Sempill was a veteran Ranger who had served in the Association for more than twenty years. In his youth, he had seen countless battles and earned an impressive record, but a few years ago, he had been transferred back to the Nefe headquarters. Most of his work now involved management and command. It had been quite some time since he'd fought in front of a crowd.
A lot of people had forgotten that his nickname, "Frostwind Fighter," wasn't about the word "Fighter." It was the "Frostwind" part that mattered. The guy was a master of trash talk, as corrosive to the soul as an icy gale that cut to the bone. You had to use all kinds of trash talk, disguised as both praise and criticism, to shatter your opponent's composure first. Only then was there any point in going on the offensive.
Now, this veteran Ranger, who was exceptionally good at getting into people's heads, could tell that his opponent's composure had been thoroughly shaken. Naturally, he wasn't about to let this opportunity pass.
Of course, as a veteran Ranger who had seen countless battles and a five-ring psychic, Essenpill couldn't possibly rely on trash talk alone to fight.
The dozens of steel-whip-like tendrils unfurling from his back looked like specialized equipment assembled from exceptionally tough steel and precision machinery. In reality, they were psychic armaments he had formed by condensing his mental energy. Within the range of his mental perception and influence, they could perform something akin to a field jump, allowing them to attack from directions the enemy didn't expect. Once he got into position, his assault would fall like a torrential storm, continuing until his enemy was torn to pieces.
He was already in position. The instant Gongsun Qing paused, the steel tendrils sank deep into