Chapter 487: Eight Strike: Thousand Cuts of Purgatory!
Puchi!
"Wait… holy sh—did his head just…?" one of the commentators stuttered, voice cracking.
The screen caught up, and the camera zoomed in shakily on a severed head rolling across the ground.
"Bro, no way… this guy just took someone's head off like it was NOTHING!"
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Bullets rang out in rapid succession, but the figure didn't stop. With the second strike, limbs from over a dozen soldiers were severed in an instant.
Blood sprayed into the air like a crimson fountain, splashing across the screen.
The viewers gasped.
"Did you see that?!" the guy streaming live whispered frantically. "He just cut off, like, twenty arms in one swing!"
"Twenty? It's more like thirty! And they didn't even touch him!" his friend added, pushing his phone closer to the chaos.
From somewhere in the distance, screams echoed through the battlefield.
"Ahhhhhh—my hands!"
"Pfft, dude, I would NOT want to be that guy right now," one commentator muttered, half in horror, half in awe, while nervously trying to zoom in on the suffering soldiers.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
The crimson-robed figure made his way through the battlefield, moving like a reaper.
The third strike came, slicing men in half at the torso, bodies falling like discarded marionettes, their upper halves sliding off in grotesque fashion.
"Yo, look at that! The dude just—he just cut, like, five people in HALF! Are we even safe here?" one of the streamers asked, his voice rising in panic.
"We're not," someone whispered behind him. "Definitely not."
Puchi!
The fourth strike came with a sickening sound as the crimson figure ripped the heart out of a soldier's chest with his bare hands, raising it to the air like a grim trophy.
"Okay, okay—this guy is seriously messed up! That's not a sword move! He just—HE PULLED THAT DUDE'S HEART OUT!" the streamer nearly shrieked, his voice cracking from terror. "WHO IS THIS GUY?!"
In the livestream chat, comments poured in.
user456: "Yo, who's the guy in red? He's OP!"
cultivationfan99: "That's no normal Grandmaster. Did you SEE how fast he moved?"
martialarts_nut: "He's wiping them out like they're nothing! How is he not a Great-Grandmaster?!"
Meanwhile, the martial artists and soldiers on the battlefield rallied, trying to gather their strength to confront the crimson figure.
"H-He's just a Grandmaster!" one of the soldiers shouted, though his voice wavered. "Attack together! We can take him!"
"Yeah, good luck with that," one of the guys hiding whispered into his phone. "You've got no chance, man."
The crimson-robed figure responded with another blur of motion.
The fifth strike came, and in one sweep, he tore the spines out of over twenty masters, their bodies crumpling to the ground like broken dolls.
"OH MY GOD!" the camera shook violently as one of the streamers recoiled. "SPINES—HE JUST RIPPED OUT THEIR SPINES!!"
The chat exploded.
jadebeautylover_6969: "WHAT THE F—?! Did he just Fatality them?!"
virginloli_47: "That was straight out of a horror movie. WTF!!"
Thud! Thud! Thud!
"RUN!" came the panicked scream of another soldier, but it was far too late.
The sixth strike followed, and the figure moved like a shadow, slicing throats as he went, more than a dozen men collapsing into lifeless heaps.
Their blood sprayed high into the air, painting the battlefield in waves of red.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
Puchi!
Heads rolled across the battlefield, blood flowing like rivers, staining the once-pristine banquet grounds.
"H-Heads are just… rolling," the guy filming stammered, voice thin and terrified. "This… this is insane…!"
By now, even the giant monk and the red boy—who had been locked in their own deadly fight against Master Long—paused and turned to look at the figure standing amidst the carnage.
The crimson-robed man had made quick work of dozens, if not hundreds, in mere minutes, his sword glowing ominously under the blood-soaked sky.
"Is… is that guy even human?" one of the commentators murmured into his phone. "I thought the Great-Grandmasters were terrifying, but this…"
The livestream chat buzzed with comments.
mama_Bitch54: "Bro's built different. No way he's just a Grandmaster!"
irondick_f90: "I can't believe I'm watching this live… I hope they don't ban the stream!"
Master Long, seeing his disciples and the soldiers of the dojo butchered without mercy, finally snapped.
His eyes burned with fury as his voice thundered, "Junior! You will be the first to die by my hand!"
Without hesitation, Master Long summoned the wind to his command, forming a violent tornado that carried him toward the crimson-robed figure.
The old master flew with lightning speed, his body propelled by the fierce winds.
Wang Xiao, however, barely reacted, save for a slow, almost lazy smile. "Eight Strike: Thousand Cuts of Purgatory."
"Huh?" Master Long blinked, confused for a moment.
Then, CRASH!
Master Long slammed into the ground, sending dust and debris flying everywhere.
But Wang Xiao was already gone, having passed him in the blink of an eye.
His body glided effortlessly across the battlefield, wind swirling beneath his feet, propelling him forward as though the laws of nature bent to his will.
With each graceful movement, he cut down soldiers and masters alike, leaving nothing but a mist of blood and dismembered bodies in his wake.
The livestream feed trembled as the camera struggled to keep up.
"D-Did you see that?! He's not even running! He's—he's sliding across the ground like a freakin' phantom!" one of the streamers gasped.
Master Long, now on his feet, turned around slowly—his heart sinking as he took in the sight before him.
And then, like a machine of death, Wang Xiao descended upon the remaining soldiers and martial artists.
His blade moved like grim reaper, slashing through flesh and bone with terrifying precision.
Blood sprayed in every direction as bodies were torn apart in a mist of crimson.
By the time Master Long turned around, the battlefield was unrecognizable.
The once-great gathering of martial artists, soldiers, and masters had been reduced to nothing more than a red mist hanging in the air.
The beach, once pristine and serene, was now painted with the blood and brains of the fallen, the waves washing over the remains of those who had once been alive.
Wang Xiao stood at the center of it all, calm and collected, as if the slaughter had been a casual afternoon stroll.
His bloodstained robe fluttered in the wind, and his eyes glinted with the quiet satisfaction of a job well done.
"Eight Strike: Thousand Cuts of Purgatory," Wang Xiao muttered to himself, admiring his handiwork.
He had just created the technique on the spot, but anyone who had witnessed it would've thought he had mastered it over thousands of years.
The battlefield had been transformed into a sea of red.
Blood flowed freely, washing over the sandy beach, and except for the four disciples still struggling against the giant monk and the Red boy, everyone else had been reduced to blood mist.
The livestream buzzed with reactions:
xXSlayerFanXx: "Is there even anyone LEFT? This guy's unstoppable!"
AzureKing: "Bro just turned a wedding banquet into a horror show. Holy crap."
The wedding banquet, which had begun with pomp and ceremony, had now become a sea of blood.
An island meant for celebration was now an arena of death, with the ocean itself trying to wash away the horrors of what had occurred.
Master Long clenched his fists, his body trembling with rage and disbelief. "You… You will pay for this," he growled, his voice shaking.
Wang Xiao didn't even look at him.
He simply flicked his sword, cleaning the blood from its edge as he gazed at the now quiet battlefield.
His smile, calm and unbothered, remained.
"Is that so?" Wang Xiao said, his voice carrying no weight, as if he found Master Long's threat amusing. "Then come. Let's see if the winds favor you today..."
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