In this dim and oppressive atmosphere, Gong Simeng's face was solemn as frost, holding her young son firmly in her arms.

The child, though naive, sensed the tension in his mother's embrace and curled his little body slightly.

Gong Simeng also carried her daughter on her back, her small face pressed against her mother's back, her eyes filled with curiosity and unease.

In her hand, Gong Simeng tightly gripped the Python Whip, which twisted slightly in the gale, like a real python, ready to strike, emitting a cold and eerie aura, as if it could freeze the endless yellow sand.

Bai Zhi also carried her son, the little one clinging tightly to his mother's clothes on her back.

Bai Zhi held a three-foot silver rod with thorns, shimmering with a cold light in the dim light.

Standing shoulder to shoulder with Gong Simeng, the two exchanged a glance, their eyes meeting filled with determination and resolve.

Gong Simeng's cherry lips parted slightly, shouting loudly: "Sisters, guard the grain cart! This grain cart concerns the livelihoods of many people and is tied to our Heroic Sakura Association's mission to protect justice. Whoever dares to invade, let him come and not return, let him know the might of our Heroic Sakura Association!"

Bai Zhi also responded loudly, her voice clear but carrying an undeniable authority: "That's right! Our Heroic Sakura Association roams the Jianghu, always upholding the path of chivalry, how can we let scoundrels have their way! One comes, one is killed; two come, two are slain!"

Saying that, the two led the disciples of the Heroic Sakura Association, like an indestructible wall of steel, firmly guarding the "grain cart" behind them.

They had both consumed the Immortal Pill, greatly enhancing their power, and at this moment, their movements were swift as lightning.

Gong Simeng swung the Python Whip, drawing arcs through the air, and wherever it reached, enemies let out mournful cries.

The tip of the whip was like a snake's tongue, striking the enemies, leaving deep blood marks.

Bai Zhi wielded her spiked silver rod, each strike carrying immense force, tearing enemy skin and splattering blood, which, against the backdrop of yellow sand, seemed especially striking. Not far away, Dugu Yan, the Manor Master of Mingjian Manor, appeared haggard, ghost-like.

His once handsome face was now twisted and unrecognizable with the pain of losing his son, exuding a cold and desperate aura, like a demon crawling from Hell Abyss.

At this moment, he led a group of swordsmen driven by money, like hungry wolves, closing in on Shi Feiyang step by step.

Among these swordsmen, Tang Ka and Ou Jing from the Northern Sword Sect of Tianshan, dressed in black suits, the wind whipping through their garments.

Their agile forms were like leopards, and the long swords in their hands flashed with cold light, like meteors in the cold night, ready at any moment to drink blood and claim lives.

Ling Lanzhi and Keke Xingzhi from the Southern Sword Sect of Tianshan, their figures graceful like willow trees in the spring, yet the cold killing intent in their eyes was bone-chilling. The five spread out in a fan shape, surrounding Shi Feiyang, the five swords trembling slightly in the wind, emitting a humming sound, like a death knell from hell announcing the impending cruel slaughter.

Dugu Yan gnashed his teeth, his voice squeezed through them with endless resentment: "Shi Feiyang, today is the day you die! You killed my son, and this blood debt, you will pay with your life! Tang Ka, Ou Jing, Ling Lanzhi, Keke Xingzhi, attack! Tear him to pieces, avenge my son!" The four responded in unison, their voices especially shrill in the fierce wind.

With a wave of their long swords, five fierce sword qis rushed towards Shi Feiyang like five rushing dragons.

They unleashed the fierce "Eight Techniques of the Famous Sword," their sword moves like lightning, cold light flickering, even slicing visible cracks in the air, as if the space was being torn apart by this fierce sword qi.

At the same time, they integrated the heavy and steady "Celestial Swordsmanship," each move infused with powerful inner strength, like surging tides, aiming to crush Shi Feiyang beneath the endless yellow sand.

Faced with such an intense and deadly offensive, Shi Feiyang stood like a towering Mount Tai, calmly unshaken, composed.

His expression was calm, his eyes radiating innate confidence and composure, as if all things in the world were under his control.

He slowly extended his right hand, gripping the hilt of the sharp Celestial Frost Blade at his waist, his movements unhurried yet exuding a reassuring power.

The Celestial Frost Blade emerged from its sheath, emanating cold light in all directions, like lightning cutting through the dim and oppressive sky.

The glint on the blade was cold and sharp, seemingly capable of mercilessly severing all evil in the world.

Shi Feiyang took a deep breath, his aura flowing around him, the Bright Jade Technique reaching its peak.

In an instant, his body was enveloped in a faint halo, soft yet radiating powerful energy.

Then, he unleashed the Hundred Victories Saber Technique, renowned in the Jianghu, executing the move "Golden Dragon Coiling Claw" with mastery and finesse. Just a flash of his figure, as the Celestial Frost Blade danced rapidly in his hand, creating an impenetrable net of blade lights.

Within the blade net, a golden dragon seemed to coil and swirl, baring fangs and brandishing claws, completely fending off the five incoming sword qis. The clash of blades and swords sent sparks flying, producing a clear and deafening sound, especially harrowing in the gusty desert.

As Shi Feiyang defended against the torrent of sword rain with exquisite saber techniques, his left hand shot out ghost-like, employing the famous Divine Dragon Claw Divine Technique of the Jianghu. His left hand was like a steel pincer forged of profound iron, with unyielding grip and explosive force, precisely and swiftly targeting the wrists of the five swordsmen.