Mo Ke

Xu Yi's thoughts stirred. A dark, heavy short rod appeared in his right palm, and he swung it at Xue Muhua with all his strength. His left palm drove the iron essence, which instantly formed a silver curtain over his head.

Xue Muhua knew how formidable Xu Yi was. Never mind the man's fearsome reputation in the Martial Refining Realm; he had even driven Zhou Daogan, a powerhouse whom Xue Muhua himself dreaded, into a panicked flight and desperate cries for help. That alone was enough to make Xue Muhua use the life-saving treasure his master had bestowed upon him.

Now, at last, he had seized the chance to win. How could he give Xu Yi even the slightest chance to live?

This punch was a tempest unleashed, every ounce of his strength behind it.

This punch could only win, never lose; it charged forward without turning back.

Xue Muhua paid no heed to how Xu Yi tried to block him or what he did in response. It was as if he had gathered all the life force within him into this single punch.

The dark rod swung toward him, but he ignored it. He was certain that with this punch, he could smash even a piece of Geng Iron. The black rod would never reach him; Xu Yi would be reduced to dust first.

The silver curtain spread over him, but he paid it no mind either. He was certain that no matter what sort of defense it was, this punch would shatter it.

In the blink of an eye, a fist like a colliding planet slammed into the silver curtain conjured from the iron essence.

A deafening boom rang out. The tremendous force wrenched Xu Yi's left arm—the one holding the iron essence—backward until it twisted a full