A Desperate Fighting Style

Tang Lie also realized the severity of the situation.

The young man before him fought in a way that was simply inconceivable. He had no sense of defense whatsoever; every attack was a head-on clash. The moment he took damage, he retaliated, his strikes fiercer and trickier than before.

If you struck him with a hammer, he returned it with a spear. If you tore off a piece of his flesh, he made you break a bone.

This style of trading wounds for wounds and blood for blood was virtually unheard of in the world of Soul Masters.

Yet Yang Guyun's gaze was chillingly cold, utterly devoid of the cowardice of a man on the verge of death.

The long spear seemed to come alive in his hands. Spear shadows whirled through the air, blood gleaming brilliantly in the night. Every thrust carried an unstoppable force.

Tang Ziyi's bubble barrier could not stop Yang Guyun's fearless charge at all.

As the spear tip broke through the curtain of water, several bubbles burst one after another. Before the mist had even dispersed, Yang Guyun had already pierced through it, his spear pointing straight at Tang Qingqing.

Tang Qingqing finally made his move, raising his black Clear Sky Hammer before him to take the blow head-on.

As spear and hammer collided, Tang Qingqing's arms immediately went numb, and his feet involuntarily retreated half a step.

He lowered his head and saw that the wind from the spear had sliced open his cuff. Though it had not wounded his flesh, it still sent a chill through his heart.

A Soul Saint had actually made four Title Douluo feel troubled at the same time.

What infuriated the four elders even more was Zhou Qiubai.

He had been constantly circling around them. From the moment