Chapter 119: A Wind That Lifted the Maiden’s Skirt

“Get out of my way!”

Sun Fei reached into the air and pulled out the Purple and Green Twin Swords. His power as a Level 21 Barbarian instantly flared. Though there were no dazzling Combat Energy Flames, his raw physical Might was even more terrifying. The twin swords became two brilliant blurs, striking accurately at the two yellow curved blades that ambushed him.

Clang! Clang!

Two clusters of sparks burst out like fireworks.

In terms of pure Might, the explosive force of a Level 21 Barbarian clearly surpassed experts of the same level. The yellow curved blades were knocked aside without a doubt. The immense force shook the owners of the blades. The two swordsmen’s eyes showed extreme shock. They never expected this Little King, without a trace of Battle Qi, to possess such staggering strength.

After deflecting the curved blades, Sun Fei stomped the ground and activated the Barbarian Skill Leap. He flickered like a bouncing ball, frantically chasing toward Paris Hilton’s defense line. At this moment, Sun Fei could no longer protect the Princess Royal, because his fiancée Angela was in grave danger.

That flirtatious woman moved quickly. In an instant, she was above Angela.

“Get back!”

Blue and red Combat Energy Flames flashed as Lampard and Prison Warden Oleg desperately shielded Angela’s delicate form. Lampard, with Three-Star Strength, erupted with blue water-type energy that shot skyward, enveloping Angela and Oleg. The black Titan Blade behind him hummed sharply. He gripped the hilt and slashed heavily through the air. With a roar, the blue Combat Energy Flames surged like raging ocean waves toward Paris attacking from above.

Prison Warden Oleg, being weaker, still fought through his injuries to deliver a fierce slash. A fiery red Combat Energy lash whipped through the sky.

Paris hovered in the air, a cold smile on her lips. She pressed a delicate hand softly forward.

Thump! Thump!

Two dull thuds—the blue energy waves and red fire whip vanished instantly. Lampard and Oleg groaned, spitting blood as they were thrown backward, tumbling off the Royal Altar.

Together, they could not withstand even one blow from Paris.

They had not bought Sun Fei any time to rescue.

A white blur flashed, and Paris appeared behind Angela.

Her soft, boneless hand gently seized Angela’s swan-like neck, just like she had held the red rose earlier. With a backhand slap, she sent the blonde lori Gemma flying. Paris still wore her charming smile, her beautiful eyes glittering as she watched Sun Fei charge forward. The undisguised mockery in her gaze made Sun Fei’s heart sink.

With one move, this woman had subdued Angela.

“Let her go!”

Sun Fei had to stop five meters away. With a thought, the Purple and Green Twin Swords vanished. His gaze was like an arrow enchanted with ice Magic, fixed on Paris. He wished he could pin this shameless woman dead on the spot.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Feeling nervous?”

Paris’s smile remained enchanting, her flawless face breathtakingly beautiful. She paid no heed to the cold fury in Sun Fei’s eyes. One hand lightly gripped Angela’s neck, while the other casually smoothed Angela’s raven-black hair. Her actions were intimate, like a close friend grooming another.

“Little King, remember what I said earlier? Hee hee hee… Your woman will be ravaged by the lowest beggars, sold to the filthiest Barracks to be a cheap prostitute… What’s wrong? Scared now? Heartbroken? Terrified? Hee hee hee… Little King, come here, kneel like a beggar, kiss my toes, and beg me. Maybe then I’ll spare your life.”

Sun Fei’s heart sank further.

This woman was insane.

She threw Sun Fei’s own words back at him, word for word.

Clearly, Paris targeted Angela, a harmless girl, for one reason only—because of Sun Fei’s earlier remark… Such a woman, stunning as a flower, peerless in grace, dressed in white like an ethereal fairy, yet vengeful as a devil. Her twisted psychology was beyond ordinary understanding. Her beautiful, gem-like eyes held a cruel, cat-and-mouse glint. She slowly tightened her grip on Angela’s neck, making the girl breathe harder, all while smiling to enjoy Sun Fei’s desperation.

Meanwhile, the entire Eastern Peak Summit had become a battlefield of Asura.

The sword-wielding Assassin’s earth-shaking strike was blocked by Purple Flame, the purple-clad girl beside the Princess Royal. Their strengths seemed matched. Purple flames and sword energy clashed violently, their forms invisible amid the chaos. Only the constant clashing of blades could be heard. They fought fiercely, neither gaining an advantage.

Elsewhere, a white-clad Assassin with strange scaled gauntlets and hooked claws battled Knight Commander Roman Pavlyuchenko. The Assassin’s movements were elusive, his claws seeming to tear through space, striking from unexpected angles. The smiling, baby-faced blonde knight Pavlyuchenko fought with simple, unadorned movements—cutting, chopping, slashing, sweeping. Despite their simplicity, he always blocked the Assassin’s intricate moves, keeping him three steps away from the Princess Royal.

The two curved-blade fighters, repelled by Sun Fei, did not chase him. Instead, they turned to attack the Princess Royal.

Now without guardians, the over two hundred Zenit Empire cavalry showed their iron will. They fearlessly shielded the princess, encircling her tightly. They built a wall of flesh and blood; even in death, their bodies fell before her. The scene was tragic and gruesome.

The two yellow curved-blade fighters grew increasingly furious. Though far stronger than the cavalry, their every strike sent heads flying… Yet, against these fearless soldiers, they could not reach the Princess Royal immediately.

The Royal Altar, built of white stone, shook as an earth-type expert wrecked it from below. It groaned like a rotting hut about to collapse. Boulders flew, the ground cracked like a spiderweb, dust billowed upward. The altar was on the verge of collapse. Many soldiers wailed as they fell into crevices, crushed to pulp by falling rocks.

Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!

Silent arrows flew from the dust like bloodthirsty vipers, piercing soldiers’ foreheads, eyes, throats, and hearts… The hidden archer moved unpredictably, each arrow a touch of the God of Death.

Below the Royal Altar, an unexpected scene unfolded—

Princes and envoys from various kingdoms fought among themselves.

Dalei Wang of Shenhua Kingdom, Poyong Wang of Luneng Kingdom, Li Yi of Chanba Kingdom, and over a dozen other princes and envoys, upon Paris’s command to kill, simultaneously stood and did one thing—tied a red ribbon around their arms. Then, with fierce laughs, they drew swords and attacked those without red ribbons.

“Kill the Princess Royal! Your Highness Domingos will reward us heavily!”

“Scum… get out of my way…”

“Kill Tanasha! Leave no survivors! Let no one from the coronation envoy escape!”

“Hahaha! Kill them! Slaughter them all! Wipe out these envoys and guards first!”

In the swirling dust, the golden morning sun cast faint rays. The Eastern Peak Summit resembled a bleeding Asura Hell. Blades and swords flashed, limbs flew, blood splashed like torrential rain. Everywhere were shrill screams and ferocious roars…

The over two hundred envoys split into two groups.

Those with red ribbons clearly knew about the scheme. They were prepared, reacting swiftly, launching coordinated assaults. They quickly gained the upper hand, slaughtering their opponents mercilessly.

The other group, friendly envoys who came to congratulate Sun Fei’s coronation, were caught off guard. They suffered heavy losses, quickly halved. Huddled together, they fought desperately. But against powerful foes, they were like a small boat in a storm, in constant danger of capsizing.

With one glance, Sun Fei understood everything.

The coronation at Eastern Peak Summit had become the battleground for two mighty forces. The hidden conspiracy and danger he had sensed earlier clearly came from this. As the saying goes, when the city gate catches fire, the fish in the moat suffer. This conflict originally had nothing to do with Shampoo City, but being chosen as the unfortunate host, its doom seemed predestined.

“Little King, why do you hesitate?”

Paris smiled at Sun Fei, pristine in white, aloof as if the surrounding bloodshed and agony meant nothing to her. “Come kneel and beg me now… crawl over… lie at my feet. Hee hee hee, maybe I really will spare your life.”

Sun Fei looked at Angela.

Amid the swirling dust, this beautiful girl stood like a lone lily. Her face was pale, but her eyes shone with firmness, without a trace of fear. Drops of blood from afar stained her sky-blue ceremonial gown like blooming plum blossoms. Gray dust dulled the gown’s original azure.

This gown was designed by Sun Fei himself before the ceremony. It was exquisite, clear, unique, highlighting the girl’s breathtaking beauty.

Sun Fei clenched his fists.

At that moment, suddenly, a wind blew, lifting the maiden’s skirt, revealing her smooth, jade-like calves, a sight of intoxicating beauty.