High Martial: I Use Everything as Swords

The Mad Rabbit sensed the threat from the sky.

It stopped abruptly, pushed off with its hind legs, and leaped three to four meters into the air.

It opened its mouth and a cyan Wind Blade shot toward Han Feng.

"I was just waiting for you to jump."

The instant the Mad Rabbit was suspended in mid-air, Han Feng’s thumb gently pressed the red button on top of the control stick.

"THOOM! THOOM! THOOM!"

There was no dense stream of fire.

Han Feng fired a precise three-round burst.

The nose of the "Gray Donkey" jolted violently.

Its heavy airframe now served as the most stable firing platform.

Three thirty-millimeter high-explosive armor-piercing rounds, fired in a triangular pattern, blanketed all of the Mad Rabbit’s possible landing spots.

The first shot missed, whistling past the Mad Rabbit’s ear.

The Mad Rabbit twisted its body in terror in mid-air.

The second shot—a direct hit to the chest!

"BANG!"

With a muffled explosion, the Mad Rabbit detonated in the air, turning into a cloud of blood mist.

["Sword Control Technique" Skill Proficiency +2]

["Sword Qi Release" Skill Proficiency +3]

Han Feng pulled up swiftly, his movements as smooth as flowing water.

"Nice shooting, Han Feng!"

Wang Meng shouted over the channel.

"Those three shots were like a sniper’s."

"The money you saved on bullets is enough for the two of us to get an extra dish tonight!"

Old Liu, who was responsible for reconnaissance nearby, chuckled.

"He couldn’t fly my plane, though. It’s too light. When a large-caliber machine cannon like that fires, the whole plane gets pushed back."

Not far away, Gu Yun said nothing, silently piloting his fighter a little further away.

A moment ago, for the sake of theatrics, he’d fired half a magazine just to take out a few rats.

Han Feng had dealt with a Mid-Stage Demon Beast using just three bullets.

The huge disparity in this input-output ratio was a little too much for his genius-level pride to bear.

’Hmph. That shooting had no aesthetic. It was just simple butchery.’

Gu Yun grumbled to himself, then glanced painfully at his own ammo counter.

As the harvesting progressed, more and more Demon Beasts were flushed out.

Most of them were creatures that foraged in the soil.

The farm’s ground security team also kicked into gear.

Dressed in Exoskeleton Armor and armed with Spiritual Energy Rifles, they worked with several tamed hunting dogs to corner and intercept the beasts in the wheat fields with extreme efficiency.

The fighter jet squadron in the sky, on the other hand, found themselves with little to do.

After all, the machine cannons were too powerful. If they indiscriminately bombed the wheat fields, the Demon Beasts would be dead, but so would the wheat.

Director Zhou Ping would probably die of a broken heart.

"All units, maintain altitude. Keep your eyes on the sky."

Zhang Hao reminded them.

"Leave the small fry on the ground to the security team. We’re only responsible for the big ones and the fliers."

The words had barely left his mouth when a piercing radar warning alarm suddenly blared through everyone’s cockpit.

"BEEP BEEP BEEP—"

"Twelve o’clock, altitude eight hundred! High-density energy signature detected!"

The voice of Deputy Captain Lin Qing, who was in charge of reconnaissance, was urgent.

"Over thirty contacts, approaching at high speed!"

Han Feng immediately looked at his radar screen.

A dense cluster of red dots was swarming toward them like a hornet’s nest.

At the same time, the farm’s defensive fortifications below reacted.

The "Fire Rain" close-in weapon system arrays at the four corners of the perimeter wall began to rotate, their dark muzzles aiming at the sky.

"They’re Cyan-Scaled Eagles."

Lin Qing quickly made the identification.

"Tier One Middle Stage, a gregarious Flying Demon Beast. They like to dive-bomb, and their claws are poisonous."

"Dammit, I hate these little things the most."

Wang Meng cursed.

"They’re not strong, but they’re too agile. They’re like flies—a pain to shoot down and not worth much money."

More than thirty Tier One Middle Stage beasts.

If they were allowed to break through, the ground security team and harvester operators would become sitting ducks.

"Squad Two, pull up! Secure the high ground!"

Zhang Hao’s voice was calm and steady.

"Squad One, intercept head-on."

"Han Feng, you guard the lower airspace. Don’t let any slip through the net."

"Understood!"

The squadron quickly dispersed.

Han Feng didn’t climb. Instead, he lowered his altitude, circling two hundred meters above the harvesters.

If his "Gray Donkey" tried to get into a dogfight with those agile eagles, it would be like an old ox chasing a rabbit—just asking for a beating.

His job was to be the goalie.

In the sky, the battle erupted in an instant.

The flock of Cyan-Scaled Eagles spotted the large metal birds and let out a series of piercing shrieks, splitting into two groups to outflank them.

"Fire!"

At Zhang Hao’s command, a dense web of fire crisscrossed the sky.

Several Cyan-Scaled Eagles at the forefront were instantly riddled with holes, sending feathers and blood flying everywhere.

But the beasts were clearly not afraid of death, or perhaps the scent of blood from the ground had driven them into a frenzy.

Taking advantage of their small size, they weaved through the barrage of machine cannon fire, and a few even tried to claw at the fighters’ cockpit canopies.

"You small fry, witness this genius’s magnificent dance!"

Gu Yun, however, was in his element now.

His fighter had the best performance and was also the most agile.

He was seen performing all sorts of dazzling maneuvers in the air, getting on a Cyan-Scaled Eagle’s tail and unleashing a barrage of fire.

All the while, he was muttering to himself.

"Take this, Frost Heaven New Star!"

"RAT-A-TAT-TAT—"

A flash of fire erupted in the air, and a Cyan-Scaled Eagle exploded in response.

Though it wasn’t very efficient, it was certainly a dazzling sight to behold, like a performance.

"Three of them got through! Han Feng, they’re yours!"

Lin Qing shouted over the channel.

Three Cyan-Scaled Eagles with wingspans of over five meters had used the bodies of their comrades as cover to break through the web of fire above.

They folded their wings and dove straight for the harvesters on the ground.

Their target was clear—the cockpit, protected by only a single layer of reinforced glass.

The harvester operator’s face was pale as he stared in terror at the three approaching black dots.

"I’ve got them."

Han Feng’s tone was calm, as if he were talking about something trivial.

He slammed the throttle forward.

The "Gray Donkey" let out a deep roar. It didn’t bank to the side, nor did it circle around behind.

Instead, it met the three diving Cyan-Scaled Eagles head-on, charging right at them!

"Han Feng! Are you crazy?! Pull up!"

Watching from above, Wang Meng’s eyelids twitched uncontrollably as he couldn’t help but roar.

This was an extremely counter-intuitive tactic, tantamount to suicide.

A normal pilot intercepting a diving target would choose to cut in from the side or circle around to attack from the rear.

But Han Feng chose the most dangerous and also the most efficient option: a head-on confrontation.

Because his plane was tough enough.

And his skills were even tougher.

Their relative speed instantly exceeded six hundred kilometers per hour.

In Han Feng’s field of vision, the three Cyan-Scaled Eagles grew rapidly larger.

He could even clearly see the savage vertical pupils in their eyes and the cyan sheen of their scales.

At this distance, at this speed.

The slightest tremor of his hand would mean the destruction of his plane and his own death.

But Han Feng’s hand was steady, unerringly so.

"Sword Control Technique" at full power!

His Qi Blood surged, and his Spiritual Power was highly focused.

At this moment, the cumbersome fighter jet felt as if it had become an extension of his own body.

He could feel the vibration of the wind rushing past the wings; he could feel every explosion in the engine’s combustion chamber.

He even had the illusion that he wasn’t sitting in the cockpit, but had merged as one with this Flying Sword named "Gray Donkey."

"Die!"

Han Feng let out a low growl.

A minute adjustment of the nose.

In the second before impact, he pulled the trigger.