Chapter 261: Not Enough to Fight At All

The words had barely left his lips when the earth shuddered violently, its fissures wrenching wide in an instant, and then several gargantuan Arachnids tore through the soil, their massive pincers and razor claws gleaming with a chilling light.

"They're here!"

Bai Lin kept his eyes fixed on the equipment as he shouted a warning: "There are five of them, and there might be even more underground!"

"Only five? That's far too few!"

Sun Yang rubbed his hands together, his pulse rifle already whining as it powered up: "Watch how I tear them to pieces!"

"Don't—

High above, Shui Li maintained a dark, solemn visage as he drifted slowly back to the earth, though his gaze never strayed from the massive mountain of water conjured from the dragon's aura.

A scorching breath erupted from Huangfu Xuan, surging relentlessly toward Wu Fa and Wu Tian. Pyres of winding, twisting serpents hissed with intense heat, moving with an eerie, lifelike vitality; when they drew within ten feet of their adversaries, they bared their cavernous maws, as if eager to swallow the pair whole.

Having lost half their aircraft to the skies, the Japanese planes finally withdrew after expending the last of their payloads, leaving behind a ruined vanguard for the armored regiment—one light tank, one heavy armored car, and two light armored cars lay devastated, with a pair among them having exploded, completely vaporizing the vehicles alongside their entire crews.

As the sky rained crimson drops across the clearing, the dozen or so elders of the Qin clan dared not even flinch, standing motionless as they allowed the blood to splatter across their faces and garments.

Still, this matter had very little to do with her; as long as her mother used her considerable influence to ensure Wu Yulin remained by her side, nothing else mattered for the time being. She had long grown accustomed to submitting entirely to her mother's will, so she simply lowered her head once more, quietly eating the rice from her bowl.

And judging solely by the display of the cultivator before them now, the practitioners of this realm truly were entities of the Samsara echelon.

As the chief instructor of the joint barracks, Mu Li had always been ruthless and entirely devoid of humor, throwing his whole soul into conceiving new ways to torment and lash his charges; the "Thirteen Blood-Soaked Lessons" he pioneered remained a shared trauma for every disciple of the Moyu Hall, lingering like an inescapable nightmare.

Within the command post of the 462nd Brigade, Tang Yu and Wei Ye kept their high-powered binoculars trained tensely on the vicious melee unfolding across the Japanese lines, their strained expressions softening ever so slightly as the 877th and 878th Regiments gradually gained the upper hand over the course of the battle.

With Gu Fang away—the only one skilled in the art of disguise—Yu Qing had no means of altering his appearance even if he wished to; the techniques of this era were far less sophisticated than modern ones, and a single careless mistake would only leave glaring vulnerabilities.

Before he could even finish his second glass of wine, Mihil emerged from the private lounge of the bar just as anticipated, taking a seat right beside him with an expression every bit as furious as he had foreseen.

"Brother Chang, I have one more inquiry. I wonder from which noble house hails this Li Bai mentioned in the verse 'Li Bai departs intoxicated, leaving no sober guest'?" Sima Yulang adopted an air of a remarkably diligent and innocent scholar, though the display left Chang Geqing gnashing his teeth in suppressed rage.

"Rest easy, I won't move even if you ask me to. I'm going to sleep," I replied with a look of disdain, turning on my heel to fling myself onto the bed, drifting off immediately.

Under the dim, ambiguous light, the bundle—its true color completely indistinguishable—was slowly dripping water, and as the liquid struck the pale surface of the stone bridge, it bloomed into droplets of bright, unmistakable blood.

Weighed down by the staggering pressure of his majestic aura, not a single soul present dared to utter a word of dissent, and even the burly elder who had questioned him earlier could now fail to squeeze out so much as a syllable from his parted lips.

They were thoroughly entangled with one another, a mere two thousand men in total; by the time these two factions managed to settle their dispute once and for all, the opportunity would be long gone.

Then, right before Master Yixiu's astonished eyes, he swung his blade toward Young Master Dai without the slightest hesitation, moving with the practiced swiftness of a professional executioner; the steel sheared clean through Dai's neck so rapidly that the blade passed before the head could even fall.

Seeing the uncompromising finality in Chen Yu's expression, the trio wore miserable, weeping countenances as they reluctantly drew the distress flares from their robes and yanked the cords.

Releasing her grip on Wang Mu's face, her slender, porcelain hands brushed gently past her collar, and in the next moment, the white silken gown—seeming as though it were woven from pure, condensed moonlight—slipped effortlessly to the floor.