The fat woman wasn’t in much better shape, the bloody aura around her had vanished, and her figure had returned to normal. She was covered in blood, utterly dishevelled, her breathing erratic, yet she still stood tall, clearly the victor of this duel.
“Mo Chen, you’ve lost!” the fat woman’s voice was hoarse, tinged with a hint of triumph.
Mo Chen looked at her, his eyes filled with reluctance but also helplessness. He had indeed lost, and thoroughly so.
The surrounding Sword Sect disciples hurriedly stepped forward to support Mo Chen, their faces filled with grief and indignation, yet none dared to act rashly.
They all knew that if even their master wasn’t her match, rushing in would only mean certain death.
The fat woman’s gaze swept over the Sword Sect crowd, finally landing on Chen Ping, who lay on the ground. A glint of murderous intent flashed in her eyes, “Now, it’s time to settle the remaining matters!”
Ling Xue stood in front of Chen Ping, trembling with fear but summoning her courage to say, “You, you can’t touch him!”
The fat woman sneered, “A little girl dares to stand in my way? Get lost!”
With a wave of her hand, a powerful gust of air sent Ling Xue flying.
Just as the fat woman’s palm was about to strike Chen Ping, a faint but resolute voice rang out, “I’m, not dead yet…”
Everyone turned to the source of the voice and saw Chen Ping slowly crawling up from the ground. He was covered in wounds, several bones likely broken, each movement causing him to grimace in pain, but his eyes remained bright, his indomitable will like a lighthouse in the dark, never extinguished.
He looked at the fat woman, the corner of his mouth even curling into a smile, though it was uglier than crying, “Want, to kill me, it’s not that easy…”
The fat woman looked at him, a trace of surprise flickering in her eyes, quickly replaced by anger, “You ignorant fool! Die!”
This time, no one could stop her. Everyone closed their eyes, unable to bear watching Chen Ping’s tragic end.
The fat woman’s palm, brimming with immense spiritual power, came whistling down towards Chen Ping’s head. If this strike landed, even nine lives wouldn’t save him.
The Sword Sect disciples let out cries of despair, Ling Xue sobbed uncontrollably, turning her head away, unable to watch. Mo Chen, overcome with rage, tried to struggle forward to stop her but was too weak, forced to watch the tragedy unfold.
At that critical moment, a burly figure appeared as if from nowhere, rushing in front of Chen Ping and shielding him with a broad back.
The fat woman’s palm stopped abruptly less than an inch from the figure, her eyes, once filled with murderous intent, now wide with shock, then replaced by incredulous joy as she recognised the familiar silhouette.
Everyone else was stunned, turning to look at this unexpected intruder.
Chen Ping’s mind was full of questions, back when he and Hu Mazi left the city, they hadn’t found any trace of Nan Batian.
Nan Batian turned around, standing protectively in front of Chen Ping, his gaze calm as he looked at the fat woman and said firmly, “If you want to kill him, you’ll have to kill me first.”
The fat woman looked at Nan Batian’s sharply defined face, her previously ferocious expression vanishing without a trace, replaced by a complex mix of shyness, joy, and grievance.
Her voice softened, completely unlike before, “You, how did you get here?”
This sudden change left everyone dumbfounded, their jaws practically hitting the ground.
