Bang! Bang! Bang!
Palm shadows struck the empty air, exploding with thunderous booms. Countless palm shadows imprinted themselves throughout the void, descending over Ji Shu's entire body as though they meant to smash him to pieces!
Master Fangzheng's eyes were wide with fury. He put all his strength into his palms, each strike unleashing a rumbling crash of thunder. He clearly meant to kill Ji Shu.
Ji Shu's sword was dreamlike and illusory. At times, it resembled surging waves, each crest rising higher than the last, its sword light hazy as though it could "slam" a man to death upon the shore; at other times, it was like drifting fallen leaves, light and ethereal, without edge or trace, its changes impossible to discern. One instant it was on the left; the next, it suddenly lunged straight for a man's heart.
His sword was too fast!
Beneath its grand and majestic surface lurked treachery and viciousness.
The moment he struck, it was a killing blow!
Clang!
Clang! Clang! Clang!
The two had exchanged blows for no more than two breaths. Amid the ringing clashes, Master Fangzheng retreated again and again. Then he unleashed a Buddhist Lion's Roar, its sound waves shaking the heavens. Ji Shu's eardrums swelled from the roar, and as he faltered slightly, Master Fangzheng seized the chance to leap out of the battle circle and bellowed:
"Where are the Eighteen Arhats?"
"Whoosh! Whoosh!"
The monks surrounding the battlefield immediately charged forward. Each held a staff, forming a battle array as they savagely struck at Ji Shu's vital points.
They used Shaolin Temple's ultimate art: the 108 Forms of the Mad Demon Staff Technique!
Every staff blow was immensely powerful and heavy, as though they were possessed by mad demons. They carried the savage momentum of perishing together with