The tip of the sword plunged into Xiao En's left shoulder, and he pulled it out in a split second, drawing out a spray of blood. However, the flower was not particularly beautiful. Xiao En's old body seemed to have much less blood in it than a young man's.
With a dull thud, Friar He held his sword across his chest and retreated!
Xiao En sat on the ground, holding a branch as thick as a forearm in his withered right hand. When Friar He thrust his sword earlier, the old man had used some unknown technique to disregard his left shoulder and strike Friar He's shin with the branch from an impossible angle.
The tip of the branch in his hand had been smashed to smithereens, a testament to the strength of the blow.
Friar He felt a sharp pain in his left leg, and his already pale face turned even whiter. His right hand still held the hilt of his sword steadily, but his left leg, which had been struck by the tree branch, began to tremble.
He had thought that, with his ninth-level strength, it would be easy for him to kill a weary old man covered in old wounds. Even though he knew that his opponent was Xiao En, the terrifying Xiao En he had known all those years ago, he had made ample preparations. But he still did not expect the old man to be so unpredictable and strange!
...
...
Xiao En coughed and said, "My leg was broken by that Fan kid, so I had to hit your leg first. Even if I couldn't break it..."
Before Xiao En could finish speaking, Friar He swung his sword again. His sword was like a swimming dragon, circling around Xiao En, who was trapped on the ground. He had long since let go of any thoughts of underestimating his opponent. Instead, he carefully dealt with him as if he were facing a grandmaster.
Friar He's swordsmanship was completely different from the common schools of thought in the world. It was said that he had inherited it from a certain barbarian in the north of the mountains, and was as fierce as a swimming dragon. Occasionally, it would be diluted, but it was in harmony with the natural principles of Ku He's lineage. It was said that after he had completed his swordsmanship, he had once asked Ku He for advice and had benefited greatly.
At this time, Xiao En only had a wooden stick in his hand. It was difficult for him to move, and he was trapped.
Even so, the branch in Xiao En's hand was like the tongue of a viper, flicking and flicking around his body. Occasionally, it would stab out horizontally with a strange edge, forcing Friar He to retreat. But Friar He's true qi gradually rose, and sword light enveloped his body. The air began to buzz, and Xiao En's wooden stick was no match for him.
The sword and the staff clashed, and the branch in Sean's hand immediately became countless pieces of wood floating in the air.
Xiao En stretched out his hand and casually picked up a branch. He thrust it diagonally to the right, breaking Friar He's Soul Chasing Sword.
He came from the mountains with a bundle of firewood, but the wet twigs would run out sooner or later.
…
…
After an unknown period of time, the heat of the summer gradually rose at the end of the mountain road, and the sun began to spread its sinister rays. Xiao En's tattered clothes were riddled with narrow gashes, from which blood was seeping out. There were a few deep wounds on his chest, and one could even see the flesh torn by the sword aura. However, the old man had lost too much blood, so the wounds were pale.
Around his body, there was a layer of densely packed mosquito wings and limbs. These insects that did not know life or death had smelled the blood, but in a moment, they were sucked into the Sword Qi True Power, and turned into dust.
Five steps in front of Xiao En, Friar He stood, sword in hand. His pale face was tinged with blood, and his right hand, which held the hilt of his sword, finally showed signs of trembling. He hadn't had it easy either. His black shirt had long since been chopped into a mess by the wet twigs around Xiao En. His body was covered in wounds, and even more frightening were the fresh twigs and stubble around them.
"Come out. That Fan kid won't come."
Friar He swallowed. He hadn't expected the old man's desire to live to be so strong. But seeing that Xiao En was about to die, and that the expected Southern Qi man still hadn't made a move, he couldn't help but call out to his companions.
Xiao En's eyelids fluttered, and he glanced at the enemy who had been hiding nearby. "Ku He called out to these juniors. Isn't that a little disrespectful?"
The man approached in silence, holding a curved knife in each hand. What was particularly frightening about the blades were the many thin steel spikes that looked like the wounds on Friar He's body.
He silently bowed to Xiao En. "Sister Haitang escorted Mister Xiao back to the capital. Because of His Majesty's strict orders, we could not attack. Today, Mister Xiao escaped from prison, and I had no choice but to act. Please forgive me, Mister."
Xiao En laughed coldly. "Ku He's disciples and disciples have indeed learned his way of scaring people. On the surface, they appear to be benevolent and righteous, but secretly they are evil and treacherous. They're just looking for an excuse to kill me. Why make it sound so innocent? "
This man was Ku He's first disciple, the Emperor's martial arts teacher, Lang Tiao. Seeing that Xiao En was insulting his teacher, he didn't say anything more. He crossed his wrists, and the two curved knives in his hands became two balls of black light, flying toward Xiao En's head.
Xiao En suddenly let out a wild roar.
The pure inner strength he had cultivated for nearly fifty years finally exploded. He pushed out his palms, attacking Lang Tiao's knives from an impossible angle. The wind from his palms was swift and fierce. If Xiao En's palms killed him, Lang Tiao's wrists would immediately be shattered.
Lang Tiao was silent, but he twisted his wrists, and the two sharp curved knives in his hands spun back in a strange way. The backs of the knives struck the back of Xiao En's hands.
Two sounds rang out at the same time. The back of Xiao En's hands was instantly sliced by the steel spikes on the two curved knives, but at the same time, Xiao En's palms had also reached in.
Lang Tiao was still expressionless. He let go of the hilts of his knives, and pushed out with both palms. After a light sound, the two palms, who were thirty years apart in age, fiercely struck each other. There was nothing fancy about this; it was purely a contest of strength.
As Ku He's first disciple, Lang Tiao's spirit was at its peak. Xiao En, on the other hand, had been imprisoned for many years and had suffered all sorts of suffering. He was no longer as brave as he had been in the past. In comparison, Lang Tiao had the upper hand.
With a swish, Lang Tiao pushed Xiao En back. With a flick of his wrist, the knives glowed even brighter, slashing toward Xiao En's shoulders. The two curved knives in his hands had a thin chain tied to his wrists.
…
…
The two knives glowed as they flew toward Xiao En, reflecting the red sun high up in the sky. It was a terrifying sight.
The dying Xiao En suddenly found strength from somewhere. His eyes rolled up, and his middle finger bent slightly. He raised it toward the sky, blocking the lower edges of Lang Tiao's powerless hands.
At this moment, countless gusts of wind rose up. A figure, like a gray dragon, soared into the sky from the grass, directly attacking the two combatants.
Friar He had been standing with his sword, waiting for this moment. He had been waiting for Fan Xian to come out.
He gripped his sword with both hands. He had been accumulating power for a long time. From head to toe, he chopped down vertically, without any extra tricks.
There was a hissing sound. Even the air seemed to be cut open by the sword, let alone the person who was charging at him at high speed.
But Friar He didn't know that the person he wanted to kill was one of the most skilled dodging figures in the world. He only saw the figure twist in the air in a strange manner. Without any leverage, like a shadow, he dodged the attack.
As the old saying goes, the more Wu Zhu fights, the harder it is for Fan Xian to get hit.
— — —
The sword struck empty air. Friar He's chest tightened, and the countless sounds of breaking air arrived in front of him. He valiantly pulled back his sword and made three horizontal slashes, knocking down most of the hidden weapons. When the hidden weapons fell to the ground, he realized they were just gravel.
He forcefully pulled back his sword. His blood was shaken, and he couldn't help but spit out a mouthful of blood. He forcefully swallowed it. As his body froze, three beams of black light shot down from the top of his head.
The two of them were too close. Friar He turned his wrist, and the tip of his sword accurately knocked away the three beams of black light. But the last strike was not strong enough, and his zhenqi paused. Although the crossbow bolt had received some force, its direction did not change too much. It brushed past his thigh and stabbed into the grass.
That was close! Friar He finally realized how difficult it was to deal with Fan Xian. He turned his head in shock.
Fan Xian had forcefully turned around in the air, avoiding Friar He's long-awaited strike. He had paid a heavy price for it. Even though his meridians were much wider than the average martial cultivator's, he still couldn't stop his blood rushing. His zhenqi felt like it was being torn apart, colliding with his meridians.
He didn't have the dignity of a martial artist. Still in the air, he spat out a mouthful of blood, looking wretched and wretched. But in a flash, his meridians were cleared.
At that moment, Lang Tiao's terrifying twin blades had already sunk deep into Xiao En's shoulders.
Fan Xian let out a strange cry. Still in the air, he had already pulled out half of the long blade from his back and swung it at the back of Lang Tiao's head.
Lang Tiao seemed to have eyes in the back of his head. With a swish, he pulled back his blade. The tip of the curved blade struck Fan Xian's hilt half a foot, the weakest point of the blade.
With a clang, the other half of the long knife in Fan Xian's hand broke again, but the pitiful remaining part of the knife still chopped down brutally. Ding, ding, ding, ding, it swept away all the steel spikes on the curved knife in Lang Tiao's hand.
In that instant, Fan Xian abandoned his blade, circulated his qi, and punched out.
Two of his best black fists transformed into two dragons, striking at Lang Tiao's temples. He didn't care that the tip of his opponent's blade was aimed at his lower abdomen. He knew that against an expert of this level, he had to be steady, accurate, and ruthless. He had to leave no way out for himself, and no way out for his opponent.
Lang Tiao suddenly turned his head, a cold light flashing in his eyes. He crossed his palms and sealed Fan Xian's fists. Their energies intersected. The Tyrannical zhenqi of the nameless martial secrets and the Tianyi zhenqi of Ku He finally met.
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