61: China wins!

Zhang Fei laughed, his laughter echoing across the battlefield for a long time.

Shen Xiaochuan stood rooted to the spot, his palms burning. The faith points in his body were completely exhausted. The power surging from the light gate flowed into his body through his arm; his muscles rapidly swelled, and his bones crackled. His combat power soared to 503.

The System's voice rang in his mind: "Divine Sense Resonance successful. Host has acquired the Myriad Enemy status."

He tightly gripped the sky-rending blade in his hand. Lightning flashed along the blade, and electricity crawled along the edge. Three hundred meters ahead, a humanoid Vicious Beast was frantically charging the ranks—it was the South Alliance coalition's final weapon, with a combat power of 402. Its skin was as hard as metal, and with a swing of its claws, it tore open the chests of three warriors.

Shen Xiaochuan moved.

The first step he took blew a deep pit into the ground; the second step was faster, his figure trailing an afterimage; the third step saw him leap five meters into the air, turn mid-flight, and bring the sky-rending blade down with a fierce chop.

"Lightning Slash!"

The Saber Qi, wrapped in thunder, crashed down, accurately striking the Vicious Beast's neck. Without a cry, the head was severed and flew out, tumbling several times in the air before falling into the dust. The body continued to charge forward a few steps before collapsing with a crash, kicking up a cloud of smoke and dust.

The entire field fell silent.

Trump sat in the war chariot, his fingers gripping the armrest tightly, his knuckles white. He watched the severed head, its ferocious expression frozen, but its pupils already devoid of light. He opened his mouth but couldn't make a sound.

Shen Xiaochuan landed, stepped onto the Vicious Beast's corpse, and slowly raised his head. He ignored the surrounding remnants of soldiers, his gaze locked directly onto Trump. That single look seemed to freeze the very air.

He began to advance.

Seven B-rank Deities quickly gathered, raising their weapons to form a defensive line. One chanted a spell, condensing an ice wall in the air; another summoned a fire wolf that rushed forward; the third transformed his long spear into an iron net and swept it toward him.

Shen Xiaochuan did not pause for a moment.

His right arm suddenly shook, and Zhang Fei's Power instantly erupted. He charged out like a cannonball—the first strike shattered the ice wall, and the aftermath sent the spellcaster flying twenty meters away; the second strike was a sideways swing of his blade, incinerating the fire wolf with lightning before it could get close; the third strike was a penetrating thrust, the sky-rending blade tearing through the net, nailing the person and their spear into the ground.

He continued his pursuit.

The fourth person had both legs severed by a single slash and collapsed, screaming; the fifth person had just activated a teleportation array when the lightning interrupted the spell, and he fell, stabbed in the back; the sixth person knelt, begging for mercy, but Shen Xiaochuan ignored him, striking his temple hard with the back of the blade, causing the person to instantly lose consciousness.

The last one was an Archer, hiding behind a rock a hundred meters away, continuously shooting arrows. The arrows were affixed with explosive runes, firing three in quick succession, aimed directly at Shen Xiaochuan's chest.

While running, he suddenly leaped up, catching the first arrow with a grab of his left hand; as the second approached, he threw the first one back. The two arrows collided mid-air and exploded violently; as the third approached his face, he swung his right hand, the blade lightly touching the arrowhead, deflecting the arrow to embed itself in the ground.

The Archer's face turned pale. He threw down his bow and tried to flee.

Shen Xiaochuan accelerated immediately upon landing, catching up within five steps. The sky-rending blade lightly swept past the person's throat. That person grabbed his neck, fell, and lay still.

All seven B-rank Deities were annihilated within ten seconds.

Only sporadic resistance remained on the battlefield. Dozens of ordinary soldiers dropped their weapons and lay on the ground, hands covering their heads. A few Deities huddled around Trump's war chariot, holding up shields, but their hands were trembling.

Trump's face was ashen. He finally shouted hoarsely, "Ranged Units! Focus fire! You must kill him!"

Over thirty Mages raised their staffs, and magic arrays appeared in the air. Fireballs, Ice Cones, and Thunder Spears launched simultaneously, all locked onto Shen Xiaochuan.

He remained standing still.

He raised his left hand, and a ball of lightning condensed in his palm. Electric light jumped between his fingers, growing larger and larger. Ignoring the incoming attack, he flicked his right hand, and the sky-rending blade flew out, heading straight for Trump's war chariot.

At the same time, he forcefully threw the Lightning Ball from his left hand.

Boom!

The Lightning Ball exploded violently in front of the war chariot. The shockwave flipped the entire vehicle several meters, sending it crashing heavily into a pile of rocks. The sky-rending blade followed immediately, piercing the protective shield of the driver's seat, scattering sparks.

All the magic attacks landed three meters in front of Shen Xiaochuan, where they were completely blocked by an invisible barrier and exploded. That was the Protective Aura bestowed by Zhang Fei's Heroic Spirit, capable of automatic defense.

He walked step by step toward the overturned war chariot.

The remaining Deities began to retreat.

A Red-robed Mage had just raised his hand when lightning struck his shoulder, causing him to instantly fall to his knees; another turned to flee, but the ground beneath his feet suddenly cracked open, and surging magma erupted, swallowing him whole.

No one dared to move recklessly again.

Shen Xiaochuan walked up to the war chariot and pulled out the sky-rending blade—the blade was completely intact. He looked down at Trump, who was struggling to stand up, and said calmly, "You just said you wanted me to pay a price?"

Trump steadied himself, adjusted his collar, and tried to maintain his dignity. But his legs were trembling slightly, and blood streamed continuously from his forehead.

Shen Xiaochuan did not wait for his response, turning instead to look at the battlefield.

All the surviving South Alliance soldiers and Deities witnessed this scene: the young man wearing dark blue work clothes stood in the center of the ruins, his clothes torn, the copper gear on his cuff gently swaying. His eyes were pale gold, golden patterns floated on his skin, and the long blade in his hand was still dripping blood.

He raised the sky-rending blade high, pointing it toward the sky.

"Who else wants to fight?"

No one answered.

An A-san Deity was the first to put down his weapon and kneel on one knee. Immediately following were West American Mages, Winter European Warriors, Aboriginal Priests... one after another, they threw down their weapons, bowed their heads, and knelt.

Finally, only the six people beside Trump remained.

Trump looked back at them. One sighed deeply, threw away his shield, and knelt down. The second immediately followed suit. The third, the fourth, the fifth... the sixth hesitated for a moment and then also let go of his weapon.

Only Trump remained standing.

The wind swept across the battlefield, kicking up dust. His suit flapped loudly.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and then slowly bent his knee.

One knee touched the ground.

Everyone shouted in unison: "We hail you as King!"

The wave of sound swept in all directions, spreading throughout the entire battlefield.

The dark clouds dispersed, and sunlight poured down. Dust danced in the light beams, resembling golden fine rain.

Shen Xiaochuan stood quietly.

He knew he had won.

But he neither smiled nor spoke.

He just stood there, his gaze calm, watching these enemies who had once been arrogant but now could only bow their heads in submission.

At this moment, footsteps sounded behind him.

Zhang Fei walked over. His body gradually became transparent, his outline blurring, as if he would dissipate with a gust of wind.

He heavily patted Shen Xiaochuan's shoulder.

Zhang Fei grinned: "Not bad, kid! You've got the ruthlessness I had back then!"

Shen Xiaochuan looked up at him.

Zhang Fei smiled again: "I didn't die. I made a name for myself long ago on the Gods' Battlefield and gained a Godhood. If you have ambition, cultivate a Godhead within two hundred years, and someone will naturally come to receive you."

As his voice faded, his body turned into specks of starlight, scattering with the wind.

Just as the last wisp of light was about to vanish, Shen Xiaochuan heard that familiar voice echoing in the wind:

"Remember, those who offend my Huaxia—"