C13 To Stand in front of the Sea of Fire and Kill after the Sea of Fire

The Palace Lord of the Killing Palace was no fool. The blaze had already spread far and wide, lighting up the surrounding area for miles as if it were broad daylight. "Has Chen Ming lost his mind? To annihilate an army of a hundred thousand, he's set the world on fire. Isn't he worried that the flames will engulf the entire South Realm of Yan Kingdom? Or does he know I'm here and is so desperate to kill me that he'll pay any price?"

Shaking his head, the Palace Lord dismissed the thought. "No, even as the Crown Prince, I'm not worth the entire South Realm. But there's no time to ponder that now. The fire has begun, and we must act. All Hall Masters, move quickly to put out the flames! We must carve a path for escape!"

Over ten Hall Masters sprang into action. In this dire moment, they alone could face the inferno, their magical powers shielding them from the flames.

Asking the soldiers to fetch water from the river? That was a fool's errand. First, they'd have to traverse the fiery expanse before them to even reach the river. And who could survive such a journey through a sea of fire?

Chen Ming, sword beneath his feet, glided over the conflagration. He spotted a man in black, furiously trying to beat back the flames with powerful palm strikes. With each blow, the fire three yards before him was snuffed out by the force of his wind. Around him, fourteen others fought the fire, seemingly trying to create an opening for the troops behind to break through.

Suddenly, a voice echoed in Chen Ming's mind: "Ding! Host has entered the battlefield. Commencing kill count mode. Achieve a thousand kills for the 'Thousand-Slayer' achievement."

Chen Ming mused, "So this thing exists. Looks like I'll have to aim for a thousand kills if I want to escape the fate of being mere cannon fodder. Right now, I welcome any means to gain prestige."

With a command to "Kill!" Chen Ming soared toward the black-clothed Hall Master at the forefront. Landing firmly on the ground, the Prince Su Sword returned to his grip. Each step he took cracked the earth beneath him, and in an instant, he was upon the Hall Master. With a swift motion, he brandished the Prince Su Sword, its cold light cleaving through the Hall Master like a streak of green lightning, parting the sea of fire.

The black-clothed Hall Master donned a pair of golden silk gloves, his mana erupting and surging within him. With a thunderous cry, he unleashed the "Strong Wind Palm!"

The Prince Su Sword struck the golden gloves, sending sparks flying. After a single strike, Chen Ming remained unmoved, rooted to the spot, while the Hall Master staggered backward, hands trembling, blood tracing lines down his arms.

Such was the formidable might of one sword strike!

The Hall Master realized something was amiss. His cultivation was on par with Chen Ming's, yet he failed to withstand a single sword blow. "You've not only honed the heart of your sword but also your physical body through arduous cultivation!"

Chen Ming had no interest in idle chatter with the Hall Master. The Prince Su Sword's heart within him vibrated, drawing sword qi to the blade. He wasn't about to engage in a drawn-out duel as novel protagonists might, waiting until the last moment to reveal his trump card.

He lacked an Undying Aura; death for him would be final.

This was war, where the objective was simple: to kill the enemy.

Why waste time with a second strike when one would suffice? Anything more would be sheer bravado.

Chen Ming advanced slowly, the Prince Su Sword in his right hand pulsing with sword qi. Closing to within ten paces of the Hall Master, he exploded into action, covering the distance in a blink. His mind focused, he resolved to unleash his most devastating attack without hesitation.

The moment had come for a one-strike kill!

The Prince Su Sword hummed in his grip, resonating with Chen Ming's resolute will. It quivered with anticipation, its blade emanating a chilling light. A white radiance three feet in length accompanied the sword as it cleaved through the Hall Master's golden gloves.

Blood gushed forth. With one decisive strike, the Hall Master's torso was severed from arm to shoulder, his limb and golden gloves sundered. His body split in two, he collapsed into the inferno below, reduced to ashes amidst the flames.

"Ding! One adversary vanquished. One Level Two Dao Entering Stage opponent defeated, earning you 20 Spirit Sense points."

Chen Ming pivoted to survey the remaining skirmishes. The Thirty Tiger Guardians were mostly engaged in evenly matched duels, but their mana had been significantly depleted by the sea of fire, leaving the outcome of the battles uncertain.

Chen Ming strode through the sea of fire, approaching a Hall Master clad in black locked in a standoff with two Tiger Guardians. Seizing the moment the Hall Master's weapon parried an attack, Chen Ming unleashed a surge of sword energy. His Prince Su Sword sliced through the Hall Master's form, and without a weapon to defend, the ferocious energy rent the Hall Master's body into shreds.

Chen Ming moved through the inferno like a deity of destruction. Wherever he went, a Hall Master of the Dao Entering Stage would inevitably fall.

These Hall Masters, with the strongest among them only at Level Two of the Dao Entering Stage and most at Level One, stood no chance against Chen Ming. They were hopelessly outmatched, especially while also contending with the onslaught of at least two Tiger Guardians.

Fourteen Hall Masters faced him, and Chen Ming dispatched twelve, accumulating 220 Spirit Sense points.

Internally, Chen Ming inquired, "How much Spirit Sense is needed to ascend to Level Three of the Dao Entering Stage?"

"One thousand and thirty Spirit Sense points."

Though the rewards of achieving a Thousand Slaughter remained unknown, it promised to be a significant feat, likely accompanied by substantial rewards.

Chen Ming's gaze fixed on the enemy troops in disarray ahead. Clutching the blood-soaked Prince Su Sword, he lunged toward the forces of the Killing Palace.

Wielding the five-foot Prince Su Sword, Chen Ming reaped life after life. The once pristine blade was now crimson with blood, as were his white garments, now spattered with the scarlet of battle.

Chen Ming pressed on, his enemies reduced to mere numbers in his wake.

Flames ravaged the battlefield, claiming the lives of countless Killing Palace soldiers. Yet, there were patches the fire could not touch. As the soldiers emerged from the inferno, they were met by a brigade of knights mounted on fierce tigers. The generals unsheathed their weapons with a chilling detachment in their eyes. With a swift motion of their blades and a thunderous cry, they commanded, "Kill!"

Chen Ming stood alone, sword in hand, with a blazing inferno at his back and the enemy forces before him. In their desperation to flee, the thought of resistance was far from their minds. And even if they dared to resist, what chance would a Rank One mortal or a Dao Enlightening Stage practitioner have against Chen Ming, poised before a sea of flames? Escape was their only conceivable option.

In Chen Ming's grasp, the Prince Su Sword cut a merciless swath through the enemy ranks. With each stroke of the blade, lives were extinguished without remorse.

Droplets of blood found their way into Chen Ming's hair, leaving a sticky sensation upon his skin. Yet, this discomfort was trivial, nothing that could deter his relentless onslaught.

Sword Qi burst forth, enveloping the blood-stained Prince Su Sword. There, before the fiery maelstrom, Chen Ming stood—a figure of death, reaping the enemy that lay scattered in his wake.