My Vampire Queen

Chapter 75: The Mysterious Eastern Kingdom The mangled wounds were stained with crimson, yet strangely, no blood seeped out; instead, they began to heal visibly before his eyes. His muscular chest and chiseled six-pack, exposed to the air, resembled a carved statue, radiating a sense of beauty. The island nation’s half-orc program was indeed formidable. Witnessing this elite soldier’s masterful sword technique and extraordinary strength, every aspect revealed his formidable prowess. The zombie’s body, with its thousand-pound strength, was actually holding its own against him! At this moment, Miyamoto Noyu’s heart was filled with trepidation. After all, the genes he had fused with were no ordinary ones; within the Half-Beast Savior Project, the genes he had integrated were undoubtedly the finest available. A tiger that had vanished through a spacetime tunnel and appeared in a zoo on the island nation had required a massive deployment of Self-Defense Forces and police to finally capture. Gripping the alloy katana with both hands, he glanced sideways to see several nicks already etched into the gleaming blade, while the opponent’s ancient sword showed not a single scratch. In an instant, his pupils contracted. What kind of weapon was this? At the same time, he glanced at the time on the screen and saw a group of figures in the surveillance footage already appearing outside the White House compound. Anxious expression crept across his face. He let out a furious roar; the sound that emerged from his throat was filled with a harsh, raspy quality, as if his human voice had vanished. The two blades in his hands flashed like lightning, while Gu Xiao, holding a sword in each hand, tensed every muscle as he exchanged relentless slashes with his opponent. In terms of sword technique, his opponent was indeed superior! After all, the Qin-Han Eight-Direction Sword—a historical sword art—had long since been lost to history, and he was now relying entirely on basic swordsmanship to hold his ground. Only through the crucible of blood and fire could he refine his skills step by step. His opponent’s eerie, danger-laden blade work, however, was a technique passed down through history. Coupled with years of practice, the mastery was self-evident. Fast, precise, and ruthless! In Gu Xiao’s hands, the Eight-Faced Qin-Han Sword was like a weapon on the battlefield—devoid of the graceful elegance one might expect, it exuded the sheer dominance of a great broadsword. Clang, clang~ The blades of both swords clashed repeatedly, while their feet never stopped moving, constantly seeking opportunities to strike. Suddenly, the opponent reached out and grabbed Gu Xiao’s face mask, while Gu Xiao grabbed the opponent’s clothing. Rip! In an instant, the two passed each other. Under the eyes of a global live audience, the skull mask was torn off, revealing a cold, classically elegant face—one that looked straight out of a period drama—along with a head of jet-black hair beneath the costume. Meanwhile, Gong Benren You coldly tossed the mask aside, glaring at his opponent with a look of disgust in his eyes, then glanced down. His explosive muscles were enough to make anyone’s eyes pop, yet there were five black finger marks on his waist, and at that moment, a stinging sensation radiated from the wounds. A flash of sharpness flickered in Gu Xiao’s pupils as he saw that the opponent’s two blades had actually been joined together at the hilt—no wonder he’d suddenly freed up a hand. His pale palm was splattered with blood across all five fingers, yet his black nails exuded a hint of danger. “Heh heh~” A hoarse, unpleasant voice rang out. Miyamoto Noyu gazed at Gu Xiao, his eyes brimming with admiration. “Mysterious Man of Huaxia, you’re quite impressive!” No sooner had the hoarse words fallen than the two joined blades began spinning in his hands like a whirling windmill, while his eerie, ferocious eyes radiated a dangerous aura. At that moment, Gu Xiao was shocked to discover that the opponent’s pupils were actually beginning to change. The human pupils were fading away, gradually giving way to the bestial eyes found only in beasts. Gripping his sword with both hands, he parried relentlessly. Sparks flew in all directions, and the air was thick with the acrid smell of burning. The eerie, ruthless attacks were simply too much to handle; he had never seen such a fighting style before. The sword, wielded like a long staff, formed a ring of cold light as it slashed relentlessly. Gu Xiao could only brace his sword, gradually getting a feel for his opponent’s attack patterns. As the two fought fiercely, the timer on the computer screen showed only eight minutes remaining. Outside the main gate, a group of people grew increasingly anxious, frantically relaying instructions through their headsets to input the initial password. People all over the world were watching a scene that seemed straight out of a movie: a man and a beast locked in fierce combat, their dazzling swordplay and blade techniques radiating an artistic beauty. “Mommy, is that big brother with the long hair a good guy? And is the one who looks like a tiger a bad guy?” In a home somewhere in China, a little girl nearing four years old, captivated by the stunning images on the computer screen, asked innocently. “Yes, that big brother is a good guy. He’s saving people right now!” Hugging her daughter tightly, the mother said comfortingly. “Wow~ That swordplay is so cool!” A square was already packed with people, all staring at the giant screen. A thrill-seeking young man couldn’t help but exclaim upon seeing the dazzling scenes that looked straight out of a movie. Hearing this, the others in the square nodded in agreement, inwardly marveling. They never imagined that the clunky Qin and Han-style swordplay they’d only seen on TV and in movies could look so cool when performed in real life. In their minds, swordplay was supposed to be graceful and ethereal, but now their perceptions were completely shattered as a domineering, peerless, lightning-fast sword technique unfolded before their eyes. They simply didn’t understand the legacy of their ancestors. Qin swords and Han swords—these weapons had been forged through centuries of battle. Did you really think they’d be used for graceful swordplay? People from other countries were also watching this battle; countless fair-haired, blue-eyed women and men had their eyes filled with admiration. “Is this the sword technique of that mysterious China? It’s actually this powerful! I always thought it was just for show!” a Russian girl exclaimed, her face beaming with excitement. At that moment, most people couldn’t care less about America’s missiles—after all, they weren’t hitting their homes. Right now, they were solely focused on who this mysterious Chinese man in the global broadcast actually was. As he watched the two figures on the screen flash back and forth in fierce combat, he casually swept his sword across the hard alloy seat beside him, slicing it cleanly in two. It was as effortless as cutting through paper, yet the searing sparks proved this was no mere paper—it was genuine metal. Gradually, he grew accustomed to the exquisite eight-sided blade in his hand; after all, Gu Xiao himself had no experience using this type of blade in actual combat. He could clearly see every one of his opponent’s attacks in his pupils. When he became a zombie, he had noticed a change in his dynamic vision, while his opponent, though also improved, relied mostly on instinct and experience. Only the two of them knew who held the upper hand. Gu Xiao’s swordsmanship was still somewhat raw, while his opponent’s blade work was already master-class. However, as his blood rushed through his veins, his muscular physique, now exposed to the air, began to transform. His pores widened, and the fine hairs on his body visibly thickened, lengthened, and darkened. At that moment, he looked just like a standing tiger, exuding an aura of majesty. “That tiger is so handsome!” viewers around the globe couldn’t help but exclaim. Miyamoto Noyu moved like a berserk warrior, wielding a beautiful yet dangerous aura, while this mysterious man from China moved like a warrior from ancient times, swift as the wind. At that moment, countless people around the world were captivated, wondering if they should immigrate to this mysterious Eastern land—only such a place could offer a sense of security. As the two fought fiercely, the modern, metal-clad defense base was reduced to a chaotic mess. Metal desks, chairs, and computers lay in neat, clean slices, with sparks flickering from exposed circuits everywhere. Neither man’s chest was spared from countless gashes; their wounds were bloody and raw. Yet the mysterious Chinese man hadn’t shed a single drop of blood. His mangled wounds were clearly visible, and though fresh blood seemed to be drawn to them by some force, constantly appearing at the edges, it simply wouldn’t flow out. As for the "Tiger" from the island nation, he had now become a blood-soaked beast, his fur drenched in crimson blood that spilled across the floor as if it were worthless. Pant, pant... Less than a minute into the fierce battle, Miyamoto Noyu was already gasping for breath through his nose and mouth. Though he hadn’t yet reached his limit, the intense exertion forced him to breathe heavily. In contrast, his opponent remained impassive, seemingly oblivious to his very existence. Not a single drop of sweat graced his brow, his breathing remained steady, and his chest barely rose and fell. Damn it! He’s actually toying with him. Even someone as slow as Miyamoto Nayu finally caught on—his opponent was clearly playing games with him. Yet his cool, clear mind told him he absolutely couldn’t let rage drown out his reason. Gritting his teeth, he fixed his gaze on Gu Xiao, his eyes brimming with a predatory glare. If Gu Xiao knew the truth, he’d feel utterly wronged. He really had done his best; the opponent’s terrifying intuition and skilled swordplay left him no opening whatsoever. His only hope lay in waiting until the opponent’s breathing became erratic and he revealed a weakness. Inside the Pentagon command center, the Secretary of Defense stared intently at the screen with a look of sheer anxiety, muttering under his breath, “Damn it! Hurry up, hurry up!” On the screen, he could see a group of special forces soldiers entering a code at the main gate. “Reporting, sir! Task forces from China, Russia, and other nations have arrived at the White House!” The moment this bad news came in, the Secretary of Defense’s face darkened with rage. “Those damn bastards. We were so close to success, and they had to come and snatch the fruits of victory right at this moment.” “Sir! More than fifty countries worldwide have sent urgent telegrams condemning the U. S. and expressing their deep disappointment that we cannot guarantee the safety of their presidents!” “Oh—damn bastards! Send them all to hell!” Even the dullest person could see by now that these foreign task forces had come to immediately rescue their respective presidents and bring them back to their own countries, denying the U. S. any chance to showcase the might of its military before the world. “Sir! A message from the White House: if there is no response within thirty seconds, they will launch an assault!” Inside the White House, the task force—composed of members of different skin colors and wearing varied attire—was now in full view. Rifles were being chambered one after another. The leaders’ eyes were filled with resolve as they gazed at the White House, now engulfed in flames, where U. S. forces were blocking their path.