Facing Zuo Leng, Ling Xiao dared not be careless. The thunderous true essence, inherited from Master Baiyun but altered by his Mountain River Martial Soul, was distinct enough that even Master Baiyun would only be surprised, not suspicious.
Boom!
A palm and a fist, both wreathed in purple-blue lightning, collided.
The air compressed violently, then exploded outward, electric currents scattering wildly.
On Life-and-Death Cliff, massive rocks shattered, debris flying like falling meteors. The mountain trembled, and all spectators except Ming Tian and Master Baiyun retreated.
After the clash, both recoiled involuntarily, then steadied themselves almost simultaneously.
“So strong—both of them!” someone exclaimed.
“Zuo Leng’s palm was more powerful, but Ling Xiao’s fist technique was more refined, diverting part of the force into the air, neutralizing the threat. That’s why they’re evenly matched,” Master Baiyun observed, his keen eyes pinpointing the cause.
“For now, they’re equal, but Zuo Leng was likely just testing. He’s cautious and won’t reveal his full strength yet. Ling Xiao’s in for trouble,” another commented.
Others whispered, convinced Zuo Leng held back while Ling Xiao gave his all.
They couldn’t fathom an early eighth-layer matching an early ninth-layer without Zuo Leng restraining himself.
Steadying himself, Zuo Leng stared at Ling Xiao, eyes flashing with shock and a hint of embarrassment.
He’d assumed his early ninth-layer cultivation, even with a casual strike, could crush Ling Xiao. Cautious by nature, he’d employed his Great Perfection defensive art, aiming to reduce Ling Xiao to ash in one blow to avoid complications.
His punch could kill a low-tier ninth-level beast effortlessly.
Was Ling Xiao’s body as formidable as his swordsmanship? If so, he was monstrously talented.
Perhaps Master Baiyun had misjudged him.
The stronger Ling Xiao proved, the more Zuo Leng wanted him dead. He couldn’t risk ending up like Li Xinghui, killed by an underestimated foe. If Ling Xiao grew further, Zuo Leng foresaw only flight in future battlefield encounters.
“Hmph, let’s see how long your golden hide holds!” Zuo Leng sneered, launching another attack.
This time, he forwent palm strikes, drawing a current-flowing treasure sword and thrusting forward.
The purple-blue sword conjured a flurry of shadows, each strike lethal and ruthless.
Ling Xiao recognized the sword as a fine treasure weapon, like his Snowfall Sword.
Yet, facing such ferocious attacks, he didn’t draw a weapon.
Though a life-and-death battle, his soul-entered state ensured no surprises. He saw no need for weapons.
Zuo Leng was holding back, so Ling Xiao saw no reason to reveal his full strength, conserving true essence.
One with a sword, the other with fists, they clashed on the cliff for fifty exchanges.
After fifty moves, Zuo Leng grew impatient.
Retreating, he grinned menacingly. “You’re strong, but you must die!”
He abandoned defense, channeling nearly eighty percent of his true essence into offense.
With Amaterasu Flame Armor, he likely saw no need to defend.
Dropping defense, his attack speed surged, his moves growing sharper.
If Ling Xiao maintained balanced offense and defense, he’d be at a disadvantage. Zuo Leng’s speed, precision, and ninth-layer true essence could inflict serious damage.
Full defense would leave him passive, and that wasn’t Ling Xiao’s style.
In a flash, Ling Xiao made his choice.
His aura exploded, surging to late eighth-layer!
Like Zuo Leng, he abandoned defense, pouring true essence into offense, his thunder-wreathed fists hammering relentlessly.
Clang! Crack!
Zuo Leng’s sword struck Ling Xiao, sparking but doing no harm.
Ling Xiao’s fist hit Zuo Leng, resounding loudly but equally ineffective.
Zuo Leng sneered, his sword not retreating but attacking more fiercely.
Knowing Ling Xiao couldn’t hurt him, he had nothing to fear. It was a contest of whose body would break first.
Clang! Crack! Clang! Crack…
They stood their ground, trading blows without dodging.
Both were struck countless times, every inch of their bodies targeted.
Zuo Leng’s sword pierced Ling Xiao’s throat several times.
Ling Xiao’s fists pounded Zuo Leng’s head repeatedly.
Spectators struggled to process this mad, fearless combat style.
“Insane! I’d never fight them!” one gasped.
“Their defenses are terrifying. Our attacks would be like tickling them,” another said.
“Zuo Leng has Amaterasu Black Flame Technique, but what’s Ling Xiao’s art? It’s not inferior at all!”
“No idea, but it’s not Nine Turns Golden Body Art!”
“This guy’s full of secrets. He’s trouble.”
Even Master Baiyun began to regret his stance. Ling Xiao’s performance exceeded his expectations.
He wasn’t worried about losing face but about losing Ling Xiao—a potential waste.
“I should’ve stopped this duel,” he sighed, yet didn’t intervene. He felt pity for Ling Xiao but not enough to protect him. For Zuo Leng or Ming Tian, he’d have stepped in.
After another fifty exchanges—totaling a hundred—Zuo Leng grew visibly anxious.
Failing to defeat Ling Xiao with early ninth-layer cultivation fueled his rage.
Ling Xiao’s defense was beyond expectation, clearly matching his own in quality.
Continuing this way was pointless.
