Chapter 83: The Furious Little Prince (Please Vote and Subscribe)

Bang!

Fang Qingyun’s hand struck down with tremendous force. The greatsword embedded in the ground soared into the air, smashing a bandit and sending him flying. The sickening sound of bones shattering echoed. The bandit was hurled dozens of meters, crashed to the ground, struggled a few times, and then lay still.

The surrounding bandits shuddered, instinctively stepping back.

“Kill!”

Fang Qingyun roared again, hefted his greatsword, and charged at another bandit. That bandit quaked in terror and turned to flee.

“Coward!” Fang Qingyun cursed, pushing off the ground so hard that cracks spidered beneath his feet. In a blur, he appeared beside the fleeing bandit.

“Die!”

Crash!

There were immediately two bisected corpses.

That did it—the bandits were utterly terrified and began to retreat in disarray.

“Useless!”

A cold, harsh voice rang out. A middle-aged man, with unremarkable features and build but a vicious glint in his eyes, stepped forward and fixed a chilly gaze on Fang Qingyun. “I’ll deal with him. The rest of you, grab the supplies and prepare to retreat.”

“Yes, boss!” The bandits breathed a sigh of relief. As long as they didn’t have to face Fang Qingyun themselves, anything was fine.

“You? Deal with me?” Fang Qingyun grinned, then lunged forward.

The middle-aged man discarded his large blade and drew a thin, narrow sword, watching Fang Qingyun with icy eyes. He had abandoned his heavy weapon in favor of a light sword, intending to use speed as his counter.

Bang!

Fang Qingyun closed the distance in a few strides and, without hesitation, swung down with his sword.

“Hmph, green boy, not a shred of real combat experience.” The bandit sneered. Against someone wielding a light weapon like him, it was foolish to attack with a heavy weapon at full force without holding back some strength for defense. If the attack missed, Fang Qingyun would be wide open to a devastating counterstrike.

This was precisely what he planned to do.

He shifted his body slightly, muscles coiled, ready to explode into action. The moment the blade fell, he would strike back.

But right then, Fang Qingyun not only didn’t hold back—he unleashed even greater force. The great strength generated a sonic boom in the air.

Bang!

The sword grazed past the bandit’s body.

Suddenly, a tremendous suction force appeared. Completely unprepared, the bandit staggered and was pulled toward the greatsword.

“Damn!” The bandit was aghast. He tapped his light sword gently against the greatsword, channeling his energy to propel himself backward.

But then another huge shockwave struck. The bandit nearly lost his footing, stumbling back several steps before regaining his balance.

“Hell!” Cold sweat beaded on his brow. Just how heavy was this sword? How strong was Fang Qingyun?

He understood what had just happened. The sword was so heavy, combined with Fang Qingyun’s prodigious strength, that it could draw nearby objects toward it. As for the shockwave—that was the force unleashed when the greatsword slammed into the ground.

“Slash!”

Missing his mark, Fang Qingyun increased his force, swinging the greatsword back around at the bandit.

“Damn!” The bandit’s heart sank. He had gravely underestimated Fang Qingyun’s strength. All he could do was retreat, dodging the follow-up strike.

“Slash, slash, slash!” Fang Qingyun bellowed, charging at the bandit, his sword swinging relentlessly. His movements were crude, wild, utterly ferocious—a tempest of violence, leaving no room to breathe. The bandit was forced to dodge in utter desperation, trying to keep as much distance as possible from that sword, lest he be drawn in by its pull. In the end, when he could not evade, he even resorted to rolling on the ground.

“Heh, just once. Let me hit you just once, and you’re finished!” Fang Qingyun’s voice was icy. “If I cut you, you’ll be split in two. If I smash you, you’ll be shattered to pieces.”

Hearing this, the bandit finally lost his composure. His frantic dodges finally left an opening.

“Die!” Fang Qingyun roared, putting every ounce of strength into a brutal downward strike.

“No!” The bandit screamed, raising his light sword to block.

Crack!

Both man and sword were cleaved in two.

“No, no...” Even having been sliced in half at the waist, the bandit didn’t die at once. He thrashed wildly on the ground, emitting a blood-curdling scream, his eyes full of despair.

“Refreshing!” Fang Qingyun flicked his greatsword, spraying blood away, then glanced coldly at the bandit and shook his head slightly.

An elite martial artist—at least seventh tier. Such a person on the battlefield could kill dozens of ordinary demon or fiend warriors. In a typical city, he would be a pillar of order.

But, alas, he chose to be a bandit, robbing human caravans and even military convoys within human territory. A thousand deaths would not be enough for such a man.

And yet, within human lands, there were far too many like him.

Of course, the demons and fiends had even worse problems—constant infighting laid bare for all to see, with tribes wiped out in droves. It seemed to be a common flaw among all intelligent beings.

By comparison, humans looked almost tranquil; at least, their struggles were mostly hidden.

Fang Qingyun raised his head and stared at the remaining bandits.

“Run!”

The moment their leader died, the bandits were already scared out of their wits. Now, under Fang Qingyun’s gaze, they immediately turned to flee, wishing they’d been born with a few extra pairs of legs.

Their boss had been dispatched in a few moves—why would they stick around? To die?

“Damn!” Zhao Junhong, who had just cut down two bandits, looked up to see the fight already over. He eyed Fang Qingyun oddly. “Did something get to you? Or did seeing that woman make you so angry you just had to vent?”

“Shut up. I just wanted to finish the fight quickly.” Fang Qingyun rolled his shoulders and walked toward the transport trucks.

Several people jumped down from the trucks and approached the two with looks of gratitude.

“Old Fang!” Zhao Junhong called softly, staring at the group.

“I know,” Fang Qingyun replied, glancing around, his eyes flashing coldly.

“Thank you, thank you both!” one of the transporters said gratefully. “These supplies are headed to the front lines. If something happened here, the consequences would be dire.”

Fang Qingyun replied calmly, “No need for thanks. But, I have to ask—is it really supplies you’re carrying?”

The transporters hesitated. “Of course!”

“I need to check.”

“On what grounds?” The transporters eyed Fang Qingyun warily. “Who are you? Why should we let you inspect our cargo?”

Fang Qingyun was about to show his academy badge when Zhao Junhong pressed his blade to the man’s neck, grinning savagely. “Can I check now? Out here in the wilds, I could just kill you and check afterward. Makes no difference.”

“Yes, yes!” The man nodded frantically, shouting to his companions, “Quick, open up the cargo for these two martial artists.”

The tarp was thrown back, revealing piles of flesh and grain.

“See? Nothing unusual,” one of them stammered. “We’re regular troops attached to Beaconfire Fortress.”

Fang Qingyun stared at the cargo, his voice cool. “As bandits, you’ve done well to get this far.”

They froze, then quickly protested, “Sir, what are you saying? Bandits? How could we possibly be bandits? We were just—”

A flash of swordlight—

The man’s head tumbled from his body.

Zhao Junhong sneered, “You think we’re children? There were so many holes in your story I don’t even want to bother pointing them out.”

“Damn, kill them!” The others bared their fangs, drawing weapons and rushing at the two.

“This time, let me enjoy myself.” Zhao Junhong grinned, swinging his blood-stained blade and charging in.

Fang Qingyun didn’t fight for kills, but instead drew his sniper rifle from his back.

Bang bang bang!

Someone fired at them—bullets whistled through the air.

Zhao Junhong swung his blade, deflecting every bullet, laughing wildly as he pressed forward.

Fang Qingyun stood his ground, swaying lightly to avoid the hail of bullets. Then, with a spark of energy, a spiritual bullet formed in the chamber of his sniper rifle.

Bang!

A man looked down, dumbfounded, at the hole in his chest.

“You hid yourself well, but you can’t conceal your energy from a high-level martial artist,” Fang Qingyun said coldly.

Ordinary people—and even low-level martial artists—weren’t worth wasting a spiritual bullet on. But a high-level martial artist certainly was.

“Run!”

Seeing their strongest companion fall, the rest lost all will to fight and bolted.

“Run?” Zhao Junhong snorted, darting forward to pick them off one by one.

Fang Qingyun continued to pick off stragglers with precision shots from his rifle.

In less than a minute, all eight lay dead.

The two stayed alert, weapons at the ready, coolly scanning their surroundings.

After a long moment, Fang Qingyun finally said, “Let’s go.”

Zhao Junhong frowned. “That was a powerful presence—probably a general-tier martial artist. Who could it be?”

From the start, a strong aura had been watching them, probing for weaknesses. Only just now did it finally withdraw.

Zhao Junhong let out a breath.

“Who cares—if he shows himself, we’ll kill him!” Fang Qingyun snorted. He felt no fear—in fact, he rather hoped the watcher would reveal himself. Unfortunately, the other was far too cautious.

He glanced at his stats.

[Host: Fang Qingyun]
[Strength: 31 (+)]
[Speed: 32 (+)]
[Constitution: 31 (+)]
[Mental Power: 31 (+)]
[Spiritual Energy: 52 (+)]
[Shooting: Intermediate (+)]
[Blade Technique: Beginner (+)]
[Sword Technique: Beginner (+)]
[Spirit Control: Beginner (+)]
[Summoned Beast: Dragon King Lion (+)]
[Source Points: 25,293]

Apart from gaining beginner sword technique, little had changed. His spiritual energy had increased by just one point.

Fang Qingyun felt a headache coming on. Was he really so bad at cultivating spiritual energy that he could only improve with source points? After all this time, only one point gained? Or was it something to do with the system?

Zhao Junyi could gain ten or even dozens of points in a single day.

“Old Fang!” Zhao Junhong called suddenly.

Fang Qingyun looked up. Zhao Junhong was standing by the cargo, face grim.

Fang Qingyun strode over, ready to speak, when his eyes narrowed.

Amid the pile of flesh—while the top layer was animal carcasses, below were human bodies.

He and Zhao Junhong had recently taken out a group of half-demons, but even they hadn’t killed this many humans.

What were these bodies for? Bait? Unlikely. More likely, they were meant for trade with the demon race.

Zhao Junhong gritted his teeth. “We should have gone all out—left none alive, and captured some for questioning.”

“Don’t talk tough,” Fang Qingyun sighed. With someone watching from the shadows, they’d had to hold back some strength.

But seeing these human corpses, killed by other humans, angered them even more than those slain by half-demons.

“Let’s bury them,” Fang Qingyun said softly.

In recent days, they’d seen too many human bodies while on missions. They’d lost count of how many they’d buried. Only in the act of digging graves did the brutality of the front lines truly hit home.

Here, there were demons, fiends, and even human bandits... For ordinary humans living here, their lives truly hung by a thread.

“Push the line forward!” Zhao Junhong suddenly said. “If we raze the demon fortresses and advance into their territory, people here will finally be safe.”

Fang Qingyun studied him. “Then let’s do our best... Wait, what’s that?”

Suddenly, Fang Qingyun looked up, stunned.

A massive floating warship appeared in the distance, drifting through the air like an island, exuding an overwhelming aura as it swept across the sky. Its enormous hull, gunports glinting frostily, and vast spirit arrays all spoke of its terrifying power.

Fang Qingyun was speechless—utterly awed.

It was his first time seeing such a behemoth.

Even Zhao Junhong’s voice trembled. “That’s a main battleship... Why would something like that be here alone? Where are its escorts?”

The floating warship thundered past, leaving a roar in its wake, the wind nearly knocking them off their feet.

Only when the ship finally vanished did Fang Qingyun regain his senses, gasping for breath. Even from a considerable distance, the pressure from its mountain-like bulk made it hard to breathe or even move.

It was terrifying to imagine what kind of power a five-hundred-meter-long monster like that could unleash.

“So that’s a main battleship?”

“Yes,” Zhao Junhong answered, flopping to the ground and then just lying flat, muttering, “The aerial overlord of the Human Empire, the top-tier floating battleship—the Main Battleship series.”

“The Human Empire only fields main battleships in full squadrons,” Fang Qingyun said.

“Or there’s another possibility,” Zhao Junhong sat up suddenly. “That’s a private vessel for a big shot.”

“Really?” Fang Qingyun murmured, still recalling the oppressive might of the ship.

“Tsk, makes you envious, doesn’t it?” Zhao Junhong grinned. “I’d love to have one. Judging by the specs, it’s probably a duke or a marshal.”

“A duke or a marshal? What would they be doing here?” Fang Qingyun asked, startled.

Zhao Junhong was taken aback as well. “Could something have happened at Beaconfire Fortress? Or is there a major operation underway?”

“Forget it, no point speculating. We’re nobodies—matters like this are far beyond us.” Fang Qingyun walked over, offered Zhao Junhong a hand, and smiled. “Let’s strengthen ourselves first. One day, we’ll have an even bigger floating battleship.”

“Haha, yes!”