Using a divine ability—his sect's strongest at that—was no less dangerous than fighting with bayonets at close quarters.
If one did not fight, then so be it. But once one did, blood had to be drawn. Injury and bleeding were the least of it; grievous wounds, life and death, could be decided in the very next second.
For instance, Pei Feng's battle with Ghost Chief.
Without question, it had entered its fiercest stage. As the two unleashed their sects' Dao arts, the battle at the center surged straight into its climax, blades pressed close to the flesh.
Ghost Chief struck first. This man's Dao arts far exceeded all expectations.
The ten-thousand-year Red Ghost was merely one of his trump cards. He had another Fierce Ghost like it.
The instant the two ten-thousand-year Fierce Ghosts appeared, the spectators, who had already retreated a hundred li, immediately pulled back another hundred.
That distance had been far too close. They could be caught in the blast.
The two ghosts were both incomparably powerful, yet utterly different.
The Red Ghost's resentment soared to the heavens.
The Black Ghost brimmed with savage ferocity.
The two ghosts were linked to one another, their power able to stack together and form an immensely terrifying domain of ferocity and resentment. The slightest contact caused ghostly qi to assail the heart. Not only would the ferocious resentment cloud one's primordial spirit, it would also drag one into endless illusions.
Quite a few cultivators were touched by it, if only slightly.
They went mad on the spot and injured many people.
Though they were swiftly stopped, suppressed, and saved, the effects remained severe. Not only had their origins been damaged, even their thoughts had been twisted to a degree. Recovery would likely require years, perhaps even decades, of recuperation.
Faced