The blade flashed like snow, and blood sprayed through the air.
Demons surrounded Pan Long, and he fought on without respite.
Even now, he did not have a single open wound. All the blood covering the ground belonged to the monsters attacking him.
But his situation was growing worse. His blade moved slower, and his movements grew more sluggish.
The Nine-Turn Mysterious Art had tempered his body, but it had not made him indestructible. Though his skin had never broken or bled, the repeated blows had left him with a mass of internal injuries.
At least a third of his bones were cracked, and his organs had suffered damage too. Now, every breath he drew seemed to carry the distinct taste of blood.
But he had no choice. He could only keep fighting.
He would bet that the monsters surrounding him could not all be real. Some had to be fakes—perhaps most of them.
But... even if those monsters were fake, the blows landing on him were real enough.
Every time he used the Healing Technique on himself, the spell's tangible healing effect proved it.
What on earth was going on?
He was at a loss.
His enemy certainly could not be someone capable of "turning falsehood into reality." If they had that kind of power, why fight him for so long? Would crushing him with one finger be such a bother?
But short of turning falsehood into reality, what could create illusions that could fight a person without end—and genuinely hurt him?
He had never even heard of such a thing!
Dazed by his injuries, he slowed a fraction. A Wolf Demon spotted the opening and slammed a palm into his chest.
Pan Long spat a great mouthful of blood and went flying. He smashed through several large rocks