The heavens and earth were steeped in a chilling aura of death.
The Prophet, enveloped in a mysterious white light, appeared ethereal and otherworldly, her beauty breathtaking.
“Boom!”
Mr. Ono slashed down with his saber, the blade’s light like a ferocious dragon charging at the Prophet.
Her expression serene, the Prophet silently chanted a spell. Instantly, the white light around her formed a protective shield, blocking the saber’s aura.
“Crack!”
With a gentle palm strike, the Prophet shattered the saber’s light.
“Vatican’s Saintess? Interesting,” Mr. Ono sneered, black mist surging around him. Gripping his samurai saber, he stepped through the air toward her.
His pace was unhurried, but each step resounded with a “thud,” like divine drums shaking the soul.
Suddenly, he raised his saber.
A single slash.
In an instant, countless saber beams filled the sky, like a cascade of falling stars.
The sight was terrifying.
Clearly, this was a lethal move.
At the same time, Mr. Ono’s steps quickened, rushing toward the Prophet.
Her jade-white fingers, crystalline as if carved from gemstone, began to trace delicate patterns.
As her fingers moved, mysterious runes appeared.
These runes fused into her white protective shield, blocking the barrage of saber beams.
The Prophet remained composed, as if untouched by mortal concerns, her fingers continuing their dance, summoning more runes around her.
“Go to hell!”
Mr. Ono’s saber pierced the white shield at close range, the blade reaching her face.
At the critical moment, the runes around her fused into a white shield, blocking the saber.
“Clang!”
The samurai saber struck the shield, leaving it unscathed.
Immediately after, Mr. Ono’s left fist shot out.
The Prophet’s right hand floated out, seemingly weightless, pressing against his fist.
“Boom!”
Her palm, like a mountain, repelled his punch.
Step, step, step—
Mr. Ono staggered back.
“Hum!”
The white light around the Prophet pulsed, and the saber qi outside her shield vanished without a trace.
“Swish!”
She moved, a shadow-like blur, chasing after Mr. Ono.
As if one with the heavens and earth, she pressed both hands forward, unleashing a torrent of energy that shook the skies.
Mr. Ono hurriedly swung his saber, clashing head-on.
The two fought fiercely, one graceful and airy like an immortal dancing, the other domineering with wide, brutal saber strikes. Their contrasting styles collided violently.
For a moment, they were evenly matched, locked in a struggle with no clear victor.
It seemed a winner wouldn’t emerge anytime soon.
On the other side—
Mr. Kurai drew his long sword and slashed at Ye Qiu.
“Clang!”
The sword’s light, like lightning, reached Ye Qiu in a blink, its speed blinding.
Ye Qiu’s pupils contracted as he hurriedly shifted his position.
Even so, a terrifying gash opened on his shoulder, golden blood spraying out.
The immense force sent Ye Qiu flying back, injured.
“Boom!”
Mr. Kurai struck again, his sword like a phantom, aiming straight for Ye Qiu’s head.
This strike was sharper and faster than the last.
Still reeling mid-air, Ye Qiu couldn’t dodge. The sword was three feet away, and a shadow of death enveloped him.
In the nick of time, Ye Qiu bit down, drawing an invisibility talisman. His body vanished into the air, evading the blade.
“Useless. Against me, you have only one path—death,” Mr. Kurai said, swinging his sword again, unleashing thousands of sword beams.
As Ye Qiu reappeared from the air, he felt a bone-chilling sword qi envelop him, cold sweat drenching his back.
The techniques of a King Realm expert were far beyond any opponent he’d faced before.
The sword beams, sharp as a net, descended from the sky, slicing through the air with whistling shrieks that rattled the soul.
“Since there’s no escape, I’ll fight head-on.”
Gripping his broken Emperor’s Sword, Ye Qiu unleashed the third form of the Grass Script Sword Technique, slashing out.
“Boom!”
The Emperor’s Sword shattered the sword beams, but Ye Qiu was thrown back a hundred meters by the recoil, spitting blood.
Before he could rise, a whistling sound came. Turning, he saw sword qi like auroras rushing toward him.
Still aiming for his head.
“This bastard wants me dead with every move. Truly vicious.”
Ye Qiu summoned three Qiankun Cauldrons, pressing them down to block the sword qi.
Seizing the moment, he scrambled to his feet.
“Clang!”
The sword qi collided with the cauldrons, resounding loudly.
The next second, the three cauldrons were sent flying, and the sword qi continued its assault.
Ye Qiu used a lightning talisman, shifting dozens of meters away, but as he dodged, a new sword beam descended from the sky.
“Clang!”
The three-meter-long sword beam fell like thunder, too fast for Ye Qiu to evade.
In desperation, he burrowed into the ground.
“Boom!”
The sword beam struck, kicking up dust and dirt.
“Qimen Dunjia?” Mr. Kurai’s eyes glinted with colder killing intent.
Ye Qiu’s techniques and combat prowess convinced Mr. Kurai that if he didn’t die, he’d become a major threat.
Moments later, Ye Qiu emerged from the ground a hundred meters away, glancing back at where he’d been. The sword beam had carved a massive trench.
“Good thing I escaped, or I’d have been buried alive.”
Heart pounding, Ye Qiu recalled the three Qiankun Cauldrons.
Remarkably, despite the fierce sword qi, the cauldrons were undamaged.
“Kid, keep resisting, and you’ll be reduced to dust. End yourself, and you might keep a whole corpse. Your choice,” Mr. Kurai said, advancing with his sword, exuding overwhelming killing intent that sent chills down the spine.
Ye Qiu’s response was eight resolute words: “Hua Country’s sons would rather die than yield!”
Mr. Kurai sneered, “A fine ‘rather die than yield.’ So be it—die!”
Boom!
Sword in hand, Mr. Kurai charged.
Before he arrived, terrifying sword intent blanketed the sky, like the end of the world.
A powerful aura sealed all of Ye Qiu’s escape routes.
Clearly, Mr. Kurai intended to kill him with one strike.
Ye Qiu was trapped in a deadly crisis.
His life hung by a thread.
