonse would have heard it.
"He's over there." With slightly trembling hands, Rusty Sister lifted the small column sword and signaled. "Qingzi is on the other side... He might not have much strength left."
The column sword had just been tugged, but the force behind it was weak.
Wu Xu looked back at her.
He turned, walked over, and slung the Binggu Spear onto his back. As he passed Rusty Sister, Wu Xu reached out, took the small column sword, took a few more steps, and then turned back. "Come beside me. Together."
Together! No matter how thick it was...
Wu Xu stood alongside Theodore. Rusty Sister, Little Prince, Yin Caixin, He Tangtang, Wen Jifei—everyone stood together.
*Boom!*
Two super combat power devices erupted; life source energy surged to its absolute limit.
The passage shook and swayed, dirt raining down.
Immediately after, three top combat powers erupted with everything they had, the second-tier top combatant He Tangtang unleashed his might, and the dice spun furiously...
"Kill!"
They charged the iron wall.
***
Alphonse was still attacking frantically.
This time, he moved at blinding speed, constantly shifting his form as he advanced, leaving a trail of afterimages.
Han Qingyu stood there watching with calm, focused eyes. He watched, and then abruptly brought his blade down in a slash.
The edge struck the true body dead-on.
Over the past several minutes, Han Qingyu's strikes had consistently found Alphonse's true form, threatening his vitals, which deeply frustrated Alphonse. He had no way of knowing how much effort and energy Han Qingyu was expending just to lock onto the knight sword in his hands using bone source.
However—*shhhk!*
This time, whether by coincidence, guesswork, or experimentation, Alphonse suddenly let go of both the long and short swords in his hands at once.
He tilted his head, thrust his shoulders forward, and clapped his palms together, accurately catching the blade of the straight sword between his hands.
"Aaargh—!" Amid his roar, his specialty erupted past its limits once more. A tremendous devouring force surged along the dead iron straight sword, crashing into Han Qingyu's body.
At the same time, the falling short sword was kicked upward by Alphonse using the same trick as before, rocketing toward Han Qingyu's heart.
Then the long sword fell. Alphonse caught it and slashed downward.
*Clang!*
The blade in Han Qingyu's right hand reversed, pressed against his forearm, and rigidly parried the long sword.
Han Qingyu shifted his torso slightly, dodging the blow aimed at his heart.
The short sword veered slightly, pierced through his left shoulder socket—which had already been run through once before—and pinned him against the wall.
Then, *bang!*
He had no hands left, but he still had feet. The moment the short sword pierced him, source energy surged through Han Qingyu, and he raised his leg, driving a heavy kick into Alphonse's wounded flank.
The boot sole, embedded with dead iron plates, kicked Alphonse flying.
Wailing, Alphonse flew backward through the air, blood showering from his abdomen like rain.
Han Qingyu did not pursue. Pinned by the short sword, he stood straight and tall.
Suddenly—*pfft!* He coughed up a mouthful of blood.
When he spat that blood, his body did not lean forward even an inch. His eyes remained fixed in a deathly glare on Alphonse, and with his right arm alone, he raised his combat blade, his knuckles whitening from his grip.
His other combat blade lay beside his feet.
The large blue light column sword rested against the outer wall.
"Let's see how much longer you can last!" Alphonse said, his expression and tone twisted in pain. As his foot touched down from his backward flight, only the ball of his foot met the ground, his torso leaning forward.
With swift fluidity and an explosive spring, he launched himself toward Han Qingyu once more.
*Boom!*
At that exact instant, the massive wall of earth blew open with a deafening roar. Shattered pieces of dead iron flew through the air amidst the showering dirt, slamming into the opposite wall and sinking into the earth.
The wall ruptured, revealing a gaping breach from which a colossal plume of dust billowed...
"Qingzi!" voices shouted in chaos as figures leaped out from the dust.
Wu Xu, Rusty Sister, Wen Jifei, He Tangtang... Amid the swirling dirt and dust, their heads whipped around in search.
They found him.
A short distance away, at the far end of this space, Han Qingyu stood leaning against the wall. His left arm was bound to his torso with blood-stained bandages, a short sword pinned his left shoulder socket, and his right hand still gripped his combat blade...
He was alive. He had not fallen. He was looking right at them.
In that instant, the men's eyes reddened. Rusty Sister and Yin Caixin let out choked sobs, tears streaming down their faces from the overwhelming surge of emotion and joy.
Then, closer to them, they spotted Alphonse standing sideways.
"I'll fucking kill you!" He Tangtang roared.
"Qingzi!"
"...Kill!"
The moment their feet hit the ground, everyone pivoted and charged toward Alphonse.
*Bang!*
A sniper rifle cracked, a bullet tearing through the haze of dust.
A figure collapsed inside the dust.
One of Alphonse's men.
*Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!*
"Mr. Alphonse, they—"
Because the battle was already unfolding before their eyes, the report was cut short.
On the opposite wall, large sheets of iron plating crashed to the ground. The super combat power under Alphonse arrived leading the twenty-odd remaining diehards, wedging themselves between Alphonse's back and Wu Xu's group.
Yet the most they could achieve was a momentary delay.
Alphonse, plus one super combat power, plus two top-tiers, plus twenty-odd men.
Han Qingyu, plus seven.
In this battle, Stream Vanguard's victory remained beyond doubt.
At this moment, everything hinged entirely on whether Han Qingyu could withstand Alphonse's final pounce. If he held, they would win; if he failed to hold, Alphonse would turn around and, joining forces with that super combat power, begin a massacre.
Both friend and foe understood this clearly.
And so Alphonse did not look back...
Across from him,
Han Qingyu still stood braced against the wall, his gaze unchanged from before, the combat blade held in his right hand just as steady.
The only difference was his ruined left hand: the fingers twitched faintly, and the combat blade on the ground stirred. The bandages wrapped tight around his torso began to pull taut, on the verge of tearing apart.
Inside his body, all the devouring energy he had endured and accumulated through the battle was roiling in agonizing surges.
Chapter 578