"Huh? What does he mean…?""Why… why is he completely unharmed?""My Water Poison Lotus should cripple its victim—how is he still standing?!""I've got a bad feeling about this…"
The warriors from the four camps watched Chen Xiao rise slowly, unease rippling through them. Even Black Spear and Yusi traded a worried glance; whatever this man was, he was no ordinary opponent. That he could stand after being swarmed by so many attackers was beyond anything they had expected.
"Gubuta, this man… he's wrong somehow," Black Spear muttered. Gubuta, cloaked in shadow, frowned — the question was not merely rhetorical. What did Chen Xiao mean by "it's my turn"? What was he about to do?
"Zhou Xun! Stop being stubborn! Huaxia has already lost!" Gu Liao screamed, face twisted with panic.
Duan Nanyang stepped forward, forcing a smile like a blade. "As a Huaxia compatriot, I advise you: you've been close to An Xinning for so long — you know too much. Surrender and talk, and they might spare you."
Chen Xiao shook his head, icily: "Huaxia compatriot… you don't deserve that name."
A water blade materialized in his hand, cold light crawling along its edge. Although he still wore Zhou Xun's face, his aura had shifted completely — killing intent boiled up like a spring flood.
Duan Nanyang's eyes widened. "Zhou Xun, what—?"
Before he could finish, Chen Xiao vanished. A wave of brutal, murderous intent slammed into Duan Nanyang's senses; when Chen Xiao reappeared he was already at Duan Nanyang's side.
"You're not Zhou Xun!" Duan realized too late.
The water blade cleaved through the air with an icy hiss and stabbed straight into his heart.
"Pfft." Blood barely spurted before Duan Nanyang's eyes dimmed; his life flickered out in an instant.
Chen Xiao turned, expression unreadable, and fixed Gu Liao with a cold stare. Traitors died first — that was his rule. Gu Liao trembled as if a ghost had passed over him. Water blades, teleportation, ruthless killing — the Mad Ghost Butcher.
"Zhou Xun… you're the Mad Ghost Butcher!" someone cried.
Chen Xiao gave no answer. His gaze bored into Gu Liao's core, and hope withered from the man's face.
"Mad Ghost Butcher, join us. If we ally, we can beat the four camps! We have no grudges — we're all Huaxia! With you leading we can turn the tide!" Gu Liao panted, desperate.
Chen Xiao shook his head once. "National fortune was never entrusted to people like you. You're no different from Duan Nanyang. Not worthy."
Gu Liao's outrage rose. "How dare you say I'm not worthy! I'm the captain of the Beijing Military Region — heir to the Gu family! Our ancestors—"
Before he could finish, the world tilted. Dizziness hit him; he was flung and pinned against a tree ten meters away as a massive hand closed around his throat.
"I'll send you to join them," Chen Xiao said coldly. "I'm curious what they'll think of a spineless descendant like you."
A sharp voice cut through the tension: "Let him go, Huaxia. He is my prisoner."
Gubuta stared at Chen Xiao, sparks already crackling in his palm. Chen Xiao didn't bother to look back, but before he could squeeze tighter, Gu Liao snapped out of his grip — he had vanished and reappeared beside Gubuta. India had a teleportation or retrieval trick up its sleeve.
Gubuta stepped before Gu Liao, eyes hard. "You are strong, Huaxia. But you killed Duan Nanyang, who was my prisoner. You will pay."
Gu Liao, sweaty and panting, let out a snarl of defiance. "Mad Ghost Butcher! You hide behind tricks — can you stand against so many elite awakeners alone?"
Chen Xiao let the water blade dissolve into droplets and lifted the Mountain and River Map. Divine Wind coiled at his heels as he rose into the air, looking down at the four camps with a faint, almost amused smile.
"Forty-seven people. Forty-seven seconds," he said softly.
Gubuta's eyes narrowed. "What did you say?"
Before anyone could react, the Mountain and River Map erupted. Rivers poured out like collapsing galaxies; water crashed and roared as if a miniature ocean had been torn from the map and hurled at the enemy.
[All Things Water] met [Eight Directions Slaughter] and [Nine-Foot Seal].
The torrent became a sea of blades — water folded into countless razor strands, each one a hidden soldier in a shimmering formation. The four allied camps had never seen such an assault. It was more devastating than Gubuta's meteor-flame; the blades moved with the discipline of an army.
Pfft! Pfft! Pfft! Pfft!
They tried to flee, but inertia took hold. Legs went heavy, bodies sludged into motion-stopping mud as if quicksand seized them. Invisible chains bound them. "What kind of power is this? Does Huaxia truly have immortals?!" someone cried.
"I don't understand! How can his ability be so abnormal?!" another shouted.
"Is this really a talent? It's monstrous!" a third breathed.
"Is he some Huaxia immortal?!" panic rippled.
"Full defense! This hidden water-blade formation is insidious!" someone spat.
Pfft—Pfft—Pfft—
The deluge cut through ranks. Those touched by the river were sliced down to white bones by endless edges. Bodies were shredded; weaker men vanished without trace. It became a tableau of carnage so swift and complete it felt like a natural disaster had swept through them.
Chen Xiao's combination had been surgical and merciless — the most savage expression of his large-scale killing techniques. Gubuta hurled flame after flame, but the water was infinite and the supply bottomless. Fire hissed and died where the blades cut; wave after wave returned.
"Who is he?! When did Huaxia birth such a monster?!" someone wailed. "First the White-Haired Divine General, now this madman! Does fortune favor Huaxia?"
Gubuta's face burned with a mix of fury and disbelief. How could Huaxia possess such impossible power? Even India's heritage — venerable and deep — was no match tonight.
Black Spear's countenance crumpled at what he'd seen. He'd encountered calamities, but this was like facing a deity or a natural cataclysm — a helplessness that hollowed out his courage. Yusi's face had gone ashen; he wondered if he would survive if the river ever reached him. Gu Liao, who had narrowly escaped, stared on with twisted fury and shame — alive yet diminished.
The slaughter left the forest eerily quiet save for the dripping of water and the faint hiss of evaporating blood. Chen Xiao hovered, the map at his back, breath steady. Around him the air tasted of iron and finished deeds.
Forty-seven people. Forty-seven seconds. The tally was brutal, the message clearer still: this was no longer a contest of posturing. It had become survival against an instrument of war.