Endless Winter: My Camp Upgrades Infinitely Chapter 1400 - 451: Driven by Lust, Ignorant of One’s Limits, Chui Mountain Changes Hands, Cai Shiqi Breaks Down, Intimidation_5

For the sake of survival, he had no other choice.

However, Li Xuanling’s long-prepared killing strike was far from that simple!

The instant Duan Hong evaded, Li Xuanling surged forward, her wrist twisting subtly. The Heavenly Transformation Sword instantaneously altered its trajectory. Simultaneously, a nine-hundred-foot-tall phantom resembling mystic ice bones materialized behind her, mirroring her every move.

Swish... Swish... Swish...

Li Xuanling’s wrist shuddered violently. The Heavenly Transformation Sword in her grasp danced like a butterfly, unleashing nineteen sword beams into the sky. These beams rained down upon Duan Hong, targeting every conceivable part of his body, leaving him absolutely no avenue for escape.

Thud...

The initial sword beam plunged through his chest. Duan Hong’s already terrified visage contorted, his fear escalating when he realized his chest bones had been impaled by her blade. Unable to contain his panic, he quickly lifted his head and yelled:

"Brother Yang, save me!"

Yang Fa was in close proximity, locked in a struggle with Mu Longhe. Duan Hong was acutely aware of this, so the 'Brother Yang' he called out to was clearly not Yang Fa. There was only one other individual he would address by that familiar title. The implication was evident: the person Duan Hong was pleading for assistance was none other than Yang Zhun.

"No one can save you now!"

Li Xuanling’s icy laughter echoed like a harbinger of doom for Duan Hong.

The subsequent eighteen sword beams found their mark, with more than half piercing various sections of Duan Hong’s form. What felt like an agonizing eternity transpired in mere moments.

Before any observer on the ground could process the events, Duan Hong, suspended in mid-air, was riddled with over a dozen bloodied wounds. These wounds were so numerous that within moments, the blood cascading from them ceased flowing, leaving only ghastly, bone-exposing gashes.

Duan Hong uttered no sound, not even a whimper. As the sword light dissipated, his body became rigid in the air, impaled by Li Xuanling’s longsword. His face remained frozen in its final expression of profound terror and despair.

As the master of Chui Mountain for decades, a figure renowned throughout the Nine Towns Territory, Duan Hong had almost ascended to the apex of Moao South Slope. To witness such a formidable individual brutally slain in the skies above his own territory, in full view of countless spectators, delivered a profound shock to all present.

The ongoing skirmishes within the military encampment below ground to a complete halt in the wake of his demise.

With Duan Hong vanquished, Mu Longhe lost any inclination to continue his engagement. He swiftly disengaged from Yang Fa, his gaze settling upon his junior colleague, not with triumph, but with a complex mixture of emotions.

Despite Yang Fa’s countenance being etched with fury, his attention was immediately drawn towards the Duan Clan’s lands. After a swift observation, his expression shifted, and he accelerated towards the clan grounds.

Deep within the Duan Clan’s ancestral territory, atop a prominent structure.

There stood a contingent of twenty-two individuals; nineteen positioned on the left, led unmistakably by Yang Zhun. Adjacent to Yang Zhun stood a young woman, occupying a similar standing. This lady was adorned in exquisite blue and white brocade attire. A delicately crafted silver circlet graced her forehead, complemented by a pair of silver and emerald hairpins nestled within her locks. A blood-hued jade pendant adorned her neck, and two milky-white jade ornaments dangled from her waist.

Her beauty was striking, a subtle air of haughtiness emanating from her brows, and her numerous adornments bestowed upon her an undeniable noble aura. Her proximity to Yang Zhun, standing at the same level, clearly indicated her exceptional status.

The dozen or so individuals accompanying the young woman, attired similarly, possessed accessories that were slightly less refined and radiated a less imposing presence.

Were Xia Hong to be present, he would instantly recognize this woman as none other than Chu Yan’er, whom he had expelled from Xia City two years prior, in the month of October.

Chu Yan’er’s expression was remarkably severe. Yang Zhun, standing beside her, shared the same somber mien.

The source of their grim visages was apparent on the right side of the rooftop.

Twenty-two figures occupied the rooftop, with nineteen on the left and merely three on the right. Among these three were two elder gentlemen, their hair streaked with gray. One, clad in black summer attire, wielded a silver Coiled Dragon Pattern Long Stick; the other, resplendent in a red robe, bore a sheathed sword at his hip. The third, attired in golden brocade and appearing to be in his middle years, held a pitch-black Twelve-Hole Silver Ring Saber in his left hand.

Upon witnessing Duan Hong’s demise in mid-air at the hands of the newly arrived white-clad woman, Yang Zhun’s fury ignited. He turned his gaze towards Xiang Fuhai and the other two, unable to suppress a sneer, remarking:

"Xiang Fuhai, Murong Chui, Xiahou Zhang, each of you presides over a town, yet you grovel before Xia Hong like loyal hounds. Hmph!"

"You dare to mock this old man? Had it not been for the machinations of the Three Towns back then, how could Bashang have fallen to Dajue Temple? Yang Zhun, Chui Mountain is not yours to claim. It matters not whose hand you employ; your efforts are futile. Take your brother Yang Fa and retreat to Beishuo!"