In Jiao Ming's eyes, although Xu Yan's strength had been beyond his expectations, wanting to kill him with three swords was undoubtedly a fool's dream.
What he cultivated was a powerful fist technique of his faction.
Its might was formidable. Every punch was surrounded by starlight, as though celestial stars were plunging from the heavens, carrying the power of destruction.
Although he had only just begun cultivating it and the power of destruction was not particularly strong, destroying this illusory scene before him was no problem at all.
Among Lesser Heavenly Humans, Jiao Ming could not be considered a powerhouse, but neither was he weak.
Jiao Ming was brimming with confidence in this punch. It was more than enough to destroy this illusory image. Then, he would seize the opportunity to launch a powerful offensive and suppress his opponent!
Whoosh!
A gentle breeze brushed past. Jiao Ming froze. Where had this wind come from?
How could it ignore the force of his fist and blow onto his body?
Suddenly, he felt a splitting pain in his head. His divine might wavered, his vision darkened, and his head spun.
That gentle breeze had not brushed over his body. It had blown into his consciousness, blowing onto his own spirit!
The breeze was fine and delicate, yet in an instant, it became sharply murderous, as though it were strangling his mental consciousness!
Pfft!
Jiao Ming's body swayed, the radiance of his fist dimmed, and his entire person began to totter.
"Damn it!"
Jiao Ming was horrified. What kind of technique was this? It had actually struck directly at his Spirit-Gathering Body.
The Lesser Heavenly Human Realm was the Spirit-Gathering stage, in which one condensed one's own spirit. Although it possessed mighty divine power, the Spirit-Gathering Body itself was extremely illusory and frail.