That wretched vixen has disguised herself as my wife!

So the last remaining force of survivors set off into the depths of the grasslands.

But a white horse swept past the crowd like the wind.

Temur was startled and instinctively reined in his horse and drew his sword.

The person riding the white horse turned out to be a long-haired girl.

She glanced back at him briefly, her eyes sweeping over him, and Temur felt a sudden chill run down his spine.

For some reason, he felt a chilling killing intent emanating from this unfamiliar girl!

......

Jiang Jingming let his horse gallop freely, with the pack of wolves always closely following behind.

Gradually, the moonlight seemed to grow brighter and brighter, and the wolf flag in his hand had burned out completely, leaving only a faint glow on the flagpole like charcoal embers.

Jiang Jingming looked back and saw that the wolves seemed to have slowed down, and some were even just pacing around in place.

Under the moonlight, the wolves' expressions seemed to be in pain, as if their bloodlust and instinctive fear were struggling together.

fear?

Jiang Jingming was slightly taken aback, and simply reined in his horse and stopped.

It wasn't that the moonlight was getting brighter; it was just that it was reflecting off the snow, creating a shimmering effect.

He actually ran all the way to the snow-capped mountains, to the home of these wolves.

Jiang Jingming planted the flagpole in the snow, then pulled out Wujiu with a backhand, facing the restless wolf pack.

Since this is their homeland, what's going on with their behavior now?

The moment the idea popped into their heads, the wolves simultaneously lowered their heads, tucked their tails between their legs, and lay down on the ground.

This is a canine gesture indicating surrender. Jiang Jingming had seen a stray dog ​​make this gesture and beg its owner, who was holding a shovel, for mercy.

However, these mad wolves were definitely not begging him for mercy.

Jiang Jingming quietly gripped the knife in his hand.

At this moment, the snow behind him fell down in a rustling sound, and the wind howled through the branches, as if some sleeping creature had awakened.

Jiang Jingming slowly turned around, meeting a pair of red pupils that appeared in the moonlight.

Completely different from the wolves' sickly, crimson red, it was a magnificent yet desolate blood red.

Then the owner of those eyes emerged from the darkness, the moonlight illuminating its enormous silhouette, its fur resembling a thick layer of silver armor.

It felt like the imposing pressure of a small mountain gradually approaching.

This was the legendary wolf king of the Hala tribe, and Jiang Jingming had no doubt about it.

Chapter Thirteen: Drawing My Sword for My Lord

This doesn't look like a wolf at all, but rather a ferocious beast from ancient mythology.

Jiang Jingming suddenly realized that Na Risong's fantasies about the outside world were not exaggerated at all. On the contrary, he had been living in a well for the past ten years, unaware of the vastness of the world.

They were only trying to lure away the wolves to buy time for the Hala tribe, but they unwittingly alerted something even more terrifying.

Jiang Jingming drew Wujiu, the blade flashing in the moonlight, passing through his red eyes.

If the wolves from before were merely mad beasts, this wolf king was different; its eyes were almost human-like, as if it were thinking.

It doesn't roar and launch an attack as soon as it sees its target; it simply stands still, calmly observing this tiny human being.

Jiang Jingming raised his head, holding the knife in both hands.

The wolf king saw a pair of equally calm eyes.

It finally began to take this seemingly vulnerable enemy seriously, shaking off the snowflakes that had accumulated on its fur, lying prostrate on the ground, its eyes turning cold and fierce.

Jiang Jingming gripped the hilt of the knife. A sudden gust of wind whipped his hair across his forehead, but his gaze remained calm and unmoved.

It's unknown how many years it takes to grow into such a majestic and ancient wolf king in these snow-capped mountains. In this light, the wolf that the ancestors of the Hala tribe saw might just be the one standing before them.

So, what he was about to kill was that immortal legend that had existed for generations on the grasslands.

Jiang Jingming felt no fear whatsoever; on the contrary, he felt he needed such an opponent.

He needed the blood of such an opponent to quell the sudden surge of murderous rage within him.

Perhaps sensing the danger, the wolf king let out a deafening roar that shook the entire forest.

Jiang Jingming stepped forward, and the light of his sword seemed to freeze in the moonlight. In an instant, the light and shadow overlapped and became chaotic, and his whole body was as bright as day!

The wolf king's powerful pounce missed its target, instead leaving a huge gash in its side, its scalding blood staining the snow red.

Jiang Jingming gave it no chance to catch its breath, and his next slash followed like a shadow.

The wolf king let out a howl from the deepest part of its throat and charged straight at his blade, its several-foot-long tail whipping out like a heavy whip, lashing fiercely at the reckless enemy.

Jiang Jingming's speed in withdrawing his sword was just as fast as when he drew it. He parried with incredible speed, severing the wolf's aggressive tail!

The wolf king howled and rolled backward. Jiang Jingming stopped in his tracks and slowly wiped his knife.

For the first time in his life, he didn't find the smell of blood nauseating; instead, he felt at ease.

He finally understood the mindset of facing death with a will to live that Gu Tinghan had described.

You die for the sword, I live for the sword.

If a state of mind is about not fearing death, then murderous intent is about "not letting you die."

This is the reason Jiang Jingming found for drawing his sword.

It has nothing to do with the worldly rules that Jiang Wuwang wanted to end, nor with the martial arts pinnacle that Gu Tinghan wanted to reach.

His reason for drawing his sword was that he never wanted to see anyone fall in front of him again!

Wu Jiu's blade shattered the moonlight, and all was silent in the world. The momentum of this strike was like a tidal wave, and it evoked the mournful cries of millions of dead souls in the abyss!

The wolf king still held its head high, determined to put up a final stand; it was incredulous and would not admit defeat.

But the next instant its head flew high into the air, and blood gushed out of its body like a fountain.

Jiang Jingming remained in the position of holding the knife, his heavy head falling into the snow, his expression one of shock and disbelief until his death.

What legends of the grasslands, what supreme faith in the wolf totem... it's still just a beast.

However, its bones and flesh are much stronger, so even a peerless sword like Wujiu would not easily sever its throat.

He had used all his strength in that last strike, and a sharp, needle-like pain shot through his wrist.

Jiang Jingming sighed softly and pressed his wrist with his other hand, trying to relieve the pain.

He always felt that this was an old injury left from practicing swordsmanship too hard when he was a child.

The unscrupulous teacher Gu Tinghan should be held responsible for this.

Jiang Jingming slowly turned around and saw that the wolf pack, which had been submissive just moments before, was now stirring again and gradually forming an encirclement.

Yes, the real wolf king is dead.

So for the remaining wolves, anyone could be the new wolf king.

Wolves are just that kind of creature.

Jiang Jingming loosened his wrist and picked up the knife again, only to find it extremely heavy, affecting the speed and power of his strikes.

Worse still, a sudden, thunderous roar erupted from the depths of the snow-capped mountains, and the faint cracking sound of the dusty ice shattering could be heard.

Jiang Jingming was slightly taken aback, then realized that the avalanche was probably caused by his reckless slash.

The wolves had clearly noticed this earlier than he had, but they were still persistent. Instead of running away, they slowly approached him.

Jiang Jingming turned to look and saw that the horse he had ridden had fallen to the ground, covered in blood.

This was the escape route the wolves had blocked for him.

Then they gradually surrounded him in a hunting posture, and their assistance and cooperation allowed the wolves to hunt down enemies many times stronger than themselves.

Jiang Jingming tore a piece of cloth from his sleeve, slowly wrapped it around his wrist, and tied it in a knot.

He exhaled and stepped out into the snow, the wolf howling like weeping blood wherever his blade passed.

The wolves showed no fear of losing their companions; the struggle for the wolf king's position was far more exhilarating than mere slaughter.

Jiang Jingming lost count of how many cuts he had made. The consequence of forcing himself to completely ignore the pain was that his wrists gradually became numb, making it almost impossible for him to hold the knife.

It would be too degrading to live and die with animals.

Jiang Jingming gasped for breath, his vision began to blur, his physical strength had reached its limit, and he was now maintaining his fighting posture entirely on instinct.

He had already reached a dead end when suddenly moonlight fell upon him.

Jiang Jingming opened his eyes wide. In his blurry vision, the white wolves that had been hovering around him, wanting to attack, fell down one by one, silently.

This is a knife technique used for assassination, emphasizing a single, clean, and swift kill.

To wield such a knife, one's steps must be as light as a cat's, and one's breath must be as faint as if in stealth...

A name popped into Jiang Jingming's mind, making him wonder if he was just having a replay of his thoughts before a wolf gnawed out his throat.

However, just thinking of that name almost made him lose the will to fight. He took a step back, like a fallen leaf that couldn't stand steadily.

Before he fell, he landed in an embrace that carried a faint scent of sandalwood.

Someone stumbled over in a panic, hugged him tightly, and trembled slightly.

The way he wielded the knife was so beautiful, but when he hugged her, he was so clumsy, like a little sparrow that couldn't fly because of the falling snow.

Jiang Jingming coughed, his throat tasting of blood, but he laughed heartlessly.

Ah Qing isn't always so calm.

Thinking this, he closed his eyes with a sense of self-righteousness.

Chapter Fourteen: The King Descends from Heaven

The sandalwood has a faint scent that makes people feel at ease, as if they have found a world that will never collapse.

Jiang Jingming slept soundly, and in his daze, he returned to the day he first met Aqing.

At that time, the Duyue Sect retreated from Zhige City in Zhongzhou all the way to the northwest. The people called it an escape, a defeat, and a chaotic and disorganized retreat.

However, in reality, these villains were leisurely strolling and enjoying the scenery along the way, showing no discipline whatsoever that should be expected of an escape.

If they happen to pass by any decent restaurant, they will rush in headlong, scaring the owner and waiters so much that they tremble like leaves, wishing they had two more legs.

When a business owner encounters such a group of customers, he would naturally only want to save his own life and dare not accept their money. However, when they leave, they would casually throw out enough money to buy the entire shop.

Jiang Jingming was taken hostage by this group of people and taken all the way to the Posuo River.

The Posuo River stretches for hundreds of miles, connecting the Tianshan Mountains in the north to the South China Sea in the south, separating Zhongzhou from Yongzhou.

Jiang Wuwang has generously purchased an entire ferry boat and is personally carrying several large jars of fine wine that he acquired from Fengling City.

"This is the famous Wenxin Zui! It's unique to Fengling City, and you'll hardly be able to taste it again once you leave Zhongzhou!"

Jiang Wuwang hugged the wine jar with a happy smile.

Jiang Jingming ignored the drunkard and stood alone on the deck, the wind carrying the smell of damp earth.

Along the way, the people were more or less discussing the great battle between the Duyue Sect and the Righteous Path Alliance. The storytellers made a fortune from it, and everyone was almost turning Jiang Wuwang into a three-headed, six-armed god.

Occasionally, you'll see wanted posters from the Alliance, as well as missing person notices for displaced families after the war.

Whenever Jiang Jingming arrives in a new town, he always pays attention to the notice board.

However, I did not see any information related to myself.

Even if the Xiquan Sword Sect is busy with post-war repairs, they should at least have noticed that their young sect leader has gone missing.

If he was merely neglected before, after the war he seemed to have been completely forgotten.

Jiang Jingming was somewhat relieved that he was a time traveler, and he only felt a little confused about this situation, rather than having the despair of a child who had been abandoned.

After crossing the Posuo River, he will completely sever ties with his identity as the young sect master of the Xiquan Sword Sect.

Jiang Jingming silently made this decision in his heart.

At this time, the autumn wind rises, ducks land on frosty islets, and wild geese fly across misty shores.