The five figures collided and wove through one another beneath the slanting sun. Yang Zhengshan gathered his focus and devoted himself to meeting every attack from his four enemies.
The battle grew ever fiercer, and Yang Zhengshan's situation grew ever more perilous.
Yet Yang Zhengshan had not the slightest intention of escaping. Instead, he kept searching for chances to counterattack from within his defense.
Amid flashing blades and sword-shadows, he was like a lone skiff in a storm, tossed up by surging tides.
The attacks he faced grew more domineering, more forceful, more dangerous, and more ice-cold, but his inner heart was incomparably calm.
A long spear danced amid dull thunder sounds, while a wisp of innate true qi churned endlessly inside his body.
"Still just a little short!"
Yang Zhengshan's beard and hair flew wildly, his eyes flashing like thunder and lightning.
"Is this all you're capable of? You can't even force out this Old Man's potential?"
He shouted the question in a clear, ringing voice.
"Arrogant!" Fu Shanhong roared, and the momentum of his saber grew even heavier.
With a clang, the blade edge hacked heavily onto the Mysterious Iron Spear.
"Useless trash. That strike has no strength at all!"
Yang Zhengshan flicked his long spear, directly sweeping Fu Shanhong away.
When it came to strength, without exaggeration, even three Fu Shanhongs could not compare to one Yang Zhengshan.
With that spear flung out, Fu Shanhong only felt a wave of tremendous force travel through the blade edge. He almost failed to keep hold of the hilt, and only after retreating more than a dozen steps did he steady himself.
The next moment, a streak of sword light stabbed diagonally upward from below Yang Zhengshan, passing before his chest and aiming straight for his throat, forcing Yang Zhengshan