Yan Chihuo's heart stirred. He knew he had finally grasped Sword Momentum. He flicked the Soul-Breaking Sword and thrust it at Zhang Jiucheng. A mass of rocks rose into the air, but they remained joined together, like a long dragon, and slammed straight toward him.
Zhang Jiucheng cursed inwardly. Though his cultivation was on par with Yan Chihuo's, his magical power was slightly inferior. He had originally made up for this difference by relying on his stronger Sword Momentum, but Yan Chihuo possessed tremendous physical strength. When he used Falling Rock Art in combination with Sword Momentum, its power increased by another thirty percent.
Yan Chihuo struck with several consecutive sword thrusts. Zhang Jiucheng managed to block every one, but flames scattered in all directions, and wave after wave of tremendous force crashed into his body, making his blood and qi churn.
The more they fought, the smoother Yan Chihuo's movements became. He leaped into the air and stabbed down with his sword. A metallic clang rang out. The sword seemed to have struck a mountain. Yan Chihuo flipped backward and landed on the ground, his blood and qi still roiling, leaving him profoundly uncomfortable.
He looked up and saw that Iron Sword Daoist had appeared without him noticing. He understood that Iron Sword must have blocked that last thrust.
Iron Sword Daoist said, "There's no need to continue. Zhang Jiucheng, your swordsmanship has improved greatly, but you've already lost."
Zhang Jiucheng lowered his head and clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms until blood seeped out. He seemed not to notice at all. He had a strong talent for swordsmanship, and ever since he had become Iron Sword Daoist's disciple, the other members of the sect had always praised and lauded him. Even Iron Sword Daoist had