“Die, you filthy wench!”
Thanks to his Greatsword Spirit, Meng’s every move surged with amplified power, clearly overpowering Ling Yi Xue.
He’d charged up a killing blow and finally unleashed it, swinging the massive blade down toward her head.
The greatsword, nearly two meters long and a foot wide, could cleave her in two no matter where it struck.
But at that moment, a streak of sword light sliced through the air.
It hit the greatsword’s weakest point dead-on—not enough to knock it away, but enough to dull its force, letting Ling Yi Xue parry with ease.
“Damn kid!”
Meng finally realized they weren’t facing three, but four. That boy hiding in the distance was a real pain.
Mastering sword control to this level was rare.
After a brief pause, he split from his spirit, leaving it to tangle with Ling Yi Xue while he lunged at Ling Xiao.
Ling Xiao smirked inwardly. Sure, martial souls, heroic spirits, and ninja spirits could detach to fight alongside their owners, but the downside was losing their buffs.
This Bi-Eye fool, Meng, had just ditched his edge. Without that fragmented spirit, his threat to Ling Xiao plummeted.
It was the dumbest move Meng could’ve made, underestimating Ling Xiao as a mere Martial Vein Sixth Layer fighter.
After all, Ling Xiao’s displayed strength was just late Sixth Layer.
To Meng, Ling Xiao seemed like a sneak-attack type—useless up close.
That misjudgment led to a stupid, dangerous gamble.
Sky Slash!
Meng leapt, midair, raising the greatsword high. Gang qi swirled around it, the air howling with a “whoosh-whoosh-whoosh.”
A gale kicked up, flinging broken branches, leaves, and pebbles.
The strike looked simple, but Ling Xiao knew better. A greatsword like that, swung down, mimicked a broadsword’s devastating power.
This was a Martial Vein Seventh Layer early-stage master’s blow, using a rare top-tier technique!
And it was likely perfected.
Masters outclassed regular fighters in martial comprehension by a mile.
But no matter how strong a move, it’s useless if it misses.
Ling Xiao, unfazed, tapped his right foot lightly, transforming into an ice dragon and soaring up, dodging effortlessly.
“What!”
Meng gaped at Ling Xiao’s movement.
Fighters wielding greatswords, broadswords, or giant axes were typically slow—their bane was agile foes like Ling Xiao.
Shock aside, he was a master who’d faced speedy opponents before.
He’d racked his brain for counters and found one.
Taking a deep breath, he hefted the greatsword like a spear, aiming at Ling Xiao’s position.
Airborne Sword Qi!
A master’s terror wasn’t just raw power—it was their gang qi turning into true essence, a deeper energy well.
Airborne sword qi burned through true essence fast, a bad deal for gang qi-stage fighters.
Masters didn’t care.
Especially when burning true essence, the qi shot out fast and could chain endlessly.
Meng stood firm, giant sword locked on Ling Xiao, true essence surging. Streams of sword qi blasted out, blanketing the sky toward him.
“He can do that?!”
Ling Xiao jolted.
No matter how quick his footwork, he couldn’t outrun sword qi—human bodies weren’t that light.
So he stopped dodging.
If Meng closed in, Ling Xiao wouldn’t dare clash directly.
But this airborne qi? Its power was diluted—lethal to a typical Sixth Layer peak fighter, maybe.
Ling Xiao wasn’t typical.
Bull Demon Art—Ice Demon!
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Explosions rippled across his body.
Meng’s face split into a triumphant grin.
“Hahaha, die, die! You punk, thinking your footwork could mess with the Dream Pill factory—clueless!”
After a barrage, figuring it was enough, Meng halted.
But as the dust cleared, his cackle morphed into a look like he’d swallowed an egg.
Mouth gaping wide enough for a rat, eyes bulging.
Ling Xiao wasn’t dead—or even scratched.
“Not bad, your airborne qi’s got punch, but against me? Not enough. Nowhere near enough.”
With Ice Demon and Nine-Turn Golden Body Art, Ling Xiao shrugged off the attack.
Even a Seventh Layer early master couldn’t touch him with it.
Energy weakens over distance, and this move traded power for speed and volume—how could it hurt him?
Meng was out of tricks.
Up close, his strikes could crush Ling Xiao, but Ling Xiao’s speed made that impossible.
Airborne qi could hit, but its weak impact did nothing.
He thought to flee.
This kid was too tricky—he needed the boss to team up, or he’d capsize in the gutter.
Could he escape?
The moment he considered it, Ling Xiao charged.
Is this kid nuts?
Up close—did he think I’d fear him?
Meng lived up to his name—brute, not brainless, but not bright either. He couldn’t fathom why Ling Xiao ditched his edge to close in.
All he knew was his chance to kill had come.
You want death? I’ll deliver!
He aimed the greatsword again, not for qi this time.
Charge Thrust!
Meng lunged forward, stabbing at decent speed.
Slower than Ling Xiao, leagues behind the qi, but this thrust maxed out the sword’s killing power.
The farther the distance, the deadlier; up close, it weakened.
Ling Xiao didn’t retreat. He drew his Ice Glass Sword and met it head-on.
Shadow King Strike!
The Heavy Shadow Sword Art’s finisher erupted.
Against a Seventh Layer early master, he wouldn’t hold back. Even if he couldn’t kill, he’d cripple.
Clang!
Greatsword met longsword midair.
Ling Xiao wasn’t playing tricks—around Meng’s blade, destructive sword qi swirled.
Bypassing it to hit Meng directly would be suicide.
He had to block and strike back hard.
Power versus power!
A head-on clash!
In that instant, three phantoms flared behind Ling Xiao—dark clouds, a cherry tree, a ghost ship.
