CHAPTER 657: CHAPTER 393: THE STRONGEST SAINT_2

"Come on, come on!" Yan Xiaobao muttered to himself while watching the battle. The dragon had shattered into thousands of golden rays, but its blood gathered before the young man. Seeing a small portion of the blood, Li Xiaopeng immediately cut his arm, letting more blood surge out. The blood pooled before him and formed another dragon. This dragon was entirely different from the previous one. It was no longer golden tinged with red but red tinged with gold.

"Come on, you foolish bird," Yan Xiaobao continued, his hands clenched tightly together, cold sweat dripping from his forehead. The intensity of the battle escalated relentlessly. The Blood Dragon first coiled around Li Xiaopeng, shielding him from the sharp feathers that suddenly erupted from Wan Qiao’s wings.

Noticing the feathers were ineffective, Wan Qiao swept down to the young man’s position. Her claws gripped the Blood Dragon, but upon contact, it turned fluid-like. No matter how much she tried to grasp it, her claws passed directly through, clutching nothing; instead, the blood started clinging to Wan Qiao. It formed a crimson layer over the One-Horned Jasmine Eagle.

Feeling the blood adhere to her, Wan Qiao did not panic. Instead, she urged her Fog Energy through her beast core and used it to purify the blood, evaporating it into thin air.

Using the Blood Dragon and letting it subdue like this, Li Xiaopeng felt blood pooling in his mouth as Wan Qiao forcibly neutralized his blood-fueled attack. This caused the young man to suffer the backlash of his assault. On the other hand, Wan Qiao did not fare much better. She expended immense energy to remove the blood. Fortunately for her, since she was in her primal form, neither friend nor foe could see how pale she had become.

Refusing to give up, the two Saints paused once more, now only a small distance apart. Their gazes locked onto each other as their bodies trembled from the previous bombardment. The attacks they had unleashed had drained their energy, and the ones they’d endured had inflicted internal and external wounds.

Upon close inspection, Li Xiaopeng’s clothing had been shredded by the razor-sharp feathers, leaving him covered in countless small wounds. But humans weren’t the only ones who had suffered considerable harm. Wan Qiao’s body was riddled with injuries, blood seeping from the areas where her feathers had been torn out. Yet, as she gathered the last remnants of Fog Energy, she seemed unfazed. With a ferocious beat of her wings, she hurtled toward Li Xiaopeng, wrapping herself in a defense shield as she advanced.

Li Xiaopeng narrowed his eyes, golden energy erupting from his forehead and enveloping him in radiant light. The youthful-looking man stared at the approaching bird, his fist gradually tightening as he compressed all the golden light into his hand. The light within his grasp shimmered, reflecting all the energy released earlier. Yan Xiaobao couldn’t help but admit that this youthful-looking man was a master of controlling martial power. None of it was wasted, every bit forced into a concentrated form. Watching this display, Yan Xiaobao finally realized the vast gap between himself and the aircraft’s most powerful person.

"If even Siban has someone this powerful, then I imagine there must be plenty of hidden experts in their ranks," Hui Yu muttered to himself, feeling a pang of frustration.

"Don’t worry," Lan Feng said calmly as he observed the battle before them. "They’ve had years of combat experience, years of training. You’re just a child; naturally, you’re far from being that strong right now."

Hearing these words, Yan Xiaobao could only nod. The fleeting sensation of dejection was quickly overcome, and determination reignited in his eyes. The day faded as the Saints continued their fierce clash, their combat coming to a halt as Hui Yu and the opposing side awaited the final exchange between Wan Qiao and Li Xiaopeng. Both sides prepared to end today’s battle and resume on the morrow. The Hui Clan and Siban Empire’s Great Marshall had informally agreed not to engage in combat during the night.

Although Yan Xiaobao knew these beasts had a greater advantage during nighttime compared to humans, he nevertheless welcomed the respite war required. This meant today’s fighting was nearing its close. With one final strike, if they succeeded in killing the other Saint, then the war could almost be considered won. Everyone held their breath. All the Saints who had clashed earlier withdrew and regrouped with their soldiers. Only Wan Qiao and Li Xiaopeng remained on the battlefield; one enveloped by Fog Energy leaping toward the other, while the latter stood still, preparing for the incoming attack. His focus was solely on his fist. This final exchange might very well determine the war’s outcome. Everyone on the battlefield held their breath. The only sounds audible were the crackling of condensed martial power in the human Saint’s hand and the gust of wind from Wan Qiao’s rapid flight. No one dared move a muscle. Yan Xiaobao and Siban Empire’s Great Marshall watched the duel intently, their hearts racing as the two antagonists drew closer and closer.

Although everything transpired within seconds, time seemed distorted. As the two experts closed in on each other, it felt as though everything slowed. Li Xiaopeng raised his hand, and just as it met the trajectory of the bird, all sound vanished. There was no crackle, no roar—nothing but eerie silence, like a grave. This silence lasted less than a second before an overwhelming eruption shattered through. The boom triggered a massive shockwave, far surpassing anything yet seen. The golden radiance carried by the shockwave blew everyone observing the battle—even those a kilometer away—backward. Some beasts collided headlong into the shockwave, falling onto the ground. Others were forced to step back, unable to resist the force until their retreat was finally halted by fellow beasts. Those who managed to remain standing still stumbled back several paces. Yan Xiaobao, the least injured among them, had encased himself in martial power before impact and only faltered backward a few steps.

Though the flashing light from the impact briefly blinded him, Yan Xiaobao kept his gaze fixed on the battle’s aftermath. When he saw Wan Qiao lying on the ground, his eyes narrowed. Her body was shattered, blood pouring from a gaping hole in her chest. Her eyes were closed, and one wing twisted unnaturally.

"Fourth Army, retrieve Wan Qiao immediately!" Yan Xiaobao roared, dashing forward to stand before the fallen eagle. His eyes turned crimson, and the world around him turned gray. A unit of three hundred beasts charged ahead, carrying Wan Qiao back to the safety of the camp.

As this took place, thirty-nine Saints moved to stand three meters behind Yan Xiaobao. Initially, they could see nothing because the battle had stirred a great cloud of dust, but as it cleared, Yan Xiaobao spotted a large group of Saints standing a kilometer away from them. Carefully observing, he noted Li Xiaopeng wasn’t among them, giving him a moment of relief. Although he couldn’t gauge how severely injured the youthful Saint might be, he wouldn’t be fit for combat now, increasing their chances of healing Wan Qiao.

Yan Xiaobao stood at the front, feeling an intense killing intent rise from the depths of his being. The more he thought about Wan Qiao’s injuries, the sharper his desire to kill became. The temperature around him dropped drastically. Behind him, the Saints shifted uncomfortably, transferring their weight from one leg to the other as cold sweat appeared on their foreheads. Many wished the opposing Saints would attack, redirecting Yan Xiaobao’s almost suffocating bloodlust toward their enemies rather than claim them as victims. Such potent killing intent was beyond what they themselves could manifest, leaving them silently perplexed as to how someone so young and relatively low-ranked could harbor such ferocity.

The opposing Saints didn’t budge an inch. But as nightfall slowly encroached, they retreated, no longer standing before the city walls.

Seeing this, Yan Xiaobao waved a hand, and the Saints retreated to camp. Upon arrival, he rushed to the medical unit, where he found Wan Qiao lying on a bed. Her upper half was exposed, her body swathed in bandages. Her face was blank, devoid of emotion, her eyes shut. Her features were smooth, as though she felt no pain. A blanket was loosely draped over her lower half. One arm rested in a sling, while the other seemed slightly better, though a severe bruise could be seen below the elbow. Gazing at the strongest woman he had ever known, Yan Xiaobao could barely fathom how the circumstances imposed by Siban Empire’s experts had forced her into such dire vulnerability.

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