Martial Arts Secret Realm: Only I Can Know the Plot?

Blood Blade Ancestor's hand slipped off the sword, his body leaned back, and he crashed onto the ice with a dull thud.

He lay there, his eyes still open, staring at the greyish-white sky above. Snowflakes fell on his face, one by one, quickly covering his eyes, his nose, and his lips.

Sun Fan stood beside him, gripping his sword, panting heavily.

Blood was still flowing from the tiger's mouth, and the wound on the left arm was also oozing blood. The place on the chest where the palm strike had swept was throbbing with pain. The warm current in the chest was getting weaker and weaker, but the bloodshot color in the eyes was getting thicker and thicker.

He tried to draw the sword, but his hands were shaking so badly that he failed twice.

The third time, he gritted his teeth and pulled hard—

The sword was pulled from the chest of the Blood Blade Ancestor, bringing with it a shower of blood.

Blood Blade Ancestor's body twitched once, then remained completely still.

Sun Fan staggered back two steps, almost falling. He used his sword to support himself, knelt on one knee on the ice, head down, panting heavily.

The wind and snow blew across the frozen lake, swirling up countless snowflakes that stung my face like needles.

But he couldn't feel it anymore.

His mind was blank, his ears were ringing, and his vision was blurring. These were symptoms of depleted internal energy and deficiency of both qi and blood. He knew he should circulate his internal energy to regulate his breathing, but his body was no longer under his control.

"Squad leader—"

Dong Dahai's voice came from afar, growing clearer and clearer as it approached.

Sun Fan looked up and saw several figures running across the snow—Dong Dahai, Hong Lang, Du Ming, and Mu Xue'er. The four of them stumbled and fell several times while running on the ice.

Dong Dahai was the first to run to his side, squat down, and hold his shoulder.

"Squad leader! How are you?"

Sun Fan opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but his throat was so dry it felt like it had been rubbed with sandpaper, and he couldn't utter a single word.

Dong Dahai saw the wounds on his body—his tiger's mouth was split open, there was a cut on his left arm, a bruise on his left shoulder, and his white robe was covered in blood, some of his own and some of the Blood Saber Ancestor's.

His expression changed instantly.

"Red Wolf! Bring me some medicine!"

Red Wolf pulled a small porcelain bottle from his pocket, hurriedly poured out a few pills, and stuffed them into Sun Fan's mouth.

Sun Fan chewed twice and swallowed.

As the pill entered his stomach, a warm current rose from his stomach and slowly spread to his limbs. Stimulated by this external force, the internal energy of the Divine Illumination Scripture began to circulate again, and the warm current in his chest gradually returned.

He closed his eyes, regulated his breathing for the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, and when he opened them again, his vision was no longer black.

"I'm fine." His voice was still a little hoarse, but much more steady than before.

Dong Dahai looked at him, his eyes a little red, but he didn't say anything. He just put his hand on his shoulder and pressed it hard.

Red Wolf stood to the side, looking at the corpse of Blood Blade Ancestor on the ice, then at Sun Fan, his mouth opening and closing, unable to close.

"Squad leader, you...you really killed him?"

Sun Fan nodded.

Red Wolf gasped.

That's the Blood Blade Ancestor.

Sun Fan killed the three people who couldn't beat him in the falling flowers and flowing water all by himself.

Although he was seriously injured, and although Sun Fan used the terrain, the scheme, and that evil sword—killing is killing.

Dahai squatted down next to the corpse of Blood Blade Ancestor, carefully examined the sword wound on his chest, and then looked at the sword in Sun Fan's hand.

There was a deep nick on the sword, left when it clashed with the Blood Blade Ancestor's monk's knife.

Da Hai was silent for a while, then stood up and looked at Sun Fan with a complicated expression.

"Squad leader, that sword strike of yours..."

"Um?"

"That sword strike of yours is not something someone at the Opening Meridian Realm can use."

Sun Fan did not answer.

He knew the sea was right.

That sword strike was not something that someone at the Opening Meridian Realm could use.

The deadly sword strike, a sword technique he comprehended after observing Xie Xiaofeng and Yan Shisan's ultimate duel, contained a killing intent and a sense of destruction that far exceeded his current capacity to withstand.

It's fine for everyday use.

However, as long as one uses the power accumulation method comprehended after reaching the Meridian Opening Realm.

He used it once, and his inner demons retaliated.

The more you use it, the stronger the inner demons become.

He didn't know if he would be completely consumed by that sense of destruction if he continued to use it.

That was a monster that even Yan Shisan feared.

But he had no other choice.

He couldn't have killed Blood Blade Ancestor without that sword strike.

If they can't kill Blood Blade Ancestor, then it will be him who dies, it will be Di Yun, it will be Shui Sheng, it will be Dong Dahai, Red Wolf, Du Ming, Mu Xue'er and everyone else.

He had no choice.

"Class monitor," Mu Xue'er's voice came from behind, tinged with a sob, "your hand..."

Sun Fan looked down at his right hand.

A gash appeared on his hand, the blood congealed and forming a dark red scab. But this wasn't the "hand" Mu Xue'er was referring to—she was describing the way he held the sword.

His fingers were still trembling slightly, his knuckles white, as if his muscles were still spasming after he had used up all his strength.

Sun Fan loosened the hilt of his sword and flexed his fingers.

The joints made a cracking sound, like a machine that hadn't been used in a long time being restarted.

"It's nothing," he said. "I just need a rest."

Mu Xue'er tore a strip of cloth from her own clothes, squatted down, and carefully bandaged the wound on his hand.

She was very skillful; she wrapped the cloth strips tightly but not too tightly, neatly and evenly, circle after circle.

Looking at her focused expression with her head down, Sun Fan suddenly remembered something.

"Where are Di Yun and Shui Sheng?"

"Over there." Dong Dahai pointed in the direction opposite the frozen lake. "Red Wolf told them to hide in the cave first, and come out after the fighting here is over."

Sun Fan nodded.

"Go and call them out. It's time to go."

Dong Dahai turned to leave, but suddenly stopped.

"Squad leader, the corpse of Blood Blade Ancestor..."

"Bury him," Sun Fan said. "He was a martial artist after all."

Dong Dahai nodded and beckoned Red Wolf and Du Ming over. The three of them dug a pit in the ice, put the Blood Blade Ancestor's corpse in it, and covered it with ice and snow.

There was no tombstone, no mark, nothing at all.

The wind and snow will soon erase all traces of this place, as if this person had never existed.

Sun Fan stood to the side, looking at the simple snow-covered grave, remained silent for a while, and then turned and left.

He didn't say anything.

There's nothing to say to a ruthless killer.

But for some reason, he remembered the words that the Blood Saber Ancestor said before he died—"A person like the old monk shouldn't have his own people."

Perhaps he is right.

A person with blood on their hands doesn't deserve to have their own people.

Because he didn't know when he would die, who would kill him, or whether his "own people" would one day turn into people who wanted to kill him.

Loneliness is the fate of evil people.

He was an openly wicked man, and perhaps he had already foreseen his fate.

Sun Fan took a few steps, then suddenly stopped and looked back.

The snow had covered most of the snow-covered grave, leaving only a small mound, like a miniature hill.

Soon, even that hill will disappear.

"Squad leader?" Dong Dahai called out to him from the front.

Sun Fan turned his head and strode forward without looking back.