It should have been a case of magic defeating magic. But since both sides were using dark arts, their magic effectively canceled each other out, and neither side could inflict much damage.
That left things much simpler: strip away the magic, and the two sides were reduced to a straight-up brawl to decide the winner.
Little Bao's face was twisted with madness. Veins bulged across his forehead, his eyes were bloodshot, and he waved his fists and kicked his feet, as if he couldn't wait to join the fight himself.
"Get him! Beat him to death! Really go at him!" Little Bao's childish side was on full display. This was supposed to be a battle to the death, but he sounded more like a schoolyard punk cheering on a brawl.
As Little Bao saw it, his side had seven, while the other side had three at most. Seven against three—their numerical advantage was clear, so victory was theirs.
But Little Bao soon stopped smiling.
The seven demons did have the numbers, but that was their only advantage. Their combat skills were nowhere near good enough. He Jin and the two summoned monsters each had a pair of huge wings, allowing them to fly high or low. It was like pitting an air force against ground troops.
That wasn't all. He Jin and the summoned monsters were faster, and every blow they landed packed more force than the demons'. They had the fight firmly under control.
The seven demons had meant to use their numbers to overwhelm He Jin. They hadn't expected that after only a few exchanges, they'd be driven back again and again, barely able to defend themselves.
The gap in pure hand-to-hand combat was far wider than they had imagined.
Only then did Little Bao realize how naive