Sludge suction system

The day of the decisive battle arrived quickly.

That day, the sun hung high above White Bird Valley, but was gradually obscured by thick, dark clouds. A vast gray curtain seemed to shroud the world, oppressing and suffocating. The valley was deathly silent, save for the mournful wind echoing among the jagged rocks, as if the valley itself were gasping for breath, or as if countless vengeful spirits were softly weeping, foreshadowing the impending bloody storm.

Wang Jing, clad in a black robe, stood tall and proud, like an evergreen pine. His face was sharply defined, as if sculpted by a knife and axe, his eyes long and deep, gleaming with a sharp and wild light. A slight upturn at the corners of his mouth carried a faint, cold smile, as if he trampled everything under his feet. He strode into the valley entrance, each step firm and powerful, the gravel beneath his feet crunching as if playing the prelude to his battle song. His gaze swept contemptuously over the surroundings, and when he saw the Qimen Dunjia formation, a fleeting, almost imperceptible surprise flashed in his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by a surge of intense fighting spirit and disdain: "This formation? You think it can stop me?" His voice boomed like a bell, echoing through the valley, startling a flock of birds perched on branches. They flapped their wings and flew away in a panic, as if fleeing the impending disaster.

Gong Nandou, his deep blue robe fluttering in the wind, strode out from behind a towering boulder with agile movements, like a war god descending to earth. His eyes were cold and icy, fixed on Wang Jing as if trying to see through him. His gaze was like a tangible blade, carrying endless killing intent and determination. His fists were clenched, knuckles white from the force, trembling slightly, as if he were struggling to suppress the surging anger within him: "Wang Jing, today is your death day! This Qimen Dunjia Formation will be your burial place. Your days of wreaking havoc on the martial world are over!" Each word was squeezed out from between his teeth, resounding and echoing through the valley, as if the valley itself was responding to his righteous pronouncement.

Upon hearing this, Wang Jing threw his head back and burst into wild laughter. His unrestrained and arrogant laughter echoed through the valley, causing the surrounding trees to tremble and their branches to rustle. "Hahaha, Gong Nandou, do you think this little formation can do anything to me? You people are nothing but stumbling blocks on my path to dominating the martial world. After today, no one in this martial world will dare to be my enemy!" As he laughed, he slowly drew the long sword from his waist. The sword was broad and its blade gleamed with a cold light. Under the gloomy sky, it shone with a chilling light, like a venomous snake ready to devour its prey, exuding a terrifying aura.

Mu Yangzi, dressed in a gray Taoist robe, held a long sword, pointing it at Wang Jing. His face was flushed red with rage, veins bulging on his forehead like writhing snakes. His eyes were wide open, glaring fiercely, the fury in them seeming to want to burn Wang Jing to ashes: "Wang Jing, you villain, you slaughtered my entire Mu family! Today I will make you pay for this in blood!" With that, he roared, his figure flashing forward several feet like a ghost, his long sword humming as he thrust it straight for Wang Jing's throat, his aura suggesting he would kill his enemy with a single blow.

Seeing this, Wang Jing sneered, slightly shifting his body to the side and easily dodging the fierce attack. His face held a mocking expression as he looked at Mu Yangzi: "Mu Yangzi, you were lucky to escape from the dungeon. But today, you still cannot escape my grasp; your struggles are futile!"

Yun Luo, dressed in a lithe and agile outfit, stood to the side, his posture as straight as a pine tree, his eyes revealing a resolute and decisive spirit. Looking at Wang Jing's arrogant demeanor, he coldly snorted, his hands swiftly drawing several hidden weapons from the leather pouch at his waist, gripping them tightly in his hands. The tips of the weapons gleamed coldly in the dim light: "Wang Jing, we have gathered here today to eradicate this demon and restore peace to the martial world!" His voice was deep and firm, carrying an undeniable resolve.

Wang Jing's eyes turned cold. He brandished his long sword, the blade merging seamlessly with his arm, transforming into a black lightning bolt. He exuded an intense arrogance and domineering aura, as if nothing in the world could stop him: "Then bring it on! I'll show you what happens when you oppose me!"

In an instant, the atmosphere in the valley became extremely tense, as if the air itself had been frozen by the intense killing intent. Both sides were on the verge of battle, a breathtaking life-or-death struggle about to erupt. The moment the first drop of blood splattered, White Bird Valley would be transformed into a blood-soaked inferno, rewriting the fates of countless people and bringing a heavy end to the grudges and feuds of the martial world.

Yun Luo knew the battle was perilous, but driven by his sense of justice and the fire of revenge, he didn't hesitate to strike first. He slammed his feet into the ground, his figure like a black lightning bolt, charging towards Wang Jing with unstoppable momentum. In an instant, he was before Wang Jing, his longsword flashing, displaying the Qingfeng Sword Technique. The swordplay was like a gentle breeze rustling willows, light and agile, the moves unpredictable and ever-changing. Seemingly gentle and soothing, yet concealing hidden depths, each strike precisely aimed at Wang Jing's vital points. The sword moved with his body, creating a whooshing sound, as if cutting through the surrounding air, forming visible vortexes of airflow.

Seeing Yun Luo's sword attack approaching, Wang Jing's lips curled into a disdainful sneer. Instead of retreating, he advanced, his black robe billowing as if imbued with an invisible and malevolent power. His fists clenched, fingers curved like hooks, the fingertips gleaming with a chilling light—the starting stance of the Eagle Claw Technique. Simultaneously, he activated his Serpent Venom Technique, a faint black mist rising around him. Within the mist, the shadowy figures of snakes moved, their fangs bared, their tongues flicking, emitting a nauseating stench, like demons from hell, ready to devour all living beings. His eyes turned sinister and icy, fixed intently on Yun Luo's sword strikes, like a predator locking onto its prey, searching for the perfect moment to strike.

Yun Luo's longsword, accompanied by a sharp gust of wind, thrust forward. Wang Jing dodged with a swift, almost imperceptible movement, sidestepping at an incredibly unpredictable angle. Almost simultaneously, his right hand shot out like an eagle's claw, moving with lightning speed to grab Yun Luo's wrist. The claw sliced ​​through the air with a hissing sound, as if it could tear the very fabric of space. Sensing the danger, Yun Luo quickly changed his stance, parrying with his sword. But Wang Jing's eagle claw technique was incredibly powerful. Yun Luo felt an overwhelming force surge through his sword, numbing his arm, nearly splitting his hand, and almost causing his sword to slip from his grasp.

Wang Jing pressed his advantage, giving Yun Luo no chance to catch his breath. He struck out with his left hand, black mist carrying a sharp palm wind, imbued with the deadly poison of the Spirit Serpent's Venom Technique, attacking Yun Luo. Wherever the palm wind touched, the surrounding vegetation withered instantly, as if drained of all life. Yun Luo couldn't dodge in time and was struck by the palm wind. His face turned ashen, and his body staggered back several steps like a kite with a broken string. He felt his blood surging in his chest, and a numbness rapidly spread from the point of impact throughout his body, as if thousands of ants were gnawing at his bones. His breathing became rapid and heavy, and the longsword in his hand began to tremble, almost causing him to lose his grip.

Yun Luo gritted his teeth, struggling to stand firm. Though his eyes still held a defiant glint, his legs trembled slightly. It was clear to everyone that he was no longer able to fight and had been defeated. At this moment, the atmosphere in the valley grew increasingly heavy. Yun Luo's defeat weighed heavily on everyone's hearts, but their gazes towards Wang Jing were filled with even more hatred. They were determined to avenge Yun Luo. This life-or-death battle had only just begun, and the stench of blood permeated the air, growing ever stronger.

"Let's have a go at you!"