God of Destruction

Chapter 12: Zhi Hao's action

Fu Tao bounced several steps back, his face expressed deep shock as wrinkles of tension filled his forehead. In disbelief, he witnesses the surprising strength of Zhi Hao, the boy who came to Wi Lung's aid.

On the other hand, Zhi Hao, did not expect that his attack not only succeeded in saving Wi Lung but also pushed the enemy back. "Am I that strong?" he muttered, his heart pounding.

Inside Zhi Hao's head, Qianlong said proudly, "Which God of Destruction Technique could possibly compete with any other technique? Definitely, far superior!"

Hearing those words, Zhi Hao replied, "Who exactly are youIf you have any clues for me, tell me, I'm ready to accept." However, no answer came.

With swift and alert movements, Zhi Hao approached Fu Tao who was still confused by the reality that had just slapped him in the face.

Seizing this golden opportunity, Zhi Hao prepared to test other techniques. "Second Level Lightning Sword Technique – God's Anger!"

The moment before Zhi Hao released his attack, Fu Tao saw a sharp, dazzling lightning heading towards him, but his body was unable to respond quickly enough to dodge.

bomb!

The next second, the attack struck, forcing him to his knees on the ground.

The air rippled with the remains of fierce fighting. Dust swirled in the fading sunlight, revealing the remains of a battle between two titans.

Fu Tao, the formidable patriarch of the Fu Clan, lay on the ground, his face scrunched up in a mask of disbelief and pain. His right arm, cut clean off by one swift attack, was gone, vanishing into nothingness as if swallowed by a hungry abyss.

On the opposite side, stood Zhi Hao, a young man who had just reached his teens, his eyes wide with shock and a hint of horror. He had never imagined his sword could possess such fierce power, the terrifying ability to dissolve flesh and bones. He lowered his weapon, the weight of his actions falling on him like a leaden cloak.

"Young man, that's enough, I admit defeat!" Fu Tao panted, his voice hoarse with pain and desperate pleading. He was a master manipulator, a cunning strategist, but his carefully planned plans had collapsed before him.

The Fu Clan warriors, who had been engaged in a desperate battle against Zhi Hao's allies, froze at the sight of their family head's defeat. they moved to help him, but Fu Tao raised his hand, stopping them with a determined look. He wasn't finished yet. He had one last, desperate, move to play.

But before he could speak, a dazzling silver flash slashed through the air. a quick and precise cut, aimed at his unprotected right side.

Slash!

Fu Tao screamed in pain as the sword tore through his flesh, drawing blood.

"You!" he growled, his voice filled with anger and hatred. He clutched his wound with his left hand, his face pale with shock.

"You're running rampant, Fu Tao, I know you're trying to play drama here with that Young Man as the victim. You think I don't know who you are to be so cunning." wi Lung, an old Patriarch with eyes as sharp as his sword, stepped forward, his voice cold and unwavering.

He had been observing the battle, his sharp senses detecting the undertow of deception that Fu Tao had woven into the battle.

Zhi Hao, who was still reeling from the events that occurred, felt a wave of relief wash over him. He has been caught in the Scenario's web, a pawn in a deadly game orchestrated by a master manipulator.

"I'm indeed inexperienced," muttered Zhi Hao, his voice almost inaudible. He had been naive, believing Fu Tao's outward appearance of supposed submission. He had underestimated the depth of the man's intelligence, his ruthless ambition.

wi Lung, with a movement of his hand, signaled the Fu Clan warriors to retreat. He had seen enough. The battle is over.

Fu Tao, who was bleeding profusely, struggled to his feet, his eyes burning with hatred. He had been defeated, defeated, his carefully designed plans reduced to ashes.

"You'll regret this, Wi Lung," he hissed, his voice a poisonous whisper. "You're going to regret this."

Wi Lung just smiled, a cold and calculating smile that didn't contain the slightest regret. "Maybe," he said, his voice calm and measured. “But for now, the Fu Clan has fallen.”

Wi Lung swung his sword again, slashing at Fu Tao's neck to end it all.

At that time Wi Lung said, "If you don't surrender, you will also have the same fate as him." his finger pointed at Fu Tao who was lying lifeless.

Their enthusiasm turned into a dilemma and in the end they decided to give up. They threw all the weapons on the ground.

The once bright Wi clan courtyard now lay in ruins, littered with broken swords and fallen bodies. A lone figure, Wi Lung, patriarch of the Wi clan, stood amidst the chaos, his wrinkled face etched with exhaustion and triumph.

“Thank you young man, you have helped me,” said Wi Lung, his voice hoarse, as he placed a hand on Zhi Hao's shoulder, “Even though you are not from our Nation, your level of concern is great.”

“I also owe a lot to the Wi Clan who have helped me since I arrived here,” Zhi Hao answered, his voice calm and firm. He refused to take credit for the victory, recognizing the sacrifices made by the Wi clan warriors.

a figure emerged from the shadows, Wi Dur, the clan elder, his steps slow and careful, supported by his staff. “Patriarch, congratulations, you have won this battle that has lasted many years.”

Wi Lung smiled, a flash of pride visible in his eyes. “It is thanks to this Young One who has extraordinary strength. If he hadn't cut off Fu Tao's hand, how could I have killed him.” He acknowledged Zhi Hao's important role in the battle, admitting that he only finished what Zhi Hao had started.

Zhi Hao just smiled, unable to find the words to express his gratitude. The burden of battle, loss of life, and responsibility he carried felt heavy on his heart.

“Let's do some cleaning,” Wi Lung ordered, his voice regaining authority. “Collect all the corpses that have fallen.” He turned to the remaining Wi clan warriors, their faces etched with sadness and exhaustion.

The courtyard fell silent, only filled with the groans of the injured and the rustling of leaves in the wind. The battle may have ended, but the scars it left behind will remain, a testament to the sacrifices made and the bonds forged amidst adversity.