Martial Arts Master: The Lin Family Sword God, who swept through the Five Mountains and Four Sects

Lin Tian raised the corners of his lips, his smile faint yet sharp: "One hundred thousand soldiers, I alone with my sword, am more than enough to annihilate them all."

As soon as the words were spoken, the room fell into a deathly silence. Han Fei, Wei Zhuang, Zhang Liang, and Zi Nu froze, their pupils shrinking as if they heard the sound of the heavens and earth turning upside down.

Had he misheard? He glanced at everyone's expressions again—Wei Zhuang's brows were furrowed, Zhang Liang's fingertips were on the table, and Zi Nu's breath hitched slightly... That's right, no one laughed, and no one questioned.

Is he really planning to go into battle alone and slay 100,000 soldiers outside the city?!

Absurd! Absolutely impossible!

"Brother Lin, this is no laughing matter." Han Fei shook his head with a wry smile, beads of sweat appearing on his forehead.

Lin Tian raised an eyebrow slightly: "Oh? You think I'm joking?"

"This... Brother Lin..." Han Fei's throat tightened, and he couldn't answer.

One person breaking 100,000? Throughout history, who has dared to make such a boast?

He dared not utter these words—not out of fear of being impolite, but because when facing Lin Tian, ​​the instinctive awe in his heart had already overwhelmed all doubts.

Lin Tian smiled but remained silent, his gaze slowly sweeping over Wei Zhuang's cold profile and Zhang Liang's calm brows, finally settling on Zi Nu's face. A slight smile played on his lips: "Miss Zi Nu, do you also think I'm joking?"

Zi Nu raised her eyes and looked straight ahead, her gaze as clear as a spring stream. After a moment, she suddenly smiled, a smile as clear and intense as the moon shining on a cold pool, so bright and captivating that even Lin Tian was momentarily stunned.

"I believe you." Her voice was soft, but every word was firm and resounding.

Lin Tian laughed loudly, picked up the wine cup on the table, and drank the wine poured by Zi Nu in one gulp.

"Han Fei, where are the Wei troops stationed?" He suddenly stood up, his robe sleeves billowing in the wind.

Han Fei was still in a daze when he blurted out, "About three hundred li north of Xinzheng."

"Huh? Brother Lin, what's wrong with you...?" He suddenly came to his senses, his eyes wide open.

"Since Miss Zi Nu trusts me so much, how could I dare to be negligent?" Lin Tian smiled at her, then turned to the door, his voice clear and melodious, "Miss Zi Nu, please tell Nong Yu that I will definitely return tonight."

The lingering sound still echoed between the beams, but the figure had vanished without a trace.

Han Fei, Wei Zhuang, and Zhang Liang looked at each other, speechless for a moment.

Lin Tian... really went to fight 100,000 Wei soldiers alone? How is that possible! But if not, where did he go?

Only the Purple Goddess remained as usual.

When she first heard the words "an army of 100,000, one man with one sword, enough to wipe them all out," her heart skipped a beat, and her fingertips felt a little cold. But when Lin Tian looked at her intently, there was no arrogance or pretense in his eyes, only an almost frank certainty—the doubt in her heart vanished silently like thin ice meeting the sun, leaving only one thought: If he says it can be done, then it definitely can be done.

At this moment, Wei Zhuang suddenly stood up.

Without uttering a word, he reached out and took the Shark Tooth Sword from the wall shelf.

"Brother Wei Zhuang, what are you doing...?" Han Fei was taken aback.

"Watch the battle." Wei Zhuang's voice was deep and resonant, like the clash of iron and stone. Before he finished speaking, he had already burst out of the window, his black clothes flashing as he disappeared into the vast twilight.

One man can fight against 100,000.

Wei Zhuang did not believe that such a thing could really exist in the world.

But he believed—this battle would become an eternal legend. And such a battle, he, Wei Zhuang, would rather die than miss.

"This..." Han Fei scratched the back of his head, staring at the empty window frame, speechless.

"Brother Han, since Brother Lin Tian has spoken, he must be confident. Moreover, with his and Brother Wei Zhuang's skills, even if they can't break through the enemy's formation for a while, the Wei army won't be able to hold them back even a step. Right now, Brother Han should quickly prepare the soldiers and train them for battle," Zhang Liang said in a deep voice from the side.

"...That's all we can do." Han Fei sighed, slowly rose, and turned to look at Zi Nu, who stood quietly to the side. "Miss Zi Nu, would you be willing to come with me?"

Zi Nu gently shook her head, a slight smile playing on her lips: "I believe him. Three hundred li is nothing more than a few hours for him. If everything goes smoothly, he can return before dawn tomorrow. Even if you mobilize your troops, young master, you won't waste a single day. Why not wait a little longer? —Oh, right, I still need to find Nong Yu and give her a few instructions."

Before she finished speaking, she had already taken a step away, her skirt fluttering lightly, like the wind passing through a bamboo forest.

"Zifang, in your opinion, what are the chances of Brother Lin winning this mission?" Han Fei asked, turning his head.

"Brother Han, I have no way to answer your question," Zhang Liang said with a wry smile, shaking his head.

At the end of the Warring States period, seven powerful states stood side by side. However, if the territory of the world were divided into ten parts, Qin alone occupied five and a half, Chu occupied two and a half, and the three states of Yan, Zhao and Qi together barely made up about two parts.

What? There are also the states of Han and Wei?

Because these two states still exist, Yan, Zhao, and Qi can only be said to be "close" to each other—the difference was entirely due to Han and Wei gritting their teeth and holding on.

Just how small was Korea back then? Looking closely at a map: it was only about 400 li from north to south, and 400 li from east to west—a tiny, cramped place, like a mustard seed in the palm of your hand. Lin Tian almost laughed when he first saw it—he truly couldn't understand how it had survived on such a precarious existence until today.

The State of Wei was slightly larger, but not by much; it only had a few more cities and mountains than the State of Han.

In the eyes of Qin and Zhao, the clash between the two countries was nothing more than chicks flapping their wings and pecking at each other's dust.

Precisely because of their weakness, Han and Wei became the first two dominoes to fall among the six states.

Three hundred li is a journey Lin Tian could cover in half an hour at full speed. But what lies ahead of him is not a smooth road, but a fierce battle that has been brewing for a long time on the border of Han and Wei. Before the battle, he must cultivate his inner energy to its peak, like a bow drawn to its fullest extent, with an arrow hanging on the string.

Using the Bird Crossing Technique, Lin Tian's figure soared into the air, resembling a gray-blue lark, swiftly skimming past the treetops.

With each breath, one can leap several meters.

He had long noticed Wei Zhuang quietly approaching from behind, but he did not turn around or slow down—if it were him, he would not stand idly by in such a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to kill.

……

Two hours later, Lin Tian stood on the summit.

Below the mountain, 100,000 Wei troops were encamped for dozens of miles, their banners like dark clouds pressing down on the ground, their iron armor gleaming coldly, all in a chilling silence.

Lin Tian's gaze darkened.

The situation is more complicated than expected.

He was not unfamiliar with large armies. In the old story of The Return of the Condor Heroes, atop the city walls of Xiangyang, he once faced 500,000 Mongol cavalry, a dark mass covering the mountains and plains, their hooves trembling the earth.

Now that his cultivation is even greater than before, if he were to return to Xiangyang and combine it with the Demonic Lamentation and Heavenly Cry Great Compassion Killing Curse, it would only take a few hours to slaughter 500,000 Mongol soldiers.

But the sight of 100,000 Wei soldiers at the foot of the mountain now made him feel even more uneasy than the 500,000 Mongol soldiers he had faced back then.

"Ha...this place is indeed well hidden," he murmured.

Looking down, above the 100,000-strong army formation, a layer of hazy mist floated, neither smoke nor cloud, and faintly mixed with the buzzing of clashing weapons—that was the aura of killing intent!

The aura of war.

Of all the myriad kinds of malevolent energy, the most intense, ferocious, and not to be underestimated is that gathered in military formations.

When two armies clash, if both sides are filled with fierce energy, they will clash and be evenly matched; if one side is filled with fierce energy and the other is silent and powerless, the outcome will be clear in an instant.

When the warrior's aura enters the body, it can urge the soldiers to their limits, making them wield their swords like mad tigers and wear armor as if it were made of paper; when attached to the blade, the cold light intensifies, cutting through iron like mud, and causing blood to gush out and pain to the bone marrow when wounded.