An unexpected encounter with the sleeping Little Dragon Girl leads to the annihilation of the Quanzh

Everything that happened in Zhongnan Mountain was like an unprecedented super storm, sweeping across the entire martial arts world in just a few days.

The news spread from some low-ranking disciples who were lucky enough to hide in the mountains and forests and escape the disaster, and from some martial arts practitioners who were so terrified that they scrambled down the mountain to escape.

At first, nobody believed it.

Everyone thought it was a fantasy.

Lin Ye? That outcast from the Quanzhen Sect?

One person slaughtered the entire Zhongnan Mountain?

He killed the Six Masters of Quanzhen, crippled Guo Jing, beheaded the Golden Wheel Monk, and also turned hundreds of martial arts masters who came up the mountain into mincemeat.

Are you kidding me!

This is even more outrageous than the stories told by storytellers!

Even if the greatest master in the world, Wang Chongyang, were to be resurrected, he couldn't possibly do such a thing, right?

Everyone treated this as a joke.

until……

More and more people are coming down from Zhongnan Mountain.

They all looked like they had lost their souls, their faces were pale, and they were in a daze.

When asked what happened, they trembled and became incoherent, repeating the same words over and over: "devil," "hell," and "blood."

Some people even went crazy on the spot.

This made people in the martial arts world start to feel that something was wrong.

Therefore, some bold and respected elders began to organize people to go up Zhongnan Mountain to find out for themselves.

The moment they set foot on Zhongnan Mountain.

Everyone vomited.

That place is no longer a Taoist holy site or a paradise on earth.

That is clearly Avici Hell!

From the foot of the mountain all the way to Chongyang Palace at the summit.

Corpses were everywhere.

Blood was everywhere.

The blood had dried and turned dark red, staining the entire Zhongnan Mountain with an eerie color.

The air was thick with the stench of blood and the putrid smell of rotting corpses, enough to drive any normal person to the brink of collapse.

When they saw the scene in front of Chongyang Palace, which resembled a battlefield, they were shocked.

When they saw the corpses of the Quanzhen Taoist priests who had been cut in half at the waist.

When they found Guo Jing, who had been hidden by Huang Rong and was on the verge of death and had become a cripple, in the ruins.

Everyone fell silent.

They finally believed that the rumors were true.

fear.

An unprecedented fear, enough to suffocate the entire martial arts world, descended upon us.

Lin Ye.

Overnight, this name became a nightmare for the entire martial arts world.

He is no longer a "dissident" or a "demon".

He became a taboo.

One that everyone fears to even mention, a taboo existence.

At the foot of Zhongnan Mountain, beside the official road, in a small tavern.

"Have you heard? Something big has happened in Zhongnan Mountain!" A swordsman who had just arrived from out of town took a swig of wine and said mysteriously to the people at the table.

"What big deal could happen? It's just that petty squabble between the Quanzhen Sect and that outcast named Lin Ye. It's been all over the place already." A fat merchant next to him scoffed dismissively. "After all that fighting, probably only a few people will die. In a few days, nobody will even mention it anymore."

"How many people died?" The swordsman's voice trembled as if he'd heard the funniest joke. "Brother, your information is way out of touch! Let me tell you, it's not just a few people who died, it's everyone!"

"They're all dead? What do you mean?" The fat merchant was stunned for a moment.

"What I mean is, every single one of those people who went up Zhongnan Mountain, except for a very few lucky ones, are all dead!" The swordsman lowered his voice, but the terror in his tone was clearly heard by the people at the surrounding tables.

"The Six Masters of Quanzhen are dead! They were cleaved in two by Lin Ye's sword!"

"You must know Guo Jing, the great hero, right? His martial arts were crippled, and now he's practically a useless cripple!"

"And even the Mongol National Preceptor, the Golden Wheel Monk, such a powerful figure, was cleaved into pieces by a single sword strike, weapon and all!"

"And several hundred more martial arts heroes who went to help, couldn't even withstand a single move from them; they were all hacked to pieces!"

The swordsman became more and more excited as he spoke, and by the end, his hand holding the wine bowl was trembling.

The tavern fell silent instantly.

Everyone looked at the swordsman as if he were an idiot.

"Hahaha..." After a brief silence, a burst of laughter erupted.

"My friend, you're really exaggerating!"

"One person killed so many people? And crippled Guo Da G Xia? Do you think we're three-year-olds?"

"Exactly, if you're going to make up a story, at least make it believable. Who would believe this?"

The portly merchant laughed so hard he almost fell over, pointing at the swordsman and saying, "Brother, were you drunk last night? What kind of daydreaming are you having?"

The swordsman, his face flushed red from the laughter of the crowd, slammed his hand on the table and stood up abruptly: "What I said is all true! It was told to me personally by my nephew who escaped from Zhongnan Mountain! He was there at the time, so scared he wet his pants, and he's still acting crazy!"

"Really? Who knows?"

"Exactly, seeing is believing, hearing is deceiving!"

The crowd remained unconvinced and continued drinking and eating with laughter.

The swordsman was so angry he couldn't speak. Just as he was about to lash out, the tavern's curtain was suddenly ripped open.

A man covered in blood and dressed in tattered clothes staggered in.

As soon as he entered the room, he collapsed to the ground, making "hoarse" sounds, his eyes wide open, his pupils filled with lingering fear.

"Water...water..." He stretched out his hand and uttered a single word with difficulty towards the shopkeeper.

The waiter was startled, but he still quickly brought over a bowl of water.

The man snatched the bowl of water and gulped it down. He drank too fast and choked, coughing violently.

The people in the tavern were drawn to this unexpected situation and gathered around.

"Brave man, what happened to you? Did you encounter robbers?" the fat merchant asked curiously.

The man caught his breath, raised his head, and glanced around at the people around him.

His eyes were empty and numb, as if he had just crawled out of hell.

"The devil...it's the devil..." he muttered to himself, his body trembling uncontrollably. "Zhongnan Mountain...is hell...blood...blood is everywhere..."

What he said was almost exactly the same as what the swordsman had described earlier.

The laughter in the tavern gradually faded away.

Everyone's face showed a look of surprise and uncertainty.

If one person says it's crazy, but two people say it, then it's a different story.

"Brave warrior, you...you also came down from Zhongnan Mountain?" someone asked cautiously.

The man seemed to have been provoked; the words "Zhongnan Mountain" caused him to collapse instantly.

"Don't mention it! Don't mention that place!" He suddenly clutched his head, letting out a piercing scream, "They're all dead! All dead! Master Qiu, Master Ma... they were all cut in half at the waist! Master Guo... Master Guo is lying in blood... so many people... so many corpses... black sword energy... ah—!!"

He screamed and banged his head against the ground repeatedly, soon breaking his head and bleeding profusely.

This startled everyone in the tavern.

This person doesn't seem to be faking it.

That kind of fear, which comes from the depths of one's soul, cannot be acted out.

Could it be... that what the swordsman said was true?

The mere thought of this possibility sent a chill down everyone's spine, from the soles of their feet to the top of their heads.

If this is true, then the world of martial arts is about to be completely transformed.

That person named Lin Ye is no longer human.

He is a god, or rather, a demon.

A god or demon who can easily annihilate the entire martial arts world.

"Quickly...quickly report to the Alliance Leader!"

"This is a huge matter! We must notify all the major sects immediately!"

"My God, this world is going to descend into chaos..."

After a brief silence, the tavern erupted in chaos.

Those martial artists who had just been mocking the swordsman were now all pale-faced. They threw down their money for drinks and rushed out of the tavern, running off in all directions.

They wanted to spread this earth-shattering news throughout the entire martial arts world as quickly as possible.

The storm has begun.

Starting from this small tavern, news of the Zhongnan Mountain massacre spread like wildfire at a viral pace.

Teahouses, restaurants, post stations, security escort agencies...

Wherever martial arts practitioners gather, they are all discussing the same thing.

Lin Ye.

Within just a few days, this name spread throughout the country, becoming known to everyone.

At first, I was shocked.

Then came the questioning.

Finally, as more and more survivors appeared in various parts of the martial arts world, carrying the same fear, and as some highly respected elders personally sent people to Zhongnan Mountain to bring back descriptions of what was like hell, all doubts turned into a deep-seated fear.

The entire martial arts world fell silent.

The once bustling martial arts world suddenly became lifeless.

All the major sects closed their mountains to protect themselves and strictly forbade their disciples from going out.

Those usually arrogant and domineering江湖豪客 (jianghu heroes) have all disappeared, and they all keep a low profile.

Everyone is afraid.

They were afraid that the devil named Lin Ye might come looking for them one day if he was unhappy.

With the methods he used to annihilate Zhongnan Mountain, what sect in the world could stop him?

The answer is, no.

not a single one.

In the face of absolute power, all conspiracies and schemes, and all the power of numbers, become a joke.

A sense of powerlessness and despair enveloped the hearts of every martial arts practitioner.

For the first time, they discovered that their martial arts skills, which they were so proud of, were utterly insignificant in the face of true gods and demons.

The rules of the martial arts world have been broken.

The old order has been destroyed.

The new order is built on everyone's fear of one person.

This is a terrifying era that belongs solely to Lin Ye.

Mount Song, Shaolin Temple.

Morning bells and evening drums, the chanting of Buddhist hymns never ceases.

This sacred place of martial arts, with its thousand-year-old heritage, remains as solemn and dignified as ever.

However, deep within the main hall, in the meditation room of Abbot Tianming, the atmosphere was so heavy that it was hard to breathe.

Zen Master Tianming sat upright on a futon, holding a string of prayer beads in his hand, his eyes closed.

But his slightly trembling fingers and the fine beads of sweat on his forehead betrayed his extreme inner turmoil.

Standing in front of him were several key figures from the Shaolin Temple.

The head of the Bodhidharma Academy is Wuxiang, the head of the Arhat Hall is Wuchen, and the head of the Vinaya Academy is Wuchen.

These individuals are among the top masters in the martial arts world today, whose mere presence can shake the entire martial arts community.

But at this moment, without exception, their faces all wore a complex expression of shock, fear, and bewilderment.

A young martial monk was kneeling on the floor of the meditation room.

He was a disciple of the Luohan Hall, with the Buddhist name Liaofan, and was also one of the spies sent by Shaolin to Zhongnan Mountain to gather information.

He had just recounted everything he had seen on Zhongnan Mountain to the chief monks in detail.

"Abbot, fellow disciples... everything I've said is true, not a single word is false." Liao Fan's voice still trembled slightly. "That Zhongnan Mountain... it really has become a living hell. From the foot of the mountain to the summit, blood flows like rivers, and corpses lie everywhere... I... I almost vomited there."

He recalled that scene, and his stomach churned again.

"The Taoist priests of the Quanzhen Sect... died in horrific ways. The bodies of Ma Yu, Qiu Chuji, Tan Chuduan, Wang Chuyi, and Liu Chuxuan... were all cut in half... Taoist priest Sun Bu'er was crippled and went mad..."

"I have seen Guo Jing, the great hero. He was hidden in a cave by the heroine Huang Rong. He has a deep sword wound in his chest that exposes the bone, and he is crippled. He is sometimes unconscious and sometimes talking nonsense, constantly shouting 'I was wrong'..."

"And on the mountaintop, in the square in front of Chongyang Palace... there... there, the corpses were piled up like a small mountain, you couldn't tell who was who, they were all... all pieces..."

Liao Fan couldn't continue speaking. He lowered his head, and his shoulders began to heave violently.

That hellish scene has become a nightmare that he can never shake off for the rest of his life.

The meditation room was deathly silent.

Only heavy breathing could be heard, rising and falling.

"Amitabha……"

After a long while, Zen Master Tianming slowly opened his eyes and chanted a Buddhist prayer.

His voice was hoarse and dry, filled with exhaustion.

"Junior Brother Wuxiang, what do you think?" He looked at the head of the Bodhidharma Academy.

Master Wuxiang was the top master of Shaolin Temple. His cultivation was unfathomable. He was always calm and composed, and would not change his expression even if Mount Tai collapsed in front of him.

But at this moment, his old face was also full of solemnity.

"Abbot, this matter... is probably true." Wuxiang's voice was somewhat hoarse. "Liaofan wouldn't lie, and in the past few days, news from various places has all pointed to the same conclusion."

"One person, slaughtering the entire Zhongnan Mountain... How... How is that possible?" Wu Chen, the head of the Arhat Hall, a burly monk with a fiery temper, couldn't help but exclaim, "Those were the Six Masters of Quanzhen, Guo Jing, the Golden Wheel Monk! And hundreds of other skilled martial artists! Even a god descending to earth couldn't have done that, could he?"

He still couldn't believe it.

This was beyond his understanding of martial arts.

"Whether it's a deity descended to earth, this old monk doesn't know," said Wu Jie, the head of the Discipline Hall, coldly. He was in charge of the discipline and was always impartial and meticulous. "But this old monk knows that the Quanzhen Sect is finished. The martial arts world of the Central Plains has suffered a great loss. And all of this was done by Lin Ye alone."

"The power he displayed is beyond what we can understand as 'martial arts'." A deep sense of apprehension flashed in Wu Jie's eyes. "It's another kind of power, a higher level of power. A power that can easily crush us."

Zen Master Wuxiang nodded in agreement: "Junior Brother Wujie is right. According to Liaofan's description, Lin Ye kills people seemingly effortlessly. With a wave of his hand, dozens of people die. With a single sword strike, mountains of corpses and seas of blood appear. This is no longer a matter of strength or weakness; this is... a difference in dimensions."

"The difference in dimensions..." Zen Master Tianming chewed on these words, his expression growing increasingly bitter.

He thought of Bodhidharma, the founder of the 72 Shaolin Arts, who lived a hundred years ago.

Legend has it that Bodhidharma crossed the Yangtze River on a reed, faced the wall for nine years, and attained divine martial arts prowess, reaching a state of perfection.

Even Bodhidharma probably couldn't do what Lin Ye did, slaughtering hundreds of experts with a few words.

Just who exactly is this Lin Ye?

Where did he get his unpredictable martial arts skills?

"Abbot, now is not the time to investigate the origins of his martial arts," Wu Jie said in a deep voice. "The most important question now is, what should we, Shaolin, do?"

This problem weighed heavily on everyone's minds, like a boulder.

Yes, what should we do?

Lin Ye went on a killing spree in Zhongnan Mountain.

The reason was that the Quanzhen Sect wanted to kill him.

It was Guo Jing who used righteousness to bind him.

It was those so-called martial arts heroes who besieged him.

Ultimately, it was they who provoked the wrong people.

But what about Shaolin?

Shaolin Temple, which has always been aloof from worldly affairs, did not participate in this matter.

Logically speaking, Lin Ye shouldn't have come knocking on their door.

But who can guarantee that?

That person's actions were entirely based on whim and had no rationale whatsoever.

What if one day he finds the Shaolin Temple bell too noisy and decides to level Mount Song as well?

This is not unfounded worry.

Given Lin Ye's demonstrated strength and personality, he is fully capable of doing such a thing.

The lives of the entire Shaolin Temple, and thousands of monks, are now hanging by a thread.

"Let's close the mountain," said Wu Chen, the head of the Arhat Hall, the first to speak, his voice tinged with dejection. "Like the other sects, let's close the mountain for a hundred years! No, forever! Never again will we concern ourselves with the affairs of the martial world! I refuse to believe that he would attack our mountain gate without a reason!"

"Nonsense!" Abbot Wujie of the Disciplinary Hall immediately retorted, "Sealing off the mountain? You think sealing off the mountain will be useful? In the face of that kind of power, what difference is there between our Shaolin Temple's protective formation and paper? This is called burying your head in the sand, deceiving yourself!"

"Then what do you suggest we do?!" Wuchen retorted angrily. "Are we supposed to send someone to reason with him? Or are we supposed to gather the entire temple's strength and fight him to the death?"

"Fight? With what?" Wu Jie sneered. "With the lives of all the monks in our temple, to test just how fast his sword really is?"

"You..." Wu Chen was so angry that she couldn't speak.

"Alright, stop arguing." Abbot Tianming waved his hand wearily.

He knew that what his two junior brothers said made sense, but neither of them could solve the problem.

We definitely can't win if we fight.

Even if you try to hide, you might not be able to escape it.

For the first time, Shaolin Temple, the millennium-old martial arts powerhouse, found itself in a dilemma.

A suffocating silence fell once again inside the meditation room.

After a long silence, Wuxiang, the head of the Bodhidharma Academy, finally spoke slowly.

"Abbot, perhaps... there is still a chance for this matter to turn around."

All eyes instantly turned to him.

"What turning point?" Abbot Tianming asked hurriedly.

Wuxiang's gaze turned south, towards Dali.

"Master Yideng," he slowly uttered the four words.

"Master Yideng?" Everyone was taken aback.

"That's right." Wuxiang nodded. "Master Yideng was one of the Five Greats back then and was an old acquaintance of Master Wang Chongyang. Moreover, he was compassionate, highly respected, and did not contend with the world. Most importantly, he had no connection with Lin Ye."

"You mean, ask Master Yideng to intervene and mediate with Lin Ye?" Abbot Tianming understood.

"Exactly," Wuxiang said. "In the martial arts world today, I'm afraid only Master Yideng has the qualifications and the possibility to exchange a few words with Lin Ye. If we go, it will be like enemies meeting. If Master Yideng goes, at least he can try to find out what Lin Ye is thinking as an observer."

"But Lin Ye doesn't even give face to Master Guo, would he give face to Master Yideng?" Wuchen asked with some doubt.

"Whether we give it to them or not, we should at least try." This time, Wu Jie agreed. "This might be our only chance. Rather than sitting here waiting to die, we should take the initiative and seek a glimmer of hope."

Abbot Tianming pondered for a moment.

He knew that this was the only way at the moment.

Although the hope is slim, it's still better than doing nothing.

"Okay!" He suddenly opened his eyes, a hint of determination finally appearing in them. "That's what we'll do!"

"Liaofan!" He looked at the young martial monk kneeling on the ground.

"Disciple is here!"

"Set off immediately, carrying this personal letter, and travel to Dali as quickly as possible! Make sure you personally deliver this letter to Master Yideng!" Abbot Tianming took out a pre-written letter from his robes and solemnly handed it to Liaofan. "Tell Master Yideng that the fate of the Central Plains martial arts world rests on this matter! Please, for the sake of all living beings, he must make a trip to Zhongnan Mountain!"

Northern desert, grassland.

A huge, mountain-like golden tent stands in the center of the grassland.

This is the Khan's tent of Möngke, the fourth Great Khan of the Mongol Empire.

Around the Khan's tent, banners fluttered like a forest, and swords and spears gleamed like snow.

Countless elite Mongol cavalry patrolled back and forth, guarding the area so tightly that it was impenetrable.

An atmosphere of grim determination enveloped the entire camp.

At this moment, the atmosphere inside the golden tent was completely different from the grim atmosphere outside.

The melodious sound of the morin khuur (horsehead fiddle) echoed inside the tent.

Dozens of Mongolian princes and nobles dressed in magnificent attire sat on both sides.

On the low table in front of them were roasted whole lambs and mare's milk wine.

They ate meat heartily, drank wine from large bowls, and talked and laughed loudly, creating a lively and unrestrained atmosphere.

Seated at the head of the table, on the throne covered with a whole tiger skin, was a middle-aged man with a burly build and a dignified face.

He was Möngke.

Genghis Khan's grandson, Tolui's eldest son, is now the supreme ruler of this vast land.

He was holding a golden bowl, listening to the generals below report on the progress of the southern campaign.

"Report! Great Khan! Our vanguard has breached Jianmen Pass in Sichuan and is advancing directly towards Chengdu!"

"Good!" Möngke laughed loudly, downing the wine in his bowl in one gulp. "Pass on my order: have Nyarlin speed things up! Within a month, I want to reward the entire army in Chengdu!"

"twitter!"

"Report! Great Khan! Prince Kublai Khan has led an army of 100,000 across the Yangtze River and is launching a fierce attack on Ezhou!"

"Good! Tell Kublai Khan not to embarrass me! My brother should have my style!" Möngke laughed again.

Good news kept coming in.

The Southern Song Dynasty, a wealthy but weak state, was utterly vulnerable before the Mongol cavalry.

Möngke seemed to already see himself soon accomplishing the great feat that even his grandfather Genghis Khan had failed to achieve.

Conquer the entire world!

In high spirits, he raised the golden bowl and addressed the princes and generals below, proclaiming loudly, "Come! Gentlemen! For our Great Mongol, for the glory of the Eternal Heaven, drink this bowl!"

"For the Great Khan! For the Great Mongol Empire!"

Everyone raised their bowls and drank it all in one gulp.

The entire tent was filled with a cheerful atmosphere.

However, at that moment...

An untimely voice came from outside the tent.

"Darba, a disciple of the Grand Preceptor, requests an audience with the Great Khan!"

The voice, though not loud, carried a sense of sorrow and instantly drowned out all the noise inside the tent.

The sound of the morin khuur (horsehead fiddle) stopped.

The laughter from the crowd stopped.

All eyes turned toward the tent entrance.

Mongke's brow furrowed slightly.

Imperial Advisor?

The Golden Wheel Dharma King was the person he respected and relied on the most.

He sent him to the Southern Dynasty to integrate the martial arts forces and clear obstacles for the army's southward advance.

Judging by the time, it should be time for him to come back.

But why was it his disciple Darba who came to see him? And why was he crying?

"Let him in," Mongke said in a deep voice.

The curtain was lifted.

A tall lama with a sorrowful face walked in.

It was Darba.

In his arms, he held a long, narrow object wrapped in yellow cloth.

As soon as he entered the tent, he knelt down with a thud and burst into tears.

"Great Khan! Your disciple is incompetent! Master... Master... has died in battle!"

boom!

Darba's words were like a bolt from the blue, exploding loudly within the golden tent!

Everyone was stunned.

The nobles and nobles were all dumbfounded, not even noticing that their wine bowls had fallen to the ground.

The Imperial Advisor...died in battle?

Are you kidding me!

Who is the Imperial Preceptor? He is a peerless master who has cultivated the tenth level of the Dragon Elephant Prajna Technique! He is the invincible legend of their Great Mongolia!

How could he possibly die in the small Southern Dynasty?

The smile on Möngke's face froze instantly.

His sharp, hawk-like eyes were fixed on Dar-Ba, and a terrifying pressure emanated from him.

"What did you say? Say it again!" His voice was icy cold, like the chilly wind of a winter night on the grassland.

"Master...Master...he was killed in Zhongnan Mountain!" Darba was so frightened by Möngke's imposing manner that he trembled all over, but he still cried and held the yellow cloth bundle in his arms above his head.

"This is...this is Master's...belonging..."

A guard stepped forward, trembling, took the yellow cloth bundle, and presented it to Möngke.

Mongke ripped off the yellow cloth.

What was exposed were two broken, cracked sections of a golden wheel.

It was the weapon of the Golden Wheel Monk.

Upon seeing this weapon, Möngke's last shred of hope vanished.

He knew that Darba was not lying.

With the weapons destroyed like this, it's absolutely impossible for anyone to still be alive.

"ah--!!!"

Mongke suddenly stood up, looked up at the sky, and let out a roar like that of a wounded beast!

That roar was filled with endless anger and grief!

The entire golden tent buzzed with the sound of his roar.

The nobles and nobles inside the tent were all terrified, their faces pale, and they knelt on the ground, not daring to even breathe.

They had never seen the Great Khan so out of control.

The Golden Wheel Dharma King was not only the Imperial Preceptor, but also one of Möngke's mentors.

The two were nominally ruler and subject, but in reality, they were master and disciple, and their relationship was extremely deep.

Now that his mentor has died tragically in a foreign land, one can only imagine the anger in Möngke's heart.

"Who?!" Möngke's eyes turned bloodshot. He grabbed Darba by the collar and lifted him up. "Who killed the Imperial Advisor?! Tell me!!"

"It's...it's a...Southern man named Lin Ye..." Darba was almost suffocating from being choked, and managed to utter a few words with difficulty.

"Lin Ye?" Mongke murmured the unfamiliar name, his eyes blazing with murderous intent. "Who is he? A general from the Southern Dynasty? Or the leader of some sect?"

"No...none of that..." Darba shook his head desperately. "He...he was just a person...a person...living in an ancient tomb..."

Then, Darba, in his chaotic and fearful language, described in fits and starts everything that had happened on Zhongnan Mountain.

He recounted how Lin Ye killed dozens of people with a single wave of his hand.

The text describes how Lin Ye severed the six disciples of Quanzhen with a single sword strike.

It is said that Lin Ye crippled Guo Jing with a single move.

Finally, the story recounts how his master, the Golden Wheel Monk, was cleaved into pieces by Lin Ye's sword, along with his weapon.

His speech was incoherent and illogical.

But everyone inside the tent understood.

They understood that indescribable fear.

After Darba finished speaking, the entire tent fell into a deathly silence.

Those Mongol princes who had been so arrogant just moments before now looked ashen-faced as if they had lost their parents.

Although they couldn't understand what "sword energy" or "internal force" meant.

But they understood: the Southerner named Lin Ye was a monster who could easily tear their proud Imperial Advisor to shreds.

Mongke also fell silent.

He released Darba and slowly sat back on the throne.

The anger on his face gradually faded.

Instead, there was a more terrifying, chilling calm.

"One person... slaughtered an entire mountain..." he muttered to himself, a dangerous glint in his eyes.

He was not one of those foolish princes.

He was a great ruler, a conqueror.

He won't be scared out of his wits by stories of gods and ghosts.

In his view, the so-called "power of gods and demons" was nothing more than a powerful force that he did not yet understand.

He admitted that this person named Lin Ye was very strong.

It was stronger than he had imagined.

But what about that?

No matter how strong a person is, can he stop his 300,000 iron cavalry?

Can it stop his trebuchet, which can flatten mountains and destroy cities?

impossible!

Individual bravery is insignificant in the face of an absolute, organized army!

This Lin Ye killed his national advisor, which means he is now an enemy of him and the entire Great Mongol Empire!

He must die!

Not only will he die, but all the Southerners associated with him will die!

He wants to use the blood of the Southerners to wash away this shame!

He wanted to use the skulls of the southerners to build a mound of skulls for his national advisor!

"Pass on my orders!" Mongke suddenly stood up, his voice echoing throughout the entire camp.

"All troops, depart immediately!"

"Target: Diaoyu Fortress!"

"Tell the soldiers that within three days, I want to see the eagle flag of our Great Mongol flying atop the walls of Diaoyu City!"

"On the day the city falls, we will massacre its inhabitants for three days, leaving no one alive, not even a chicken or a dog!"