Mo Hua could tell the Evil Fetus was getting desperate.
If his enemy was anxious, he must be doing something right.
If his enemy was very anxious, he must be doing it very right.
Mo Hua struck harder.
The ancient Sword Intent within the Bamboo Sword became a massive blade, profound and heavy, shifting between substance and illusion, as indistinct as the great void. It slashed fiercely into his own Life Soul.
It felt as though someone had cleaved him in two with a single stroke.
Agony surged through him.
Mo Hua gritted his teeth and furrowed his brow, enduring the tearing pain of "self-slaying his Life Soul."
But the Evil Fetus hurt even more.
Within Mo Hua's Life Soul lay the Seven Souls.
He had struck only one: Fu Shi, the soul where the Evil Fetus dwelled.
The Evil Fetus had attached itself to Mo Hua's Life Soul, but only to that one soul. So Mo Hua had struck just one-seventh of his own.
For the Evil Fetus, the blow struck all of it.
Its pain was at least seven times his, and its injuries were seven times as severe.
Thinking of it that way, Mo Hua suddenly felt the pain wasn't so bad.
That Little Lamb dared leap in my face and disturb my Dao Heart. I'll show it!
Mo Hua steeled himself and struck three more times.
Those three blows landed with crushing force. The Evil Infant shrieked in heart-rending agony, then cursed:
"You suicidal little beast! Do you really want to die?!"
"You're slaying your own Life Soul! Aren't you afraid your soul will vanish and your body will die?!"
Mo Hua ignored the Evil Infant.
His approach was simple: if he could use his hands, he never wasted words.
He would speak after his opponent