Fierce Battle

Origin power! Having campaigned for years, he was as familiar with origin power as his daily meals; he could never mistake it. In this barren wilderness with no more than three people present, how could this fellow unleash such dense origin power? Could he have an army stationed nearby? Though bewildered, he did not forget to swing the folding-flick saber in his other hand toward He Lingchuan's waist. If his opponent blocked it head-on, the second-stage flicking blade would snap out in an arc and circle directly behind to cleave He Lingchuan in two at the waist! Having battled him this long, half the difficulty for He Lingchuan lay in his reluctance to take these folding-flick sabers head-on. Black mist curled around the blades as well, likely spreading from the Luosheng Armor. He Lingchuan did not need a second thought to know it was bad news and that he must avoid touching it at all costs. Now bolstered by origin power, however, his strength surged abruptly, catching his foe off guard. He Lingchuan gave Fusheng a wrench and a twist— He was not merely relying on clever leverage; he was adapting "Strike the Snake Along the Stick" from the Thunderbolt Spear Technique into saberplay. This stance originally targeted the opponent's weapon-wielding wrist and arm, but Fusheng's edge was still caught in the serrations of the folding-flick saber, and twisting it only locked them tighter together. With his strength now inferior to He Lingchuan's, the black-armored leader was actually wrenched sideways, bent at the waist, and stumbled! For a warrior of his caliber, losing his footing was a colossal disgrace. Yet the folding-flick saber was strapped to his arm; unlike Fusheng, he could not simply release his grip. His other folding-flick saber flew off course. The flicking blade snapped out with a sharp crack, striking right beside He Lingchuan's foot and gouging out a two-inch-deep hole. A miss was a miss. He Lingchuan did not even flinch. His inner force erupted, seizing the opportunity to deliver another vicious wrench. As two mighty combatants pitted their strength against each other, the folding-flick saber gave out first. With a dull crack, it snapped in two! The black-armored leader stumbled back two steps and stared at the fractured edge of the broken blade, disbelief flickering in his eyes. This pair of prized weapons that had accompanied him through years of campaigns and claimed countless lives—broken, just like that? With several metallic clangs, the two clashed for several more exchanges. Once He Lingchuan brought origin power to bear, the fight flowed increasingly in his favor. The divine abilities of the Luosheng Armor that had previously restrained him were drastically reduced in potency. To the black-armored leader, his opponent's strength now clearly surpassed his own, and with his right folding-flick saber snapped to half its original length, many of his intricate follow-up techniques could no longer be executed. Yet He Lingchuan could not finish him off either for the moment. The black armor was astonishingly tough; Fusheng struck the opponent twice, but both times only cracked the scale plates without biting into the leader's flesh. Moreover, black mist swirled over the armor, and within a mere dozen-odd breaths, the cracked scales repaired themselves. Even Fusheng was hardly a guaranteed can opener against such a black tin can. This was the true reason the wearer of the Luosheng Armor remained undefeated for years: It could take an absurd beating. What was more, He Lingchuan's spiritual senses warned him that the black mist on the armor and blades was far more dangerous than the leader himself; once tainted, one would likely be plagued by evil karma. Throughout this prolonged struggle, aside from weapon clashes, he had avoided any contact with the black armor and avoided sustaining injuries. The battle was both nerve-wracking and demanding of extreme caution; it had been a long time since he had fought with such exhausting strain. Just as he was pondering a solution, Dong Rui suddenly warned him through an eyeball spider, "Hey, Fu Liushan is coming!" Things that shouldn't be seen by others had better be stowed away quickly. He Lingchuan took heed, and the crimson glow around him vanished instantly. Amidst the swirling snow and mist, the two continued their fierce clash, looking no different from before. Immediately after, Fu Liushan burst from the woods, his voice booming like spring thunder: "Fu Tianlin!" This shout was not only backed by full true energy, but also incorporated a divine ability akin to the Lion's Roar, detonating like a thunderclap right beside the black-armored leader's ear and making the crimson light in his eyes waver violently. Who? Fu what? Why did that name sound familiar? His hands did not slow, yet their power dropped by thirty percent, and even the snow mist dancing in the air faltered. Fu Liushan caught this slight change immediately and pressed on: "Fu Tianlin, your wife is waiting for you! Your clansmen are waiting for you!" Wife? "Look at what this is!" Fu Liushan tossed an object toward him. As it cut through the air, it produced a shrill, wailing whistle. In the heat of battle, the black-armored leader struck at it without thinking, slashing it with his blade. Only then did he realize it was a tiny wind whistle made of red stone. A stone skin as thin as a melon seed shell was unique to Chigu. Horse herders there fashioned them into wind whistles; when galloping against the wind, one did not need to blow with effort—it whistled naturally. Silencing it was just as simple: press a small toggle. He Lingchuan had heard this whistle in Chigu before, but its impact on the black-armored leader was undeniably far greater. It was too familiar, as if it had echoed in his ears day after day, year after year. Why did this wind whistle look so familiar? Where on earth had he seen it? In the leader's mind, a smiling face flashed past. Though blurry, it pierced a ray of light into his muddled consciousness. The folding blade on his right arm finally hitched, stalling mid-strike and leaving him wide open. How could He Lingchuan let such an opportunity slip? He pursed his lips and blew a whistle—sharp, crisp, and piercing. At the sound, an object darted from his collar, shooting like an arrow straight into the left side of the black-armored leader's chest! This was precisely the weak spot Fu Liushan had mentioned earlier, the area left uncovered by the original scale armor. Earlier, when the leader fought the Yao army, he had taken an arrow here as well, but it had not pierced deeply; he had casually yanked it out, leaving behind a small hole. The presence of that hole proved that this was the sole place where the Luosheng Armor could not regenerate on its own. He Lingchuan had set his sights on this exact spot. How could the black-armored leader have anticipated a hidden weapon shooting from his opponent's chest? Distracted as he was, his heart was instantly pierced through. A streak of black blood splattered out, and he fell backward. It was Dong Rui's bat demon puppet that had landed the strike! After several modifications, the bat demon puppet incorporated the abilities of the child-devouring ji beast. In its smallest form, it was minuscule, yet possessed the power to pierce armor and rip out hearts—making it an exceptional assassin. He Lingchuan had requested it from Dong Rui and waited for the perfect moment. Sure enough, one strike had achieved full success! Small though the creature was, its power was immense. The black-armored leader was knocked backward by the impact, and immediately a gnawing sound came from within his chest—a faint, relentless chewing, like mice gnawing on dried jerky. The moment the bat burrowed into his chest, it began feasting on his heart, wasting not a single second. The leader flipped his wrist, angling his arm blade backward, and drove the blade straight into his own heart! He was actually willing to slice open his own heart just to stab the bat out. This was by no means an action any ordinary human would take. How could He Lingchuan let him have his way? Fusheng parried the folding blade and shoved it outward. The ghost ape, which had been watching intently from the side, seized the opening, lunged behind him, cast a massive net over his head, and hauled back with all its might. The ghost ape had worked with the spider demon sisters more than once or twice and had tried all sorts of applications for the burrow spider webs. Thrown over him so blindly from head to toe, the net pinned the leader's arm blades so they could not snap open, rendering them utterly useless.