“When I kill, it’s always with one strike. But I am curious—can you withstand three of mine?”
A sinister grin spread across his face.
“Because with my Han Shui Blade technique, there is no room for tricks.”
As his words fell, his strike had already begun!
The blade seemed to move incredibly slowly.
The Sun Envoy gripped the hilt with both hands, raising it high in a motion as majestic as thunder in a drought-stricken sky. Man and blade became one, an unstoppable force of sheer power and grandeur. A vortex of energy, swirling and resonating with the movement of the blade, enveloped the space above and below.
Zhan Ri Fei’s expression changed. What appeared to be a single, slow strike from the Sun Envoy was, in fact, three strikes delivered simultaneously!
Under the surging momentum of the blade, the air seemed sealed, the sky and earth locked away. The three strikes flowed like waves, rising and falling in an unrelenting tide, leaving no room for evasion. Zhan Ri Fei, especially, could not retreat.
Behind him stood the frail boy.
Faced with such overwhelming strikes, how could he defend?
With a sharp “hiss,” the boy’s clothing tore at the seams. The forceful wind from the blade had already knocked him backward, leaving him gasping for air. His fragile body resembled a lone boat about to capsize in a storm.
The cold edge of the blade seemed to pierce his skin, raising goosebumps all over. The sharp internal energy emanating from the Sun Envoy pressed against his eyes like a burning glare, forcing them shut.
Through the haze, he could just barely make out a streak of icy brilliance flying from Zhan Ri Fei’s hand.
The boy had never imagined that such an icy light could exist in the world, and that it could shine so magnificently.
At last, blade and sword collided!
It was a sound as clear and cold as frost on a snowy field.
Yet the sound carried an oppressive weight.
The boy, shaken by this subdued clash, coughed up a mouthful of fresh blood. His chest felt as if struck by a massive hammer, his vision blurred, and he fainted.
In the moment before he lost consciousness, a hand grasped his arm.
All he could feel was an indescribable chill from that hand.
* * *
It was unclear how much time had passed when the boy finally woke up. His head throbbed with excruciating pain.
He quickly realized that his arm was being held by Zhan Ri Fei’s left hand. That hand was ice cold.
Zhan Ri Fei still stood in front of him, his sword now pointing at the ground.
The green-clad Sun Envoy remained standing opposite him, his blade also unsheathed and pointed downward.
The two men looked as if they hadn’t moved at all.
The only change was that both Zhan Lu and Chang Hong Guan Ri were still unsheathed, their gleaming edges exposed to the rain.
–– Could it be that their duel was already decided?
–– And if so, why hadn’t they sheathed their weapons?
As the boy’s gaze wandered, he noticed that everything around him had a faint reddish tint. Raising his sleeve to wipe his face, he found his sleeve stained with blood. The pale red hue suggested the blood had been diluted by rainwater.
Yet within the bloodstain on his sleeve, there was a faint streak of black—dead black.
This wasn’t his blood.
–– If it wasn’t his own blood, whose could it be?
The boy seemed to realize something, and his face turned pale.
At that moment, he heard a cold snort.
The sound was like the wail of a ghost in a graveyard.
It came from the green-clad man opposite him.
The Sun Envoy’s voice, though calm, carried a chill that froze the air.
“I never expected you to be already gravely injured and still dare to block my Thousand-Jin Dragon Severing Twist!”
As soon as he finished speaking, something felt off. He sensed his internal energy surging uncontrollably, like turbulent waves spreading chaotically through his body. It was as if the words he had spoken were a trigger, unleashing a massive upheaval within him.
He gasped sharply, stumbling a step backward—then another.
He was shocked.
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