343: Chapter 343 Sword Chases Blood Shadow, Severing One of His Arms

The setting sun slowly sank into the ridge, staining the wasteland a dark red; the smell of scorched earth swept across the entire battlefield with the wind.

Smoke still rose from between the rubble, the bloodstains were not yet dry, and the faint light of psionic residual waves floated in the air.

Chen Wuwang stood inside the cockpit of the "eye of wuwang" mecha. His Mechanical Prosthetic Eye once again locked onto the spiritual power mark left by Blood Butcher as he fled; it was like a blood line, extending crookedly toward the southeast.

He tapped his finger three times on the control panel with a steady rhythm: tap, tap, tap.

The communication channel connected instantly.

"Southeast direction, three secret passages," Chen Wuwang's voice was low and cold. "A7 Rift Entrance, B2 Cliff Fork, C4 Underground Karst Cave—block them all. The markers have been sent; lay mines according to the coordinates."

Several responses came from the other end of the channel, all from the Cultivators guarding the city walls.

"Yes! Family Head!"

"Thunder Talismans are in position!"

"Concussion Spikes have been buried at the cave entrance!"

Chen Wuwang said no more, his gaze sweeping over the data stream.

Blood Butcher's aura was still moving. Although it was erratic, his speed did not decrease. He was clearly relying on that last tattered Blood Talisman to forcibly maintain his Evasion Technique.

His left arm was ruined and his back was heavily injured, but his right arm remained. He could still form hand seals and escape.

Just as he was about to order more Detection Jade Talismans to be deployed, a figure suddenly leapt down from the city wall, toes tapping on the jagged rocks like an arrow leaving a bowstring, charging straight toward the southeast.

"Xiao Dao!" Chen Wuwang frowned.

Chen Xiaodao's voice immediately rang out in the communication channel, young and calm, yet carrying a long-suppressed killing intent: "Brother, that dog slaughtered our village three years ago. The sword in my hand has waited for this day for too long. You lock onto his route, and I'll end his life."

Chen Wuwang stared at the speeding figure on the screen. After two seconds of silence, he slowly loosened his hand.

"Fine. But remember—only sever his arm, don't go deep. He still has tricks up his sleeve; don't fall for them."

"Understood." Chen Xiaodao's voice paused. "This time, I won't let him escape again."

As his voice fell, he had already rushed out of the security perimeter, his back merging into the dim horizon.

Between the rocky gullies, the wind grew fiercer.

Blood Butcher knelt on one knee in a rock crevice, his right hand tightly pressing against the stump of his left shoulder as blood dripped down through his fingers.

He gritted his teeth and tore off a piece of his robe to bind it tightly, the veins on his forehead bulging.

His back was a charred mess, flesh mangled and Meridians severed; every movement felt like a knife churning inside.

"Cough..." He spat out a mouthful of black blood, his right hand trembling as he reached into his robes for the last Blood Talisman. A corner of the talisman was torn and its spiritual light was dim, but it could still be used once, enough for him to jump two thousand miles.

"Chen Wuwang... what do you think you are? A bastard who relies on a tin can to put on a show... also worthy of standing over my head?" he hissed in a low voice, his eyes full of hatred. "When I return to the sect, I will mobilize a hundred thousand Blood Slaves and refine your entire family into Artifact Spirits!"

He stood up abruptly, about to crush the Blood Talisman.

But at that moment—

The wind above his head tightened.

It wasn't wind; it was Sword Intent.

A cold, pure, and incredibly fast sharpness slashed down from above!

Blood Butcher instinctively looked up, his pupils shrinking.

A silver light descended from the sky like a star trail piercing the dark sky, slashing straight toward the base of his right arm!

"What—"

He tried to dodge, but the sharp pain in his left shoulder affected his whole body, making his movement half a beat slow.

"Clang—!"

The sword light fell.

Flesh burst and bone snapped. His entire right arm, along with half his shoulder blade, was sliced off on the spot, drawing an arc in the air before hitting a pile of rubble ten paces away with a thud.

"Ahhh—!!!"

Blood Butcher screamed as the Sword Qi sent him flying, crashing into a rock wall before falling heavily.

Only half of his right arm remained, blood gushing like a fountain. He was in so much pain that his vision went dark, and his teeth chattered.

"Chen... Xiao Dao?!"

He looked up to see the figure landing lightly, the longsword pointing diagonally at the ground, blood dripping from its tip.

The youth was dressed in black with silver-white hair tied back, his gaze as cold as ice.

"Three years ago, you slaughtered my village. I hid in the pile of corpses with only a wooden sword in my arms." Chen Xiaodao slowly raised his sword and pointed it at him. "Today, I take a real sword to sever both your arms."

Blood Butcher's face contorted: "You... how dare you..."

"I don't dare?" Chen Xiaodao sneered. "I've waited for this moment much longer than you can imagine."

He took a step forward, and the sword light rose again!

Horrified, Blood Butcher slammed his left hand onto the ground, using the force to roll backward while simultaneously crushing the Blood Talisman.

Space distorted, and a blood-colored rift opened beneath his feet.

"You won't escape!" Chen Xiaodao did not pull back his sword strike; he followed the sword like a shadow, thrusting it toward the other's heart!

But just as the tip of the sword was about to hit, Blood Butcher had already sunk into the rift, with only half his head showing, glaring at him.

"Chen Xiaodao... you wait... the Blood Demon Sect... will not let you go..."

The rift closed, and the man vanished.

The wind swirled with residual blood, blowing through the gully.

Chen Xiaodao sheathed his sword and stood still.

He looked down at the severed arm on the ground—the right arm, intact, still in a clenched fist. He walked over, stepped on it, and with a light flick of his sword tip, he tossed the arm into the air.

With a "poof," a sword light flashed, and the severed arm exploded into a mist of blood.

"Blood Demon Sect?" He sneered. "When they come, I'll use one sword to send them all down to accompany you."

He turned and strode back.

At the same time, Chen Wuwang still stood in the center of the battlefield. The mecha was not retracted; its six wings were folded, and the nanofilaments on the surface of the gauntlets writhed, repairing them to their original state.

Through remote scanning, he clearly saw the entire process—Chen Xiaodao had predicted the route, circled ahead to ambush at the pass, and severed the arm with one sword, clean and decisive.

"The right arm is lost." He muttered to himself. "His Meridians are completely severed, and his Spiritual Qi flow is obstructed. He won't be able to form hand seals in the short term, let alone perform Blood Evasion."

The red trajectory in his Mechanical Prosthetic Eye was still extending, but the speed was noticeably slower, and the fluctuations were getting weaker.

"He's heavily injured and losing blood, and his spiritual power is exhausted. He won't last long."

He raised his hand and wiped his face. The temperature inside the cockpit was a bit high, and there was some sweat on his forehead. Outside the window, the wasteland was mostly swallowed by the night, with only a trace of dark red afterglow still hanging on the distant ridge.

The communication channel rang.

"Brother, mission accomplished." Chen Xiaodao's voice came through. "Right arm severed. Did not pursue; returning now."

"Received." Chen Wuwang nodded. "Come back."

The channel disconnected.

He stood quietly, following the spiritual power trajectory with his gaze toward the distant southeast. There was nothing there anymore, only the sound of the wind blowing across the rolling stones.

A moment later, a figure ran from the darkness, his steps light, landing ten paces in front of the mecha.

Chen Xiaodao looked up at Chen Wuwang in the cockpit and grinned: "How was that sword strike?"

Chen Wuwang looked down at him, the blue light of his Mechanical Prosthetic Eye flickering slightly.

"Accurate," he said indifferently. "But you were half a beat slow in sheathing your sword. If he had a third talisman, you'd be lying in the gully right now."

Chen Xiaodao scratched his head: "I'll be faster next time."

"There won't be a next time." Chen Wuwang's voice turned cold. "For people like that, every time I see them, I'll cripple them. Next time we meet, I won't warn you again."

He slowly raised the mecha's right arm, turning the fist toward the sky. The psionic light mass on the gauntlet reconsolidated, vibrating slightly like a star that could explode at any moment.

"Let him go this time." He stared in the direction of Blood Butcher's escape, saying word by word, "Next time, I will surely take his life."

The wind grew stronger.

Chen Xiaodao stood in the shadow of the mecha, looking up at the silver-white figure, and said nothing.

He knew that these words were not meant for him.

They were for that Devil Head who was currently fleeing for his life—and for everyone who dared to target the Chen family.

The wasteland was silent, only the rune lights on top of the Psionic Tower were still flickering.

Chen Wuwang sat in the cockpit and tapped his finger three more times.

Tap, tap, tap.

Then, he slowly closed his eyes. The blue light of his Mechanical Prosthetic Eye gradually dimmed, leaving only a faint red trace, firmly locking onto the gradually blurring spiritual power line in the southeast.