Without anyone noticing, the wind picked up, making everyone's clothes flutter and snap.
While Golden Fan Gentleman was still negotiating with the Phantom Shadow Tower and the bandit chief, the Lady Brocade beside him, who had been silent all this time, suddenly frowned. She glanced around warily—the rustling woods and the slow-setting sun made for a beautiful scene. But the air was tinged with a faint murderous intent, like drifting scales that cut deep into the flesh of anyone sensitive enough to feel it.
"What's wrong?" Quinn Liu noticed something was off with Lady Brocade. Her gaze turned deadly serious: "Something's not right—someone's coming. Listen, there's no birdsong nearby!" He tilted his head to listen, and his face changed. Sure enough, at some point, all the birds had gone silent.
The Ratskin Man in the cage scurried about in a panic, panting as he whispered, "Master, something's wrong—we should run!"
"Run? Ha! Cowardly rat, victory is within reach and now you want to run for no reason?" Quinn Liu sneered, clearly looking down on the Ratskin Man. He was about to mock him some more when Lady Brocade suddenly grabbed the cage and leapt away. As if pricked by a needle, she jumped off with lightning speed, her eyes wide with fear. Without saying a word, she turned and bolted.
Quinn Liu froze, a sense of dread washing over him.
Just then, a voice sounded by his ear: "No need to wonder. She took that rat because it's still useful to her. But you? You're already useless—because you're already dead."
Sssht—bright red blood sprayed from Quinn Liu’s neck, revealing a line slashed clean across his throat. With a thud, he collapsed, eyes empty, his head rolling, finally coming to a stop under someone’s foot.
Only then did the people in brocade robes react, shouting, "Who are you?!"
Everyone turned their gaze to the newcomer—a man impossible to forget. He was tall and broad-shouldered, his skin rough and weathered. But that wasn’t the point. The point was his eyes, sharp as a killer bird, piercing straight through you. His teeth, like some ancient beast’s, were razor-sharp and terrifying. The moment he appeared, a strange aura blanketed the old road. Instinctively, people forgot his face, remembering only those eyes and teeth—and the world suddenly painted in bloody hues.
"A bunch of trash dare to fight me for this? Only one little girl noticed me. Quinn Liu? Ha! Spit!" Crunch—he stomped a head into bits, splattering gore everywhere, then strode toward the brocade-robed crowd.
"Don't come any closer! Offend the Tienjin Pavilion and you're dead!" The brocade-robed man was usually tough, but now he was howling like he'd seen his worst nightmare.
But the man just grinned—or maybe he was just baring those cold, gleaming fangs. Nobody could tell if it was a smile or just a snarl. Then he raised his hand.
With a wild sweep of his arm, the whole world changed. It was like the brocade-robed folks were just painted figures, and some maniac had slashed a thick, bloody line across the canvas—red splatters everywhere. The world was dyed dark red, the kind that looks like old, congealed blood. Gave you chills just looking at it.
Not even a scream—over a dozen people were instantly torn to pieces, their bodies raining down in chunks.
Everyone was stunned. In the wagon, Fiona Fang murmured, "So this is the power of the Golden Blade King from that saying—'Golden Blade, Silver Sword, Blood Dripper, Bronze Axe, Iron Spear—none return.' This is the Heavenly King Ghost-Slaying Blade!"
"Not a blade," The Fool replied calmly, the only voice still steady. "A hand."
"A hand?!" Fiona Fang and Rachel Luo both yelled. That kind of massacre—like the laser corridor in Resident Evil—was done with a single swipe?
But then the man's killer-bird eyes locked onto the wagon, and he said slowly, "Oh? So not all of you are useless. There's an interesting one among you."
"Ugh!" Both women shivered, goosebumps everywhere. Their whispered conversation, from so far away, had actually been heard!
Buzz—Golden Blade King lashed out, the black-robed leader roared and swung his sword to block. No blade flash, but a diagonal line appeared on his chest, from right shoulder to left hip. His top half slid off, cut so clean it gleamed. Blood sprayed skyward like a horror-movie fountain.
Heh, not satisfied, really not satisfied. All trash—no one here is fun enough to make me smile. Golden Blade King strolled toward the wagon, slow and steady, as if a bloody world was closing in. He sized up The Fool, then grinned: "Let's chop you into sticks first. Relax—if the blade's fast enough, it won't hurt. Hahaha!"
With a single slash, he struck at the wagon.
Fiona Fang and Rachel Luo's hearts stopped; their minds went blank, swamped by waves of killing intent. This was a master on another level—so strong, you couldn't even think of fighting back.
But then, The Fool's eyes lit up. Since showing up in the Desert of Nineteen Deaths, he'd never looked this alive. Like a sword drawn from its sheath, he stood tall—no longer a fool, but a battle-hardened fighter. He reached out, and in a flash, a gun appeared in his hand.
It was the Volcano Gun.
Bang! The gunfire tore through the bloody gloom, lighting up Fiona Fang's shocked face and Rachel Luo's wild grin. Rachel felt pure joy—who'd have thought this fool had a gun? With a gun, who needs to fear these ancient tough guys?
Clang! Golden Blade King flipped backward, landing solidly three steps away, shock all over his face. He raised his blade—still sheathed. Only now did everyone realize it had never left its scabbard, but now, there was a hole in it. At the last instant, he blocked the shot.
Crash—the scabbard shattered, and Golden Blade King's mouth twisted into a grin that was half amusement, half rage.
"What?!" the two women cried out together.
They were both utterly floored, and for the same reason. It's like knowing a weirdo who can beat up knife-wielding thugs—surprising, but not earth-shattering. But the day he catches a bullet with his bare hands? That's when your whole worldview short-circuits.
Rachel Luo was stunned that Golden Blade King actually blocked the bullet.
Fiona Fang was amazed that The Fool actually forced Golden Blade King back.
"Interesting, very interesting. Legend says the Southern Wasteland Ancient Dynasty's gadgets are one of a kind, and now I'm sure you folks are its descendants. If that's true, maybe I'll spare your lives—but that depends on my blade." Golden Blade King, not scared of guns at all, gave a creepy grin: "Want to see the Heavenly King Ghost-Slaying Blade? I'll show you."
Crash—the busted scabbard fell away, and Golden Blade King's killing intent thickened like a storm.
But The Fool didn't care what his opponent was up to. He kicked a plank at a horse's rear, making it bolt. Then, with a flick, the plank creaked under the weight as he revealed a giant gun. The moment it appeared, everyone froze—no one knew where The Fool had pulled it from, but everyone could tell this thing was trouble.
Expressionless, The Fool lined up his shot at Golden Blade King and squeezed the trigger.
The gunfire roared, echoing across the battlefield, as the showdown reached its boiling point.
Golden Blade King didn't flinch—he grinned, eyes glinting, ready to unleash his signature move.
Fiona Fang and Rachel Luo clung to each other, hearts pounding, as the air crackled with danger.
The Fool's Super Machine Cannon fired again, thunder shaking the ground.
Golden Blade King moved like a shadow, dodging bullets with inhuman speed, his killing intent undiminished.
Smoke and dust filled the air, obscuring friend and foe alike.
For a moment, everything was chaos—gunfire, screams, and the metallic scent of blood.
But as the smoke cleared, Golden Blade King stood tall, blade in hand, eyes locked on The Fool.
The showdown wasn't over—if anything, it was just getting started.
And somewhere in the chaos, the secrets of the peculiar slaves and the Southern Wasteland Ancient Dynasty waited to be revealed.