Desparation

"If fate could be rewritten, what kind of ending would you desire?"

The snow began to fall at an unknown time. It was so vast, as if a group of silent butterflies descended from the cold gray clouds, traversing the vast spruce forest and covering the earth. In the blink of an eye, the desolate wilderness was blanketed in pale white. By the time Huo Zhanbai caught his breath, the heavy snow had covered the sharp edges of his sword. Red snow fell on the pitch-black blade, and the scent of blood made his stomach, which had not eaten for two days and nights, convulse. For someone accustomed to keeping his hands clean of blood, the number of people he had killed this time was... quite excessive. He breathed heavily, unable to move his body, his arms stiff, maintaining the posture after thrusting the sword. It was an intense struggle: his sword pierced through the opponent's chest, nailing him to the dark spruce tree behind. At the same time, the silver-clad assassin with the white jade mask also penetrated his body, piercing through his right rib directly into his lungs. After such a decisive blow, both reached the limit of their physical strength, gasping for breath. Any movement from either side would immediately result in a mutual demise. On the desolate plain, silence reigned for a moment. The snow continued to fall, relentless, and the towering spruce trees resembled cold tombstones pointing to the sky. Huo Zhanbai and the silver-clad assassin silently confronted each other in the forest, maintaining the eerie posture from the final strike, their swords still lodged in each other's bodies. When Huo Zhanbai cautiously caught his breath, the opponent's eyes were gradually dimming behind the white jade mask. It seemed that the opponent was also reaching the end of his strength after several attempts to push forward. However, the sword stuck in Huo Zhanbai's right ribs, piercing through the ribcage, finally lost its strength before penetrating the lungs. The masked head tilted slightly, silently falling. Huo Zhanbai was startled, taking a step back and instinctively tightening his grip on the sword hilt. However, the person in front of him, with a silver-clad assassin outfit, slowly collapsed, leaving a trail of blood on the tree trunk behind. A "crack" sound, and the mask covering his face shattered as he fell into the snow. Huo Zhanbai sighed, approaching cautiously before the assassin hit the ground. After this intense snowfield sniper, facing the twelve Silver Wings alone, even the Seventh Young Master of Huo, known as the top swordsman in the Central Plains, left thirteen major wounds. However, this should be the last one, right? If he didn't hurry to the Medicine Valley, he might not hold on much longer. In the moment the sword was drawn, the assassin who had fought nearly a hundred rounds with him lost support, leaning against the spruce, slowly falling, leaving a trail of blood on the trunk. "Huh," as he fell into the snow, the face covered by the mask cracked open. Huo Zhanbai was startled, taking a step back, carefully examining. However, the vitality of this person had dissipated, and the snow falling on his face did not melt, as if he were a resurrected dark spirit. "Ah, so young, challenging someone to a life-and-death struggle..." he sighed and, before the killer fell, the sword tip, like a spirit snake, had already cut through the internal and external clothes on his body, skillfully searching for everything he carried. However, the wind passed through the cracks in the shattered clothes, making an empty and desolate whistling sound, continuing on its way. Nothing. Huo Zhanbai was surprised, feeling the wounds all over his body suddenly ache. He carefully examined, thinking that this was the last one, right? After the four-way battle in the Qilian Mountains, the final treasure was taken away by this group. Following this clue, he pursued them, hoping for a mantis hunting the cicada, unaware of the oriole behind. This person should be the leader of this group. If the item is not on him, where else would it be? Huo Zhanbai sighed, taking another step back, turning his hand to press on his right rib. This snowfield snipe, facing the twelve Silver Wings alone, left thirteen major wounds. But, this should be the last one? If he doesn't rush to the Medicine Valley, he may not be able to hold on. At the moment the sword was pulled out, the assassin collapsed, leaning against the spruce. In the snow, he drew the sword out, revealing a blood-red trail. "Click," at the moment he fell into the snow, the face covered by the mask cracked open. Huo Zhanbai was startled, taking a step back, carefully examining. However, the vitality of this person had dissipated, and the snow falling on his face did not melt, as if he were a resurrected dark spirit. "Ah, so young, challenging someone to a life-and-death struggle..." he sighed and, before the killer fell, the sword tip, like a spirit snake, had already cut through the internal and external clothes on his body, skillfully searching for everything he carried. However, the wind passed through the cracks in the shattered clothes, making an empty and desolate whistling sound, continuing on its way. Nothing. Huo Zhanbai was surprised, feeling the wounds all over his body suddenly ache. He carefully examined, thinking that this was the last one, right? After the four-way battle in the Qilian Mountains, the final treasure was taken away by this group. Following this clue, he pursued them, hoping for a mantis hunting the cicada, unaware of the oriole behind. This person should be the leader of this group. If the item is not on him, where else would it be? Huo Zhanbai sighed, taking another step back, turning his hand to press on his right rib. This snowfield snipe, facing the twelve Silver Wings alone, left thirteen major wounds. But, this should be the last one? If he doesn't rush to the Medicine Valley, he may not be able to hold on. At the moment the sword was pulled out, the assassin collapsed, leaning against the spruce. In the snow, he drew the sword out, revealing a blood-red trail. "Click," at the moment he fell into the snow, the face covered by the mask cracked open. Huo Zhanbai was startled, taking a step back, carefully examining. However, the vitality of this person had dissipated, and the snow falling on his face did not melt, as if he were a resurrected dark spirit. "Ah, so young, challenging someone to a life-and-death struggle..." he sighed and, before the killer fell, the sword tip, like a spirit snake, had already cut through the internal and external clothes on his body, skillfully searching for everything he carried. However, the wind passed through the cracks in the shattered clothes, making an empty and desolate whistling sound, continuing on its way. Nothing. Huo Zhanbai was surprised, feeling the wounds all over his body suddenly ache. He carefully examined, thinking that this was the last one, right? After the four-way battle in the Qilian Mountains, the final treasure was taken away by this group. Following this clue, he pursued them, hoping for a mantis hunting the cicada, unaware of the oriole behind. This person should be the leader of this group. If the item is not on him, where else would it be? Huo Zhanbai sighed, taking another step back, turning his hand to press on his right rib. This snowfield snipe, facing the twelve Silver Wings alone, left thirteen major wounds. But, this should be the last one? If he doesn't rush to the Medicine Valley, he may not be able to hold on.