However, times had changed.
Lian Guanlin had just gone through a fierce battle with Fu Yinglan and had even been forced to burn part of his origin. Though his imposing might still appeared terrifying, how keen was the spiritual sense of someone at Wu Fanyu's realm?
He could clearly sense that beneath the other party's surging demonic flames lay a trace of barely noticeable instability and disorder. It was a sign that his origin had been damaged and his foundation shaken.
Burning origin was like burning a zither to cook a crane, trading future potential and present foundations for a brief eruption. Even partial burning would inevitably affect combat strength, especially endurance and fine control, both of which would be greatly diminished.
"I might not be able to defeat you..."
Wu Fanyu's heart was clear as a mirror. But if all I seek is to delay, maneuver, and hold on for a while, it may not be impossible.
What he needed to do was not defeat Lian Guanlin. That was nearly impossible, even though Lian Guanlin had already burned part of his origin.
What he needed to do was exhaust Lian Guanlin's sharpness and patience, already diminished by burning his origin, and buy Chen Fei—who was frantically purging Demonic Cultivators outside—more precious time.
Every breath might mean the fall of another Late Stage Fifteenth Order Demonic Cultivator.
As one side waned and the other waxed, the overall situation could be decided.
"Courting death!"
Seeing that Wu Fanyu actually dared to enter the field and adopt such a stubbornly defensive, delaying posture, the rage and impatience pent up in Lian Guanlin's chest could no longer be restrained. They erupted with a boom.
"Get the hell out of here!"
Lian Guanlin let out a furious roar that shook the heavens. Saying no