"Mm, not bad at all. You've got guts, kid. I like your spirit—you've got some of my old boldness."
Seeing Mu Chen actually suppress an opponent far stronger than himself, Hai Bodong stroked his grizzled beard and silently appraised him. Yet ever since Mu Chen had taken on four Da Dou Shi and killed them all, the skin on Hai Bodong's face had not stopped twitching.
"Ah, forget it. I'm old, yet I've developed an appreciation for talent. That's rare. Fine—if the kid loses, I'll save his life."
Mo Sha leaped backward at high speed, quickly widening the distance between himself and Mu Chen. Sweat streamed down his forehead and cheeks. That kid's spinning, top-like assault was absurdly ferocious; every strike of his sword against Mo Sha's blade carried mountain-heavy force, forcing him to avoid meeting it head-on.
"What the hell is this? That brat has incredible strength. His body is absurdly strong. After all those clashes, my blade nearly got shaken from my hand.
Launching such a dense barrage of attacks at once—was that brat's body made of iron? Otherwise, there's no way he could sustain it."
Mo Sha wiped the sweat from his brow and muttered to himself. Then his gaze fell upon the long blade in his hand, and the corner of his mouth twitched.
The blade was covered in dense chips and notches. One crack had nearly split it apart, while the second-tier Magic Core embedded in its hilt had gone completely dim. The weapon was clearly ruined.
Mu Chen panted heavily, his face flushed red. His sword was planted against the ground, and his face looked as though it had been soaked in water. Streams of sweat had even drenched the ground beneath him.
Bulging veins stood out on both his arms, displaying explosive strength.