As he hesitated, the enemy's great formation had already closed in. Ouyang Feng snorted coldly, spread his palms, and, following the principle of "Capture the ringleader first," charged straight at the long-bearded Daoist.
Little did he know that one of the formation's subtleties was to lure the enemy into attacking the commander, while the smaller formations seized the chance to encircle from east and west, surround from south and strike from north, trapping the enemy. Ouyang Feng had taken only seven or eight steps when he immediately sensed something wrong. The pressure behind him surged, while attacks came rolling in from both sides.
Just as he tried to turn right, fourteen longswords from two small formations before him stabbed out at once. The positioning of those fourteen swords was impeccable at every moment, leaving him nowhere to dodge and no way to evade.
Song Qingshu's eyes gleamed as he watched from the side. It seemed he had underestimated the Quanzhen Sect before. Though it had been difficult to find any truly outstanding top experts besides Wang Chongyang and Zhou Botong, this miraculous formation alone was enough to ensure its enduring place in the martial world.
As the renowned Western Venom, Ouyang Feng naturally would not be brought down by such danger. He suddenly darted sideways, kicking out with his right foot while reaching forward with his left hand. He sent one young Daoist tumbling with a kick and seized his longsword at the same time.
Seeing seven swords thrusting toward his right waist, he swung his left hand. The eight swords clashed with a crack, and all seven enemy blades snapped in two, while the sword in his hand remained completely intact.
The sword he had seized was no different from the others and was not some especially sharp treasured