"You're courting death."
Seeing Ye Lin's calm expression, Bone Slayer flew into a rage.
The calmer Ye Lin appeared, the more assured he seemed, and the angrier Bone Slayer became.
Bone Slayer's twelve legs kicked violently against the air, his body turning into a gray afterimage as he charged Ye Lin from three directions at once.
This was not a true cloning technique. His speed had simply reached such an extreme that the lingering impressions in the eye formed three almost-real images.
Each of the three afterimages carried lethal killing intent.
The leftmost afterimage drew its two forelegs together into the point of a spear and thrust straight at Ye Lin's throat.
The middle afterimage spread four legs at once like enormous shears, snapping toward Ye Lin's waist.
The rightmost afterimage stabbed out six legs from different angles, sealing off every route of retreat.
Three afterimages, twelve stabbing legs, arrived in the same instant.
A dense mass of cold glints reflected in Ye Lin's eyes.
He did not retreat.
The blood-colored longsword in his hand gave a deep hum. Its blade trembled, and sword light swept out like a bolt of silk.
This strike did not slash at any one of Bone Slayer's afterimages. It slashed at the air before Ye Lin.
Where the sword light passed, space was cut open by a long, narrow rift.
A powerful force of space surged from the rift, like an invisible giant hand dragging Bone Slayer's three afterimages toward it at once.
Bone Slayer's afterimages twisted and warped at the edge of the spatial rift like crumpled paper.
His true body emerged from the afterimages. All twelve legs kicked frantically against the air as he tried to break free from the rift's pull.
"The law of space?"
"You've grasped the law of space?"