On the second to last day, I have been writing slowly and ceaselessly. There will come a time when I finish …
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The rain slowly landed on the bamboo hats. The Ascetic Monks knelt on the wet ground with pale faces. They stared in a daze at the blind youth in the middle covered by a black cloth. For a long time, they could not make any reaction. They were the Qing Emperor's last line of defense. When a dozen Ascetic Monks joined hands, even Fan Xian and the Shadow had almost been killed. It was clear how powerful they were. Now, facing Wu Zhu, would they turn around and attack?
The Emperor stood in the long corridor in front of the Palace. The fine cold rain in the sky was blown by the wind to where he stood and wet the beard on his chin. He narrowed his eyes slightly. The coldness in them grew. Coldly, he said, "Useless things. A traitor from the Temple has scared you so much."
Strangely, the Emperor did not seem worried that these Ascetic Monks would betray him at this moment. Many years ago, the emissary from the Temple had made some kind of agreement with the Emperor in order to remove all traces Ye Qingmei had left in this world. It was from that day onwards that the Ascetic Monks of the Qing Temple who traveled the South saw the Emperor as the true chosen one.
Between the chosen one and the emissary of the Temple, what choice should they make? The Ascetic Monks were silent. They, who were gradually getting older, knew of the oracle that the emissary had issued many years ago. They knew that an emissary had fallen, but they didn't know if that emissary was the person in front of them.
The Emperor paid no attention to the Ascetic Monks kneeling in the rain. He only looked calmly at Wu Zhu in the rain. After a moment of silence, he said, "There has never been a god in this world. I am not … Lao Wu, you are not either. "
Wu Zhu's leg had already been broken. He used a poignant posture to barely stand. The person from the Temple had returned to the world. Faced with the most powerful martial force in the world, he had bravely killed his way over. He had still paid a heavy price. The Emperor was right. He was not a god. Thus, in this year, he had been betrayed one after another and injured by weapons that did not belong to this world. His injuries lingered, and he was no longer at his peak. However, Wu Zhu had already reached his most broken and powerless state.
Who would win in the battle between these two peerless experts? Furthermore, Ye Zhong had already led his troops and surrounded Wu Zhu. Could Wu Zhu still break through the heavy encirclement and pierce the metal rod in his hand into the Qing Emperor's throat?
The Emperor's cold gaze fell on Wu Zhu's tattered clothes and his broken left leg, which was only held together by some flesh and skin. There was not a trace of emotion in his eyes, but in his heart, he was thinking, At this time, you still won't come out?
Gradually, a complicated emotion charged into the Qing Emperor's eyes. It was self-mockery, a glimmer of admiration, and a glimmer of dissatisfaction. Wu Zhu had already fallen into a tight encirclement. No matter how powerful he was, he could not overturn the heavens with one hand. Yet, Fan Xian still had not shown himself. Such coldness and forbearance was truly frightening.
Wearing the clothes of a eunuch, Fan Xian appeared to be very far from the front door of Taiji Palace, but in reality, he was very close. He carefully hid his tracks. Relying on his state of mind, which had been tempered to the extreme these two years, he controlled his breathing. Using the wind and rain that filled the sky and the heavy and nervous breathing of countless people present, he slowly approached.
From the moment he saw the Emperor cough, Fan Xian confirmed the top secret intelligence he had learned on the road south. The Emperor's body seemed to be on the verge of death. It had been almost a year since he had seen this powerful ruler. Looking at him from afar through the rain, it seemed that his face had become much older. The beard on his chin had grown much longer, and his expression seemed much more tired.
The Emperor had already walked down the altar. He stood calmly under the eaves of Taiji Palace and watched Wu Zhu walk over step by step. He still appeared powerful, so powerful that anyone who tried to challenge him would unconsciously lose a third of their confidence.
Fan Xian saw Wu Zhu's wretched state. He had never thought that there would be a day when Uncle Wu Zhu would be so heavily injured. Just as he had never thought that there would be someone in this world who could break through the defenses of the Qing Royal Palace, kill thousands of soldiers, and come in front of the Qing Emperor. His gaze swept past Uncle Wu Zhu's broken leg. He forcefully suppressed his wildly beating heart and the glimmer of fear, worry, sadness, and bitterness in his heart. He continued to hide in the shadows of Taiji Palace, coldly and valiantly waiting for the opportunity to strike.
Uncle Wu Zhu had already reached the most dangerous moment, but he still did not strike. He knew that before the Emperor and Wu Zhu collided head-on, any strike he made would be meaningless. A battle between Great Grandmasters was not something mortals like him could casually interfere in. He didn't want to waste Uncle Wu Zhu's earth-shattering attack, so he had to endure.
Ye Zhong was still there, and Eunuch Yao was nowhere to be seen. He didn't know if those Ascetic Monks would strike. There were still many aces gathered in the Royal Palace. Fan Xian had to attract everyone's attention and put his hope of exhausting the Emperor's strength on Uncle Wu Zhu, who was already on the verge of collapse and had suffered terrible injuries.
Regardless of who it was, including the three old monsters who had already died and left, if they were to suffer such a serious injury as Wu Zhu had, they would probably only be able to accept death. However, Wu Zhu was still standing. This gave Fan Xian confidence, and it also gave the people in the Royal Palace boundless pressure.
Separated by the black cloth, Wu Zhu looked at the bright yellow figure on the stone steps a dozen feet away. The man was already much older than he remembered. For some reason, endless sourness, pain, loathing, and disdain welled up in his heart.
After the Dong Mountain matter ended and he listened to Fan Xian's drunken ramblings on the roof of the Fan manor in Jingdou, Wu Zhu silently stepped onto the path of searching for himself. He wanted to know who he was, so he returned to the Temple.
The moment he entered the Temple, he remembered many things. Naturally, he was able to deduce many things. Although the Temple forcefully erased his memories in the next moment, as Fan Xian came to the Temple, Wu Zhu's memories had not completely recovered. However, the deepest emotion he had before it was erased had remained.
This emotion was stronger and more direct than his feelings for Fan Xian. It drew him to calmly look at the Royal Palace for two days. It drew him to kill his way into the Palace from outside the square of the Royal Palace. Even though he didn't remember the events of the past, he still remembered the man wearing the dragon robe on the stone steps and the murderous intent he had toward this man.
Fan Xian wanted Wu Zhu to follow his heart. Wu Zhu's heart was filled with boundless sourness, particularly after he saw Little Li. This sourness seemed to have found a way to vent.
He was going to kill him. He only remembered this.
Wu Zhu moved. He dragged his crippled leg and relied on the metal rod in his hand for support. With great difficulty, but full of murderous intent, he dragged it step by step, rubbing against the rainwater on the ground. His uninjured leg was impatient. It was as if he wanted to jump as he walked toward the Emperor on the stone steps.
The moment Wu Zhu moved, the aces of the Qing army surrounding him also moved. With an earth-shaking cry, countless long weapons pierced toward his body.
The Ascetic Monks kneeling by Wu Zhu's side finally could not withstand this powerful pressure and also moved. Some Ascetic Monks floated back into the wind and rain while others blocked in front of Wu Zhu.
From this scene, it could be seen that the Qing Emperor held a supreme position in these Ascetic Monks' hearts. Even though they knew Wu Zhu was an emissary from the Temple, the Qing Emperor's call of a traitor still made some Ascetic Monks choose to believe the Emperor.
Wu Zhu moved. The situation immediately changed. No one noticed that when most of the Ascetic Monks between the Emperor and Wu Zhu floated back into the wind and rain, opening up a path for Wu Zhu to face the Emperor directly, an Ascetic Monk wearing a straw hat and hemp clothing floated diagonally to the side and back. Intentionally or not, he disturbed the attacks of the military aces.
The moment Wu Zhu moved, Ye Zhong, who sat on his horse with a spear in hand, gathered his qi around his entire body. The moment Wu Zhu moved, killing intent flared in his eyes. He kicked the horse's belly. The horse neighed. The long spear moved like lightning toward Wu Zhu's slightly slanted back.
Of the people present, probably only Ye Zhong had experienced the events in Qing Kingdom's Jingdou many years ago. Thus, he knew better than anyone else how terrifying Wu Zhu was. He was a powerful warrior who could face Uncle Liuyun head on and not be at a disadvantage. Once he made up his mind to protect the Emperor, he gathered all the strength in his body and did not hold anything back. He knew that when faced with Sir Wu, other than using all his strength in one spear strike, there was no other way to stop his seemingly staggering footsteps.
With an explosive roar, a silver spear light, as pure as water, pierced toward Wu Zhu's back. Ye Zhong had unleashed the most powerful attack of his life. All of his spirit and spirit were focused on this attack, so he did not notice that the Ascetic Monk, who had lightly floated back into the wind and rain, seemed to be a little too close to his body.
Ascetic Monks never used weapons, but the Ascetic Monk closest to Ye Zhong had taken out a poisoned dagger from his sleeve at some point. Silently, like a strand of rain hidden in the rain, it gently pierced toward Ye Zhong's waist.
Ye Zhong stabbed Wu Zhu's back, and the Ascetic Monk stabbed his waist.
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With a swoosh, Ye Zhong's spear strike, which he had gathered strength, pierced forward without any flourish. It ignored all resistance and pierced directly into the stone floor of the Royal Palace that had been washed clean by the rain. It was like piercing a piece of tofu. The tip of the spear stabbed ruthlessly into the ground, sinking several feet deep.
However, the poisoned black dagger had already pierced into his waist the moment his spear was fully unleashed.
Ye Zhong's spear missed. It brushed past the cloth beside Wu Zhu's broken leg and pierced into the ground. Immediately after, a shrill roar rang out in the rain. He abandoned the spear and pulled back his palm, which landed on the Ascetic Monk's shoulder. Using the Coffin-Breaker technique, the Ascetic Monk's shoulder immediately shattered.
However, the Ascetic Monk did not make a sound or feel pain. Like an emotionless wooden man, he took the palm of Ye Zhong, a superior ninth-level ace. As blood sprayed wildly from his mouth, he pushed the dagger in his hand forward and completely broke through the defense of Ye Zhong's armor, heavily injuring his abdomen.
A wave of energy exploded between the two of them, shaking the Qing military aces beside them to the ground. The two of them were like a large bird and its shadow, quickly flying off their horses and slamming into the rain. They broke through countless layers of rain and flew into the distance.
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Ye Zhong was crippled. At least for today, the assassin was the Shadow. When the Ascetic Monk silently hid from the eyes of the Qing aces present and used the rain to get close to Ye Zhong's back, Fan Xian, who had been watching everything in the dark, immediately sensed a strange atmosphere. This was an innate sensitivity of the people of the Overwatch Council. In the world, probably only he and the Shadow could reach such a level.
After Fan Xian entered the capital, he had not contacted the Shadow because even he didn't know where the Shadow had been hiding this year. However, he knew that the Shadow would not be satisfied. The foremost assassin in the world would get revenge for Chen Pingping. Thus, the Palace was in chaos. Fan Xian knew that the Shadow, who was somewhere, would certainly find an opportunity to attack. However, he had not thought that the Shadow would be mixed in with the Ascetic Monks.
A year ago, the two of them had fought a major battle with the Ascetic Monks. How the Shadow had been able to mix in was something Fan Xian did not understand. However, at least at this moment, the Shadow had successfully eliminated the foremost ace by the Qing Emperor's side and pulled the victory in their favor.
If this had been any other mission in the past, it would have been the most important target in the mission for the Shadow to attack. Even Fan Xian could not compete with him on this, just like the last attack when he entered the Palace to assassinate Ye Zhong. However, the Shadow had silently retreated and chosen Ye Zhong of his own accord because he had discovered that the first Commissioner of the Overwatch Council, Sir Wu, had come. The Shadow, who had viewed Wu Zhu as his idol, naturally chose to cooperate with Wu Zhu.
This was actually a kind of trust.
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Fan Xian's gaze only swept over Ye Zhong and the Shadow, who were breaking through the rain and endlessly charging away from the battlefield. He then turned back to the battlefield in front of Taiji Palace.
The moment Ye Zhong was attacked, the people in front of Taiji Palace couldn't help but panic. The attacks aimed at Ye Zhong's immobile body also became slightly chaotic. The only one who did not panic was the Emperor. He completely ignored the Ascetic Monk's attack. He only stared fixedly at Ye Zhong's hand.
The Emperor only had Wu Zhu in his eyes.
The incomparably hard metal rod had already been bent, damaged, and smoothed out. It looked like a very common fire stick. However, this fire stick carried the rain in front of Taiji Palace and waved it through the air to its heart's content.
With a slap, the metal rod knocked aside a long spear in front of it. In the shortest amount of time, it followed the most logical direction and slammed into the wrist of the person holding the spear. In that instant, the skin on the wrist of the person holding the spear split open. His muscles shattered, and his bones protruded. He could no longer hold the spear.
With a crack, the metal rod slid up along the surface of a sword. The heavy pressure forced the sword to lower its head. The metal rod, which no longer had any edge, touched the protruding part of the sword. It suddenly jumped up and then landed heavily on the arm of the person holding the sword, directly turning the arm into twisted firewood.
An Ascetic Monk waved his hand to block it. The metal rod, which had been ground into a flat surface, ruthlessly pierced into his palm, pressing his palm into the rain-covered ground. Then, the metal rod swung up and smashed heavily into the top of the Ascetic Monk's head. The bamboo hat, along with the rainwater, shattered into countless pieces. A mark formed by blood appeared on the Ascetic Monk's smooth head. With a crack, he collapsed into the rainwater.
Each swing of the metal rod was accurate and heavy. The metal rod, which had long lost its edge, became a metal stick in Wu Zhu's hand. It knocked aside the densely packed swords in front of him and shattered countless joints. Blood mixed with the rainwater and splashed into the air in front of him.
The metal rod could no longer pierce into the throats of the countless aces in the Royal Palace, but it could shatter their throats. Wu Zhu, who advanced with difficulty in the rain, seemed to be able to fall at any moment. However, the ones who fell in the end were the aces bravely blocking in front of the Emperor.
At this moment, Wu Zhu seemed to have become the serious teacher on the cliff. Every time he swung his staff, it would accurately land on Fan Xian's body. No matter how Fan Xian tried to dodge, he would never be able to. But today, the wooden staff had become an iron staff.
With a muffled thud, the cartilage on an internal court guard's knee was shattered by the metal rod. He knelt by Wu Zhu's side. The metal rod swung down again and smashed the person down the stone steps, sending up rainwater.
Wu Zhu finally stood in front of the Emperor.
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Without pausing, cursing, or making eye contact, Wu Zhu raised his hand. The metal rod in his hand smashed down toward the Emperor's face.
No one in the world dared to slap the Emperor's face, but Wu Zhu did so. Furthermore, he did so as if it was a matter of course. It was as if he was teaching an unfilial son a lesson or beating a heartless man.
When Wu Zhu stood in front of the Emperor, the Emperor's eyes narrowed slightly. A certain light suddenly bloomed on his slightly aged face. Then, he also raised his hand.
In the instant that the rain did not even have time to tremble, the Emperor's left hand, which had been hanging by his side the entire time, suddenly appeared by his face. His palm faced outward and blocked the metal rod.
At the same time, the Emperor's right hand formed a fist and smashed viciously into Wu Zhu's chest.
His most terrifying pair of hands were as white as snow, seemingly forever untainted by dust and untainted by blood. They blocked Wu Zhu's metal drill and struck Wu Zhu's body.
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The first exchange between the last two ultimate warriors in the world, who had transcended the limits of humanity, was this simple. They each swung a stick, blocked a palm, and threw a punch.
If it had been anyone other than the two of them, they would not have been able to block that metal rod and throw that punch.
The Emperor's terrifying fist smashed viciously into Wu Zhu's chest.
The air seemed to have frozen at this moment. Wu Zhu's body seemed to be strangely suspended in the air at this moment. Then, like an arrow, he was fiercely smashed out. Like a heavy and hard meteorite, he flew out from the bottom of the stone steps!
Wu Zhu's body smashed into countless pursuing Qing aces along the way. In front of Taiji Palace in the Royal Palace, where a black shadow passed, flesh and blood flew everywhere.
With a muffled thud, Wu Zhu's body finally landed dozens of feet away. He landed heavily on the ground and shook the world around him.
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The entire place fell into a strange silence. At this moment, there weren't many people who were still alive and standing. Below Taiji Palace, on the stone steps, in the light rain, the lonely and proud Emperor still maintained his posture with one palm in front of him and one fist extended in the air.
Knocking Wu Zhu down with one punch was something worthy of the Qing Emperor's pride. However, there was not a trace of emotion on his face. On the contrary, a glimmer of coldness appeared in his eyes.
Wu Zhu's metal rod had shattered the powerful zhenqi the Qing Emperor had attached to his palm and ruthlessly struck the Qing Emperor's face.
The Qing Emperor's face was very pale, but his left cheek was red and swollen. Fresh blood flowed from the corner of his lips. It was like someone had slapped him heavily in the face.
He slowly pulled back his left hand and lowered his head to look at the metal rod marks on his palm. Only then did he remember that Wu Zhu's metal rod was bent.
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Wu Zhu, in the puddle of blood and rain, suddenly moved. Then, with unusual difficulty, he stood up with his bent body. The metal rod in his hand trembled as it stood on the ground, supporting his tottering body as he stood in the rain.
He had walked this far with incomparable difficulty. He had walked to the Emperor's side only to be knocked back by a punch from the Emperor. This was something that was enough to make anyone despair. However, Wu Zhu's expression did not change at all. He only dragged his even more broken left leg and, using an even more difficult posture and even slower speed, once again walked toward the bright yellow figure below Taiji Palace.
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