Murderous Sword Strike! . . .
Amidst the frantic defense against the trio of attackers, Bing-Er found herself engulfed in an unusual thought, one that surged from the depths of her soul with a murderous determination.
Abruptly, a peculiar image materialized in her mind's eye, vivid and sharp. It depicted a black-clad girl, her visage identical to Bing-Er's own. This spectral twin leaped high into the air and extended her hand with a swiftness that seemed to defy the laws of physical space. Her hand closed with terrifying speed around the head of a man, shattering it into myriad fragments.
As this haunting image crystallized in her thoughts, the malevolent qi inside Bing-Er surged with a violent intensity, filling her chest with an eerie power. She continued to give ground against the encroaching assault of her adversaries, striving to hold them at bay. However, with the emergence of this image, an unusual energy began to emanate from her.
The attackers suddenly sensed a shift in the dynamics of the battle. Their instincts sent a surge of dread through their veins. Intuition alerted them to the imminent, mortal peril.
While their intent was to expedite the confrontation, the girl executed an unexpected maneuver. In an instant, she sidestepped her adversaries. Without warning, her sword became a streak of rapid motion, manifesting a direct and unadorned thrust.
It was a simple yet incredibly fast stab, akin to lightning itself.
An attack that seemed to emerge from the ether, impossible to perceive, a fleeting bolt of violence.
– Puff! –
The swiftness of the strike caught the central man by surprise. A sudden chill registered upon his chest. Disbelieving, he gazed downwards, to a pristine, snow-white sword retracted from his chest. The blade, unsullied and without a speck of blood, had seemingly passed through his body.
No words escaped him, only a soft moan, and he descended in a gradual, breathless slump to the floor. His final expression mixed disbelief with shock, a testament to his incredulity.
His life had been extinguished, an occurrence that the other black-clad men, witnessing the act, could scarcely comprehend.
They had never entertained the notion that one of their own would perish in this skirmish against an opponent significantly weaker.
Bing-Er's victory was sealed with her first strike, and as the blood stained the ground, she experienced a sensation of nausea, a desire to expel the horror of it. Yet this revulsion passed swiftly, replaced by a visceral sensation teeming with violent urges, a yearning for destruction, and an overpowering hatred.
In her mind's eye, the spectral figure of the black-clad woman reappeared. Dressed in obsidian attire, she soared to the heavens, then descended upon a crowd from hundreds of meters above.
Bing-Er gazed upon the faces of the hapless onlookers in the crowd below. The black-clad woman plummeted with a malevolent intent, her hands extended. Countless beams of resplendent light burst forth, illuminating the surroundings.
Hundreds in the crowd disintegrated into a fine mist, reduced to nothing but dew. In a matter of moments, the entire area descended into silence. Their once-robust forms had transformed into shattered remnants.
All around, the enemies exploded upon contact with the radiant light, crimson and vermilion life essence splattering in all directions. The ground was carpeted with blood and bone fragments, an abyss of gore.
Not a single soul among the hundreds present managed to escape the carnage. They had all met their demise.
The black-clad woman, standing on the ground amidst the aftermath, shouted, then launched herself into the sky once more. – Shoot! – She vanished.
In an instant, Bing-Er sensed herself ascending into the heavens, moving across the billowing clouds.
She was, astonishingly, soaring through the sky.
She?
A profound unease gripped Bing-Er as she grappled with an inexplicable sensation. [Why is this happening? Is it… me?] The fleeting thought offered no solace. There was no time to unravel the enigma; an inexorable surge of violence and destruction was coursing through her, intensifying with every heartbeat. It suffused her chest and extended its grip on her entire being, teetering on the precipice of eruption. It felt as though it might consume her entirely, transforming her into something unrecognizable.
The unsettling transformation didn't end with her burgeoning violence; Bing-Er's once-pure eyes now harbored an alien darkness. Her mind, gripped by a relentless surge of homicidal intent, showed no sign of relenting.
Unbeknownst to all, an overwhelming force surged within her, emanating from her very core. It was a cataclysmic energy, capable of reducing the entire Land of Han-Yang to ashes with a single discharge. A deep-seated conviction propelled her, an instinct that transcended reason. The inexorable surge was real, its destructive potential inconceivable.
The black-clad men were united in disbelief. Their fallen comrade, the sixth man, could offer no further words. Death had claimed him, a stark testament to their newfound peril.
Enraged by the loss, the surviving assailants erupted in anger, lambasting Bing-Er with venomous curses. "B*tch! We didn't intend to harm you! We showed mercy at every turn! How dare you! A merciless b*tch!"
Yet Bing-Er remained fixated on the enigmatic image unfolding in her mind's eye.
In that vision, the black-clad woman opened her eyes, which emanated an eerie, bone-chilling coldness. They exuded an unrestrained aura of murderous intent capable of annihilating the world itself.
Simultaneously, an immense power surged through her right hand, coursing from the grip on her sword. The weapon quivered and hummed with an otherworldly resonance, as though it had thirsted for this moment, eagerly anticipating the blood it was about to claim.
"I will annihilate you all," Bing-Er proclaimed through clenched teeth, each word a deliberate declaration of her intentions.
With determination, she raised her snow-white sword once more.
…
For Song Jue, the night had been a continuous vigil, maintaining a watchful eye over Bing-Er's safety. The scene he now beheld defied comprehension. Bing-Er had been engaged in combat for hours, and Song Jue was intimately familiar with her prowess, particularly her mastery of the sword.
The events playing out before him perplexed him. [Why... That black-clad man appeared fierce and formidable, undoubtedly a Sky Origin Stage cultivator. How could he have been vanquished so swiftly by Bing-Er?]