The assassins were bewildered. General Bong Su had hired them himself, paying handsomely for their service, yet now he called them traitors. And his plan? Overthrow the king with the Chaos Blade? Madness.
Without another word, Bong Su’s men rushed forward, weapons drawn, intent on arresting everyone. But the assassins were far from defenseless. A fierce battle erupted as they fought back, defiant against the flood of soldiers.
Qin Liu Feng, caught in the storm, had never wanted trouble to reach his doorstep. Yet escape seemed impossible now. He whispered to his men, urging them to flee if they could. Some slipped into hidden corners within the compound, knowing it was surrounded, while others met a grim fate.
In their midst was the assassins leader, Shadow. Cloaked in black, his face masked except for piercing eyes that surveyed the chaos, he gripped a slender blade. His swift, lethal strikes cut through Bong Su men, leaving them no room to advance.
Huddled inside a barrel, Qin Yao watched, heart racing, tears threatening to spill over as he stifled his cries. He saw those he loved fall like animals before Bong Su ruthless soldiers. His friends, his neighbors people who wanted nothing more than to live in peace lay slaughtered on the ground.
Bong Su was merciless, descending from his horse and striking down defenseless women and children without a second thought. Fury burned in Qin Liu Feng eyes as he tried to intervene, to shield the innocent. But he was a blacksmith, not a warrior. Bong Su, a battle-hardened general, subdued him easily.
One by one, the assassins fell. Bong Su soldiers closed in on all sides of the Qin manor, trapping anyone who tried to escape. Shadow fought tirelessly, a whirlwind of deadly precision. Yet the endless waves of soldiers took their toll, and wounds began to tear across his body.
Strategist Li, Bong Su right-hand blade master, watched Shadow with a calm, deadly intent. Known as the Death Bird, Li was infamous for his swift, inescapable strikes. Bored with watching, Li moved in, appearing suddenly before Shadow and with a single powerful blow, sent him crashing through the storeroom wall.
From his hiding place, Qin Yao eyes widened in terror as he watched Bong Su force his father to his knees. Anguish and rage surged through him, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white. He saw Bong Su raise his sword and in one brutal swing, his father’s head fell. Blood sprayed across the floor as Qin Liu Feng body collapsed beside his severed head.
“Father!” Qin Yao cry escaped him, a raw, broken sound. He shrank back, sinking into the barrel, numb and dazed. Just then, a body smashed through the wall beside him Shadow, still and bloodied.
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Heaven Gate**
War cries split the air, the clash of blades mingling with cries of pain. Ming An Xian found himself astride a powerful warhorse at the forefront of a battlefield, leading an army. He was clad in golden armor, radiant and heavy, a spear pulsing with strength in his hand.
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Yet something felt strange. He knew this body wasn’t his, nor the experience, yet he felt every ache, every thought, every drop of rage that filled the warrior he had somehow become.
Before him surged an army of undead knights and monstrous beasts, twisted and snarling, with horns and hulking bodies. Ming An Xian’s spear slashed through them in swift, deadly arcs, clearing a brutal path.
At his side fought his companions: a giant red phantom cat, vicious and swift, tearing through enemies with deadly claws; Da Shan, his body crackling with lightning, his weapon forming from raw energy; Mei, a princess with supernatural instincts, her every move anticipating her opponent strikes; and Tian, a child of both god and demon, his strength a fusion of divine grace and demonic fury.
For nearly three weeks, they waged this brutal war together. Ming An Xian saw his soldiers fall in waves, and grief and fury twisted within him. Lifting his spear, he pointed it toward a distant figure the Demon King, who sat waiting.
As if on cue, the Demon King rose, gripping his own spear. He met the God of War gaze and charged forward without hesitation, their paths converging. Ming An Xian speed defied logic; with one powerful leap, he flew through the air, twelve meters high, the Demon King following.
The clash of their spears created a shockwave, sending nearby soldiers and demons sprawling as dust and energy burst into the air. When it cleared, Ming An Xian landed on the battlefield, feeling the raw power, the rage, and the unyielding determination of the God of War within him.
The Demon King was incredibly strong, and the fierce battle between him and the God of War raged on, neither side giving an inch.
Suddenly, Ming An Xian felt a strange mix of determination and sorrow rise from within the God of War. As he puzzled over these emotions, the God of War’s gaze shifted to two warriors fighting among the demons. To Ming An Xian’s shock, these men were his children. But how could it be? The God of War looked nearly as young as they did. Ming An Xian wanted to doubt, but the truth was clear.
Strangely, Ming An Xian felt a sense of familiarity with the elder son—a tall, striking figure with dark hair and piercing blue eyes. It felt natural, given that he was experiencing life through the eyes of their father. Yet, in the God of War’s mind, he could feel the weight of disappointment. One of his sons had been responsible for unleashing the Demon King, and now he had to clean up the ruin his child had caused.
An uneasy feeling spread through Ming An Xian, his throat dry, his breathing unsteady. Just as he thought he might be choking, the God of War reached for a wine gourd at his waist, drinking deeply. As the wine flowed, a deep calm and satisfaction settled over them. Ming An Xian realized that the God of War used the drink to steady his nerves, especially when preparing for a momentous decision.
Then, lifting his spear to the sky, the God of War leaped high into the air. His spear spun above him, radiating with power.
On the ground below, his four companions sensed his intention. Without hesitation, they combined their strength to form a shield, a shimmering barrier that protected their army from what was coming.
Far above, the God of War’s body began to glow, a golden light spreading from his chest. Ming An Xian felt an intense, splitting pain, as if his body was tearing open from the inside. The light grew stronger, hotter, until it was almost unbearable.
Seeing this, the Demon King’s face twisted with fear. He turned to flee—but it was too late. In a blinding flash, the God of War’s body exploded into golden dust, leaving behind a brilliant light that swept across the battlefield. It was a force that pulled the souls from every demon it touched, turning their bodies to ash.
The Demon King, Ogre, was powerful and tried to resist. His human form twisted painfully as he transformed into a massive, grotesque monster, two long horns sprouting from his forehead. His face contorted in agony, as though the golden light were ripping him apart from the inside.
But even his strength might not be enough to save him from the God of War’s final, overwhelming blow.