The night was as dark as ink, and the coastline of Paradise Island shimmered with a cold silver glow under the moonlight. The sea breeze howled, covering the footsteps of the infiltrators. The infiltration team from the Shadow Nation, five female warriors clad in black armor, silently approached the outermost sentry post of Paradise Island. They held katana and shuriken in their hands, their eyes sharp as blades, moving as lightly as shadows.
On the watchtower, two Amazonian warriors stood holding spears, their round shields leaning against them, and their breastplates reflecting faint light in the fire. One of the warriors, tall and with muscles defined like a sculpture, had a bandage wrapped around her forearm, as if an old wound had not yet healed. She whispered to her companion, "The wind feels off tonight. Can you smell anything unusual?"
The companion, with skin like bronze and a shallow scar on his forehead, frowned upon hearing this and tightened his grip on the spear: "Don't be paranoid; it might just be the strong smell of the sea." Before the words were finished, a cold light suddenly streaked through the darkness, heading straight for her throat!
"Enemy attack!" she roared, suddenly raising her round shield to block a sneak attack from a dart. The dart was as sharp as a needle, hitting the shield with a piercing "clang." Almost simultaneously, five shadows sprang up from the bushes below the sentry post, pouncing on the platform like cheetahs.
The female warriors of the Shadow Kingdom moved swiftly, their blades glinting like moonlight on flowing water. The first assassin, wielding a katana, targeted the first female warrior, executing a cunning maneuver. The blade tip bypassed the spear shaft and forcefully pierced the gap in her breastplate. Blood gushed forth, the blade piercing through her chest cavity, breaking through her lung lobes. Blood foam spilled from Lena's mouth as her eyes widened in shock, a painful growl escaping her throat: "You... despicable wretch!"
The assassin sneered coldly, drew the katana, and blood flowed down the blade, the stench of entrails spreading. She whispered, "There is no cowardice on the battlefield, only life and death." Before the first female warrior could fall, another Shadow Country warrior swung a ninja sickle, striking fiercely at her waist from the side. The scythe blade tore through flesh, embedding itself in the spine, making a teeth-gritting "crack" sound. Her lumbar vertebrae were brutally severed, her body twisted as she fell from the platform, her entrails spilling everywhere, the metallic scent of blood overwhelming.
The second female warrior's eyes were bloodshot with rage as she roared and swung her spear, its tip aimed directly at the nearest enemy. The shadow country warrior flickered, dodging the frontal assault, and with a reverse swing of his katana, he precisely sliced into the gap of her knee guard. Flesh and blood parted, half of her kneecap was severed, and she fell to one knee in pain, sweat mingling with blood streaming down.
The leading shadow country warrior swung his katana, the blade gleaming like a rainbow, and stabbed the second female warrior in the lower abdomen. The tip of the sword pierced through the armor, stabbing into her lower abdomen. Her abdominal cavity was torn open, intestines spilling out, blood flowing like a torrent. She tried to cover the wound with her hand, but another assassin's sickle had already struck from behind, brutally cleaving her neck. Her cervical vertebrae shattered, her head nearly severed, held by only a thin strip of flesh, blood gushed forth like a fountain.
The battle on the high platform ended very quickly, but the more brutal massacre continued. Below the watchtower, three other Amazon warriors rushed over upon hearing the commotion, but they were already too late. They had not yet formed a formation when they were surrounded by the assassin squad from the Shadow Realm. A young female warrior was struck in the chest by a naginata, her breastplate cleaved in two, the blade slicing through her ribs, exposing her heart to the air, which beat twice before stopping. As she fell, her eyes vacant, blood stained the sand.
Another warrior attempted to counterattack, thrusting a spear towards an assassin's abdomen, but the latter, swift as a ghost, sidestepped and shot a dart straight at her lower body. The sharp tip of the dart pierced through the leather armor, tearing apart her genitals, leaving a bloody mess, and her screams were heart-wrenching. She fell to the ground, clutching her lower body, her body convulsing, blood mixed with urine flowing out, the stench overwhelming. The assassin coldly looked down, delivered a final blow, piercing her throat directly. Blood splattered onto her black armor, casting an eerie red glow.
The last Amazon warrior met the most tragic fate. She was attacked from both sides by two Shadow Country warriors. As she swung her short sword for the first strike, a katana pierced her from behind, the tip emerging from her lower abdomen, piercing her uterus, with blood and fragments of her internal organs spilling out. She tried to turn around and counterattack, but another assassin's naginata had already struck down, severing her right arm along with her shoulder blade. The clear sound of the bone snapping was audible, the muscles were torn apart, and blood and flesh splattered everywhere. She fell into the pool of blood, her breath faint, her eyes filled with unwillingness.
The squad leader of the Shadow Nation stood amidst the pile of corpses, bowing his head to wipe the blood off his katana, his tone icy: "Take their bodies away!"
The night was as dark as ink, and the five female warriors of the Shadow Kingdom quietly retreated to the hidden coastline, the bloodstains on their black armor glimmering with a dark red sheen under the moonlight. They carried the broken bodies of several Amazonian warriors on their shoulders, blood trickling down the corpses and dripping onto the sand, leaving mottled stains. The sea breeze howled, carrying a briny scent that masked the heavy stench of blood in the air.
The squad leader walked at the front, her sword already sheathed. She ordered in a low voice, "Move faster, the ship is waiting behind the eastern reef. Not a single item can be left behind." Her voice was as cold as ice, carrying an undeniable authority. A warrior nodded, the body on her shoulder slipping slightly. She frowned, supporting the broken limb with her hand, and muttered under her breath, "These Amazon women have muscles as hard as rocks; carrying them is damn heavy."
Another samurai sneered, her ninja sickle still dripping with blood. She glanced at the corpse she was carrying beside her, her tone laced with mockery: "So tough, huh? Still, we took them down one by one, pierced their chests, severed their tendons. Even in death, they serve as our subjects for research." She said, reaching out to pat the corpse's firm thigh, the taut muscle making her squint her eyes: "Tsk, this leg strength, when alive it could probably crush a man to death. Too bad it can only lie flat now."
Back at the secret base of the Shadow Realm, before dawn, the underground laboratory was brightly lit, and several experts in gray robes had been waiting for a long time. They surrounded a large stone platform, covered with thick burlap, which emitted a pungent smell of potions. The female warriors laid down the bodies one by one, the blood seeping into the coarse cloth, staining it a deep red. The air was filled with the scent of death and decay, yet no one frowned; everyone was focused and indifferent.
An elderly expert stepped forward, wearing a monocle and holding a slender dissection knife, his eyes sharp as an eagle's. He first carefully examined a relatively intact Amazon warrior's corpse, reached out to press her arm, and found the muscle lines still firm, even showing some resilience after death. He murmured to himself, "The muscle groups in this arm are astonishingly developed, especially the biceps and deltoids. It's the result of long-term spear training, combining both strength and endurance."
Another expert crouched down, lifted the shattered breastplate of the corpse, revealing a bloodied and mangled chest. He touched the broken edges of the ribs with his gloved hand, then pinched the surrounding muscle tissue, speaking calmly: "The thickness of the pectoralis major and oblique abdominal muscles exceeds expectations. With this physique, they could easily withstand a heavy shield charge." No wonder their formation advance is so difficult to deal with. He paused, his gaze dropping to the lower abdomen of the corpse, frowning as he said, "It was pierced here, the knife technique was precise, damaging the core muscle groups. Otherwise, she could have held on for a few more seconds."
A younger expert nearby focused more on the fragments of the armor. He picked up a breastplate that had been cleaved by a katana, tapped it with his finger, and it made a dull sound: "This metal forging technique is quite good, balancing toughness and hardness, but the gap design has flaws, making it easy for sharp blades to exploit." Our katana and shurikens specifically target these weak points, and the results are remarkable. He turned to look at the pile of spears and round shields nearby, picked up a broken spear shaft, weighed it in his hand, and said, "The weapon's weight is moderate, the spear tip has been tempered, it has strong piercing power, but it lacks flexibility, making it easy for us to counter in close combat."
In the discussion room, the older expert's gaze shifted to a body with a severely injured lower body from a dart strike. He frowned, crouched down, and carefully examined the bloodied and mangled wound. The surrounding bloodstains had already dried, showing a dark hue. He gently pried open the edges of the wound with a tool and whispered, "This strike hit the vital point directly, destroying the entire pelvic structure, completely tearing the fascia and inner wall, resulting in massive blood loss, almost instantaneously rendering the victim combat ineffective." He looked up at the squad leader, his tone carrying a hint of cold praise: "This dart was thrown with pinpoint accuracy, the angle and force are impeccable, targeting the most vulnerable spot. The Amazons didn't stand a chance to counterattack."
The squad leader stood to the side, arms crossed, a slight smirk on his lips, revealing a cold smile: "They consider themselves noble, but their bodies are just like ours, with flesh and blood, and vulnerabilities to exploit." On the battlefield, whether she's a soldier or a woman, once pierced, she's just a pile of flesh. She paused, her gaze sweeping over the bodies sprawled on the stone platform, her voice low: "Continue analyzing, figure out their weaknesses. Next time we encounter them, I want them to have no chance to fight back."
A samurai stood in the corner, wiping the blood off his katana, and replied softly, "These Amazon women are indeed physically strong, but their reaction speed and tactical awareness are far inferior to ours." Especially in night battles, they are no match for us at all." She glanced at the corpse on the stone platform, a hint of disdain flashing in her eyes: "Next time, I want to see just how tough their bodies can be when they're alive."
The experts did not respond, continuing to focus on recording and dissecting, leaving only the faint sound of knives cutting through flesh and the occasional whispered discussions in the lab. The smell of blood in the air grew stronger, casting twisted shadows on the walls under the flickering lights.
The underground laboratory's lighting was dim, and the air was thick with the heavy scent of blood and the acrid smell of potions. On the stone platform, several Amazonian warrior corpses had been dissected into pieces, and the experts were bowing their heads to record the final data, the sound of their pen tips scratching away. In the shadow of the corner, the squad leader stood straight, the bloodstains on his black armor still not fully dried, his eyes sharp as a knife, exuding an aura of oppression.
An elderly gray-robed expert closed the notebook in his hands, removed his monocle, looked up at the squad leader, and said in a low and calm voice, "The analysis results are already very clear." These Amazon women's physique and strength are indeed formidable, and their long-term training makes them a significant threat in direct confrontations. However, their tactics are rigid, and their equipment has obvious flaws, especially in nighttime combat, where their reaction speed completely fails to keep up with our pace. "As long as we exploit these weaknesses, their formation will be as scattered as a handful of sand."
Another expert put down his tools, wiped the blood off his gloves, and added, "From the wounds, it seems their armor lacks protection in critical areas. In close combat, it can't withstand our blades at all." Moreover, they rely too much on collective advancement; once they are isolated and surrounded, their individual combat capabilities are almost zero. Such opponents, as long as the strategy is appropriate, can be completely crushed.
The squad leader, upon hearing this, slightly curled her lips, revealing a hint of a cold smile. She slowly walked over to the stone platform, glanced down at the shattered bodies on it, and spoke with a hint of disdain, "It seems these self-proclaimed women are just relying on brute force to hold their ground." Since we've already figured out their weaknesses, let's not waste any more time. While they're still dazed, let's head straight to their lair and show them what a real battlefield looks like.
A nearby samurai, upon hearing this, lightly turned his katana, the blade catching the light and reflecting a glint of coldness. She sneered softly, "I've been waiting for this." These Amazons, when they were alive, were all so arrogant and overbearing. Now that they're dead, they deserve to lie here and be thoroughly studied by us. Going to their territory, I want to see if they can still act all high and mighty.
Another samurai nodded, his eyes gleaming with a bloodthirsty light, speaking in a low tone: "Night raids are our specialty. No matter how complex the terrain of their broken island is, it can't stop our blades." Drag them out one by one, stab them through, and toss them into the sea to feed the fish. Let's see how they can still defend their honor.
The elderly expert adjusted his glasses, his tone still calm: "I suggest concentrating our forces to raid the outer sentry posts first, to break their defenses." Their coordinated combat relies on formation; once the periphery is breached, the interior will inevitably fall into chaos. By then, taking them down one by one will just be a matter of time."
The squad leader nodded slightly, his gaze sweeping over everyone present, his voice as cold and hard as ice: "Alright, prepare the action plan and report it to the higher-ups tonight." Let them know that the blades of the Shadow Nation are not something they can withstand. She paused, turned to look outside the door, and a hint of battle intent ignited in her eyes: "Paradise Island? Hmph, it's just our next hunting ground."
The air in the laboratory seemed even heavier, everyone fell silent, and only the flickering lights on the wall cast a series of grim shadows.
The night was as dark as ink, and the underground naval port of the Shadow Nation was brightly lit, with the air filled with the salty smell of seawater and the cold breath of iron. The enormous warship was docked in the deep-water area, its hull as dark as night, with a fierce ghostly face pattern carved on its bow, as if it were ready to tear apart any enemy that stood in its way at any moment. On the deck, the samurai busily moved back and forth, transporting box after box of weapons. The sound of metal clashing echoed through the night sky, carrying a chilling aura of impending battle. Sweat trickled down their foreheads, mingling with the humidity of the sea breeze, clinging to their skin, and each movement of the heavy loads was accompanied by heavy breathing, revealing the tension and pressure before the battle.
Next to a warship, several black-armored warriors surrounded a rough wooden table, on which a hand-drawn map was spread out, marking the terrain and outpost distribution of Paradise Island. The figure standing at the forefront was tall and slender, the armor on her shoulders glinting with a cold, eerie light, reflecting the flickering shadows of the torches. Her eyes were sharp as a blade. She heavily tapped her finger on the map, her voice low but undeniable: "The outer sentry is the breakthrough point. If we take that, their defense line is as good as half dead." Our ships are fast. Under the cover of night, we'll charge right under their noses, landing craft coming in wave after wave, catching them off guard.
The samurai beside her lowered his head to inspect the katana in his hand. The blade was long and thin, its edge as sharp as a cicada's wing, glinting with a cold silver light under the moon. The hilt was wrapped in black shark skin, providing a firm and non-slip grip. Her fingers gently glided over the blade, feeling its cold touch, and a cold smile tugged at the corner of her mouth: "This sword has been specially sharpened; cutting through flesh is like slicing through tofu." No matter how tough those Amazon women's armor is, it can't withstand my strike. I'll split their breastplates and chop through bone and flesh. Let's see how they can still form their formations after that." However, she paused, her brow slightly furrowed, and her voice lowered a bit, "But their formation is tight. I've heard those women are tough as nails. If it comes to a real fight, it probably won't be that easy."
Another warrior wielded a naginata, the shaft nearly two meters long, the blade crescent-shaped and sharp, the shaft made of tough ebony, its surface engraved with intricate ninja runes, exuding an air of mystery. She slung the weapon over her shoulder, her tone laced with a hint of mockery: "This thing is perfect for sweeping through. One swing and it's a whole area cleared. If those women dare to cluster together, their shields will be sliced in half like paper." Especially their heavy spears, which are as slow as turtles when swung. Before they even get close to me, I can already cut them in half at the waist. As soon as she finished speaking, a short warrior beside her snorted coldly, tapping his fingers on the edge of the table with a heavy tone, "Don't get too cocky. The terrain of Paradise Island is complex; behind the beach is dense forest. Their spears are not just for show in that kind of place. If we get bogged down, we'll become targets."
Not far away, several young warriors were inspecting a pile of small darts, each no longer than a palm. The dart shafts were pitch black, and the tips were coated with a deadly poison that could cause uncontrollable bleeding with just a light scratch. The tail of the dart is tied with small black feathers, used to stabilize its flight trajectory, so precisely that it can pierce an enemy's throat from a hundred paces away. A samurai picked up a dart, squinting at the tip, feeling the slight chill on his fingertips, his voice low and cold: "This little thing looks unassuming, but once it pierces the flesh, it can even drill through the gaps in the bones." Those women's knee pads and breastplates have more gaps than a sieve. If you find the right spot, one dart will guarantee they won't even have time to grunt before collapsing to the ground, convulsing. But he immediately shook his head, his gaze turning to the distant sea, with a hint of unease in his tone: "It's just that their archers are no pushovers either. Within a hundred paces, our darts might not have the upper hand. If we expose our position, we might end up like porcupines."
The preparations for the landing craft are also in full swing. These small boats have narrow hulls, made from lightweight black wood, with a thick layer of waterproof paint on the surface. They have a shallow draft but are exceptionally agile, capable of rushing onto the beach in the shortest time possible. On both sides of the boat, a row of short knives is hung, each with a blade no longer than a foot. The thick backs of the knives are suitable for quick drawing in close combat, allowing them to be plunged forcefully into the enemy's abdomen or under the ribs. A samurai jumped onto the boat, patted the side, and the wood made a dull sound. His tone carried a hint of impatience: "This damn boat sways like a drunkard, but it's fast enough. We'll rush to their beach, jump off, and it's a killing spree." By the time they react, our blades will have already drunk their fill of their blood. However, the companion standing behind him frowned and said in a low voice, "Don't forget they set traps on the beach. Last year, our people suffered a huge loss. The boat capsized before it even reached the shore, and half of the crew ended up as shark food." If we're not careful this time, we might end up dead again.
On the warship, heavy crossbows were pushed to the edge of the deck, their bolts towering as high as a person. The arrowheads were forged from fine iron, with a triangular tip specifically designed to penetrate thick shields and armor. The arrow shafts were also tied with oil-soaked cloth strips, which, when ignited, could directly burn through the enemy's formation, creating chaos. A warrior responsible for operating the crossbow wiped the sweat from his forehead, and the sweat dripped onto the deck. His rough palm rubbed the crossbow mechanism, and he said in a low voice, "Once this thing is fired, it can directly blow apart their formation, burning them and making them roll on the ground." Once they get disorganized, our sisters will charge in, and killing them will be as easy as mowing grass, a piece of cake." But he immediately glanced at the veteran beside him, his tone carrying a hint of hesitation: "However, their defense is protected by heavy shields, and the crossbow bolts might not break through in one go. If we waste the fire oil arrows, it might give them a chance to catch their breath." Brother, what do you think? The old soldier was silent for a moment, exhaling a deep breath: "The women of Paradise Island are good at counterattacks. We need to hold back a bit; we can't rely solely on this cannon."
The air at the port grew increasingly tense, everyone's movements quickened, the sounds of footsteps and metal scraping mixed together, as if their heartbeats were accelerating. The flag of the warship flutters in the night wind, embroidered with a black crow, its wings spread wide and its eyes fierce, as if proclaiming the impending bloody massacre. In the distance, the waves crash against the reefs, emitting a low growl, intertwining with the metallic clinks from the naval port, heralding an impending storm about to sweep across Paradise Island. The air was filled not just with the intent to kill, but also with a faint sense of unease—everyone knew that this battle was far from being as simple as it appeared on the surface.
The night sea boiled, and the warships of the Shadow Kingdom cut through the darkness like ghosts. The ghostly face carved at the bow was fearsome and terrifying under the moonlight. On the deck, the heavy oil-tipped arrows of the crossbows were poised to fire, and the air was thick with the smell of oil and the aura of impending death. In the distance, the patrol ships of Paradise Island cruise the sea, with Amazonian warriors clad in ancient Greek-style breastplates, holding spears and round shields. They vigilantly scan the sea by the light of the torches on the ship's railing, their muscles tense, biceps and deltoids appearing particularly solid in the firelight, exuding an unspoken sense of pressure. However, they had not yet realized that the shadow of death was quietly approaching.
"Fire, prepare to launch!" On the battleship, a low command broke the silence. The black-armored warrior next to the crossbow quickly ignited the oil-soaked cloth, and the flames licked the arrowhead, making a hissing sound. The next moment, the crossbow mechanism jolted violently, and the massive trident-shaped arrow, engulfed in flames, shot through the air, heading straight for the Amazon patrol ship. The arrow, like a meteor, streaked across the night sky and violently pierced the deck of a ship. The wooden planks instantly shattered, the oil ignited, and the flames engulfed everything around. Several female warriors were caught off guard, their bodies entwined by flames, their skin quickly turning blackened. Their quadriceps and calf muscles twisted and convulsed under the high temperature, emitting heart-wrenching screams: "Help me... I'm burning alive!" They struggled towards the ship's railing, but the flames forced them into a corner, ultimately burning them alive into a mass of charred remains. Their femurs and tibias snapped with a crackling sound in the intense heat, emitting a pungent smell of charred flesh.
"One more shot, don't give them a chance to catch their breath!" The black-armored warrior beside the ballista gritted his teeth, his arm muscles bulging, triceps taut as iron, as he loaded another fire oil arrow onto the mechanism. The arrow was shot again, this time piercing through a female warrior's breastplate, the fine iron tip tearing through her pectoral muscles and ribs, her internal organs crushed and ruptured, her heart pierced in one blow, blood gushing out like a spring, staining the deck red. She stared wide-eyed, mumbling, "How could... this be..." She immediately collapsed, her spine cracking with a snap, her body curling up into a ball, the muscles under her ribs and the obliques weakly twitching, life swiftly fading away.
"Jump on board, kill them all!" The warships of the Shadow Nation approached the patrol ship, and the black-armored warriors, wielding katanas and naginatas, leaped onto the enemy ship from the landing craft, their movements swift as a leopard. The blade of the katana is long, with an edge as thin as a cicada's wing, glinting coldly, the hilt wrapped in sharkskin, providing a very steady grip; the naginata, on the other hand, has a two-meter-long shaft, with a crescent-shaped blade that is chillingly cold, the ebony shaft carved with runes, making a whistling sound when swung. A black-armored warrior swung his katana, the blade precisely piercing the gap in an Amazonian warrior's breastplate. The tip of the sword penetrated her collarbone and scapula, tearing through her pectoral muscles, with blood flowing down the blade, dripping rhythmically. She growled, "You demons, you won't get away with this!" But in the next moment, she was swept by another warrior's naginata, the blade slicing into her side, tearing through her oblique muscles, her intestines spilling out, her intestines being crushed, a foul stench spreading, her pelvis shattered in one blow. She fell with a scream, her lower body a bloody mess, her genitals caught in the blade's aura, completely destroyed.
"Watch out for their spears, dodge!" a black-armored warrior warned in a low voice, as a dart flew from his hand like a black feather. The dart, dark and tipped with poison, precisely pierced through the gap in a female warrior's knee guard, penetrating her quadriceps and kneecap. The excruciating pain made her drop her spear and stagger to the ground. She gritted her teeth, trying to get up: "I can still fight..." Before she could finish her sentence, a katana pierced through the back of her neck, the tip penetrating her cervical vertebrae, tearing through her windpipe. Blood gushed out, her spinal cord severed, her body instantly went limp, her fibula and tibia hanging weakly, completely devoid of life.
The Amazon warrior was equally formidable, a tall woman wielding a spear. The spearhead was forged from fine iron, incredibly sharp, and the shaft was resilient, capable of withstanding immense impact. Her deltoids and latissimus dorsi muscles bulged as she lunged forward, the spearhead aimed directly at the abdomen of a black-armored warrior. It pierced through her Japanese-style armor, the spear tip tearing through the rectus abdominis, penetrating the pelvic cavity, destroying the uterus and ovaries, and crushing the internal organs into a bloody pulp. She growled, "Taste our fury!" The samurai gritted his teeth in pain, but his katana struck back without hesitation. The blade sliced from the side, cleaving through the female warrior's breastplate, cutting into her ribs, tearing her lungs, blood gushed from her trachea, intercostal muscles and pectoralis minor were completely destroyed. She staggered backward, gasping out her dying breath, "Not... willing..."
On the deck, the stench of blood grew stronger, and both sides fought like wild beasts. A black-armored warrior swung his naginata, the blade sweeping across, slicing through a female warrior's waist. Her spine was severed, the psoas major and iliopsoas muscles torn apart, her entrails slipping out from the wound. Her liver and spleen were shattered by the blade's aura, and blood mixed with fragments of her innards flowed across the deck. She tried to counterattack with her round shield, which was heavy and edged with iron, but was pierced in the arm by another warrior's dart. The dart's tip penetrated her humerus, and the venom seeped into her marrow. The excruciating pain made her drop her shield, and she murmured, "Sisters... avenge me..." Then, her skull was cleaved open with a single stroke, the skull shattered, brain matter bursting out, the stench overwhelming.
"Don't stop, keep pushing forward!" The low growl of the black-armored warrior echoed in the night sky, with the glint of swords and the shadows of spears intertwining, blood and flames merging. The formation of the Amazonian warriors was gradually torn apart, their breastplates pierced by blades, their knee guards shattered by darts, their muscles ripped into bloody strands, their femurs, ribs, and vertebrae fracturing one after another. The stench of ruptured entrails mixed with the acrid smell of burning flesh, and the deck was piled high with severed limbs and broken bodies. The warriors of the Shadow Nation pressed forward step by step, their eyes gleaming with a bloodthirsty light, while the patrol ships of Paradise Island swayed precariously amidst the flames and blades, as if they could be completely engulfed at any moment.
The stench of blood in the night sea was overwhelming. On the deck of the patrol ship at Paradise Island, flames consumed the shattered wooden planks, and the air was filled with the foul smell of charred flesh and entrails. The formation of the Amazon warriors has been completely torn apart, and the black-armored samurai of the Shadow Nation move like phantoms, their katana and naginata gleaming with cold light, blood dripping from the blades. Their movements were swift and precise, each strike carrying the coldness and determination of the samurai code.
"Don't give them a chance to breathe, chop their bones clean!" a black-armored warrior whispered, her voice laced with icy killing intent. She held a long katana in her hand, its blade as reflective as a mirror, sharp enough to cut a strand of hair. The sharkskin on the hilt was soaked with sweat, making her grip tighter. She charged fiercely towards a fallen Amazon warrior, whose breastplate had been pierced, pectoral muscles torn into bloody strands, ribs broken and exposed, blood gushing from the wound, staining the deck red. The black-armored warrior swung her sword without hesitation, the tip piercing precisely below the female warrior's collarbone, penetrating the scapula. The sound of flesh being torn apart was like the ripping of fabric, and blood gushed out. She growled, "Your glory is nothing but dust in the grave!" With a twist of the blade, the bones snapped with a crack, the warrior's chest cavity completely collapsed, her lungs crushed and ruptured, crimson foam surged from her trachea, her gaze became vacant, and all that remained was the sound of her dying breaths.
Another black-armored warrior wielded a naginata, its long ebony shaft and crescent-shaped blade gleaming coldly, the sound of the wind slicing through the air as it was swung was ear-piercing. She fixed her gaze on an Amazon warrior trying to get up, the woman's knee pad pierced by a dart, her quadriceps torn, kneecap shattered, blood flowing down her calf, fibula and tibia twisted at bizarre angles. She struggled to grip her spear tightly, its tip forged from fine iron and incredibly sharp, but she was already too weak to counterattack. The black-armored warrior sneered coldly, swinging the naginata downwards with great force. The blade tore through the female warrior's breastplate, the fine iron plates sliced apart like paper. The tip of the blade pierced through the pectoral muscles, entering the chest cavity, breaking ribs one after another. The heart was pierced in a single strike, blood gushed out like a fountain, and the internal organs were shattered by the blade's aura. The liver and spleen were reduced to mush, filling the air with a foul stench. The female warrior's body convulsed violently, her oblique and psoas muscles spasming weakly, the muscles near her genitals also affected by the blade's energy, turning into a bloody mess, her lower body completely shattered. She murmured, "Sisters... I'll go ahead..." and then her head tilted, completely lifeless.
"Break their bones and make them know who the real master is!" A black-armored warrior wielded a ninja sickle, its blade hook-like and glinting coldly, the shaft light yet resilient. She charged towards a heavily injured Amazon warrior, whose round shield had been shattered, her humerus pierced by a dart, and her muscles corroded by venom, emitting a foul, charred stench. She tried to counterattack with her short sword, the blade being short and thick, suitable for close combat, but her arm was too weak to lift. The black-armored warrior's scythe hooked in, precisely cutting into the side of the female warrior's waist, tearing through the oblique abdominal muscles. The blade pierced the pelvic cavity, severing the uterus and ovaries, mixing blood and entrails as they flowed out. The hip bone cracked with a snap, and the excruciating pain made her scream. The latissimus dorsi and the muscles around the spine were torn into strips, and blood stained the deck red. The black-armored warrior coldly said, "Your body is nothing but our trophy." Then, with a kick, he stomped on the female warrior's chest, her ribs cracking with a crunch. The organs inside her chest cavity were crushed into a mass of bloody pulp, emitting a foul stench.
In the final stages of the battle, all the Amazon warriors had fallen, the deck was piled high with severed limbs and broken bodies, and blood flowed like a stream into the sea. The warriors of the Shadow Kingdom halted their blades, but there was not a trace of mercy in their eyes. They began to humiliate the corpses, and a more eerie atmosphere pervaded the air. A black-armored warrior crouched down, using his katana to pry open a corpse's wrist. With a gentle stroke of the blade, the tendons were severed, and the hand along with the forearm was brutally cut off, blood gushing out, revealing the radius and ulna, pale as jade. She gave a cold smile, shoved the severed hand into the corpse's lower body, forcibly pried open the bloodied and mangled genitals, producing a teeth-gritting tearing sound, and squeezed out the remaining flesh in the pelvis, releasing a nauseating stench. She said softly, "Look at you so-called warriors, now nothing more than playthings beneath our feet."
Another samurai swung his naginata, the blade precisely striking the neck of a corpse. In a flash, the head rolled off, residual blood gushing from the severed cervical spine. The sutures at the base of the skull were clearly visible, and brain matter oozed from the wound, emitting a nauseating odor. She casually kicked the severed head aside, and the headless torso of the corpse twitched slightly. The pectoral and rectus abdominis muscles remained taut, but it was already lifeless. The warrior snorted coldly, "Let your pride remain in this piece of rotten flesh." Then she picked up the ancient Greek breastplate from the ground, its plates covered in blood and knife marks, heavy and cold. She used the breastplate as a punching bag, kicking it hard. The breastplate deformed, making a dull sound, and the blood inside it was squeezed out, dripping onto the deck.
Other warriors also joined in this desecration, stripping the armor from the bodies of the Amazonian warriors, discarding their knee pads and breastplates, and using them as objects of their release. Severed hands were forcibly shoved into the corpses' lower bodies, the sound of flesh tearing echoed endlessly, pelvic bones were shattered, remnants of entrails mixed with blood flowed out, and a foul stench filled the air. The head was severed and rolled onto the deck, the hollow eye sockets staring at the night sky, the cheekbones and jawbone exposed, shattered teeth scattered all over the ground. The black-armored warriors poked at the corpses with the tips of their swords, tearing at the remaining muscles. The quadriceps and calf muscles were sliced into strips, blood gushing everywhere. The bones were shattered, revealing the white marrow at the broken ends of the femur and tibia. The air was thick with the scent of death and humiliation.
"Let their souls remember, the Shadow Realm is the true ruler," a samurai whispered, as the dart in his hand pierced a corpse's abdomen, the tip penetrating the rectus abdominis, rupturing the intestines, blood mixed with fragments of entrails flowing out, emitting a suffocating stench. On the deck, blood and fire intertwined, the waves of the night sea seemed to roar, bearing witness to this massacre and desecration.