The Regent King’s laughter scraped against the sky. It was the sound of victory, ugly and certain. His arm was a vice, holding Xue Feng fast. The cold edge of his sword pressed into the delicate skin of her neck, a single drop of blood welling up like a ruby tear. “Lu Feng!” he roared, his voice echoing across the silent battlefield. One hundred and fifty thousand soldiers of the Foreign Tribe watched, their weapons a forest of steel. The martial world experts Lu Feng had brought stood frozen, their faces pale with despair. “Did you think you had won?” The Regent King sneered, his eyes burning with triumphant madness. “You, the so-called Sword God? You are nothing! Nothing but a boy ruled by sentiment. Your weakness is right here, in my hand!” He tightened his grip. Xue Feng let out a small, pained gasp. Atop the city wall, Lu Feng stood motionless. His expression had not changed. He still looked lazy, bored even. But the air around him had changed. The wind died. The temperature plummeted. A frost seemed to creep over the stone beneath his feet. It was not a change in weather. It was a change in him. His killing intent, a force beyond mortal comprehension, was leaking out. It was no longer a sharp blade directed at one man, but a suffocating ocean of cold malice pressing down on the entire world. The Grandmasters in the alliance felt their Inner Qi freeze in their meridians. They struggled to breathe, their eyes wide with terror. This pressure… it was not human. “Kneel,” the Regent King commanded, his voice shaking with a mix of fury and exhilaration. “Break your own arms and legs. Cripple your cultivation. Destroy your meridians and beg me for her life! Hand over the seal of the Dragon God Hall, and perhaps… perhaps I will let her live as my slave!” Each word was a hammer blow against the honor of the martial alliance. To see their leader, a god-like figure, humiliated this way? It was a fate worse than death. The War Goddess, clad in silver armor, took a half-step forward. Her hand was white-knuckled on the hilt of her divine sword. “My Lord…” she whispered, her voice tight with rage. “Give the order.” Lu Feng did not look at her. His eyes, cold and dark as the abyss between stars, were fixed on his uncle. “Lu Feng… don’t listen to him,” Xue Feng’s voice, though weak, was clear and defiant. She stared back at the Regent King, her beautiful, newly-healed eyes holding no fear, only resolve. “Do not bow to anyone. I would rather die a thousand deaths than see you kneel for me.” Her words were a spark in a powder keg. The Regent King’s face twisted in rage. “Insolent wench! You think you have a choice? You will watch him grovel! And then you will die!” Lu Feng’s voice was flat. Devoid of all emotion. “You have made a mistake.” “A mistake?” The Regent King laughed again, a crazed, high-pitched sound. “My only mistake was not killing you and your useless father years ago! There are no mistakes now! Only your death! And it begins with hers!” He wasted no more time. He raised the sword high, the polished steel catching the grim light of the overcast sky. He would not just kill her. He would cleave her head from her shoulders before Lu Feng's very eyes. “DIE!” he screamed, and the blade began its descent. Time seemed to stretch. The War Goddess lunged forward with a cry of fury, but she was too far. The martial experts shut their eyes, unable to watch. It was over. The hero’s journey was ending in tragedy. His one weakness had been exploited. And then came the sound. A high, piercing shriek that was not of the air. It was the sound of space itself being torn apart. It ripped through the Regent King’s triumphant roar, silencing everything. One li away, from the command tent Lu Feng had left behind, a streak of black light erupted. It was not flying. It was simply… appearing. It crossed the impossible distance in less than the blink of an eye. It was faster than lightning, faster than thought, a beam of pure, condensed sword-qi. It was Lu Feng’s sword. The Regent King’s eyes widened in disbelief. He felt a chill, a premonition of absolute doom, but his body could not react. The sword was already there. It did not block his strike. It did not meet his blade. It passed clean through his shoulder. There was a wet, tearing sound. A fountain of hot blood erupted into the air. The Regent King’s sword, still descending, lost all its power. His entire right arm, severed cleanly from his body, flew into the air, still clutching the weapon that was meant to kill Xue Feng. He stared, dumbfounded, at the bloody stump where his arm had been. A moment of pure shock. Then, the agony hit. A scream of inhuman pain tore from his throat as he stumbled back, clutching the wound. The severed arm and sword clattered to the ground. Xue Feng, untouched and safe, stood frozen as Lu Feng’s personal sword hovered silently in the air before her, a loyal guardian humming with terrifying power. A collective gasp swept through the 150,000-strong army. A teleporting sword? A blade that could kill from a li away? This wasn’t martial arts. This was the power of a god. A demon. On the city wall, Lu Feng finally moved. He didn't jump. He didn't leap. He simply rose. He floated up from the stone ramparts, ascending into the air as if lifted by an unseen hand. His black robes billowed around him, not from wind, but from the storm of true essence now raging from his body. Then came another sound. A low hum. It started with a single sword, then another. A soldier in the front rank cried out as his weapon was ripped from his hand. It flew into the air. Then another. And another. Across the entire battlefield, a miracle of terror unfolded. Lu Feng's sword streaked in from a li away and severs the very arm holding the blade, saving Xue Feng. Lu Feng rises into the air; every soldier's sword tears free of its sheath and circles his body like a coiling dragon of swords.

Chapter 14: The Teleporting Sword