All Chapters of SWORD OF FLAME: Chapter 621
- Chapter 630
642 chapters
The Assault on the Fortress
Atop a giant banyan tree with lush, sprawling leaves that spread out like a vast green canopy—on one of its broad, gnarled branches thick enough to bear the weight of ten men—the three of them observed sharply, their bodies perfectly still as they peered down at the fortress below. They moved with the silence of shadows, their breathing slow and steady as they mimicked the patience of an eagle stalking its prey, every muscle coiled and ready for action. The tree’s massive trunk rose more than forty meters into the air, its bark rough and deeply furrowed, offering perfect cover as they pressed themselves against its sturdy limbs.The density of the great tree was the very reason A Fu chose it as their vantage point. Not only was it difficult to spot them from below—its thick foliage creating a natural screen that blended their forms into the dappled green and brown of the forest canopy—but from this towering height they could clearly see the inside of the fortress, its layout laid out
Bad News
Elsewhere, deep within the black stone walls of the fortress hidden at Mount Yuelu’s base, Cheng Yu and Mo Lin strode through the main corridor, their fifty men following closely behind. Their arrival—much earlier than the two-day patrol they had been assigned—left Qian Hao and his two brothers standing in the command chamber’s doorway, their faces etched with puzzlement. The morning light streaming through the narrow window cast long shadows across the stone floor, highlighting the tension in their postures as they watched their comrades approach.“Did the two of you find out who was spying on our fortress?” Qian Hao asked, his voice carrying the quiet authority that had become his trademark since taking leadership of the stronghold. He stepped forward to meet them, his broad shoulders squared, his eyes scanning their faces for any sign of what had brought them back so soon. Beside him, his brothers—Braga and Sudirja—stood rigid, their hands resting near the hilts of their swords, re
The Pursuit
Judging from their speed, the thirty elite members were clearly well-trained and possessed high-level martial skills—their bodies moved with the fluid precision of water flowing through stone, each leap from branch to branch executed with perfect timing and balance. This was proven by how they could keep up with the pace of Cheng Yu, Mo Lin, and Braga, men whose combat abilities had been honed through years of training under A Fu himself. Not a single one fell behind, their breathing steady even as they pushed their bodies to the limit, their eyes sharp and alert for any sign of danger.Two hours later, the sun began to rise in the eastern sky, painting the horizon in brilliant shades of gold and crimson that cut through the forest canopy like shafts of fire. They weren’t running along the ground—where fallen branches and soft earth would slow their progress—but instead darting from tree to tree, their feet barely touching the broad limbs as they soared through the air. They did this
A Fierce Battle
Cheng Yu’s body shot forward with incredible speed, his muscles coiled like tightly wound springs as he pushed off the earth. Dust spiraled up from beneath his boots, and the force of his movement sent loose leaves skittering across the hard-packed ground. He angled his shoulders just so, his fist clenched tight as iron, certain his opening strike would land squarely on the young man’s unprotected chest. But his prediction was wrong—Fang An, the white-haired youth whose pale locks flowed like silk in the wind, evaded the blow with nothing more than a fluid sidestep, his body moving as if he had anticipated every inch of Cheng Yu’s advance.Cheng Yu’s fist cut cleanly through the air, the sharp whoosh of its passage echoing in the sudden silence. It missed Fang An’s chest by barely two handspans—so close that the embroidered pattern on Fang An’s dark robes fluttered from the rush of wind as the strike split the air. Fang An’s eyes, cool and observant, tracked the fist’s trajectory unti
The Dew-Cleaving Sword Technique
One of A Fu’s disciples—his black robes billowing as he moved with practiced grace—stepped forward swiftly and struck several acupoints around Sun Zu’s wounds with precise finger flicks. Each touch was firm yet controlled, sending tiny pulses of energy through the old man’s body to stem the flow of blood. Within moments, the crimson seepage from Sun Zu’s cuts slowed to a trickle, then stopped entirely.“Thank you,” said Sun Zu, his voice rough but steady as he straightened his posture, wincing only slightly as his muscles pulled against the healing injuries. He brushed a strand of gray hair from his forehead, his weathered face etched with gratitude and resolve.“You’re welcome, Elder. Let’s finish them off,” replied the disciple, his masked face giving no hint of emotion, though his grip on his double-edged dagger tightened. The other four disciples moved into formation beside him—two taking the left flank, two the right—their movements coordinated as if they shared a single mind.Su
The Death of Sin Lao
A crescent-shaped greenish energy attack shot forward at full speed toward Sin Lao, cutting through the air with a sharp whistling sound that tore at the surrounding foliage. The shimmering arc of power glowed with an ominous light, its trajectory locked onto the middle-aged warrior with deadly precision.The middle-aged man gasped for a moment, his eyes widening as he registered the sheer force behind the strike, before leaping high to dodge it. His body soared through the air, muscles tensed with every ounce of strength he could muster. The energy blast missed its mark by mere inches, but its residual power slammed into three massive trees standing in its path. With a deafening crack, their thick trunks split clean through, and the giants crashed to the ground in a cloud of dirt and splintered wood.The thunderous crash of those three trees falling echoed across the battlefield, catching the attention of Sun Zu and five disciples of A Fu, who were still locked in combat against the
Qian Hao’s Cunning Plan
Cheng Yu remained silent for quite some time, his gaze fixed on the ground as he wrestled with the weight of his master’s question. Every fiber of his being was torn between accepting the path A Fu offered or rejecting it to hold onto the life he had built.On one hand, his master was the one who had done so much for him—more than anyone else in his life. A Fu had taken him in when he was just a homeless orphan, feeding him, clothing him, and teaching him the ways of martial arts. He was not only a teacher but also a father figure who had shaped him from a naïve and simple young man into a warrior with formidable skills, someone respected and feared across the region. On the other hand, Cheng Yu found it difficult to abandon the fortress he had spent years building up, commanding nearly a thousand loyal followers who had sworn their lives to him and to the cause they all believed in. The stronghold was more than just stone and wood to him—it was home, a place where he had forged bonds
Experiment
Qian Hao was slightly cornered by Lung Wei’s question, his eyes narrowing for a split second before he regained his composure. Yet he remained calm, his expression unwavering as a faint smile curled on his lips—smooth and practiced, the kind of smile he used to disarm those who questioned his decisions.“I did that so this fortress could survive, Lung Wei,” he said, his voice carrying a note of solemnity that seemed genuine. He stepped closer to the table, spreading his hands wide as if to emphasize his point. “Splitting our forces will force the imperial army to divide their strength, slowing them down and buying us precious time. Or better yet, how about this—you take my position and lead the defense of the fortress, while I take yours and face the enemy at the front line.” His tone shifted slightly, carrying an undercurrent of threat that was impossible to miss.Now it was Lung Wei who was cornered, his jaw tightening as he considered the offer. He knew his own limits well—he did n
The Enemy’s Welcome
“My apologies, Prince. A hundred meters ahead, along the main path through the forest, about three hundred men are already prepared to greet us,” the scout reported, bowing his head respectfully as he stood before Fang An. His breathing was slightly ragged from his swift run back to the camp, and his eyes were wide with the tension of what he had seen. “They’ve set up barricades across the trail and positioned archers in the trees above. Every man carries a sword or spear—they’re ready for a fight.”“Only three hundred? Where are the rest?” Fang An’s brow furrowed deeply, his expression darkening with confusion. By his calculations during yesterday’s scouting, and from what Cheng Yu had told him about the fortress’s strength, there should have been around a thousand men inside—enough to mount a far more formidable defense than this. He turned to look toward the fortress, visible as a dark silhouette through the trees in the distance, and wondered what Qian Hao was planning.“I do not
Reckless
Elsewhere, deep in the forest along the path leading away from the fortress, Mo Lin was startled when he realized that Cheng Yu was guiding him not toward a secluded spot where their master might be hiding, but directly toward the gathering place of the Tong Dynasty troops. The distant glow of campfires and the faint sound of thousands of voices carried on the night air, making it clear where they were headed. He stopped abruptly, planting his feet firmly on the ground, and looked at Cheng Yu with suspicion written across his face—his hand instinctively moving toward the hilt of his sword.“Why are you taking me there? Aren’t they the soldiers who will attack our fortress? The ones we’ve been trained to fight against all these years?” he asked, his voice sharp with distrust. His mind raced with questions—had Cheng Yu been captured and forced to lead him into a trap? Or had his fellow disciple truly turned against everything they had ever stood for?“That’s true—and Master is also ther