Young White Horse: The Poison Sword Master of the Wen Family, Shocking the Apocalypse

Chapter 482 Iron Thorn Ridge, Medicine Man Slaughters Double-Blade Camp (2)!

The flute's melody was sharp and piercing, like the blood-weeping cry of a night owl.

The movements of the medicine-using figures accelerated suddenly with the sound of the flute, and thirty dark figures left trails of afterimages on the battlefield.

They were no longer individual killers, but had become a terrifying whole—three medicine men blocked the left flank, four cut off the right flank, and the remaining twenty-three pressed forward in a fan shape, forcing the remaining soldiers of the Double Blade Camp back towards the edge of the miasma.

These mindless killing puppets, under the control of the flute music, actually displayed exquisite encirclement tactics.

Ye Xiaoying felt an even greater chill in his heart. The wound on his right leg was so deep that the bone was visible, and every step he took was excruciatingly painful. Although the wound on his left arm was being forcibly suppressed by his internal energy, his entire arm was already numb with pain...

"We can't let them drive us into the poisonous miasma!!"

Ye Xiaoying roared through the crowd, "Brothers, break through to the north! Fight your way out!"

Fewer than 800 of the Double-Blade Battalion soldiers were still standing; all of them were wounded and their armor was shattered.

But when they heard their commander's roar, their eyes rekindled with fighting spirit—they were all veterans who had survived countless battles, and they knew what would happen if they fell into that bone-corroding miasma.

"Charge with the general!"

"Kill out!"

The eight hundred remaining soldiers mustered their last strength and rushed northward like trapped beasts.

There were twenty-three medicine-wielding figures blocking the road. The leader of the medicine-wielding figures had a bright purple light in his eyes. Instead of retreating, he charged forward.

Its fingernails grew to three inches long, jet black and shiny, and with a fishy smell, they went straight for Ye Xiaoying's face.

Ye Xiaoying gritted his teeth, abandoned his dulled left-hand sword, and slashed horizontally with his right-hand single sword.

This strike embodied his life's cultivation; the air whistled as the blade passed through.

"clang--!"

Knives and claws clashed, sparks flying everywhere.

The man's fingers were as hard as refined iron, and he gripped the blade tightly! Dark brown viscous liquid seeped from between his fingers, corroding the blade and making a hissing sound.

Ye Xiaoying's tiger's mouth split open, but he did not withdraw his knife. Instead, he used the force to rush forward, and with the remaining internal energy in his left palm, he slammed it hard into the chest of the medicine man.

"I refuse to believe it!"

Ignoring the excruciating pain in his arm, he slammed out his left palm, channeling most of his internal energy into the medicine man's body!

"boom!"

The drugged man's chest caved in, and he flew backward, knocking over two of his kind behind him.

But after it landed, it stood up unsteadily, the granulation tissue on its chest wound wriggling, and the purple light flickering in its eyes—this palm strike had only temporarily rendered it unable to fight, and it seemed that it would be able to recover and fight again in less than an hour or two!

"Damn it... what kind of evil magic is this!" Ye Xiaoying coughed up blood, leaning on his knife and panting.

Just as they were catching their breath, three medicine-using figures pounced on each of their left and right sides.

Six hands and twelve claws sealed off all escape routes.

Ye Xiaoying's pupils suddenly contracted.

Gonna die here.

The thought had barely formed when a furious roar suddenly came from behind:

"Protect the general!"

Five blood-soaked squad leaders wielding double swords rushed forward. Their swords were chipped and shattered, and their breastplates were mostly torn. These five squad leaders simply used their own bodies to block the attack of the six drug-using men.

"Pfft——!"

Its sharp claws pierced through the chest and tore open the abdominal cavity.

But the five people, like five nails, tightly bound the six drug-impregnated people.

Some people grabbed the legs of the drug user, some bit the wrists of the drug user tightly, and some rammed their foreheads into the eye sockets of the drug user—even though there was only an empty purple light in the eye sockets.

"General... go!" A squad leader, whose body had been torn in half by the drug-wielding man, still clung tightly to the man's ankle and roared hoarsely.

Ye Xiaoying's eyes reddened, but he didn't leave.

He took his last breath and swung his single blade like a whirlwind.

With one stroke, he severed three heads.

With another slash, he split open the chests of both men.

When the third strike was made, the blade finally gave way and broke with a "crack".

But enough is enough.

Of the six people treated with the medicine, five collapsed and one was seriously injured.

Ye Xiaoying threw away the hilt of his sword, picked up half of a broken spear from the ground, and looked to the north—there, ten more medicine-using figures blocked his way.

Behind him, there were fewer than three hundred soldiers from the Double-Blade Battalion who could stand.

……

On a high cliff.

Wen Hujiu's face turned pale, his fingers gripping the rock tightly, his fingertips sinking half an inch into the stone.

He watched Ye Xiaoying display his ferocity in the face of adversity, watched the soldiers of the Double-Blade Battalion use their bodies to shield their general from blades, and watched the three hundred remaining soldiers charge left and right amidst the encirclement of the medicine men, only to be repelled time and time again, only to charge forward again and again.

“Zhao’er…” his voice was hoarse, “That’s enough… They’ve already lost, let them go.”

Wen Yanzhao's bone flute was still pressed against his lips, the flute music sometimes fast and sometimes slow, precisely controlling the movements of each medicine man.

His expression was calm, but his eyes were terrifyingly focused—as if he were not controlling a massacre, but completing a meticulous work of art.

"Uncle," he said, without putting down his flute, his voice coming through the flute holes with a strange tremor, "look at Ye Xiaoying, doesn't he look like a trapped beast?"

Warm the wine pot and look down.

Ye Xiaoying was covered in blood, and the broken spear in his hand transformed into a poisonous dragon, each thrust cunning and ruthless.

He killed three more drug-using people, but a deep wound tore open his left shoulder, exposing the bone.

"Even a cornered beast will fight..." Wenhujiu murmured, "but in the end, it is still a cornered beast."

“Yes,” Wen Yanzhao said calmly, “but the last stand of a trapped beast is often the most devastating. Look, he killed two more.”

Below, Ye Xiaoying's broken spear pierced the throat of a medicine man, and then swept across, smashing the knee of another man.

But he staggered backward, coughing up a mouthful of blood. He looked seriously injured, and his movements were becoming distorted...

"He won't last thirty breaths!" Wen Hujiu closed his eyes. "Zhao'er, stop! Give this fierce general some dignity..."

Despite his ruthlessness, the Poison Bodhisattva still possessed a compassionate heart. Such a hellish scene truly moved even Wen Hujiu, who was accustomed to the bloodshed and treacherous paths of life and death in the martial world.

The flute music suddenly stopped.

Wen Yanzhao put down the bone flute and looked down at the battlefield.

The man's movements froze, and the purple light in his eyes dimmed slightly.

Seizing this fleeting opportunity, Ye Xiaoying roared, "Charge—!"

The three hundred remaining soldiers mustered their last strength and surged northward like a flood bursting its banks.

There were still five drug-using figures blocking the way. They instinctively swung their claws to intercept them, but the whistle stopped, reducing their precise coordination.

The three medicine-carrying figures were knocked aside, and two of them tore apart seven or eight soldiers, but the breach was opened.

Supported by his personal guards, Ye Xiaoying broke through the encirclement and disappeared into the darkness of the north.

The remaining soldiers of the Double-Blade Battalion followed closely behind, stumbling and disappearing into the night.

The medicine man wanted to give chase, but Wen Yanzhao gently blew out a short syllable.

All the medicine-using people stopped at the same time, slowly retreating to the edge of the miasma, standing still like statues.

Wen Hujiu was stunned: "Zhao'er? What's wrong with you...?"

Wen Yanzhao tucked the bone flute into his sleeve, turned, and walked towards the ridge, his voice calm and undisturbed.

“I did not intend to spare his life, but rather to send him back to report.”

Wenhujiu chased after him: "Bring a message? You mean..."

"The Three Thousand Double-Blade Battalion, one of the most elite fighting forces in the Northern Li, was almost completely wiped out at Ironthorn Ridge!"

Wen Yanzhao continued walking, his voice carrying clearly in the night wind, "Ye Xiaoying is seriously injured; it's questionable whether he can even save his left arm. The more than one hundred people who escaped with him are all wounded, and each of them witnessed firsthand how the drug-using people slaughtered their comrades!"

He paused, a cold smile curving his lips:

"Uncle, what do you think these people will say about tonight's events when they return to the Northern Li camp? And what will Ye Xiaoying say about it to Xiao Ruofeng?"

……