“Damn it, can you two fight without wrecking the protective barrier? Are you trying to work us old folks to death?” an elderly referee grumbled, his teeth gritted, though his face showed excitement.
To him, the youngsters’ battle wasn’t much, but such terrifying attacks at their age were extraordinary. Honestly, despite the hassle, he was thrilled to see such remarkable young heroes on the Heavenly Dragon Continent.
Ji Mingkong steadied herself, looking at the shattered barrier with an unpleasant expression. Her speed made it unlikely for Ling Xiao’s attack to hit her, but if it did, even her defences would leave her injured.
With a cold snort, her aura surged, the Heavenly Essence Force on her sword intensifying. But in an instant, her pupils contracted sharply. Ling Xiao had suddenly appeared inches from her.
“Damn it, a clone!” Ji Mingkong cursed.
Ling Xiao’s clones were physical, crafted from swords, soul power, and special techniques. Being tangible, they were nearly indistinguishable from the real thing, even to Mo Wushang’s demonic eyes.
That was the terror of physical clones—no difference from the original unless they attacked.
“Ah!” Several Heavenly King Sect elders leapt up from the stands, fearing Ji Mingkong would be harmed.
Yet her response was better than expected. Her slender sword flicked, creating sharp rings of Heavenly Essence Force, each fortified by a thick protective wall equivalent to her body’s defence.
For Ling Xiao to pierce all those walls without injury was nearly impossible.
While executing her move, Ji Mingkong retreated swiftly, knowing she was being suppressed. She needed to escape Ling Xiao’s onslaught to counterattack.
But Ling Xiao, like a fearless barbarian, ignored the sharp rings and charged straight in. Black-gold light shimmered on his Golden Light Dragon Wings, boosting his speed further. The rings shattered, slowing his advance but leaving no mark on him.
“I almost forgot—this kid’s defence is even tougher than Long Chen’s,” a martial artist in the stands exclaimed, slapping his forehead.
Ji Mingkong noticed too, her face showing surprise.
“No matter how strong your defence, it’s meaningless under my sword!” she sneered, preparing to counterattack and regain the advantage as Ling Xiao’s speed slowed.
But then, a chilling sensation crept up her spine, so cold it made her shudder.
She didn’t look back—she knew there was no time.
She hadn’t anticipated Ling Xiao could use one sword soul clone, let alone two or three.
Behind her, another Ling Xiao’s Purple Lightning Sword brimmed with peak power, its Heavenly Essence Force roiling like boiling water. With a ferocious thrust, it struck her squarely in the back.
Though lacking Mortal Realm cultivation, Ling Xiao had pushed this strike to its limit. The air exploded with a sonic boom, deafening nearby martial artists.
“Shadow Transformation Sword Art, Second Form: Raging Sea, Thousand-Layer Waves!” Ling Xiao roared internally, the Purple Lightning Sword’s power surging wildly. His Heavenly Essence Force turned into crashing waves, slamming into Ji Mingkong.
Under the shocked gazes of all, wave after wave of ferocious force pounded her back. She had no chance to dodge.
The relentless power sent her flying like debris, fragile as a flower trampled by wild oxen.
Ling Xiao exhaled, retracting his Purple Lightning Sword. The two sword soul clones merged back into his body.
The attack continued, unrelenting. The Shadow Transformation Sword Art’s second form was fearsome for its continuous, overpowering strikes. Blocking the first wave meant enduring the next, something ordinary fighters couldn’t withstand.
Though Ji Mingkong was no ordinary fighter, she was still flung toward the arena’s edge, about to fall off.
“What! The Holy Son lost?” Countless onlookers stared in disbelief as Ji Mingkong hurtled toward the arena’s edge, their faces filled with shock.
This was the Holy Son, leader of the Holy Dynasty’s six prodigies, the top contender for “Chosen One,” defeated so easily?
But those familiar with her remained calm. If she lost this easily, she wouldn’t be the Holy Son or leader of the six prodigies.
All eyes were on the arena. Ji Mingkong’s descent slowed, showing she was countering Ling Xiao’s attack.
Even so, being knocked away was a humiliation, darkening the faces of many Heavenly King Sect members. Their disdain for Ling Xiao now seemed like mockery of Ji Mingkong.
“Hmph, the kid’s attack is impressive,” the chief referee snorted, his feelings about Ling Xiao mixed.
“Indeed, but while fierce, it lacks the power to seriously harm the Holy Son. The second level of the Heavenly Mechanism Sword Technique, ‘Sky Dance,’ is remarkable,” another referee said, stroking his beard.
“True, the Holy Son’s strength at her age is rare, likely the closest to Yu Xuanyue. The Heavenly King Sect and Holy Dynasty have spared no effort in her training,” another referee nodded. “Ling Xiao’s last strike was probably his strongest. If that’s all he has, he’ll lose to the Holy Son.”
“Not necessarily. He seems to have expected this move wouldn’t work. Look at his expression—still calm. If he’s not pretending, he’s hiding something,” another said.
“What kind of hidden move could be so effective that even the chief referee can’t see it?”
