The Race to Ruin

"You really are... full of surprises."

In the slaughterhouse-like scene, An Jing Shizhi stepped over the enormous corpse split in two before him and stared at Fu Qian, who was drenched in blood.

The shattered great blade, smeared with blood, slowly retracted into Fu Qian's hand.

At that moment, Fu Qian had crossed the distance by some incomprehensible means.

Just like before, the blow meant to finish off the monster had somehow landed right in front of An Jing Shizhi.

He had thought Fu Qian was bloodthirsty, deliberately staging that scene of a fallen creature being decapitated. In reality, Fu Qian had been misleading him all along.

The change had come so suddenly that An Jing Shizhi hadn't had time to conjure a shield. He'd had no choice but to use the monster's body to block the blade.

Even so, some of the blood on the blade now belonged to him.

The blade hadn't struck him, but the divine-level curse it carried had still touched him, making the very concept of a wound manifest on his body.

Of course, the contamination was expelled in an instant.

"Very impressive. I'm suddenly having second thoughts about whether I should sacrifice you."

"To wound me is a remarkable achievement."

"If you were willing to join the An Jing family, I'm sure you'd make things interesting."

"That wasn't a move at the speed of light just now. It was something like deceiving space. Where did you get that ability?"

As An Jing Shizhi spoke, tendrils resembling creations of flesh and blood had already emerged from the ground, rapidly tearing apart and dissolving the corpse before him.

"But you can't use that trick again anytime soon, can you?"

"From a fellow named Pachi."

The enormous blade had fully retracted into his arm. Fu Qian nodded