The two had already exchanged over a hundred rounds. Sword Light intertwined, Sword Qi crisscrossed, and the Green Stone floor of the arena was covered in sword scars, yet victory remained undecided. Zhou Peng's expression grew increasingly grave. His brows were tightly furrowed, his eyes full of disbelief. He had never imagined that Shen Hao's strength would be so formidable. Not only was Shen Hao's movement technique bizarre, but his spiritual energy's resilience far surpassed that of cultivators at the same level, allowing him to withstand Zhou Peng's fierce assault for over a hundred rounds.
The prolonged high-intensity attacks had greatly drained Zhou Peng's spiritual energy. His breathing had become somewhat disordered, and the wrist holding his sword was beginning to ache. Though his sword moves remained sharp, they had slowed by several degrees, and there were far more openings than at the start.
Shen Hao's situation was no better. Although his Spirit Devouring Vortex could slowly devour the spiritual energy in the air to replenish his own expenditure, Zhou Peng's attacks were far too fierce. He had devoted most of his focus to evading and blocking, leaving him no time to drive the Spirit Devouring Vortex at full strength. By now, more than half of his spiritual energy had been consumed. His chest felt faintly stifled, and beads of sweat slid down his cheeks, falling onto the arena and evaporating instantly.
I can't keep this up! Shen Hao thought. If this continued, his spiritual energy would sooner or later run dry, and then defeat would be inevitable. He had to take the initiative and reveal one of his trump cards.
He took a deep breath and made a bold decision. He suddenly stopped evading, standing firmly in place with the Flying Sword held across his chest, his blazing gaze