"Fucking psycho!"
Looking at the black-robed monk whose pupils were as scattered as those of a dead man, Yang Ge felt somewhat intimidated—a common fear of madmen.
But the next moment, he gritted his teeth and, with a leaping move called "Sweeping the Remnants of the Wind," dashed forward like a fleeting shadow.
In an instant, seven or eight fierce leg strikes whirled up a storm of blade energy from vastly different angles, all bombarding the black-robed monk at once.
To the onlookers, it appeared as though seven or eight people were surrounding the monk, kicking and slashing wildly with knives.
Chaotic Wind Leg was an extremely swift and fierce style of legwork, and now, driven by True Qi, it was even more powerful, like a tiger with added wings.
Of course, this style, which solely focused on "momentum," seemed somewhat insufficient in a fight among those at the True Essence level.
But as a means of movement and feinting alone,
Chaotic Wind Leg was more than enough!
Happily, Yang Ge was more resilient than a typical warrior of the True Essence level, with meridians that could support using two martial arts techniques simultaneously without any problem!
The black-robed monk couldn’t keep up with Yang Ge’s assault rhythm.
But it seemed he didn’t need to.
He planted himself firmly in a horse stance and swung his fists, hard as iron and bronze, smashing apart the concealed steel knives within each whirl of leg-powered blade energy.
As for the leg-powered blade energies that seemed flashy but merely left notches on the bluestone when they hit the ground, he completely ignored them even as they tore his monk robes into shreds...
It was indeed a stance of "let him be strong, I stand unwavering and immovable!"
Yang Ge saw clearly that his attacks weren’t completely ineffective against the monk.
But they only left a faint red mark, without a trace of blood...
If one needed an accurate adjective for this situation, it would definitely be: ’scraping therapy’!
The two were fighting amidst their respective groups; the fierce aftermath alone clearly divided the battlefield into two distinct sides. Masked assassins dared not rush forward against the residual force of the fight between the two True Essence titans, and the embroidered-cloth strongmen also dared not fire arrows at the assassins for fear of hitting their own leader.
But time was ultimately on the side of the embroidered-cloth guards.
The Imperial Guards were the emperor’s personal troops, one of Wei’s most elite forces.
In single combat, they might not match those brave and bloodthirsty men and women of the rivers and lakes.
But in large-scale battle, these rivers and lakes folk weren’t even fit to carry their boots...
One by one, complex ballistas were set up, loaded with crossbow arrows as thick as thumbs.
One gun after another was loaded with gunpowder and bullets, attached at their waists.
There were also chain nets, smoke bombs, and shield formations...
They even had two chiefs bring out two large cannons, aiming the dark muzzles at the riffraff inside the gate.
They assured that as soon as their leader stepped back into their formation, they could turn the enemies across from them into unrecognizable pulp!
Yang Ge certainly noticed the changes in his formation.
But he could not retreat.
If he let this invulnerable mad monk charge into his formation, it would take less than half a minute for him to break through the battle array of a hundred or so Imperial Guards.
But he couldn’t withdraw, and he was almost at his limit...
In a matter of tens of breaths, he had kicked hundreds of times, slashed dozens of times, having spent nearly half of his True Qi. He managed only to shred the monk’s robe into pieces, without leaving even a scratch on his body!
Knowing he couldn’t keep this up, Yang Ge suddenly gritted his teeth, leapt up three to four zhang, and shouted: "Wind Howls in the Hidden Valley!"
He roared, his figure transforming into a shadowy light as he pounced towards the steadfast monk. He effortlessly picked out twelve basic leg techniques, each kick faster and stronger than the last, the energies stacking upon each other, the explosions sounding like the roaring winds of a secluded valley, deafening!
The monk’s futile attempt to block with his fists against the storm-like leg energies resulted in his legs, firm as steel, digging two deep cracks into the bluestone...
In the span of five or six moments, Yang Ge had unleashed hundreds of kicks, the violent energies of hundreds of leg strikes accumulated like a dazzling sun.
"Die, damn it!"
With a flushed face and veins bulging, Yang Ge roared exhaustively, powering up all his energy in one kick aimed at the monk’s throat.
In the final moment, the monk crossed his arms, blocking in front of his throat.
"Bang."
The collision of flesh and bone sounded almost like a grand, resonating bell, the shockwaves shattering the nearby lotus ponds, water splashing as high as two or three stories.
Yang Ge and the black-robed monk simultaneously spat out a mouthful of blood, flying backward.
Yang Ge flew over the heads of the Imperial Guards behind him, smashing through a lattice gate into the mansion’s main hall.
The monk crashed into the stunned group of masked assassins, using several of them to cushion his fall and collapsing the courtyard wall as he flew out.
Equally bewildered, the commanding officer of the Imperial Guard charged towards the main hall with his double-hundred unit. But as he was just crossing the threshold, he heard a roar like a lion or tiger coming from inside: "Shoot them dead, damn it!"
At the sound, the assembled Imperial Guards instinctively pulled their crossbow triggers, slammed down the ballista hammers, and lit the cannon fuses.
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"Whizz."
"Bang."
"Boom."
Suddenly, the air was filled with the strong snapping of machines, the deep blasts of gunfire, and the explosive sounds of cannons, all mixed together.
The crowded assassins inside the gate and against the courtyard wall heard Yang Ge’s thunderous yell and instinctively tried to dodge, but where could they possibly escape in time.