Chapter 1142: Chapter 1142

The cultivators at the Northern River Border all displayed an unparalleled madness, fearless in the face of death.

No one needed to inspire them anymore.

Action is always more moving than words.

Lu Qingshan's actions had long ignited the blood in their hearts completely.

They seemed like a sword thirsty for blood, fiercely piercing towards the Demon Race.

"It's just the dying struggle of an exhausted force," the Xuan Du Demon Marshal was quite dismissive of the assault launched by the cultivators of the Northern River Border, completely incomparable to the seriousness with which he regarded Lu Qingshan.

Their effort to break the formation was aimed at directly confronting the human cultivators of the Northern River Border.

Now that the Northern River cultivators had abandoned their formation to aid Lu Qingshan, it was exactly what he wished for.

With a wave of the Xuan Du Demon Marshal's hand, nearly a thousand demonic cultivators from the camp near the Northern River began to move, intending to slaughter all the cultivators of the Northern River Border.

Upon seeing this, Lu Qingshan took a deep breath and stepped forward in an instant.

"Today, we fight to the end."

He could feel the determination and fearless resolve of the Northern River cultivators.

The disparity in power was immense, and none of the Northern River cultivators believed they could win.

They were simply prepared to risk everything against the Demon Race, even if it meant taking a piece of flesh before they died.

The three thousand demonic cultivators didn't think the human cultivators could win, and the Northern River cultivators similarly didn't think they could win, but he alone thought differently.

"Who says we can't win?" Lu Qingshan lifted his head, a bright light flashing in his eyes.

At present, he and the cultivators of the Northern River were facing three thousand demonic cultivators at a distance.

Ignoring the disparity in strength, this situation resembled a pincer attack.

Once an advantage was gained, the enemy would be slaughtered and routed like headless flies.

But the problem was, at the forefront were the nearly exhausted "stragglers" of the Northern River after two days of fierce battle.

Blocking the Demon Race's rear was only one person, Lu Qingshan himself, clearly not enough to form an army.

"One person is enough," Lu Qingshan murmured.

Traveling three thousand miles in battle with one sword, able to face a force of a million. ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇ ꜰʀᴏᴍ novᴇlfire.net

A sword cultivator, at their peak, should be .

Lu Qingshan was far from this realm at present.

Though he couldn't face a million with a sword now, facing a hundred wasn't impossible.

Although his cultivation was only at the Sixth Realm, with the fourfold combat power boost of the Bing Syllable Mantra, his strength reached above the Seventh Realm, close to the Eighth Realm.

After slashing out the Netherworld Sword and killing nearly a hundred Seventh Grade demonic cultivators, Lu Qingshan swung his second sword at the demonic cultivators charging at him again.

A second sword more terrifying and powerful than the Netherworld Sword.

Secret Sword: Autumn Frost Coagulation.

The Seventh Grade of the Demon Race charging towards Lu Qingshan suddenly widened their eyes in horror.

Their pupils reflected a dazzling light, followed by a boom as their bodies encountered something terrifying, collapsing and disintegrating into a cloud of blood mist exploding in the air.

Sword shadows suddenly burst forth from Lu Qingshan's sword, and brilliant sword light poured out from the edge of the blade.

The sword light blazed, multiplying from one to two, then four, and so forth, eventually birthing a total of one hundred and eight sword lights.

The one hundred and eight sword lights were dense, hanging across the sky like a river, pleasing to the eye, breathtakingly beautiful yet incredibly terrifying, striking fear into the heart.

The river of sword light descended, accompanied by shrieks of fear and explosions of blood mist.

Each sword light claimed the life of one Seventh Grade demonic cultivator.

One hundred and eight sword lights, representing the fall of one hundred and eight Seventh Grade demonic cultivators.

This sword from Lu Qingshan shocked the observing demon cultivators and the Xuan Du Demon Marshal, who was attacking from a distance.

But the situation on the field left no room for the Xuan Du Demon Marshal to think any further.

Because at the front of the Demon Race's camp, the cultivators of the Northern River, under Wu Yan's leadership, had already pierced into their camp with determination like an arrowhead.

Meanwhile, at their rear, after unleashing that terrifying second sword, Lu Qingshan took advantage of the remaining time of the Bing Syllable Mantra, his figure flashing, carrying an invincible divine might, confidently and dominantly launching a fierce assault against the demon camp that greatly outnumbered him.

One person wished to challenge enemies on all sides, unafraid of being outnumbered.

Though alone, at this moment, one person could be an entire army!