Chapter 374: Blood Fills the Mountains and Rivers

Chapter 374: Blood Fills the Mountains and Rivers

Maitreya’s army pressed against the city walls, a dense, endless sea stretching beyond sight.

At that moment, standing atop the ramparts, Lü Shiheng felt a grudging admiration for Maitreya.

For on the surface, he was already under control, and everyone within the city had joined forces to ambush Tang Wanzhuang... In theory, Xiangyang was no longer worth fighting for, yet Maitreya had still prepared thoroughly. While they all pretended to be allies and he himself had never scouted, Maitreya’s army had somehow crept this close, lying in ambush outside, ready to strike like thunder at any moment.

Whether Lü Shiheng was truly controlled or not, no matter how many men the Wang and Yang clans had sent, with this sudden assault, Xiangyang was as good as lost.

What’s more, Maitreya had laid plans along the Han River, secretly linking up with the Blood God Sect to block any reinforcements from the north. When Lü Shiheng received word of his own water camp’s rout, he felt that Maitreya had crushed Wang Daozhong into dust.

He thought he was using Maitreya as a pawn, borrowing his blade to kill Tang Wanzhuang... But Maitreya genuinely wanted to capture her himself, willingly serving as that blade, and used this pretense to march unnoticed. Who was truly using whom was still up for debate... At least Maitreya always knew what he was doing, but did Wang Daozhong?

Lü Shiheng thought to himself, put up a token defense for a while, and see how the Yang clan’s crossing to the south fared. If the Blood God Sect truly blocked them there, unable to cross, then open the gates and welcome the enemy, truly surrendering to Maitreya. After all, it wasn’t that he wouldn’t defend—it was that he couldn’t.

And indeed, he couldn’t.

In the clash of thousands upon thousands, a single fierce general might not decide the outcome. But when the enemy already had superior numbers, and in a siege like this, a fierce general’s role became immense.

The so-called “first to scale”—once a foothold was gained on the wall, successive troops could climb up, and the wall’s defense would collapse.

And Maitreya was the fiercest of the fierce; few in the world could match his ferocity.

When Maitreya, like a mountain of flesh, leaped onto the wall with a heavy “thud,” Lü Shiheng felt he could already “fight while retreating,” “fall back to the wall,” and then let Maitreya cut the gate’s ropes with a single slash, finishing it all, since the Yang army couldn’t cross.

Maitreya saw through his intentions and naturally wouldn’t kill him. He was about to head for the gate when a clear voice rang out from midair: “Maitreya, the Supreme Buddha, is truly unmatched in might.”

Maitreya frowned and looked up. A sword light streaked through the moonlight, instantly reaching his face.

The Mountain-Linking Sword, Yang of Hongnong!

They crossed the river so quickly? What was Xue Canghai doing? Ambushing them mid-crossing—such a favorable position—and he couldn’t hold them for even a moment?

What baffled Maitreya even more was that another sword light followed behind Yang Jingxiu, charging straight at him.

The Sea-Splitting Sword, Wang of Langya.

In an instant, he found himself atop the wall, besieged by two masters of the Earth Ranking, with Tang Wanzhuang lurking somewhere, ready to strike or not!

Maitreya swung his monk’s blade, fighting two at once, his expression grim: “Is the Yang clan truly joining the struggle for the throne? Or have they become the Wangs’ lapdogs?”

Yang Jingxiu smiled faintly, too disdainful to reply.

True noble clans looked down on even speaking with Maitreya, no matter his rank—they called him a mere brute.

He, Yang Jingxiu, ranked tenth on the Earth Ranking, though a few places below Maitreya, didn’t mean a vast gap. They were on the same level; to decide a victor would require a battle that darkened the heavens and earth. Perhaps he would lose in the end, but who knew if the chaotic rankings might shift?

With Wang Daozhong joining the pincer, Maitreya’s ascent of the wall was destined to be futile.

Beside them, Lü Shiheng was utterly stunned. It wasn’t just about whether Maitreya could make a difference—with Yang Jingxiu present, he dared neither slack off nor switch sides. He had to put on a full show of loyal defense, or he wouldn’t be able to explain himself!

What the hell had the Blood God Sect been blocking? How did they fail?

If the Yang clan was here, what about the Blood God Sect? Wiped out?

Just as he thought this, shouts of battle erupted from the flank of Maitreya’s army below.

Nearly ten thousand ferocious Blood God Sect disciples, clad in uniform blood-red robes, looked from afar under the moonlight like a sea of blood, surging toward Maitreya’s right wing.

At the same time, battle cries rose from another direction—Hidden Dragon Seventh, Yang Bugui of Hongnong, leading the Yang clan’s private soldiers who had just landed, struck at Maitreya’s left wing.

It was as if Maitreya’s army had walked into a trap.

Lü Shiheng couldn’t fathom how Maitreya’s perfectly laid plan had inexplicably turned into a self-inflicted snare. How had it come to this?

His gaze fell on the front of the Blood God Sect’s charge.

At the very tip of the blade, leading the charge, wasn’t Blood God Sect Leader Xue Canghai, but another young man wielding a broadsword. Where the broadsword swung, heads flew and bodies were cleaved, like a tiger among sheep, unstoppable and fearless.

The blood on his clothes from before hadn’t even dried before new blood soaked them, turning him into a blood-soaked figure in an instant—that was his style... the so-called Bloodthirsty Rakshasa.

Zhao Changhe!

Was it because of him that this situation had come about?

People said Zhao Changhe had single-handedly changed the battle at Yanmen. Lü Shiheng had once doubted it—how could one person decide anything?

But now, he had to believe. Whether it was the ambush on Tang Wanzhuang in the city or the sudden shift in the battle, it all revolved around this one man.

One man, stirring the world, his long blade rising, summoning wind and cloud!

...

Unlike the battle at Yanmen, even with the pincer from both sides, they couldn’t immediately achieve the same feat of catching the enemy from behind and throwing Tiemuer’s army into chaos.

Back then, Tiemuer and Huangfu Yongxian had been locked in a stalemate for so long, both pushing to the breaking point. Once chaos erupted in the rear and Huangfu Yongxian decisively sallied forth, collapse was easy.

But this time, Yuci Xiu hadn’t even put much effort into the siege yet; the army had barely deployed, leaving time to adjust.

After all, he had more troops—tens of thousands.

The Blood God Sect had only about ten thousand, and some had to stay behind to guard the camp, leaving just seven or eight thousand. The Yang clan’s private soldiers numbered fewer than five thousand.

Inside Xiangyang, there were twenty to thirty thousand troops, but would they coordinate like Huangfu Yongxian had? If they didn’t sally out, the two attacking forces would be crashing into an iron wall.

Of course, those two forces weren’t pushovers either; each was elite. Especially the Blood God Sect—they were a pack of mad dogs. Killing let them train their skills, so facing a massive battlefield didn’t panic them; instead, they howled with excitement, eager to kill. No reward for heads could inspire such a deranged army.

And Zhao Changhe, along with Xue Canghai at his side, were even more outrageous.

On this battlefield, their strength seemed doubled, killing intent clinging to them like solid matter. From afar, it looked as if they were wreathed in blood-red flames, already turning into mist.

The elite troops, trained with such effort, seemed like raw recruits. They could fight others, but once they clashed with these two, their courage shattered, and they fled in all directions.

This bloodthirsty terror—they were born for the battlefield.

The right wing couldn’t hold these mad dogs at all. After just one clash, it was nearly torn apart.

Yuci Xiu stared coldly at Zhao Changhe’s direction... Was he planning to carve straight through and take his command banner?

Zhao Changhe indeed intended to carve through, charging straight for the enemy commander.

Otherwise, with the numbers against them, if they got bogged down, regardless of victory or defeat, he couldn’t bear the Blood God Sect’s losses.

Yuci Xiu’s combat ability had been tested before... He was strong, very strong. In a one-on-one fight, it would be a contest, but now, Zhao Changhe had a way to kill him.

At his side was Sect Leader Xue; behind him, the Blood God Sect’s followers. Amidst thousands of troops, he felt strangely at ease, needing only to cut down what was in front.

That was the biggest difference between a battlefield and a martial duel.

“Shua!” The Dragon Sparrow swept wide, cleaving nearby Maitreya followers—blade and head—in two.

Who would dare block this demon? He didn’t even look human—a rakshasa crawling out of a sea of blood, his eyes damn red. Were normal people’s eyes like that?

Maitreya’s army fell into chaos. Seen from above, the Maitreya forces in this area parted like water before a blade, rippling away. The Blood God Sect, led by Zhao Changhe, drove like a dagger straight into the army’s heart, aiming for the central command banner!

The best part was that Yuci Xiu couldn’t sit still. He personally charged toward Zhao Changhe, believing that if he could hold him, the Blood God Sect’s force would immediately bog down.

“This time, there won’t be a Tang Wanzhuang to take your hits!” A mourning staff flew across the battlefield, straight for Zhao Changhe’s face.

With a “shua,” a blade suddenly sprang from the staff’s tip.

This was Yuci Xiu’s battlefield weapon—a staff that instantly became a spear!

Zhao Changhe chopped down a nearby Maitreya follower, then turned to see the gleaming blade tip already at his eyes.

He suddenly grinned: “Didn’t expect you to run to the right wing yourself, saving me a lot of trouble.”

As he spoke, the Dragon Sparrow had already swept back, meeting the spearhead squarely.

Everyone thinks killing the other will solve the problem... then let's see who has the real skill in hand.

With a loud clang, blade and spear clashed. Zhao Changhe's unstoppable momentum finally halted. The Maitreya army, which had shown signs of collapse, closed in again, and the Blood God Sect's advance bogged down.

For a moment, Zhao Changhe felt a role reversal, as when he once faced Vulture Hunter's Fang.

Back then, he had blocked Vulture Hunter's Fang, trapping him in a quagmire of thousands of troops. Now, Yu Cixiu was doing the same—blocking his momentum, forcing him into the mire.

Yet...

Zhao Changhe's eyes grew redder. At first only the whites were bloodshot, but now even his pupils turned crimson.

His arms visibly swelled, becoming as thick as a human head.

Heaven and Earth, I am no more!

From the vantage of his mind, he could almost feel the bloody murderous aura pervading the battlefield. Even a coward, doing nothing, would be terrified out of his wits here.

The murderous aura had power.

It gathered here, condensed into substance, assaulting the mind and scouring the flesh.

His blade resonated with it. With one swing, bloodlust surged, and the multitudes wailed.

Swish! Yu Cixiu thrust his spear again.

Zhao Changhe could feel that this spear thrust was also well-suited for the battlefield—it was like a vengeful spirit demanding life, howling and wailing in the heart. A bone-chilling cold rose in his mind, as if his very soul would be frozen, torn apart, then dissipated and drawn away.

A spear that seizes life, a lance that hunts souls.

This was the strongest strike of the forty-fourth on the Human Ranking, a grandmaster of the demonic path!

Zhao Changhe closed his eyes and slashed horizontally with his blade.

Boom! As if one could hear the raging bloodlust around, a sea of blood churning, a volcano erupting.

Countless bloody, vicious auras roared wildly within a ten-foot radius. All the malice condensed into blade edges, erupting all around Yu Cixiu's body.

Blade and spear clashed again. The entire battlefield seemed to freeze. Everyone around stared in shock at the scene.

Though blade and spear were locked together, a stream of icy, sinister energy still seeped from the spear tip, piercing Zhao Changhe's shoulder, blood streaming.

As for Yu Cixiu, he looked as if he had been sliced to pieces. His entire body was covered in wounds, countless cuts spraying blood simultaneously—no one knew how many slashes he had endured...

It wasn't a matter of how many slashes...

Externally, he drew murderous aura like blades; internally, he ignited his blood and qi to a boil.

With a single slash, blood filled the mountains and rivers!

Yu Cixiu stared straight at Zhao Changhe, eyes wide. He never imagined that he, the forty-fourth on the Human Ranking, who had felt evenly matched with Zhao Changhe during their rooftop duel, would not even withstand his second strike in a different battlefield.

What rebellion, what gold and beauties.

All ended here.