Facing the pincer attack of the two, Zhao Zhenye defended with consummate solidity. Every strike and stance was pitched to perfection. Even fighting one against two, relying on his masterfully practiced moves and techniques, he parried and broke through every strike coming his way, even finding gaps to launch counterattacks.
A white halo enveloped him—a force field that arose only after fully mastering the Grand Firmament Forms. At this moment, however, it was tightly contracted within half a foot of his body, appearing exceptionally dense and solid, which caused any offensive coming close to stall for a beat.
Mr. Zhuan had likewise mastered several forms of the Grand Firmament Forms, as well as the corresponding Grand Radiant Light Forms. When the two drew close, their force fields ground against each other and clashed, gradually forming a swirling tornado around them that churned straight into the sky, filled with erratically flickering radiance.
Soon, their battle was no longer confined to the skies above the island, spreading out over the surrounding sea. Vast amounts of seawater were swept up, whirling around the three of them before being ripped into countless droplets from time to time, scattering outward like torrential rain.
Mr. Mask communicated mentally at this moment: "Old Zhuan, this guy's foundation is too solid. His defense is rock-steady, and his moves are so practiced that if this keeps going, we might not get anywhere even after a full day."
Mr. Zhuan said, "Then use that thing."
"Use it now? Isn't it a bit too early? I get the feeling the kid still has cards up his sleeve. How about waiting a bit longer? Wear down more of his stamina first. Besides, he's bound to fear we have reinforcements coming, so he should take the initiative to break the stalemate. We can counter him then. What do you think?"
Mr. Zhuan didn't answer, evidently agreeing with his suggestion.
Over the following moments, they watched for opportunities and launched several coordinated strikes, but the results were underwhelming. Zhao Zhenye had raised his guard; at the slightest sign of an offensive, he immediately opened distance. Having erupted with full force once already, the two found it difficult to burst forth again in the short term, so they continued to maintain the current standoff.
Zhao Zhenye remained unhurried, seemingly in no rush to defeat them.
For a time, the situation fell into a deadlock, and all three appeared to be waiting for something.
In the blink of an eye, half a day slipped by. Along one side of the island, the clashes of their power had erased any continuous stretch of tidal flats.
Compared to before, none of the three looked visibly drained, nor did they show the slightest sign of diminished combat capability; if anything, the commotion and destructive power generated between their clashes seemed even greater than before.
Yet that was far from the truth. Maintaining such a high-intensity state every single second placed an immense drain on both sides' strength; their actual stamina was likely down to less than half of what they had begun with.
It was merely that all three could regulate their internal forces exceptionally well, keeping them consistently at a fixed intensity. However, doing so came at the cost of doubled consumption; the longer it dragged on, the heavier the burden borne by their mutated tissue.
When moves could not break the deadlock, it became a contest of inner reserves and endurance. In such circumstances, even the slightest shortfall or flaw would be magnified twofold.
Mr. Zhuan communicated mentally at this point: "About time."
This time Mr. Mask did not argue. If they kept fighting like this, they couldn't guarantee they wouldn't run into trouble themselves.
With a tug of his consciousness, the suitcase they had brought gave a tremor. The case sprang open, and a stone block carved with Buddhist scriptures and Chan writings rolled out. Once outside, it suddenly shuddered, emitting a buzzing hum.
Zhao Zhenye had been keeping an eye on that suitcase all along. However, he knew that since the two had brought it over and tossed it aside without guarding it, they definitely weren't afraid of him destroying it. Uncertain of what it was, he had kept his distance as much as possible. But the moment he saw the object, his expression shifted slightly, and he immediately pulled back into the distance.
Yet Mr. Zhuan had prepared for this, instantly stepping forward to intensify his assault. Mr. Mask cooperated from the side, cutting off Zhao's retreat. In a flash, both sides exchanged over a dozen strikes; though it cost them some extra stamina, they succeeded in pinning him down.
At this precise moment, the sound finally caught up to the three, sweeping across where they stood.
All three seemed to freeze for an instant before resuming their clash. But unlike their prior exchanges, their movements appeared sluggish. At times, they forgot to dodge; at other times, despite landing a punch squarely on the opponent, there was little force behind the fist, and the fire of spirituality failed to ignite, doing no more than shoving the target back.
This object was known as the "Mind-Knocking Block," a ritual implement of the old Chan Sect. By the standards of the new era, it was rated at least as a Tier 3 relic. It rang of its own accord, and anyone who heard it would instantly forget certain things.
Be it techniques one had once learned, or capabilities inherent to oneself. Though the effect was only fleeting, without proper regulation and mental stabilization, lingering traces would remain within one's conscious memory and continuously afflict the victim.
Moreover, the sound made no distinction between friend and foe, acting on everyone alike; all three present were struck simultaneously. However, Mr. Zhuan and Mr. Mask had undergone rigorous tempering beforehand and had built up a degree of resistance against the relic, which was the advantage they held.
When this sound washed over them, what was forgotten was the possession of spiritual power. This forgetting was not a temporary lapse of memory; rather, the body forgot it entirely, as though such a thing had never existed in the first place.
Yet at least half of a martial artist's power was grounded in spiritual strength. This single lapse stripped away most of their combat efficacy—not only were their attacks feeble, but their evasions lost much of their coordination, and neither side could deal any real damage in their trades.
It also caused all three to plummet from midair. Yet merely half a second later, they recalled their complete selves and broke free from that state one after another.
Having undergone adaptation training, Mr. Zhuan and his partner recovered faster after all, immediately launching an attack on Zhao Zhenye first.
Yet while Zhao Zhenye's own body was powerless, the external visage behind him moved first, intercepting their respective assaults. Although Mr. Zhuan's external visage subsequently thrust its spear, scattering the better part of Zhao's visage, it bought Zhao a sliver of time, allowing him to recover just in time to parry their follow-up strikes.
Mr. Zhuan and Mr. Mask redoubled their onslaught, intending to shatter his defense before his external visage could reform. To their surprise, in just a single breath, his visage condensed anew. Sensing something abnormal, both inwardly raised their guard.
After exchanging dozens more blows, the Mind-Knocking Block gave another deep chime. This time, all three forgot they had hands. Though they had not physically lost them, an error in conscious judgment caused both Zhao Zhenye and Mr. Zhuan to lose their balance.
And this time was the opening Mr. Mask had been waiting for.
As a Visage of the Divine, he had no concrete physical body and was completely unaffected by center of gravity. At the first chime, he had forgotten how to use spiritual power, rendering him barely able to perceive his own existence. But now, he drove a direct kick through the gap, striking Zhao Zhenye squarely on the shoulder. A burst of sparks scattered, knocking Zhao sideways.
Mr. Zhuan recovered immediately afterward, hooking his sickle toward Zhao's collarbone. Zhao's external visage moved up in time to block, keeping him at bay, yet Mr. Zhuan's external visage twirled its red-tasseled spear with a bang, striking Zhao on the head and causing a blinding burst of fiery light.
Zhao Zhenye flew outward from the blow. Mr. Mask spiraled after him, and Mr. Zhuan strode forward, stepping up the offensive tempo.
Forced to curl his body in defense, Zhao Zhenye suffered a breach that disrupted his previously seamless rhythm. A martial artist's offense and defense, movement and evasion, even breathing and thought, had to operate from a prepared state to face an enemy with composure. Now that this baseline was shattered, control over the battle was instantly lost. Under their continuous assault, the fire of spirituality covering his body rapidly eroded and crumbled.
By Zhao Zhenye's ear, that voice rang out: "How long do you intend to drag this out? Their skills are just as refined. If you want to exhaust their strength while matching them in speed and power, it'll take at least a day. By then, people from both Center Cities will have had plenty of time to arrive. Finish them off quickly."
Beneath the bangs over his brow, a sharp glint flashed in Zhao Zhenye's eyes. At that moment, the fire of spirituality that had been suppressed on his body surged outward with unprecedented fury.
Both Mr. Zhuan and Mr. Mask felt a chill. The momentum of this surge of spiritual fire was so fierce that they were forced to back away.
Zhao Zhenye hovered in midair, slowly stretching his limbs. Behind him, a colossal figure floated suspended, silvery-white flame wafting from top to bottom.
He looked at the two of them. "Originally, I didn't want to do this. But the two of you are very strong; I have no choice but to make this move."
As he spoke, something seemed to unlock within his body, and his aura began steadily climbing.
Mr. Mask said, "Old Zhuan, this looks bad."
They could sense that this was definitely not from Zhao Zhenye taking any medicine or activating some formidable relic; it was undeniably his own power. It was as if he was releasing strength he had previously kept restrained.
Mr. Zhuan stared gravely at his opponent, sensing something far deeper at this moment. He said in a low voice, "Old Tang, we have to risk our lives."
Mr. Mask said, "Old Zhuan, you're right, we're putting our lives on the line. Keep yourself alive—I'd hate not to see you next time."
Mr. Zhuan said, "Enough talk." As he spoke, light began spilling from his body; he was beginning to burn his life energy. His strength would skyrocket in the short term, but even if he won afterward, it would greatly increase the risk of self-mutation.
After a brief standoff, Mr. Mask once more took the lead, rushing forward in a streak of smoke. Yet the moment he reached Zhao Zhenye, the latter simply reached out and caught Mr. Mask's facepiece in his grip, halting his advance dead in its tracks.
Zhao Zhenye said slowly, "The time was not yet right; I did not wish to unleash this power so soon. But—" Applying force with his five fingers, *crack*, the entire mask shattered, and the figure attached behind it instantly dissolved into wisps of scattering smoke.
Mr. Zhuan's pupils contracted. Suddenly sensing something amiss, his body went abruptly limp. Looking down, he saw a fist punch straight through his chest, while Zhao Zhenye's voice sounded by his ear: "If I don't do this, you will hardly settle down."
Feeling the overwhelming, boundless power emanating from his foe at point-blank range, Mr. Zhuan's breath hitched. "Is this... the Longevity View?"
Chapter 985