1089 The Banquet Iii (1/2)

Long Qing was confident because he was never alone. He had many people inside, as well as around him by the river. Those were no ordinary cavalrymen. They were the most powerful cultivators from Taoism and the East Royal Court. Even if Ning Que could defeat ten thousands of enemies by himself, he would never be able to take down these powerful cultivators effortlessly.

Ning Que also noticed something strange today: none of the cultivators were intimidated by his iron bow. Instead, they charged fearlessly and continuously.

When he took their hands, they held the weapons in their other hands and attacked again. When he took their legs, they hopped on with single legs. Those wounded jumped out of their own blood and never cared about being killed in the next moment. It was weirdly horrifying.

The scary scene unveiled their horrifying fighting wills. Ning Que stood on a rock and kept pulling the bowstring. He seemed indifferent and killed the approaching enemies one after another in the river. But he had actually started worrying. How could they possess such powerful and inhumanly strong will?

All of a sudden he noticed that their eyes seemed different. People from the Central Plains had black pupils, while the gra.s.sland barbarians' pupils were brown. But these people's pupils were as grey as the leaden clouds in the sky.

Over two hundreds of powerful cultivators dashed toward him in the river. They encircled him and attacked. They were calm and even senseless no matter how badly they were wounded. There was no fear in their grey eyes but only desperate killing intent and self-destructive resolution.

Staring at the hundreds of grey eyes, Ning Que felt like being encircled by hundreds of hungry wolves. The air was chilling and his movements became slow while he worried.

He slowed down not because he wanted a pause. But rather he tried to make every strike count. He tried to cut them in two at the waist or the neck, or at least take a leg to stop them from proceeding properly, so as to slow down the intense attack by the wolves.

He acted prudently because he sensed the danger. Right now countless Taoist swords and arrows were flying over the river. The Qi of Heaven and Earth were disturbed by hundreds of psyches. No matter how fast his attack could be, he had to consume his energy, his psyche or even his flesh for each strike.

Even the tiniest cost could be acc.u.mulated and affect the result of the battle. A tiny leak would sink a giant s.h.i.+p. He had to be exceptionally cautious. Furthermore, the grey eyes of these powerful cultivators who attacked like hungry wolves kept reminding him of the horrible technique Long Qing had been practicing. He never forgot that Long Qing had not made a single strike so far. He must have been waiting for a chance while hiding in the woods.

The river still roared, but the cloudy mist was gone. There was no dazzling sun. But dim light shed on the rus.h.i.+ng river by the cliff, the fighting crowd and the blue Rognon Sea down the cliff.

Ning Que kept walking toward the other side of the river. People kept falling in front of his iron bow. But he was slowing down. His steps seemed heavier and he looked more solemn.

Long Qing was indeed waiting for a chance, and he was certain that it would eventually come. He and Ning Que knew each other too well to make any plot. Their cultivation and skills were completely exposed in front of each other under the daylight. Any plan had to be made frankly and any possibility had to be considered reasonably.

Under the countless rounds of attack by the hundreds of fearless cultivators, Ning Que would eventually be exhausted. No matter how cautious he tried to be, he would eventually show his weakness.

Light scattered on Long Qing's face through the leaves, as if there were more scars. He watched quietly and focused on the fighting scene in the river, and saw Ning Que stepped down the rock and came toward him.

Ning Que was still pulling the bowstring steadily, and his steps were still firm. But… too firm.

With his hands pulling on the string he stepped into the river. His movements were precisely rhythmic. But the preciseness somehow seemed stiff.

The easy manner Ning Que had kept since the beginning of the battle was gradually influenced by people's blood and scattered limbs. He could only control the momentum through his rhythm now.

When he tried hard to get things under control, it meant he was about to lose it.

That was the chance Long Qing had been waiting for.

Some deadly chilling wind came from the woods. A dozen of frightened birds fled in chirps. But they became frozen and fell onto the ground before they could make it over the woods.

A thin layer of frost appeared on the ground. It spread outside the woods toward the river bank. It froze some breakers on the bank, then thousands of waves.

Long Qing appeared like a ghost above the roaring river in front of Ning Que, and left two lines on the frozen waves like tracks of wheels.

The frozen scene from the woods to the river was created by the deadly energy he spread in the split second. It darted incredibly fast toward Ning Que.

Right then Ning Que had just pulled the bowstring and cut an East Wilderness warrior into two. His right foot was about to step onto a slippery rock.

He was raising his hand and making his steps rhythmically. The swords and blades flying over the river could not interrupt. He was about to proceed non-stop.

But Long Qing was powerful enough to break the rhythm at the most critical beat.

A secluded and lonely black peach flower pounded onto Ning Que's face with overwhelming deadly energy!

Ning Que was holding the bow in his left hand. And his right hand had just left the bow string and to finish the Tai Chi move, Grasping the Bird's Tail.

Ning Que pulled back his right hand like a flash and got hold of the lower part of the bow. With his left hand holding on the middle, he pushed the iron bow forward and pressed against the black peach flower.

His actions seemed seamless and effortless as if he knew Long Qing would come at this point.

But only Long Qing and himself knew that the series of seamless actions was not effortless. His momentum was interrupted and his psyche was spoiled. His right hand could not finish Grasping the Bird's Tail and barely made the strike.

Long Qing stood on the rock. He stared at Ning Que emotionlessly while his feet rooted into the rock.

Ning Que stood in the river. His right foot was not yet placed on the rock and he could not stay steadily.

The jet-black iron bow was pressed against the black peach flower.

The roaring river became quiet at this moment.