This time, Ye Lin's sword-dao perception could only barely catch his trajectory.
That white figure darted through the Boundary Sea at blinding speed, from east to west, from south to north, veering left and right, rising and falling, leaving afterimages in its wake.
Every afterimage performed a different motion—some swung their fans, some thrust, some threw their fans, while others formed hand seals.
Countless afterimages surrounded Ye Lin at the center, launching attacks from all directions at once.
Ye Lin's sword light flashed madly, blocking most of the attacks, yet several still pierced through his web of sword strikes.
A new wound appeared on his left arm, blood dripping down his forearm.
A bloody hole appeared in his right shoulder, left by the piercing point of a fan rib.
The edge of a fan slashed across his back, ripping a long gash in his robe and exposing bloodied, mangled flesh beneath.
Ye Lin's aura remained steady, and his expression remained calm.
It was as though the one injured was not him.
Helian Guhong's attacks grew denser and denser, his afterimages multiplying until his figures filled the entire Boundary Sea.
Ye Lin stood at the center, sword light weaving like a net as he fought with all his strength to resist.
But he knew this could not go on.
Though his sword-dao perception was powerful, Helian Guhong's speed had already surpassed the limits of what he could perceive.
He could only swing his sword on instinct, blocking seventy percent and letting thirty percent slip through.
That thirty percent of attacks was already enough to injure him.
If the proportion he missed kept increasing, he would soon be defeated.
Ye Lin drew a deep breath.
He decided to stop defending passively.
The Godslayer Sword let out a clear, resonant cry. The dark-red