At an altitude of ten thousand meters, the gale winds were as sharp as blades.
Er Ming's mountain-like body shot into the sky amid a dull explosion.
Carrying an aura of resolve and tragedy, he faced Xia Ming from afar.
Below them lay the Clear Sky Sect, shrunk to the size of a tiny chessboard, along with countless disciples looking up in alarm.
Yet unexpectedly, Da Ming remained where he was.
Standing in the center of the courtyard and gazing up at the sky, he looked exceptionally lonely.
He had not chosen to rise into the air alongside Er Ming and form a pincer attack.
This unusual action brought a faint flicker of surprise to Xia Ming's eyes.
When facing a powerful enemy, dividing one's forces was a grave taboo, much less when they were supposed to be "tools" ordered to join forces and eliminate him.
It seemed Da Ming had sensed Xia Ming's momentary confusion.
Da Ming slowly lowered his head, the corner of his mouth pulling into an exceedingly bitter, almost self-mocking curve.
His voice was not loud, yet it clearly pierced the howling winds at high altitude and reached Xia Ming's ears, as though he were also speaking to himself:
"If Er Ming dies by your hand today." He paused, his voice hoarse and heavy.
"Then no matter what, I will avenge him. When that time comes, you and I will still have to face each other."
Xia Ming's gaze shifted slightly, and he immediately understood.
This was not cowardice, nor was it foolishness.
It was a deliberate concession.
By doing this, Da Ming was breaking a life-or-death encirclement into two consecutive battles of attrition.
No matter how overwhelmingly powerful Xia Ming was, facing the all-out attacks of two God Rank experts one after another.
Would consume