Chu Sai'en took the offensive, his force incomparably fierce. Let alone Xiang Yang's flesh-and-blood body, even a hill would have been torn to powder by this berserk blow for which he had abandoned defense.
Hu Yulu specialized in restraint. Xiang Yang's movement technique and lightness skill were simply too formidable, incomparably agile. If Chu Sai'en's deathblow could not hit Xiang Yang, the two of them might as well disarm and surrender.
There was no time to consider a countermeasure, because there was no longer any time. Xiang Yang relied only on his body's instinctive response in the face of extreme danger.
Unable to evade Hu Yulu's bear hug, Xiang Yang had no need to dodge. The index finger of his right hand flashed forth like swift lightning, and a thread of black silkworm silk, fine as gossamer, shot out from between his fingers. It became a flying dragon coiling and whirling like a vortex, wrapping around Hu Yulu's arms, thick and sturdy as iron pillars. With a slight tremble of his fingertip, an incomparably soft and illusory force burst forth from the silk.
Blood-red radiance enveloped Hu Yulu's body. He was just about to seize Xiang Yang in his embrace and make him take Chu Sai'en's full-force strike head-on.
Suddenly, his arms went numb. A power like a bursting mountain flood, yet incomparably familiar, surged out from that tiny strand of silkworm silk and directly shattered his arms, which seemed forged from vajra. They twisted grotesquely at the elbows, losing all shape.
If anyone could see through flesh, they would have discovered that the bones in Hu Yulu's arms now resembled shattered porcelain bowls, covered in cracks. Recovery was likely nothing more than a vain hope.
In the instant before the most extreme pain erupted, Hu Yulu's eyes filled with