Three days passed in the blink of an eye.
The preliminaries of the Witch King Contest were held within a grotto-heaven.
When the time came, the identity plaques they had been issued began to glow. The next moment, space before their eyes shifted, and they found themselves in a mountainous forest.
The instant he appeared, killing intent descended upon him.
In less than 0.2 seconds, an armored giant had already charged at him.
His blood vitality was dense as he gripped a war spear. Like an ironclad chariot, his strides were broad and swift, ripping apart the air. The spear in his hand vibrated as terrifying power gathered and erupted; even the spearhead twisted. That immense force tore through space itself, shattering rules. This strike could no longer be described as the Thrust of the Nine-Form Battle Method—it was like unleashing a furious dragon to rend everything apart.
Worthy of a quasi-Witch King. Even though Witch City had not seen war for centuries, the instincts in his blood still kept his cultivation close to its peak. Essence, vitality, and spirit fused as one, locking Li Su in place. Before the spearpoint even arrived, its enormous pressure had already crushed down upon his body.
It was as though a mountain had been stuffed into the air. Anyone even slightly weaker would not need to be struck by the spearpoint; that pressure alone would squeeze them to pieces.
Just before the blow landed, Li Su raised his hand. His thumb and forefinger appeared in the spearhead's path, then pinched together.
Dong~!
The terrifying spear stopped dead in place. It could not advance even a hair, not even a fraction of an inch.
The armored Witch King's pupils had only enough time to reveal his horror. He could not believe that his strongest