Chapter 1115: You Think You're Worthy of Using the Sword?

A chill ran down Han Fengqiu's spine. Seeing Huxin heading towards him, he almost blurted out, "Get away from me!"

Yet, as a seasoned master with years of cultivation, his resolve was unwavering. He knew this was no time to panic.

His longsword transformed into a streak of sword qi, directly targeting Zu An's vital points. If Zu An didn't abandon his pursuit of Huxin, he would certainly be gravely wounded by this strike.

As long as Huxin was rescued, even with a severed paw, he was still a top-tier ninth-rank master. Together, they would stand a fighting chance.

Seeing the incoming sword, Zu An stepped forward, a single stride seemingly transcending space and time, placing him directly before Huxin. With a disbelieving look in Huxin's eyes, Zu An brought his own sword down, severing the tiger's head.

Zu An's face was grim. "This strike," he stated, "is for the thirty-six innocent souls of that village."

Just then, Han Fengqiu's longsword leisurely arrived. Zu An casually flicked it away.

Han Fengqiu recalled his flying sword, his expression grim.

He never imagined Zu An's cultivation would be so profound, capable of slaying a master of equal rank right before his eyes.

The other deathsworn warriors on the field were similarly terrified. While they were fearless in battle, that courage typically applied only against enemies of comparable strength. Against an opponent of such a vastly different caliber, fearlessness was pure suicide.

Noticing Zu An's full attention was on Han Fengqiu, the group quickly scattered and fled.

Han Fengqiu's face turned icy. His flying sword became a streak of cold light, cutting directly through the fleeing group, causing bursts of blood mist. In the blink of an eye, not a single one of the deathsworn remained alive.

Zu An frowned. "You kill your own men?"

Han Fengqiu sneered, "Desertion in battle is punishable by death!"

"You don't seem as afraid as you were a moment ago," Zu An observed, slightly surprised. His opponent's aura was steadily intensifying, growing at a visibly rapid pace.

"Why should I be afraid? The only reason you killed Huxin so easily was that his innate abilities were precisely countered by yours. You must possess some spiritual attack technique, and coupled with your elusive footwork, Huxin was utterly terrified, allowing you to seize the advantage."

Han Fengqiu analyzed the situation. As one of the Prince of Qi's foremost retainers, and having undertaken a long journey to escort the crown prince, he had naturally been bestowed with numerous magical artifacts by the Prince.

These included the Heart-Protecting Mirror that had just saved his life, and a jade pendant specifically designed to counter spiritual attacks.

Once he understood how Zu An had overcome Huxin, he regained his composure.

As a top-tier swordsman, he had absolute confidence in his own sword techniques.

Furthermore, his personal sword, the Abiluo Sword, possessed a demonic nature. He had previously suppressed this aspect, wary of its implications.

Now, in a battle for life and death, such reservations were abandoned. His recent act of slaying the deathsworn with his flying sword wasn't to enforce military law, but to allow the Abiluo Sword to sate itself on the blood of cultivators.

The higher the cultivation of those slain and the more blood it consumed, the greater the sword's power would become.

Zu An clearly noticed the sword, which was now glowing faintly red. "I see," he murmured. "To refine it to this extent, you must have taken countless lives over the years."

Having been in this world for a considerable time, he had witnessed many malevolent cultivation practices, so he could largely deduce the sword's nature with a single glance.

Han Fengqiu declared proudly, "The strong prey on the weak; that is the natural law of this world. It is their honor to become nourishment for my Abiluo Sword."

"And you," he continued, "will be the one thousandth master to fall before the Abiluo Sword. Your cultivation, your fresh blood, will be enough to elevate it completely. From this point forward, I will fear no Grandmaster! Hahahaha!"

No sooner had he finished speaking than he brandished his sword, conjuring countless streaks of sword qi that shot towards Zu An.

The Abiluo Sword's demonic properties could twist an enemy's perception and cloud their minds. Merged with his sword, concealed amidst the torrent of sword light, he was confident he could gravely wound his opponent with a single strike.

The power Zu An displayed was utterly astonishing. Back in the capital, Han Fengqiu had dismissed Zu An as merely opportunistic, believing he could take his life with ease.

How little time had passed since then, yet he could no longer discern Zu An's true strength.

If Zu An were given more time to grow, and they met again, wouldn't he be utterly dominated?

With this thought, he unleashed his attack without restraint, determined to extinguish Zu An in his infancy with this single blow.

However, his eyes suddenly widened as he sensed an even mightier and sharper sword qi descending from above, engulfing him completely.

His own sword qi, upon meeting the celestial downpour of sword qi, vanished like lingering snow beneath a scorching sun.

It was then that he saw Zu An swing his sword and attack.

Instead of alarm, a surge of delight coursed through him. While he was at a disadvantage in a sword qi contest, a direct clash of blades would grant him a significant advantage.

The Abiluo Sword was a heaven-grade treasure, now at its peak performance after just sating itself on blood, capable of cutting through metal like mud.

"You ignore the path to heaven and barge through the gates of hell!" Han Fengqiu sneered, swinging his sword down.

*Crack!*

A crisp sound echoed. The smile hadn't yet faded from Han Fengqiu's face, but his eyes were filled with utter astonishment.

He stared at the Abiluo Sword in his hand, now only a broken hilt, then looked down at the blade embedded in a vital point on his chest, his face etched with disbelief.

"And you claim to wield a sword?"

Zu An slowly withdrew the Tai'a Sword.

Han Fengqiu, enraged and anxious, spat out a mouthful of blood and collapsed heavily to the ground.

Though Zu An's strike hadn't killed him, it had crippled the majority of his cultivation. What little remained could only barely keep him alive despite the severe wounds.

"How is this possible? Is your sword a celestial-grade artifact?" He stared intently at the plain, unadorned longsword in Zu An's hand, utterly bewildered that his own Abiluo Sword could have been shattered.

"I ask, you answer." Zu An, uninterested in his questions, cut straight to the point: "Where is Zhao Zhi?"

Han Fengqiu turned his face away, his silence a clear defiance.

Zu An sneered. "Oh, still trying to be tough, are we? Then..."