Eight-Armed Demon Subduing Stance

"Good timing."

The burly monk who charged forward had one side of his face, already dark, become even deeper in hue.

The other side of his face, though white, seemed to glow.

He suddenly raised his head, dragging the Crescent Moon Monk's Spade behind him, and swung it with a "whoosh" from behind his back, causing the air to crackle and pop.

[Drunkenly Assaulting the Heavenly Gate Stance]

This person's combat experience was clearly extensive.

He could tell at a glance that Lu Wu-bing's movements were incredibly fast.

The best way to deal with an opponent who relied on a swift sword was to control them, prevent them from getting close, and use brute force against their finesse.

As the staff strike descended, the branches, leaves, soil, and stones flying in mid-air all shattered into dust, spreading like mist and completely enveloping the area within seven feet of him.

At the same time, his charging steps suddenly changed. His left foot moved right, his right foot moved left, his shoulders and hips twisted, and before the downward staff strike could land, it transformed into the [Dragon Stirring the Sea Stance].

The massive Crescent Moon Monk's Spade, as thick as a child's arm, was wielded to create numerous illusions, one staff becoming eight…

It whipped up a fierce wind, intending to shred Lu Wu-bing's charging form into pieces.

"It's the Eight-Armed Demon Subduing Staff Technique. I can't block it head-on."

Although Ouyang Lan hadn't trained particularly diligently when she was on the mountain, her lively nature and her habit of pestering her parents for stories meant she was very knowledgeable about the martial arts world, its various supreme techniques, and its masters from all regions.

The Yin-Yang Monk, ranked seventy-ninth on the Black List, was known as "[One Glimpse of Yin-Yang Face, Life and Death Beyond Control]" and acted with extreme madness.

His cultivation wasn't particularly high, only Fourth Rank. Among the Black List experts in the Hengduan Mountains, he wasn't top-tier.

He wouldn't have gained such a notorious reputation or ranked so high on the Black List otherwise.

However, his personality was exceptionally twisted and insane.

He was several times more vicious than others.

Because of his naturally Yin-Yang face, he was especially sensitive to others' strange glances.

The moment someone stared too long, he would kill them.

And he wouldn't kill just one or two people. Anyone who fled, begged for mercy, flattered him, or cursed him—all would be killed.

In his eyes, all these people were mocking him.

Given this.

Ordinary decent folk would rather encounter a ruthless expert from the Demonic Sect than this lunatic.

Demonic Sect experts, at least, acted with some restraint and wouldn't go out of their way to kill common folk for no reason.

At most, they'd treat them like ants, accidentally stepping on them.

If they were a little further away, they wouldn't intentionally step on them.

But this Yin-Yang Monk would hunt them down and kill them, even urinating on an anthill until every last ant was dead, unwilling to stop until they were all gone.

Logically, such a person should have been eliminated long ago by some righteous hero who took a disliking to him.

But this man's strength was extraordinary.

He had not only cultivated the Mingwang Temple's [Eight-Armed Vajra Method], achieving an internal and external unity through the Diamond Force, making his offensive capabilities extremely powerful.

He was skilled in a set of [Three-Bodies Demon Subduing Staff Techniques], practiced to perfection, making him impervious to wind and rain, wielding the giant staff as if doing embroidery…

Even when facing an ordinary Third Rank expert, he could hold his own for a few exchanges.

Especially, this man, though ferocious, was not brainless.

He never provoked those with significant backing.

If he accidentally provoked someone, he would immediately flee…

As a result, over the years, his fearsome reputation grew, yet he remained free and happy.

Ouyang Lan remembered her parents speaking of this person, their faces filled with disgust.

Such a creature was like a cockroach crawling on one's shoe; it would disappear with a flick.

There was no need to deliberately seek it out.

If you didn't look for it, it would still be an eyesore.

It was precisely this kind of thing that was most troublesome.

The situation was as it was.

Experts in the Three Upper Ranks held significant status and position. No one would bother to specifically hunt down such a cockroach to kill it; they didn't have that much time.

Besides, in the eyes of these Upper Three Rank experts, he wasn't that formidable. They would simply kill him if they encountered him.

But for disciples like them, who had not yet graduated, he was a ferocious tiger blocking their path, a threshold they couldn't cross.

"Dragon Stirring the Sea Stance?"

Lu Wu-bing's mind was filled with a frenzied, violent killing intent. His charge had momentarily clouded his judgment. While inwardly shocked, he also felt a sense of anxiety.

He had always known that the side effects of this family heirloom divine sword, [Primal Spirit Swordplay], were potent, but he never imagined they would be this severe.

Suddenly erupting, empowered by a strange, spirit-piercing fluctuation within his body, he thrust his sword and blew open the head of Song Zhong, who wielded the [Peaceful Axe].

A feeling of extreme, exhilarating pleasure surged through his heart.

Moreover, he uncontrollably opened his mouth and inhaled the formless fluctuation within the bloody mist.

As the fluctuation entered his brain, his spirit grew even more vigorous, and the raging, violent flames burned as if hot oil had been poured upon them.

With a boom, his mind became muddled by the flames.

His gaze upon the surrounding scenery also became hazy and indistinct.

Simultaneously, a wave of heat surged through his entire body, from his limbs to his bones, and his blood began to boil.

The light and shadow before his eyes shifted again.

It was as if the world was no longer a normal world; these people and scenes were all abstract images.

Three masses of light and shadow fell into his eyes, appearing as three steaming meat buns.

"I'm hungry!"

A groan emanated from the depths of his heart.

Relying only on his residual reason, Lu Wu-bing still knew to rush towards the plumpest meat bun.

He completely disregarded the fierce and unbearable attacks of the monk's spade.

Eight shadows of the spade whipped up a gale; in his eyes, many gaps seemed to appear.

Lu Wu-bing's figure flickered, and with another step, he had already passed through the spade shadows. His sword, like a rainbow, had reached within three inches of the Yin-Yang Monk's throat.

The sword body vibrated, shattering the air and emitting a faint thunderous rumble.

"Huh!"

The Yin-Yang Monk, Deng Yuan, glared with fierce eyes. He lightly stepped forward, twisting his body into a "looking back at the moon" posture.

The monk's spade, which had just moved like a scorpion's tail, began to spin with his body.

Using a horizontal sweep, he reversed the spade and flicked it upwards, striking directly at Lu Wu-bing's lower body.

In any case, he was strong and robust, and the monk's spade was a heavy weapon. No matter where it hit, it would be a fatal injury, so he didn't need to aim for vital points.

At the same time, Deng Yuan took a deep breath, his throat suddenly bulging. Half a foot of vital energy flared outwards.

This was entering the fray with his whole being.

He had pinpointed Lu Wu-bing's weakness: his low cultivation and weak internal energy.

As long as he could block this incredibly fast thrusting sword, he could kill his opponent in one blow.

"It's hard to break through."

Lu Wu-bing forcefully suppressed the chaos, merely indulging his killing intent and striking instinctively.

His sword struck the half-foot of energy, as if piercing into surging, turbulent floodwaters.

The sword's edge vibrated and leaped, shaking his palm so much that it felt numb, making it difficult to grip the hilt.

The gust of wind, like a knife, was already cutting towards his lower abdomen's Dantian.

Before the opponent's attack even landed, his spiritual sense warned him that in the next moment, he might be sliced in half from bottom to top by the crescent moon of the monk's spade.

"Attack where the enemy must defend."

As this thought flashed through his mind, Lu Wu-bing's figure moved like a ghost, taking a step back.

Grazing the whistling crescent moon, he darted forward diagonally, and with a "swish," his sword once again thrust towards the Yin-Yang Monk's left eye.

The spade shadows around him were like mountains.

Yet, his figure moved like lightning, coming and going.

With just one sword, he thrust back and forth rapidly.

The thunderous sword cries sounded randomly, without any rhythm.

Turning to the Yin-Yang Monk, a tiny, almost invisible bloodstain was left on his neck.

Several white marks were also scratched on his face. Although they looked dangerous, they had only grazed the surface of his skin.

The reason for this was simple.

Every time Lu Wu-bing's swift sword strike approached, it was intercepted and struck by the half-foot of [Diamond Force] that emanated from the opponent's body.

This either deflected the sword's edge or shook its body askew.

As a result, Lu Wu-bing's fierce [White Rainbow Pierces the Sun], once it neared the target, would slow down by half, greatly reducing its actual threat.

'Senior Sister Xiaolan was right. I've truly encountered a Fourth Rank expert. Even their protective vital energy is hard to break through, making it difficult to instantly kill them.'

'Once drawn into a battle of cultivation or techniques, my sole focus on this single thrusting sword style leaves me stretched thin. Especially since the opponent can now clearly see my sword path and dodge more easily.'

Conversely, Lu Wu-bing also discovered.

The opponent's spade shadows were beginning to weave a net.

On several occasions, the crescent moon monk's spade had swept past his skin.

His clothes had already been torn apart by the vital energy, and scraps of fabric fluttered in the air.