At the other end of the canyon, a majestic lion appeared, its golden fur gleaming as it strode forward.
Awe-inspiring.
On the lion’s back sat an old man.
He was ancient, his skin wrinkled like dried vegetables, covered in age spots. His sunken eye sockets looked like they’d been blasted by a shotgun, his flattened nose nearly covering his nostrils, revealing uneven, blackened teeth.
His appearance was ghastly.
He wore a white robe, a wizard’s hat, a golden collar around his neck, and held a gem-encrusted scepter.
Ye Qiu’s eyes flashed with caution.
Though hundreds of meters away, he sensed extreme danger emanating from the old man.
“He’s the Brahmin High Priest, Asaman,” Ye Wudi said, recognizing him. “Ye Qiu, run!”
Swish!
Gunuir flashed, appearing a dozen meters behind Ye Wudi, blocking their retreat with a sinister grin. “No one escapes today.”
“I planned to kill Xiao Jiu, but Ye Wudi, you’re here too.”
“Perfect. I’ll take you all down!”
Gunuir shouted, “Gumu, kill that kid!”
With Asaman’s presence boosting his confidence, Gumu gripped his heavy sword, swinging it at Ye Qiu’s head with thunderous force, wielding it like a baseball bat.
Ye Qiu punched back.
Clang!
Fist met sword.
Ye Qiu staggered back a dozen steps, steadying himself, shocked as he looked at Gumu.
He hadn’t expected Gumu’s strength to be so immense, several times greater than Singh’s.
Careless!
“Surprised by my strength, kid?” Gumu smirked. “I’ll let you in on a secret: I bested Singh in a strength contest. Only he and I knew.”
Grinning, Gumu charged, swinging his sword down at Ye Qiu.
This time, Ye Qiu didn’t meet it head-on. Using agile footwork, he dodged to the side.
Gumu shifted, gripping the hilt with both hands, slicing horizontally at Ye Qiu.
If it connected, Ye Qiu would be bisected.
Ye Qiu retreated again.
Gumu pressed forward, wielding the heavy sword like a samurai blade, slashing vertically and horizontally with ferocious abandon.
“Where’s that finger-sword qi of yours? Use it!” Gumu taunted, forcing Ye Qiu back with relentless swings, his face twisted in a savage grin.
Ye Qiu held back his Six Meridians Divine Sword, wary of Asaman.
The old man was the fourth-ranked on the God List. If he acted, anything could happen, so Ye Qiu kept his trump card hidden.
“I’m not Singh, kid. No ultimate move? Then die!” Gumu roared, changing tactics.
He thrust his heavy sword straight at Ye Qiu’s heart.
In his hands, the hundreds-of-pounds sword moved as lightly as a thin dagger.
As the sword lunged, Ye Qiu sidestepped, the blade grazing his chest.
Lightning-fast, Ye Qiu grabbed the blade with his left hand and punched Gumu’s chest.
Gumu tried to defend with the sword, but Ye Qiu’s grip held it fast, preventing him from pulling it back.
With no choice, Gumu threw a punch to meet Ye Qiu’s.
As their fists neared, Gumu saw Ye Qiu’s lips curl into a slight smile.
Why was he smiling now?
A bad feeling hit Gumu. Then, Ye Qiu opened his fist, pointing a finger.
Whoosh!
A sword qi shot out, piercing Gumu’s fist.
“Argh!” Gumu screamed in pain but didn’t stop, his fist still hurtling toward Ye Qiu.
Ye Qiu ducked, evading the punch, and unleashed another Six Meridians Divine Sword.
Whoosh!
This qi aimed for Gumu’s head.
Gumu reacted swiftly, mimicking Ye Qiu by ducking low to dodge.
But as he crouched, another sword qi appeared before him.
This was the true killing strike!
No way to evade.
In a split second, Gumu bit down hard, raising his arm to block the Six Meridians Divine Sword, saving his head.
Splatter!
The qi punched a bloody hole through his arm, the force sending him flying backward.
The heavy sword landed in Ye Qiu’s hands.
Cautious, Gumu flipped multiple times in midair to avoid Ye Qiu pursuing as he had with Singh, landing steadily.
Looking down, he saw a blood hole in his hand and another in his arm.
Blood gushed like a fountain from both wounds.
Ignoring the injuries, Gumu glared at Ye Qiu. “You dare wound me? You’re dead!”
“Wounding you? I’m going to kill you,” Ye Qiu said with a smile.
Gumu scoffed, “You? Kill me? I’ll tear you to pieces today.”
“Big talk. Your sword’s in my hands. How will you do it?” Ye Qiu hefted the heavy sword, feeling its weight—seven or eight hundred pounds, heavier than expected.
It couldn’t be pure iron; other materials were mixed in.
Curious, Ye Qiu asked, “Does this sword have a name? What’s it made of? Why’s it so heavy?”
Gumu said coldly, “It’s called the Murder Sword, forged by the High Priest. Pure iron mixed with gold, silver, copper, and tin. Edged or not, it’s a killing weapon.”
“Kid, return it now.”
“If you don’t, I’ll kill you with it, chop your corpse to bits, and feed it to dogs.”
Even now, Gumu threatened Ye Qiu.
He didn’t know Ye Qiu took kindly to persuasion but loathed threats.
Ye Qiu sneered, “Your Chinese is fluent. You must know some of our culture.”
“There’s an old saying in our country—have you heard it?”
“‘Sword in hand, man lives; sword breaks, man dies.’”
With a forceful twist—
Crack!
The heavy sword snapped in two.
