110: Chapter 110 Sword Cultivator?

"Die!"

Luo Xiu gripped his longsword and instantly slashed across the throat of Crown Prince Murong Xuecun, causing blood to splatter everywhere. The scalding blood erupted like a geyser, forming a mist of blood in the air.

The Crown Prince of the Great Xia Empire, Murong Xuecun, widened his eyes, his gaze filled with disbelief and resentment.

His lips trembled slightly, as if he wanted to say something, but with his throat slashed, he could only emit a series of incoherent gurgling sounds.

There was not a shred of pity on Luo Xiu's face; his gaze was cold and resolute. The longsword in his hand shimmered with a chilling light under the moonlight, and the blood staining the blade dripped slowly, pooling into a small puddle on the ground.

Crown Prince Murong Xuecun's body swayed a few times before finally collapsing powerlessly.

His body hit the ground heavily, kicking up a cloud of dust.

Just at this moment, the voice of Qin Xiaogan, resonant like a great bell, echoed from the sky.

"I am the Emperor."

Having said that.

A surge of scorching energy descended from the sky, like a brilliant and searing miniature sun arriving.

The light was dazzling, making it impossible to look directly at it, while powerful heatwaves surged and rolled, instantly scorching the surrounding air until it twisted and warped.

Immediately following, the city below was engulfed in a sea of flames in the blink of an eye; buildings began to melt, and the streets, as if placed inside a furnace, rapidly fused into pools of scalding liquid.

The terrified screams of the people rose and fell, but in the face of such extreme heat and destructive power, they seemed so insignificant.

The once bustling and lively city turned into a living hell in an instant.

Luo Xiu, standing on the outskirts of the city, stared blankly at the scene before him, feeling an inexplicable emptiness in his heart.

The raging city, the billowing thick smoke—it felt as if his soul had been swallowed up by it all.

Then, he couldn't help but mutter: "All of this is your own doing..."

After speaking, Luo Xiu raised the longsword in his hand; the blade reflected the light of the flames, illuminating his numb face.

From now on, I shall be called Sword Cultivator Jianxiuzi; reborn by the sword, taking the sword as my surname.

Meanwhile, on the other side.

After destroying the city, Qin Xiaogan had quickly arrived above the capital of the Great Xia Empire.

Powerful energy fluctuations swirled around him, causing the wind and clouds to change color.

He slowly curled the corners of his lips, his smile carrying a touch of contempt and coldness, as he looked down at the dense crowd in the capital of the Great Xia Empire.

The air was thick with fear and despair; the people looked up at Qin Xiaogan in the sky as if gazing upon an irresistible demon god.

Murong Chongxiao wore an expression of endless sorrow, a sorrow that seemed to have materialized and carved itself onto his weathered face. He shouted to Qin Xiaogan in the sky: "I, Murong Chongxiao, offer up the backbone of the Great Xia Empire as a sacrifice; I implore the Emperor to leave humanity a glimmer of hope."

His voice was tragic and resolute, trembling in the wind, filled with deep helplessness and entreaty.

As soon as his words fell, Murong Chongxiao slowly knelt toward Qin Xiaogan in the sky.

The moment his knees touched the ground, it felt as if the entire world froze.

Behind him, both commoners and soldiers knelt down one after another.

Their voices intertwined as they cried out in sorrow: "We beg the Emperor to leave us a glimmer of hope."

The sound was filled with endless fear, supplication, and despair, like a surging tide, crashing wave after wave against this land shrouded in disaster.

Hearing this, Qin Xiaogan raised his sword-like, sharp eyebrows slightly.

"How boring."

Having said that, Qin Xiaogan slowly extended his right hand, curled his slender fingers slightly, and then pinched.

Instantly, a scarlet gale rushed violently toward the crowd.

The gale was like countless enraged dragons, baring fangs and brandishing claws, with sand and stones flying wherever it passed.

The wind seemed to be mixed with a strange power that made people feel a burning pain.

Some soldiers tried to use their shields to resist, but in the face of this gale, the shields were instantly blown away, and their bodies were involuntarily swept into the air before falling heavily to the ground.

The gale howled, as if it intended to devour the entire world.

Qin Xiaogan watched all of this with an expressionless face; his eyes were as cold as ice, seemingly unmoved by the tragic scene before him.

Murong Chongxiao widened his eyes as he watched the raging gale, his heart filled with despair.

...

It is unknown how much time had passed. Every corner of the world was filled with horrifying sights, with corpses strewn about everywhere, and blood flowing in gurgles like winding red rivers, shocking to the eye.

The figure of the white-haired devil flickered in the blood-red light, sending chills down one's spine.

Fear spread like a plague, the shadow of death loomed over every soul, and the wails of pain became the main melody of the world.

Yet, it seemed that a soft Buddhist chant sounded quietly in some unknown corner of the world; the voice was like a murmuring stream, gentle and resolute, piercing through the heavy darkness and despair.

It was like the dawn of daybreak, holding up a final pure land for this world on the brink of destruction.

"Amitabha..."