Vol. 2 - Ch. 43 - The Qilin Axe Appears!

Those attacking Daming only felt an overwhelming force surge through their blades.

The very next moment—

The force was simply too immense to resist.

“Whoosh—whoosh—!”

Several men were thrown backward, stumbling on the slick ridge and nearly tumbling off the edge.

Xiong Shan, iron rod in hand and rushing to aid Daming, stopped in his tracks, eyes wide in shock at the sight.

Daming’s eyes were bloodshot. After blasting his attackers away, he looked down at the wooden box holding his axe.

There were several gashes carved into the box—each nearly half an inch deep.

Seeing the damage, his large eyes filled with pain.

That axe had been a gift from his father!

And these people had hacked it up like this?

The thought made Daming’s eyes grow even redder.

He pressed his lips into a firm line and silently began unwrapping the cloth tied around the box.

Up on the mountain ridge, a group of martial artists with blades drawn surged forward, swiftly surrounding Daming and Xiong Shan.

Heavy rain fell from the sky.

Raindrops splashed on the cold steel of the blades, filling the world with a chilling, murderous aura.

Standing beside Daming, Xiong Shan glared with wide eyes. He gripped his iron rod tightly, veins bulging from his arms, his figure brimming with menace.

The two were encircled by more than a dozen enemies.

Dozens of yards away, on a ridge partially obscured by trees—

Three figures in black stood silently. They wore rain cloaks and conical hats, with leaf-shaped emblems embroidered at the corners of their robes.

One of them spoke in a low voice:

“Daming can’t fight, but that one called Xiong Shan—he’s got some serious skill with that rod.”

“Still, the men surrounding them are all third-rank fighters. That one coming down the trail is even second-rank.”

“They won’t hold out for long.”

“So, Huang San… are we going in or not?”

The man who spoke stood next to a young man with a black blade at his hip and a grass stem between his lips. That young man simply stared at the mountain ridge, the grass gently bobbing with his breath.

“Not yet,” he replied calmly.

The first man grew anxious. “Still? You want to keep waiting?”

“If Daming gets hurt, how are we supposed to answer to the Grandmaster…”

“What’s the rush? Huang San’s eyes are the sharpest among us. If he says wait, it means it’s not time yet.” The third figure spoke up suddenly, his voice gruff and muffled. Two massive hammers were strapped to his back.

“Oh right—He Wu, open your iron umbrella. This rain’s a bit much.”

He Wu rolled his eyes. “My iron umbrella’s a specialized weapon. Once it’s open, it has to kill. It’s not for keeping dry!”

“Geez… Daming sure is stubborn. Still wants to press on in this kind of downpour.” He sighed, grumbling under his breath.

Chen Er, the one carrying the twin hammers, chuckled.

“That’s Daming for you. If he ever took up martial arts, he’d be a total training fanatic.”

Huang San remained silent, eyes locked on Daming as he slowly finished unwrapping the cloth from the box.

Neither He Wu nor Chen Er noticed how Huang San’s expression was growing increasingly grave.

Suddenly—

BOOM!

A deep peal of thunder rumbled across the sky.

A bolt of lightning slithered like a serpent across the heavens.

The rain poured harder.

The sky pressed low. Everyone standing on the ridge felt just a little too close to the clouds.

A strange sense of oppression settled over them.

The martial artists surrounding Daming and Xiong Shan stared coldly.

A sudden gust of wind swept through.

Then, all at once, the men surrounding the western edge lunged at the pair.

Blades flashed in the rain.

The wind howled with the swing of each saber, slicing even the falling rain in two.

Xiong Shan roared, swinging his iron rod with immense force.

With a single sweep, he clashed against several blades.

Those swordsmen felt their hands go numb, barely able to grip their weapons.

Xiong Shan followed up with a few more powerful strikes. They could only retreat under the crushing power of his blows.

The ones attacking Daming aimed with deadly precision, every slash targeting a vital spot.

But Daming remained silent, his eyes red.

The cloth on the box was now fully unraveled.

With both hands, thick and calloused, he gripped the base of the box—and began to swing it.

Instinctively, he unleashed a sweeping strike, like a one-man army charging through thousands.

CRACK!

A thunderous boom.

Every enemy blade slammed into the wooden box.

Before they could react, the box spun toward them like an enraged beast.

That overwhelming force surged out from it, and several of the martial artists were nearly flung off their feet.

On the trail, the second-rank fighter narrowed his eyes.

For some reason, a sense of unease bloomed in his chest.

After a brief hesitation, he moved.

With swift, sure steps, he raced up the ridge—straight for Daming and Xiong Shan.

Better to deal with them quickly.

No time to wait.

Having flung back the enemies around him, Daming tore the lid off the wooden box.

His burly right hand reached inside.

And in that moment—

Everyone froze.

Daming’s hand emerged holding a massive axe—six feet long, two feet wide.

The axe face was engraved with a fierce Qilin—its hooves treading fire, its eyes cold and biting.

Rain trickled down the blade, flowing over the beast’s eyes as if the Qilin itself had come to life.

Its gaze seemed to blink.

The handle was thick and long, carved with anti-slip patterns.

Daming gripped it tightly in his right hand, eyes red as blood.

Standing six feet tall, muscles bulging, he looked like a beast from the ancient wilds.

He raised the Qilin Axe, jaw clenched, glaring at everyone around him.

Every single person was stunned.

They stared at this boy—yes, a boy—with growing dread.

And then—

CRACK!

Lightning tore through the sky.

The heavens shattered like glass under the strike.

And amid the storm, Daming stood tall on the ridge, blood-red eyes blazing, axe in hand.

The martial artists surrounding him felt an unexplainable chill crawl down their spines.

Even the second-rank fighter rushing toward him froze when he saw the axe.

Shock flashed across his face.

That weapon—its craftsmanship was exquisite. Clearly the work of a master artisan.

His shock quickly turned to joy.

What a pleasant surprise!

If he brought this axe to the Divine Envoy, it’d earn him massive merit.

His heart beat faster with anticipation.

Next to him, Xiong Shan stared, utterly stunned.

So this was what Daming had been carrying on his back all this time?

A giant axe?

Just by its size, it had to weigh at least seventy or eighty jin!

Xiong Shan was floored.

Daming was only twelve years old.

Twelve! And he’d been hauling that monstrous weapon through the mountains like it was nothing?

He looked again at the axe, his eyes gleaming.

His mouth hung slightly open as he stared.

This…

This axe, if brought onto the battlefield, would be unstoppable.

Xiong Shan’s gaze shifted back to Daming. This time, his eyes held something deeper—something complicated.

His expression grew serious.

Just as everyone remained stunned by the sight of the giant axe—

Daming moved.

His crimson gaze swept over the surrounding fighters.

In his right hand, the Qilin Axe lifted high.

The massive blade pointed toward the sky.

And above him, lightning danced across the heavens—reflected in the axe’s glinting surface.

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