The Lord Of Blood Hill

When Fu Sifang staggers out of the palace, clutching his severed left arm and coughing up blood, everyone is shocked. No one expected him to lose to Nangong Yaoyun.

Fu Sifang pushes away the guards trying to help him and stumbles over to Nangong Ying.

“Your Highness, I have failed your trust. I could not capture the rebel leader.”

Nangong Ying quickly supports him, stopping him from bowing.

“Don’t blame yourself. Go get your wounds treated. Leave the rest to me.”

Fu Sifang adds, “Nangong Yaoyun wishes to speak with Your Highness. He asked me to deliver the message.”

Nangong Ying nods.

“I was thinking the same. After all, he is my great-uncle. Whether for the sake of the people or to end the strife within the Nangong Family, I believe he won’t stubbornly walk this dead-end path.”

At that moment, Henwell steps forward.

“Your Highness, let us handle the talks. After all, he supports the pretender emperor. If he harbors ill will and attacks you, it would be a disaster.”

Nangong Ying hesitates.

“Henwell, are you confident you’ll come back unharmed?”

Henwell replies, “Thank you for your concern, Your Highness. For the sake of the people, I have long put life and death aside.”

With that, Henwell and William enter the palace together.

Outside, ZhangChe looks at Fu Sifang.

“General Fu, a Fifth Rank Martial Warrior getting injured is no small matter. Let us take you back to recover. Fang Yuan knows a miraculous doctor in the capital who can reattach severed limbs. Your arm might still be saved.”

Though Fu Sifang is reluctant, seeing the few men quietly surrounding him, he silently nods in agreement.

ZhangChe and the others then escort Fu Sifang away.

Inside the palace, bodies lie strewn everywhere.

There are fallen palace guards, elite warriors who stormed in, and even innocent palace maids and eunuchs caught in the crossfire.

Henwell and William move forward, occasionally encountering small skirmishes.

But these fights are one-on-one duels, and they have no desire to get involved.

Soon, the two reach the main hall of the palace.

Through the wide-open doors, more corpses are visible, roughly half are elite fighters from various factions, the other half Nangong He’s guards.

Inside, only about twenty guards and a dozen or so civil and military officials remain.

Nangong He sits imposingly on the dragon throne, flanked by a man around fifty years old, bloodstained and with torn clothes.

Henwell and William stride boldly into the hall.

Henwell fixes his attire, grinning and clasping his hands together as he loudly proclaims, “Qin Yu, greetings to Your Majesty! Long live the Emperor!”

Upon seeing Henwell, Nangong He’s face twists with rage, his voice breaking as he shouts, “Kill him! Kill him!”

At his command, loyal guards rush forward.

Henwell draws his twin swords, plants his feet firmly, and the floor tiles crack and shatter beneath him.

In an instant, he appears amidst the guards, spinning in a whirlwind of slashes and blade dances.

The hall quickly becomes a rain of blood and flesh.

Henwell avoids a sword strike from an enemy, then delivers a flying kick that crushes the head of a newly promoted Third Rank expert.

Landing gracefully, Henwell waves toward Nangong Yaoyun standing beside the throne.

“Come on! Let me test your mettle.”

Nangong Yaoyun descends the steps slowly, stopping three meters in front of Henwell.

“You barbarian is fierce. Though you’re only Fourth Rank, you actually pose a threat to me. Truly an anomaly.”

Henwell wastes no words and launches the attack first.

The knight charges at lightning speed, leaving a blur behind him. His right hand swings the Dawn Greatsword in a fierce, precise thrust straight toward his opponent’s chest.

Nangong Yaoyun wraps his fists in Qi energy. His left fist deflects Henwell’s incoming sword, while his right fist, like a lightning bolt, aims directly for Henwell’s chest.

Henwell quickly raises his Dusk Greatsword in a reverse grip, blocking the punch while trying to slice through Nangong Yaoyun’s fist with the blade’s edge.

But the Qi-empowered fist is unbreakable, smashing directly against the sword. The tremendous force slams Henwell’s left arm into his own chest.

Henwell is sent flying, sliding over thirty meters across the palace floor.

His metal boots scrape the ground, sparking fiercely and lighting up the dim hall for a moment.

Only when Henwell’s Dusk Greatsword digs into the floor, carving a two-meter-long groove, does his backward momentum finally stop.

Surprisingly, Nangong Yaoyun doesn’t press the attack, not out of honor, but because when he punched Henwell away, Henwell’s Dawn Greatsword had sliced a half-foot gash across his waist.

This shocks Nangong Yaoyun deeply. With his Qi shield, even divine weapons rarely pierce his defense.

Yet now, Henwell managed to land a wound with a single swing.

Leaning against a pillar, William clutches his sword and calls out, “Henwell, are you okay? Want me to take over?”

Wiping blood from the corner of his mouth, Henwell grins.

“This is just to test his health bar and attack power! Watch closely as I attack this boss!”

With both locks fully activated, the blood-tinged battle aura from the Gene Lock envelops Henwell’s entire body, while the Will Lock’s Shackles of Civilization wrap around Nangong Yaoyun.

Though the Shackles of Civilization remain invisible, Nangong Yaoyun senses something is restricting his movements.

William raises an eyebrow, surprised by the variety in Henwell’s tactics.

Thanks to the boost from the Gene Lock, Henwell’s abilities skyrocket across the board.

Meanwhile, Nangong Yaoyun’s power is suppressed by at least twenty percent due to the Will Lock’s restraints.

Add to that the injuries he sustained from his earlier fight with Fu Sifang.

This give-and-take dynamic grants Henwell the edge to face Nangong Yaoyun head-on.

Henwell’s twin swords flash in a relentless assault, putting significant pressure on Nangong Yaoyun.

He realizes that to launch attacks, he must concentrate most of his Qi in his limbs.

But doing so leaves him vulnerable to the Blood Will-enhanced longsword strikes.

After about the time it takes to burn an incense stick, Henwell’s Dusk Greatsword is knocked away, and cracks spider across his armor.

On the other hand, Nangong Yaoyun bears deep sword scars along his thigh and waist.

Unable to dispel Henwell’s Blood Will, he can’t even use his Qi to stop the bleeding.

Henwell chooses not to retrieve his Dusk Greatsword. Instead, he grips the Dawn Greatsword with both hands and charges Nangong Yaoyun again.

After several strikes, Nangong Yaoyun finds an opening.

He grabs Henwell’s wrist and twists fiercely, forcing Henwell to flip and release his strength.

Henwell lands and slashes with his longsword, but Nangong Yaoyun catches the hilt.

With both hands shaped like a palm blade, he swings down toward Henwell’s wrist.

Henwell is forced to let go of the Dawn Greatsword. Nangong Yaoyun slaps the hilt’s weighted pommel against the ground, driving the sword deep into the floor, leaving only the hilt exposed.

Seeing this, William wants to step forward.

Henwell grins wickedly and seizes the chance to close in.

As Nangong Yaoyun strikes the hilt and the opening appears, Henwell’s fists hammer into his chest like a pile driver, nearly lifting him off the ground.

Henwell raises his knee to strike the groin but Nangong Yaoyun blocks it with a downward hand.

Quickly, Henwell spins in midair and delivers a side kick that sends Nangong Yaoyun flying.

After crashing through a solid wooden pillar as thick as an arm, Nangong Yaoyun lies stunned.

Henwell grins wide.

“Forgot to mention, I’m pretty good with my fists and feet too! Old man, get ready! We’re not just settling this with a winner—we’re fighting for life and death!”