Extreme Iron Sand Palm, Drawing the Blade to Kill

Bam! Bam! Bam!

The alley echoed with fierce collisions as two figures darted back and forth.

The Yellow-Clothed Woman moved with agility, her swordsmanship honed to a formidable level, every motion radiating the sharp edge of her blade.

Yet even so, she couldn't subdue Zhao Kuo.

Zhao Kuo's footwork was inferior to the Yellow-Clothed Woman's, but his arms seemed to be clad in armor.

Relying on the sturdy defense of that armor, he easily deflected her various attacks.

The two clashed rapidly in the cramped, narrow alley. After one violent collision, both retreated.

The Yellow-Clothed Woman stared at Zhao Kuo with a grim expression, her hand gripping the Precious Sword trembling slightly.

Zhao Kuo caught sight of this. He grunted, his arms jerking sharply to shed the residual force.

Then he looked at her and sneered, "Plenty of people want me dead. And you think you're enough?"

"I am enough!"

Hearing this, the Yellow-Clothed Woman took a deep breath, her body flickering like a ghost as she lunged at Zhao Kuo once more.

After their earlier exchange, Zhao Kuo's face was calm. Facing her assault, he stepped forward instead of retreating.

Bam! Bam! Bam!

The blade and armor clashed again, producing a grating screech that reverberated through the alley.

The Yellow-Clothed Woman's sword darted like a fish, weaving in all directions as she stabbed at Zhao Kuo with nimble footwork.

"Huh?"

Her attack blocked, the Yellow-Clothed Woman's expression tightened, but she quickly recovered, pulling back the Precious Sword.

Seizing the moment before Zhao Kuo could react, she thrust the sword straight at his chest.

She expected that even if she couldn't kill him, she'd at least wound him.

But the sudden resistance made her expression freeze.

This bastard was even wearing Soft Armor!

"Hahaha!"

Seeing the Yellow-Clothed Woman stunned, Zhao Kuo burst into wild laughter, his movements losing no speed.

"Break!"

With a low roar, his arms erupted with brutal force.

Right before her eyes, he snapped her Precious Sword in two.

With a crack, the broken blade clattered to the ground.

At this sight, the Yellow-Clothed Woman's face went pale, and she scrambled backward.

Zhao Kuo had no intention of letting her go. He pressed forward relentlessly, a mocking glint in his eyes.

His arms swung with savage power, slamming toward her with each step.

Without her sword, the Yellow-Clothed Woman's combat strength plummeted. She could only dodge with her nimble footwork.

But prolonged defense invited failure. Soon, Zhao Kuo seized an opening and struck her square in the chest with his palm.

"You're a man?"

Feeling the texture under his hand, Zhao Kuo frowned and asked coldly.

A veteran of countless battles, he could easily tell the difference. One touch was enough to sense something off.

The Yellow-Clothed Woman was knocked back several steps, her face flushed. She grunted, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth.

At his words, she didn't answer. She shot him a furious glare and tried to flee.

But Zhao Kuo wasn't about to let her escape. He bellowed, "Running? Not so fast!"

Before the words faded, he lunged forward, reaching out to grab her.

Yet the Yellow-Clothed Woman seemed to sense it. Just as he was about to seize her, she spun around and hurled the Broken Sword at him.

Forced to dodge in the nick of time, Zhao Kuo gave her the opening she needed to escape.

Watching her flee, Zhao Kuo's expression soured slightly, but he didn't give chase.

With his speed, he probably wouldn't catch her anyway.

He looked down at the Broken Sword she'd left behind, picked it up, and examined it, but found nothing remarkable.

"A sword-wielding martial artist? Could it be him?"

Zhao Kuo sank into thought, muttering to himself.

"Who's there?"

Suddenly sensing a fierce gust of wind behind him, his expression shifted sharply.

He spun around to see a dark Iron Palm hurtling toward him through the air.

In his urgency, Zhao Kuo raised his hand and threw a punch.

The moment fist and palm collided, ripples of fierce wind spread outward, stirring their hair and clothes.

Su Chen's sleeves also fluttered in the breeze.

Seeing this, Zhao Kuo's pupils contracted slightly, but he had no time to dwell on it.

The terrifying force from the Iron Palm numbed his arm.

With a bang, Zhao Kuo staggered back several steps, the muscles in his face twitching, his breathing ragged.

"And who are you?"

Zhao Kuo glared at Su Chen, his face dark as he demanded.

Damn it, why was he so unlucky today, running into two people who wanted him dead!

Seeing that Zhao Kuo was unharmed, a flicker of surprise crossed Su Chen's eyes.

He had already maxed out the Iron Sand Palm three days ago by spending money, and a single strike could shatter a palm-sized stone into dust.

Yet, under his full-powered palm, Zhao Kuo only showed a flushed face and rapid breathing.

Hearing Zhao Kuo's question, Su Chen didn't answer. He struck again, his gaze turning serious.

Zhao Kuo's strength had likely been tempered in the Practice Strength Realm for a long time, making him even more formidable than an ordinary Practice Strength Perfection cultivator.

Compared to him, Liu Tong probably couldn't last ten moves.

Su Chen grew wary inside, but his eyes blazed with surging battle intent.

Zhao Kuo was the strongest opponent he had faced so far, and he could use him to test his own strength.

With that, Su Chen's figure blurred as he lunged forward again.

"Looking for death!"

Zhao Kuo gritted his teeth and roared, charging out as well.

The two clashed.

"What a terrifying Iron Palm!"

"What formidable defense!"

After a brief exchange, both Su Chen and Zhao Kuo recognized each other's prowess.

Facing Su Chen's Iron Palm, Zhao Kuo dared not take it head-on—it hurt like hell when it landed.

Meanwhile, Su Chen's Iron Palm striking Zhao Kuo's body felt like hitting iron armor, the rebound force numbing his palm slightly.

"No matter who you are, you're not leaving today!"

Zhao Kuo stepped back, clenched his fists, and suddenly swelled up. With a tearing sound, his clothes burst apart.

Revealing his pitch-black skin, Su Chen stared closely and felt a chill.

It wasn't skin—it was a thin layer of Black Armor, looking as if it had grown onto his body.

"What kind of Martial Art is this?" Su Chen was shocked.

Just then, Zhao Kuo's figure flickered, and in the blink of an eye, he charged forward, striking first.

Su Chen threw a palm, hitting the Black Armor with a clang of metal.

The armor showed no damage, but Su Chen's palm ached faintly.

"Hahaha!"

Zhao Kuo laughed scornfully, then reached out to snap Su Chen's neck.

Su Chen dodged swiftly, retreating and staring at Zhao Kuo with a grave expression.

"No good. This Black Armor is rock-hard; my Iron Sand Palm can't break it in a short time. But it only covers his body and limbs—his head is exposed!"

Su Chen thought quickly, made up his mind, and charged again, throwing a punch at Zhao Kuo.

"Come on!"

Zhao Kuo grinned, stepped forward without bothering to guard, and took the punch head-on.

With a grunt, Zhao Kuo bent his arm, locking Su Chen's arm in place.

A cold smirk curled on his lips as he looked at Su Chen: "Your time is up!"

With that, he clenched his fist and swung at Su Chen.

But at that moment, a tearing sound rang out, freezing Zhao Kuo's expression.

He stared at the arm emerging from his sleeve, his mind full of questions.

Before he could react, a flash of cold light streaked through the air with a sharp whistle.