Martial Cultivator

Because of the formations, it was difficult for the walls of the Northern Frontier Great Wall to bear any traces of the passage of time.

After the demons' blood splashed onto the walls, it began to flow continuously downward. From afar, it looked as though a waterfall had formed.

Except, the stench of blood was overwhelming.

Crossbow bolts were fired one after another, like a torrential downpour that never ceased.

Those crossbow bolts carrying terrifying power seemed as though they could never be exhausted, forming another line of defense atop the city wall.

Although those powerful demons were constantly drawing closer to the height of the city wall, not a single one had truly managed to reach the top.

In fact, even if a few of them were fortunate enough to make it onto the wall, the powerful cultivators stationed on the Northern Frontier Great Wall would immediately strike and kill them.

In truth, both sides understood very well that at this point, the demons were sacrificing lives to accomplish two things: one was to find weaknesses in the city's defenses, and the other, was simply to exhaust the bolts of the divine crossbows on the wall.

Leaving the first point aside, the second was actually very difficult. As soon as it became known that the demon race intended to move south with their entire race, the Great Liang Dynasty had attached the utmost importance to the Northern Frontier's defenses. The old Minister of Works had been hounded by Chen Chao into forging the Dragonblood Armor, but that was one of the Great Liang Dynasty's ultimate trump cards. Apart from that, the Ministry of Works had also been continuously producing ordinary military equipment, especially divine crossbow bolts. During this period alone, they had already manufactured one hundred thousand of them!

Combined with the fixed number of divine crossbow bolts that the Ministry of Works produced for the Northern Frontier every year, the Northern Frontier's stockpile of bolts was now extremely considerable.

If the demon race wanted to exhaust the divine crossbows of the Northern Frontier Army, they would probably have to attack the city continuously for several months before it became possible.

So the logic was actually very simple. As long as the demon race did not send out several great demons and demon lords, then even if they piled tens of thousands of powerful demons against the wall, or even a hundred thousand, it would still be difficult for them to pose much of a threat to the city wall.

But what the demon race lacked least was great demons.

When it came to cultivators in this world, whether in the number of cultivators or the number of powerful experts, the human race simply could not compare with the demon race.

So every time a great war broke out in the Northern Frontier, the demon race could casually throw away the lives of several great demons, but the Great Liang Dynasty had to be incomparably cautious every single time, because every Nepenthe cultivator they lost meant that for the next several years, or even more than a decade, the Great Liang Dynasty might not be able to fill that vacancy.

Ning Ping looked below the city. The Great General stood with his hands behind his back, calmly watching everything unfolding on the battlefield. As the Great General of the Northern Frontier, at such a difficult time as this, he had to appear here. Otherwise, the army's morale would likely suffer.

Moreover, his own martial cultivation was exceptionally powerful. For him to die on the city wall, it would require several Demon Lords joining forces, with no one coming to his aid. Otherwise, he would not die so easily.

As another volley of crossbow bolts was unleashed, another wave of demons fell from the sky. But in the end, several demons still reached the height of the city wall. But what awaited them was another dense volley of crossbow bolts.

To reach this point, they had already needed to evade more than one volley of bolts. After dodging several waves, they were naturally exhausted. Faced with this volley from the city wall, there was no way for them to evade it any longer.

So what awaited them was naturally still death.

Below the city, throughout the demon army, demons were constantly observing the situation atop the city wall. Holding brushes and paper, they continuously recorded what they saw. Whenever they filled a sheet, another demon would carry it away and deliver it to the central command center of the demon army. There, quite a few demons had gathered together, constantly making calculations based on the reports being sent back.

For more than two hundred years, the human race had been continuously strengthening itself, and naturally the demon race had not stood still either. They had always had a group of people studying the divine crossbows and crossbow bolts of the Northern Frontier Great Wall, constantly making calculations. The intervals between shots and the points of impact were all things they needed to determine.

A gaunt, middle-aged demon general with a sorrowful expression stood beside those demons who were constantly bent over making calculations. He stopped himself from speaking several times, and in the end swallowed all his words without saying a single one.

Several minutes later, an elderly demon with a head full of white hair finally stood up. Holding a sheet of paper densely covered in writing, he looked somewhat bitterly at the middle-aged general.

"Compared to the last time we came beneath the city walls, the human race has improved the firing rate of their crossbow bolts again. The frequency at which those bolts are fired is now practically perfect. We can't find any flaws."

The elderly demon had always been responsible for calculating the firing patterns of the divine crossbows on the Northern Frontier Great Wall. It could be said that over the past several decades, he had taken part in every siege. Precisely because of this, he was afraid. In those few decades alone, the human race had made such enormous improvements to the crossbow bolts.

From the materials used at the beginning, to the range later on, and then the firing frequency, every time he had thought there was no better method to be found. Yet who could have known that the human race would always manage to create new possibilities where none seemed possible?

By now, those crossbow bolts had been refined to an almost perfect degree.

The middle-aged general looked at the elderly demon. His expression had not been pleasant to begin with, and after hearing those words, it became even uglier. "If that's the case, we're going to lose a great many more men."

The elderly demon fell silent. He naturally knew that would be the outcome, but there was nothing he could do to change it.

Many things were simply like this. In the end, all that remained was helplessness, and nothing but helplessness.

Only, in the past, it had always been the human race that found themselves in such a situation. It was rare for the demon race to feel so powerless.

The middle-aged general said nothing more. Taking the sheet of paper, he strode away and went to the royal carriage.

He presented the paper, lowered his head, and repeated what the elderly demon had said.

Demon Lord Redsleeve extended two fingers, pinched the sheet of paper between them, narrowed her eyes with a smile, and said, "I've told you long ago, they never wanted to be ants. Yet you all insist on believing they'll always be ants, no matter when."

No one was willing to remain beneath another's feet forever.

Things like backbone, things like fighting spirit, once it spread throughout an entire civilization on a certain day, that nation would become truly terrifying.

"That's about enough. To borrow the humans' saying, we've served enough appetizers. It's time for the main course."

Demon Lord Redsleeve merely smiled as she spoke, then released her fingers, allowing the sheet of paper to be carried away by the wind.

In the distant sky, black clouds rolled as dozens of powerful auras gathered there.

Demonic qi billowed across the heavens.

Ning Ping raised his head to look at the sky, remaining silent.

Somewhere atop the city wall, the old sword immortal Gan Tang, who had been sitting in meditation for a long time, opened his eyes.

The old sword immortal had once enjoyed considerable fame in his younger years, only to fade into obscurity for many years afterward. It had originally seemed that he would never again become renowned throughout the world. Yet during the last great war between the demon race and the human race, aside from that woman who always surprised everyone, the greatest surprise had been this old Sword Immortal, who slew the demon commander Liu Xiang with a single sword strike.

From that day onward, the old sword immortal Gan Tang became famous throughout the world once more, and many younger sword cultivators jokingly referred to it as "an old tree blooming again."

At this moment, the old sword immortal Gan Tang looked toward the distant sky. Feeling those terrifying demonic auras, he showed no particular reaction. Many years ago, this elderly sword immortal had once been spoken of together with another sword immortal surnamed Gan, under the saying of the "Two Gans."

The other was Gan Yong. Blind for many years, he had ultimately died in the Northern Frontier during his battle against the Great Liang Emperor. It was said that before his death, he had still managed to unleash a sword strike worthy of a great sword immortal, so his life had not been in vain.

As for Gan Tang, who had once stood alongside him in fame, although he could now be called the number one swordsman beneath great sword immortals, he had still never stepped into that realm. In truth, that meant he had always lagged a step behind.

Gan Tang suddenly turned to look at a middle-aged sword cultivator beside him and said slowly, "Qingshan died on the front lines a few days ago."

The middle-aged sword cultivator nodded and said softly, "Senior Brother Qingshan's realm was a little lacking, but he had a fine disciple."

Gan Tang smiled faintly. "Only thinking about taking a disciple now, it's a bit too late."

The middle-aged sword cultivator shook his head. "Martial Uncle Gan, I never said I was going to die on the city wall. If things go badly, can't I just run south?"

Gan Tang made no comment. He merely took out his flying sword, laid it across his knees, gently brushed a hand over the blade, and murmured to himself, "A truly extraordinary great sword immortal surnamed Li once said, 'Though heaven and earth are vast, I have but a single sword.'" "Afterward, countless sword cultivators engraved those words upon their hearts. If you truly remember them, is fleeing south really something you could bring yourself to do?"

The middle-aged sword cultivator smiled wryly and said with some regret, "A pity I never attained a sword qi stretching ninety thousand miles."