Dare to Give Me Ten More Martial Saints

Inside a ten-thousand-man commander’s tent, a commander was gulping down wine and eating meat.

Just then, a shadowy figure appeared before him.

"Who—?!"

His voice cut off abruptly, because a sword had already pierced through his brow.

With a casual wave, Fiona Li swept the commander’s corpse into her Storage Ring, then, following Ian Song’s directions, dashed toward the second tent—a thousand-man captain’s quarters.

A Martial Saint’s speed was terrifyingly fast.

In a single breath, she had already burst from the commander’s tent into the thousand-man captain’s quarters.

"Die!"

Her sword flashed out, sending the thousand-man captain’s head flying into the air, before Fiona Li swept it into her Storage Ring as well.

The other five assassinations went just as smoothly.

Among the six, Jason Song had the highest cultivation and the fastest speed, so while Fiona Li was killing her two targets, he had already finished off a ten-thousand-man commander and three thousand-man captains.

The night was as black as ink.

The slaughter went on in silence.

In the blink of an eye, fifteen breaths had passed. Watching from the shadows, Ian Song saw all six Martial Saints complete their missions—eliminating the ten-thousand-man commanders and every thousand-man captain in five camps.

But the killing didn’t stop there.

After taking out the thousand-man captains, they turned their blades on the ordinary Strongarm Bull Devil soldiers.

For every Strongarm Bull Devil soldier that died, one less human soldier would fall in battle.

Finally, after half a刻 of silent slaughter, Shawn Tu was discovered.

A flood of Strongarm Bull Devil soldiers burst from their tents, charging straight at him.

"Come on, you Devil brats!"

With a thunderous roar, Shawn Tu unleashed a barrage of punches.

"Boom! Boom!"

Twin torrents erupted from his fists, sweeping up more than three hundred Strongarm Bull Devil soldiers and grinding them to pulp.

"Savage!"

Watching this, Ian Song couldn’t help but praise him inwardly.

Even after being exposed, Shawn Tu grew even more reckless, striding forward and smashing out punch after punch—each blow taking at least dozens of Strongarm Bull Devil lives.

In less than a minute, over a thousand Strongarm Bull Devils had fallen to his fists.

Seeing this, Ian Song felt his blood boil and couldn’t help recalling the old Killing Song:

A man should kill. Kill without mercy.

Eternal glory is forged in slaughter.

Once there was the Assassin League, where honor meant keeping your word.

Blood spilled, a life taken—one’s body lighter than a feather.

……

To kill one is a crime; to slaughter ten thousand, a hero.

Slaughter nine million, and you are the hero of heroes.

In the blink of an eye, Shawn Tu had already slaughtered nearly two thousand Strongarm Bull Devil soldiers. Not a single one dared charge him anymore—they threw down their weapons and fled in the opposite direction.

"Ha! Devil brats, where do you think you’re running?"

But Shawn Tu was in the grip of bloodlust. With a flicker, he appeared high in the air, his eyes shining like twin divine lamps as he unleashed another flurry of punches.

"Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!"

Fist-force blasted out in all directions, the deafening explosions echoing as over a thousand fleeing Strongarm Bull Devils died on the spot.

On the other side, Fiona Li’s fighting style was nothing like Shawn Tu’s.

She moved like a ghost, weaving swiftly among clusters of Strongarm Bull Devil soldiers. Her sword flashed out again and again, and wherever she passed, a path of Bull Devil corpses was left behind.

Then there was Jason Song.

This old fellow was a late-stage Martial Saint, and his weapon was a long spear.

Although the spear wasn’t a ninth-grade spirit weapon, he wielded it as if it were.

The spear’s afterimages flickered constantly.

One after another, bloody holes appeared in the heads of Strongarm Bull Devil soldiers.

"Gak! Gak!"

He kept cackling, and to the Strongarm Bull Devils, his laughter was pure nightmare fuel.

After just half a quarter-hour, he’d killed no less than three thousand Bull Devil soldiers with his spear.

Next was Tyson Xiong.

His fighting style was downright brutal—he darted through the ranks of Strongarm Bull Devil soldiers, bodies collapsing wherever he passed. Those who hit the ground died instantly.

"Splat!"

He grabbed a Bull Devil centurion by one foot and one hand, and with a savage wrench, tore the body apart. Blood poured down, soaking Tyson Xiong until he was painted red.

In the same half a quarter-hour, Tyson Xiong killed no less than three thousand Bull Devil soldiers. He ripped apart more than fifty with his bare hands, each time drenching himself in fresh blood until the stench of gore hung thick around him.

Marcus Meng’s fighting was just as ferocious.

He wielded a long saber, and wherever the blade swept, heads flew.

The most elegant fighter of all was Hannah Han. With a casual wave of her hand, she froze hundreds of Strongarm Bull Devil soldiers into ice statues, which shattered instantly into chunks of ice.

After half a quarter-hour of slaughter, not a single drop of blood was left in her wake.

Watching the six perform from the shadows, Ian Song was amazed. No wonder the Human Race valued Martial Saints so highly—their combat power was terrifying. Once they went on a rampage, even ten thousand enemies couldn’t stop them.

Of course, no Martial Saint would actually go that far.

Don’t be fooled by how gleefully the six Martial Saints slaughtered their way through the Bull Devil ranks, sending the soldiers running in terror. That was only possible because they’d already assassinated the ten-thousand-man commanders and thousand-man captains, leaving the ten thousand troops with no effective leadership.

Even so, their true qi was heavily depleted. In just half a quarter-hour, each had burned through thirty percent of their reserves. If not for Ian Song’s presence, allowing them to retreat at any moment, none of them would have dared such a reckless attack.

If they really had to kill every last Bull Devil soldier, their true qi would be nearly exhausted.

Another half quarter-hour passed, and five camps had been wiped out.

Of course, not every Bull Devil soldier was killed. In the camps with two Martial Saints, over ninety percent of the soldiers were slain. In the other four camps, seven or eight thousand per camp were killed, with the rest fleeing for their lives.

"Time to go!"

Ian Song appeared and teleported each of them across the Blood River.

But when he grabbed Tyson Xiong’s arm, it was slick with blood; when he let go, his hand was stained red.

Ian couldn’t help but think, Killing is one thing, but why get yourself drenched in blood? That’s a bit much.

Back in Blood River City, Ian Song told the other five to rest, then went with Fiona Li to the Commander’s Headquarters to report.

When Raymond Lei heard that Ian Song had led the Assassin Camp in crippling five Strongarm Bull Devil camps, he was shocked. These people were far too bold. But mostly, he was delighted: if Human warriors had tried to kill forty thousand Bull Devils by conventional means, it would have cost forty or fifty thousand lives.

"What do you make of Prince Darius Ironhorn’s sudden troop surge?"

Raymond Lei looked at Ian Song and asked.

"If I’m not mistaken, he’s planning to start a full-scale war!" Ian Song said confidently.

Raymond Lei nodded. "That’s pretty much what I thought too." But then he changed the subject, staring at Ian Song. "Do you have any way to win this war?"

Ian Song’s expression grew serious. "Give me ten more Martial Saints, and I can win this war for you—without losing a single soldier!"