As he spoke, he laughed.
That smile carried a strange excitement—the kind that could only emerge when one had been driven into a desperate corner, only to see through everything at last. It was utterly unrestrained, wholehearted joy.
He laughed until his whole row of white teeth showed, until the bronze muscles on his shoulders trembled faintly.
"Interesting."
He let out a breath of stale air and forcefully rolled his right shoulder, loosening the arm that had been stiffened somewhat by the frost.
"I can't hit you, but you can stab my Primordial Spirit."
"That trade isn't fair."
"If this keeps up, I'll lose sooner or later."
"There is no fair battle in this world."
Ling'er's voice remained calm and faint, devoid of any discernible emotion.
"You're right."
Li Tian spun the axe once in his hand and changed his grip, turning his palm upward to support the lower edge of the haft.
"But ever since I was little, I've never been much good at keeping accounts."
"If I think a fight is worth it, I'll keep fighting."
"I'll stop only when I think it's no longer worth it."
He gripped the axe haft tightly with both hands, and the dark-gold Force Law surged from within him once more.
This time, far more poured out than before—so much that his entire right arm became somewhat blurred beneath that layer of dark-gold radiance.
The light flowed along his meridians and gathered at the axe haft, then poured along the haft into the axe blade.
The aura emanating from the entire axe suddenly grew threefold heavier, pressing the Gold-Patterned Restriction on the stone tiles beneath his feet noticeably dimmer.
"Then let's change the way we fight."
He suddenly yanked the axe fiercely toward himself, flipping the blade backward.
Then he hurled himself