Crossing Over: The Strongest Mage

At this moment, San'er suddenly recalled an old saying: "There's always someone better, and in the world of the strong, there's always a stronger one."

"I don't want to fight, nor do I wish to harm anyone," Yan Huo's voice was like a ghost's, coming from behind San'er.

San'er swung his blade horizontally to the left, but it missed again. Except for the dazed Wang Mang, all the experts present were at a loss for words, their shock impossible to describe. The once composed leader in white also frowned at this moment. His eyes were the only ones in the entire group that could follow Yan Huo's movements.

"His footwork is chaotic, without any order, but it's unbelievably fast!?" The leader in white thought. Being able to keep up with Yan Huo's figure with his eyes was one thing, but being able to match his speed physically was another. The leader in white knew he didn't have the speed to keep up with him, so he made a decision.

"The books say that killing is wrong. Even when I was in the mountains, though I loathed the beasts, I never killed a single one," Yan Huo spoke while evading.

San'er was not listening to him at all. In his eyes, killing Yan Huo was the only way for him to survive. Although his strikes were growing faster and faster, they still all missed their mark.

Whether it was due to his desperation or his internal energy being drained too quickly, large beads of sweat rolled down San'er's face. After his 111th swing, he finally stopped. Seeing that his opponent no longer struck at him, Yan Huo also stopped.

That was the exact moment the leader in white had been waiting for. Yan Huo stood with his back turned, and the distance between them was less than ten meters. So the leader in white took his chance. He had a habit of never striking unless absolutely necessary, but when he did, he used all his strength. There would be no mercy, no chances for his opponent.

He was confident that at such a close distance, even the few people in the organization who were on the same level as him would not survive a full-force strike.

When Yan Huo sensed the massive airflow behind him and turned around, it was already too late. A pair of bloodless hands struck Yan Huo's body.

"Boom!" The sound of the impact was deafening. There was no suspense. Yan Huo's body flew like a cannonball into the forest, crashing into several large trees, causing them to fall one after another.

After landing the strike, the leader in white didn't seem pleased. In fact, he looked towards the forest and then glanced at his own hands. Shaking his head with a self-deprecating sigh, he murmured, "Has it been so long since I last fought? Did I forget that feeling? Why did it feel like I just hit a rock?"

"One, go check on that kid in the forest. See what he looks like and report back. If he's still not completely disfigured..." the leader in white ordered.

"Yes, master!" A black-clad figure leaped towards the forest.

"Good. Deal with the trash, find whatever he's carrying on him," the leader continued giving orders.

"Yes!" Three black-clad figures moved towards Wang Mang.

The leader in white approached the dazed San'er, still smiling. "Poor San'er! I gave you a chance, but I didn't expect you to be so useless. You know what you should do now, right? Or perhaps you're unwilling, and want me to help you."

"I dare not!" San'er replied quickly. He would never let his master help him because he knew that if his master intervened, the way he died would be far more painful and drawn-out, lasting a day and night. Without hesitation, San'er took his own life with a single stroke.

The black-clad figures showed no reaction to the death of their comrade. Not even a ripple of emotion crossed their faces. It was as if they had grown accustomed to such things. To them, human life was as insignificant as grass. Who knew when their own fate might meet the same end? They worried more about themselves than about others.

Perhaps it was because the feng shui of this forest was poor, or perhaps it was destined that the trees in this forest would not find peace today. As the first black-clad figure flew out of the forest, several large trees fell in response to his body crashing into them. His body hit the ground like a lump of mud, landing right beside the leader in white. However, the leader in white didn't even spare a glance at him. His wide-open eyes were fixated on the figure emerging from the woods—Yan Huo.

From the figure, the sound, it seemed to the leader in white that the person approaching was just a teenager, no more than sixteen or seventeen years old.

Had he not witnessed it with his own eyes, the leader in white would never have believed that someone could withstand his full-force strike without any defense and remain unharmed. If such a person existed, they could not possibly be human—they would be a monster. The leader in white knew that there were a few such monsters in this world, and in front of them, he was not even worth as much as an ant. But what he never expected was that today, in this place, he would encounter one again.

Yan Huo's voice rang out with fury, "You say he did something wrong, so you want to kill him. I came out to persuade you, and now you want to kill me instead. Your subordinates couldn't kill me, so you forced one of them to commit suicide. Do you even deserve to be called a human? Even beasts never harm their own kind. You're less than a beast. Do you think you deserve to live?"

"You just struck me, and though I was in pain, I didn't want to make an issue of it. But what you did, that's unforgivable. Do you know what you destroyed with your slap? You destroyed the embroidery box that Xiu Ning left me. This embroidery box was the only memento she left me. It could have accompanied me on my search for immortality for decades, or even centuries. But now you've destroyed it. Do you think you deserve to live?"

"I've never killed a beast before, but your actions are less than that of a beast. Today, I'll see if I can kill something that's less than a beast."

It was unclear whether the leader in white heard any of Yan Huo's angry words, or if he even cared to listen. The leader in white had encountered many martial artists, and had seen countless martial techniques, but today he was facing someone who didn't use techniques at all—someone who relied purely on body and speed, yet still killed with every strike. His seemingly frail body was incredibly strong, and it was his body itself that served as his weapon.

There were no special moves or techniques. His actions resembled the chaotic flailing of a child, but each time his limbs moved, another figure was sent flying, turning into a bloody mess on the ground.

One after another, the powerful killers who once ruled the martial world were reduced to piles of mud before Yan Huo. The leader in white didn't know why he hadn't yet fled. Was it because he hadn't obtained the crucial item? Or was it because he was fascinated by Yan Huo's unique, unorthodox method of killing?

The leader in white had killed countless people in his forty years of life. The number was so vast that even he had lost track. However, he had never once allowed blood to stain his clothes. In the martial world, there was no one capable of staining his robes with blood. Yet, he never imagined that the first time his clothes would be stained with blood, it would be his own blood. And, of course, this blood would be the last blood he ever shed.