Chapter 1145: Battle with the Demon Commander
Atop Nuorilang Peak.
The Demon Commander sat within the coiled horns of the Inverted Mountain Tusked Beast, eyes closed, as if already asleep.
In the gaps of his armor, besides green rust, there were also many traces of frost.
His aura had been elevated to its peak state, and even this mountain seemed to submit to him.
He was certainly not asleep; he was listening to the movements on the grassland.
He heard the sword of Lishan, the sleeve of Ligong, and the slender fingertips of Nanxi Zhai, showing no reaction.
Then, he heard the sound of an iron blade being drawn from its sheath and abruptly opened his eyes.
"Such confidence?"
Many years ago, not far from outside the Snow Old City, the Black Robe had orchestrated an assassination attempt against Su Li.
At the most critical moment, Chen Changsheng emerged from the Zhou Garden and delivered that yellow paper umbrella into Su Li's hands.
Su Li grasped the sword hilt, and a demon general dozens of miles away was severely wounded.
Su Li drew half the blade, and the Black Robe retreated in defeat.
Today, Wang Po vaguely possessed a fraction of Su Li's former brilliance, even if he wasn't striking directly.
But just as the Demon Commander found puzzling, the one who died was, after all, a Saint Domain powerhouse. Wang Po should have expended considerable energy. Wasn't he afraid it would affect the subsequent battle?
...
...
There was a tear in the front of his garment, flapping in the wind, making walking somewhat inconvenient. The blade intent arose on its own and cut it off, sending it floating far away like a kite with a broken string.
Wang Po thought of Xiao Zhang, wondering where that bad-tempered fellow was right now, only hoping he wouldn't go to Snow Old City alone.
He looked toward the other side of the grassland.
That was another battlefield.
The Lishan Sect Leader waved his sleeve and said, "No need for help here."
From over ten miles away, his voice rang out clearly before Wang Po.
Wang Po nodded in acknowledgment and continued walking forward.
The Third Demon General and the Eighth Demon General suddenly put away their weapons and retreated a distance.
Three pitch-black demon artifacts exuded a cold, sinister aura, dancing in the sky above them, monitoring the surroundings.
The Lishan Sect Leader was slightly startled, his white brows lifting as he also retreated a distance.
At the same time, the human cavalry and the wolf riders were also withdrawing to both sides.
Two bloodthirsty giant wolves, overly stimulated by the scent of blood, refused to obey the order to leave and were promptly beheaded by the demon cavalry without hesitation.
A passage appeared in the middle of the grassland, several miles wide.
From the grassland to the top of Nuorilang Peak.
This passage was empty, devoid of anything, and utterly silent.
Elsewhere, battles were still raging fiercely.
The stillness here was particularly eerie.
The Demon Commander opened his eyes, indicating he was ready.
Wang Po's iron blade was also prepared to be drawn.
At this point in the battle, it could no longer be interrupted or disturbed.
The Demon Commander was the strongest being among the demons, an undisputed fact across the Demon Domain Snow Plains.
Wang Po's seniority couldn't compare to other Saint Domain powerhouses, but he was the uncontested human commander-in-chief.
The battle between them, in a sense, represented the war between humans and demons.
Such a battle deserved respect.
This also meant that neither could afford to lose.
...
...
Wang Po looked toward the mountain peak dozens of miles away.
Nuorilang Peak was black, but now its summit had turned white.
In a very short time, a thick layer of snow had accumulated on the peak.
That was the manifestation of the Demon Commander's battle intent—cold and arrogant.
Behind Wang Po, on the grassland, there was a line of footprints.
That was his path.
Just like his blade path, utterly straight.
Wang Po vanished.
When he reappeared, he was in the sky over ten miles away.
The Demon Commander did not wait for him on the peak.
The several-dozen-zhang-tall Inverted Mountain Tusked Beast let out a pained roar.
Hot mist like a fountain sprayed from its nostrils, and its sinking feet cracked the peak's rocks with over a dozen spiderweb-like fissures.
Snow danced wildly into the air.
The Demon Commander leaped into the sky, flipped his hands, and grasped a blade.
It was an immensely huge curved blade.
The edge was gleaming white, but its rim was tinged with a blackness condensed from the night.
No one had expected that such a short figure would wield such a blade—over three times his own height, extraordinarily exaggerated!
The Demon Commander descended from the sky, gripping the curved blade with both hands, and slashed at Wang Po!
Wang Po reversed his hand and drew his blade, holding it level with his forearm, and slashed horizontally, just like when he had cut down the Luo River back then!
Boom!
A thunderous roar.
The night spreading from the valley suddenly shook like tangible black cloth, or like an inky ocean.
Thousands of dust plumes rose from the cliff faces and the grassland surface.
Within a radius of several hundred miles, both human soldiers and demon troops were stunned, covering their ears with pained expressions.
Even though they were in the heat of battle, they had to temporarily cease their attacks.
The nearest two hundred wolf riders were directly shaken to death, not even having time to scream!
The Demon Commander was blasted back to the top of Nuorilang Peak, landing precisely back in the coiled horns of the Inverted Mountain Tusked Beast.
Tumbling over seven hundred rotations in the sky had left his face somewhat pale, though it was partially hidden by his helmet and intricate jewelry patterns.
Wang Po landed on the grassland, and over a dozen bottomless cracks extended from beneath his feet into the distance.
"Ha ha ha ha ha!"
A series of hoarse, unpleasant laughs came from the Demon Commander's helmet.
The laughter was exceptionally arrogant and fierce, as if one could see the ferocious grin on his face.
"They all say you're an unprecedented genius among humans. Looking at you today, it seems you're nothing special after all!"
Wang Po did not speak.
The hand holding his iron blade trembled slightly.
There was a deep gash on the blade's edge.
Who had lost?
Had Wang Po lost?
The Demon Commander's laughter suddenly stopped.
Pfft—a muffled sound.
It was like a street performer in the capital spitting fire oil...
Countless streams of blood flowed from the gaps in his helmet.
The color of the blood was very thick, mixed with a strange, eerie green.
Long ago, some had suspected that the Demon Commander should be a member of the royal clan. Today, this fact was finally proven.
But why was his blood mixed with that eerie green?
No one had time to ponder that question for now.
People were stunned speechless by what had happened.
—The Demon Commander was severely wounded, spitting blood!
"You are indeed very strong, even surpassing Bie Yang Hong before his death."
The Demon Commander's voice became deeper, not as unpleasant as before.
"But even so, you are still no match for me. However, I must admit that it will be very difficult to kill you today."
For the demons, killing Wang Po was more important than killing the human commander-in-chief.
Since this task couldn't be accomplished, and since he himself was quite seriously injured, what was the point of staying here?
Orders were transmitted from the top of Nuorilang Peak to the grassland. The wolf riders began to form ranks, preparing to withdraw.
The Lishan Sect Leader glanced at Wang Po. Mao Qiuyu and Huai Ren also looked toward Wang Po.
What to do next depended on Wang Po's intention.
As long as Wang Po nodded, the Lishan Sect Leader's Sky-Covering Sword would fly toward Nuorilang Peak.
Huai Ren was severely injured, but she should still be able to detain the Snow Old City Royal Lord, who had already been gravely wounded by Mao Qiuyu, for a while longer.
As for Mao Qiuyu, he was responsible for keeping the Third Demon General and the Eighth Demon General on the grassland.
This way, there might truly be a chance to kill the Demon Commander.
It was a seemingly simple but actually complex rotation battle tactic.
The few human powerhouses exchanged glances and had already made their arrangements.
The wind blew his cloth shirt, making a whooshing sound.
Wang Po did not nod, nor did he make any other move—not even the slightest gesture—as if he were a stone statue.
He did not want to give Mao Qiuyu and the others any wrong signals, as that would have very serious consequences.
The three of them understood his meaning. They were somewhat worried, somewhat regretful, but also slightly relieved.
Just then, the night surging from the valley suddenly became much lighter.
Because the sun in the sky had become incredibly bright!
A figure appeared in the blazing sunlight, like a falling star, crashing toward the Demon Commander on the peak.
The Prince of Xiang!
In his view, this was the best chance to kill the Demon Commander, and he absolutely could not miss it!
Seeing this scene, Wang Po's expression changed instantly.