Scythe of the Evil Ghost

On the arena, two figures stood facing each other, the atmosphere tense.

John Truss stood tall and straight, still wearing his black metallic combat uniform.

The combat uniform shimmered with a cold and mysterious light under the sunlight.

It seems to tell everyone watching the battle that it is about to show its glory.

His tall and strong body leaned slightly forward, his rough and powerful hand tightly gripping the large spoon in his hand.

The large blade was incredibly sharp, reflecting a chilling light.

He shoved the large, pointed gong downwards onto the ground, seemingly as a show of defiance towards his opponent.

His expression was extremely arrogant, with the corners of his mouth slightly upturned and his eyes full of disdain as he looked at the other person.

His opponent, Purr, was dressed in a low-key yet cool gray samurai outfit.

The samurai outfit was made of an incredibly durable material, and as it swayed gently in the breeze, it subtly revealed Purr's agile figure.

On his back, he carried a black box. The box looked ordinary, but anyone who knew Purr knew that it contained his most powerful weapon and the key to his victory.

With the host's loud and impassioned shout of "Start!", it was as if the fuse of battle had been lit.

The two of them instantly charged toward each other like arrows released from a bow.

John Truss took the initiative, raising his greatsword high, his bulging muscles propelling the sword through the air in a sharp arc before slashing fiercely at his opponent.

The greatsword sliced through the air with a whooshing sound, its momentum seemingly capable of cleaving everything in front of it in two.

Purr, not to be outdone, nimbly sidestepped and reached back to grab something.

A huge black scythe appeared in his hand.

The scythe blade was three feet long, and its black body exuded an aura of death, as if it were a demonic weapon summoned from the Abyss of darkness.

The scythe and the greatsword clashed together, instantly producing a series of clanging metallic sounds.

The sound was extremely crisp, like the tolling of death's bell, echoing throughout the entire dueling arena.

Each impact was like a heavy hammer blow, slamming into the eardrums of everyone in the audience, causing a sharp pain in their eardrums, and prompting them to cover their ears.

However, the two remained unmoved during the battle, throwing themselves wholeheartedly into the fight.

With a sword in your hand and a sickle in mine, each attack was imbued with immense power, and the battle quickly intensified.

The two were like two ferocious cheetahs, their weapons transformed into their sharp claws, and they slashed at each other for more than a dozen rounds.

Each clash between the greatsword and the scythe sparks flew, and the intense battle made the surrounding air seem to ignite.

Then, as if by telepathy, the two exchanged another blow, and then both staggered backward more than ten meters, leaving two marks on the arena floor.

John Truss was breathing heavily, his eyes narrowed, his gaze as cold and sharp as a deep, icy pool as he looked at Purr.

His tone carried a hint of disdain and provocation. "Hmph, you've just finished warming up, now I'm going to get serious."

Purr curled his lip into a mocking smile and loudly retorted, "Don't make it sound so nice. Even if you're serious, what can you possibly be serious about?"

"In my eyes, you're nothing special, no match for me. If you don't want to get hurt, you'd better just admit defeat and surrender!"

Upon hearing this, John Truss was instantly enraged, his resolute face turning bright red with fury.

He had never been so looked down upon in his entire fighting career; this was undoubtedly a great insult to him.

"I surrender to you, my ass!" he roared, his voice like rolling Thunderclap, echoing throughout the entire arena.

As he spoke, he gripped the sword hilt tightly with both hands, his arm muscles bulging like hard rocks, so much so that the veins on his hands stretched out one by one, like small blue snakes winding under his skin.

The Longsword in his hand seemed to sense the extreme anger in the man's heart, and trembled slightly, like a raging beast about to break free of its reins.

The next moment, a clear and melodious sword cry emanated from the sword, a sound like the long cry of a phoenix piercing through the clouds.

John Truss suddenly raised his Longsword high above his head, his power seemingly connected to heaven and earth, and his aura reached its peak.

Immediately afterwards, he brought his sword down fiercely, shouting, "My River Severing Sword!"

In an instant, a strange scene appeared before everyone's eyes.

A long river seemed to appear in the sky, its waters surging and roaring, whipping up thousands of giant waves. Each wave was like a ferocious beast, seemingly carrying immense power, ready to sweep away everything in the world.

Suddenly, John Truss's Longsword appeared above the River of Blood, its blade radiating a dazzling light, like a bolt of lightning slicing through the darkness.

His sword strike, carrying an aura of World-destroying power, actually severed the rushing river in two.

The scene was so shocking that time seemed to freeze. Everyone held their breath, their eyes wide, stunned by this extraordinary sight.

However, just as the enormous sword was about to strike Purr's head, Purr remained unfazed.

A black Scythe appeared in his hand again, its Scythe gleaming with an eerie dark light.

He gripped the Scythe tightly with both hands, crossed it, and raised it upwards with lightning speed.

The moment the sword and Scythe made contact, the blade actually caught the unstoppable attack.

Then, Purr suddenly twisted his hands together, and a powerful force burst forth from his arms.

With a "crack," the massive Longsword, on which so much hope had been placed, was severed in two before everyone's astonished eyes, the broken pieces flying in all directions.

John Truss stumbled back more than 20 steps before he could regain his footing. He then held the broken sword in front of his eyes, his gaze filled with disbelief.

His Longsword was actually cut in half by the opponent's Scythe!

This sword had been with him for many years and witnessed his growth, but now it was destroyed in the other party's hands. He was heartbroken!

"You bastard, how dare you break my sword! I'll take your life!"

John Truss, his eyes bloodshot, brandished his Longsword, a piece of which had been broken off, and charged at Purr once more.

He vowed to tear that despicable bastard to pieces!

Purr's face stiffened; damn it, this bastard was going to fight to the death.

Without further ado, he bent down and pounced like a cheetah, his two Scythe, one in front and one behind, like the Scythe of the Evil Ghost, aimed at the opponent's neck to snatch away his life.