The sword light was not fixed in shape. It quivered faintly, fine starlight and dancing arcs of electricity flowing along its edges, radiating an unstoppable sharpness.
Thud.
The dull sound of something heavy hitting the ground.
That massive wolf head, still frozen in a vicious expression, its eyes wide with disbelief, rolled across the ground. It bounced twice on the scorched earth before coming to a stop.
At the severed neck, the bowl-sized wound was as smooth as a mirror and charred black. Before the gushing blood could spray out, the residual high-temperature lightning at the wound's edge instantly cauterized and sealed it, leaving only a few wisps of acrid blue smoke.
But this was merely the opening prelude to this one-sided slaughter.
Han Yuchen did not stop, nor did he even glance back at the fallen corpse.
He was like a sentient Purple Lightning, darting and weaving freely through the wolf pack.
Now left, now right, his figure flickered unpredictably as he pushed Sacred Qilin Flash Strike's short-range spatial blink ability to its limits.
Every time purple-blue lightning burst forth, his figure vanished from where he stood and appeared from another unexpected angle.
Each time he reappeared, his joined sword fingers casually struck out.
There were no fixed techniques, no flashy movements.
Only the simplest and most direct—pointing, slashing, stabbing, and sweeping.
The foot-long Star Sword Light at his fingertips fused the sharpness of the Power of Stars, the annihilating ferocity of lightning, and Penetration. It tore through the Wolf Bandits' tough hides and thick muscles, which could withstand ordinary blades, as easily as a hot knife through butter.
Every flash of sword light was accompanied by either a dull or crisp slicing sound, followed by a Wolf Bandit corpse crashing to the ground.
Some had their throats pierced,