In the pool beneath the waterfall, two figures more agile than fish were locked in a struggle.
Zhang Heng and Seahorse had been fighting underwater for nearly ten minutes, yet neither had gained the upper hand.
Compared with ten minutes earlier, however, Zhang Heng had acquired several new injuries. Most were bruises; the only two bleeding wounds had come from his back striking sharp protrusions on the rock wall.
Of course, Zhang Heng had not paid that price for nothing. Seahorse himself was barely injured, but seven blade marks had appeared on the trident in his hand. About three minutes ago, Zhang Heng had suddenly changed tactics. Rather than targeting Seahorse, he had begun attacking the golden trident instead.
Seahorse's pressure field extended one meter around him, while the imposing trident in his hand was over two meters long. In other words, unless he kept it held against his chest, the trident would leave his pressure field whenever he swung it. That gave Zhang Heng an opening.
Seahorse had no idea what material Zhang Heng's blade was made of. It was unbelievably hard. Logically speaking, a divine artifact like the trident should not have been so fragile, but the facts left him dumbfounded.
If the first time had merely been an accident, then every subsequent clash between the blade and trident left another mark on the trident. After Zhang Heng had slashed it several times, Seahorse grew wary and proactively widened the distance between them. He had forcibly turned this cold weapon into a staff, but doing so inevitably left him somewhat constrained in the fight that followed.
Seahorse had considered hardening his heart and sacrificing the trident to eliminate the formidable enemy before him. After all, it would not be easy for Zhang Heng to destroy a B-rank divine